Brutal Night in Milwaukee

Don't get me wrong. I'm a fan. I'm still watching. I will continue to watch. And I want a Mets win. But I'm ticked off.

Sure, it's his first shot at it. Sure, he'll have others. But it doesn't annoy me any less. Glavine's another one of those guys you gotta love. 20 years of gutting it out. Pitching. Not blowing guys away. Changing speeds. Hitting corners. Contrary to Mike McDermott's belief, there is some glory to grinding it out. Or at least there should be.

Tonight should have been #300. It should have been, but, if you're a Mets fan, you knew it wasn't going to be. From Castillo flying out weakly with the bases loaded and one out in the seventh, to Feliciano plunking Fielder to Mota serving up a meatball. There were simply too many chances left on the table, and too many chances to shut the door that never closed.

It's the mentality of a Mets fan. Always think the worst. Up a run going into the eighth, and I had zero confidence we'd be watching a post-game mobbing of a guy who deserved to get swarmed. As a fan you're supposed to believe. But as a fan you've also seen enough of your team to know how's things are going to play out. And as agonizing as it was to watch the camera on a lonely Glavine in the dugout, and his wife and kids in the stands, you knew it wasn't going to happen. Not tonight.

Regardless of the outcome, though, the game reminded me of why sports are great. My nerves are frayed. Every pitch turned my stomach. Every move that was made caused me to sit and second-guess, whether it was right by the book or completely unorthodox. I banged couch cushions, yelled at the screen and threw a remote. It made me forget about everything else for awhile, which is a good thing.

Even now, after promising not to care about the outcome because this is just one game out of 162...because our bullpen didn't have the determination that Glavine's showcased over two decades...because our relief pitchers are paid millions to hold a one-run lead heading into the eighth...I'm still heading back to sit on the edge of my seat. Because there's something about extra-inning baseball.

So, now my attention goes back to a game. A game that ended in a no-decision for a future hall-of-famer. A game that is now heading into a second hour of nausea inducement. A game that should have been the 300th win for a crafty 41-year old.

Instead, I'll watch into the a.m. hours. And, again, on Sunday when Tommy G takes the hill again. Because who know's the next time we'll see something this.

Hopefully, I'll be sitting right back here on Sunday, enjoying the celebration of 300...and maybe talking a bit about why it's so sweet.

P.S. Couldn't care less about the other milestones. Two dislikable players. One absolutely detestable. It's actually rather amusing that the Yankees put up a few touchdowns and eight home runs and no A-Bomb from A-Hole. Sure, this one's also going to happen but we can at least hope for a prolonged slump and maybe the absolutely irrational return of boo-birds in the Bronx.

P.P.S. By the way, the Brewers are good. They may not be as good as they appeared to be early in the season, but they're solid...and they're going to be scary for awhile. It's not often I get to watch this team, but with Hart, Hardy, Braun, Fielder and Hall this is a dangerous young team. Watch out if they get some more pitching.

Good Things, Man. Good Things.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HU8gvF6WCIk (better when embedded, but having some template issues)

Back when I started this thing a few weeks ago, I promised to harken back to the glory days. You know...like, the '80s and '90s. When sports were...I don't know...different.

Anyway, once in a while something happens that just reminds you of a moment, character or event in time that needs to be proactively re-surfaced. And, so it began about a week ago.

At work, I'm lucky enough to spend my time talking and thinking about sports (it's a hard knock life...). Anyway, I ain't that old...but compared to some of my colleagues...well, I'm real old. And I had the opportunity to have that point driven home. You've had those moments, right? When you realize you're a good deal older than some of your peers? Yep, that was me.

I was talking about Mars Blackmon. And I was getting blank stares. Expressionless faces devoid of any sort of recognition whatsoever. I looked at them incredulously and started digging myself into a deeper hole. "Mars Blackmon?" "Air Jordan?" "Sitting on top of the chain-link net basket?" "It's gotta be the shoes?" "Wait, You've never heard that expression?" I was momentarily dumfounded. At first it was cause for depression, that cultural icons of the sports commercial world had gone unnoticed by Gen Y, but then I accepted it. And, finally, I embraced it. This was an educational opportunity.

If they didn't know Mars, did they know Lil' Penny? Chances are they wouldn't remember Dennis Hopper as the crazy ref for Nike, either. Let alone Bruce Smith. How about Terry Tate, Office Linebacker? C'mmmmon, we're talking five years ago now. Anyway, it caused me to dig through the archives and walk down memory lane a bit on their behalf. Here are a few I'd remembered well.

The nearly four-minute version of Terry Tate. Includes return from knee-injury, rehab, etc. Great stuff.

Bad Things, man.

Lil' Penny with Nick Anderson and big Penny...all watching a "Griffey for President" commercial.

Lil' Penny and Tyra Banks give a different take on the Jordan slow-mo.

Mars. It's gotta be the shoes. Do you know, do you know, do you know?

By the way, completely off-topic. This has nothing to do with made-up people. But check out Steph and Garnett. I remember this, too. Hilarious. Marbury and Garnett led the T-Wolves to the playoffs 10 years ago. Wow.

Anyway, always fun to reminisce about past commercial personalities. It's a card both Nike and Reebok played well. Personally, I wouldn't mind another Lil' Penny or Mars to brighten up the sports commercial landscape. Can do without the "head ball coach," thank you kindly.

Get Ready for Ridiculous Headlines and Unbridled Enthusiasm

"Samkon Gado Poised to Shoulder Load"

Yes, it's that time of year. Celebraaaate...holidddayyy. NFL training camps opened today around this fine country of ours. Halle-freakin-lujah. Can this season get started fast enough?

So, what does it all mean? Very little, in actuality. Aside from the fact that it's that long-awaited time of year when we fans get to start reading our local paper beat writer's training camp reports and favorite team blogs. It's time for the training camp look-ins on ESPN, the more meaninful return of NFL Live and familiar faces like Sal Palontonio and Ed Werder returning to the tube with regularity. It also means the return of Hard Knocks on HBO, a show I've actually enjoyed in the past. This year they're following the Kansas City Chiefs. This means one thing. Unintentional comedy from none other than the Herminator. As a Jet fan, watching will surely bring back memories. "You play to win the game." Wonder if the cameras will catch the outside consultant delivering a lecture to Herm and his staff entitled "Clock Management 101: Understanding Timeout Usage in Professional Football."

More importantly, training camp is a time for absolutely ridiculous hyperbole. Headlines, notes and editorial remarks that you will never hear again and should, for all intents and purposes, completely disregard. Thinks like "Harrington Has Confidence of Atlanta Coaching Staff" and "Gradkowski Could be the Answer for Bucs." "Don't get me wrong, I'm a huge football fan, and part of this process is what makes being a fan so enjoyable. The anticipation. Reading up on every new face, resurrection project and player returning from serious injury. But no matter who your team is, it's utterly predictable. You can likely forecast a handful of quotes you're sure to see over the course of the next three or four weeks. For the green-and-white, it will be things like this:

"Pennington's arm appears stronger than ever in early sessions..."

"TE Baker poised for breakout season..."

"Jones sets sights on 2,000-yard season..."

In the past, these things would get me hook-line-and-sinker. I'll still read every headline and lofty promises. But as I advance in age my tendency to get blinded by the hype and start forwarding the latest highlight from the afternoon passing drills is slowly fading.

Now, the excercise is more a matter of embracing the sheer comedy of it all. Particuarly on day one of training camp. Let's step back for a second and think about this one. As rational human beings, not crazed sports fans. A rundown of the facts.

It is the first day of training camp.

These guys are in helmets and (maybe) shoulder pads.

Half of the participants will not be on the team come a few months.

Many have not practiced together in months.

In this context, things like below just kill me. A quick sampling of some of my favorite reports from a quick scour of day one reviews. Don't get me wrong, I applaud their enthusiasm...but, admittedly, I'm chuckling a bit...these are real quotes.

"Stanton's First Day is Cause for Encouragement." (MLive)

This was a full column. What did Stanton do exactly? On day ONE? Not fumble any snaps from center? Also, doesn't the mere fact that Lions fans are commenting sort of make you feel bad. It's like those D-Rays bloggers. That's what being a true fan is all about, though. Seeing that you're heading straight for a cliff, but holding on to the hope you can make that last-second turn even though gravity, science and team history all indicate otherwise...

"He looked OK in this morning's practice, looked good on the pass protection drill against the linebackers."(Pittsburgh Post-Gazette)

This was in the context of a live chat where a fan asked how Kevan Barlow looked at Steelers camp. Now, granted, the guy needs to answer the question, but are you serious? He looked good in pass protection? In a half-pad practice? Oh, and by the way, I got to watch a lot of Kevan Barlow during the Jets 2006 campaign. He's not good at anything. Not good. Not OK. Not serviceable. AW-ful.

"Was very impressive. Played very well in Europe, and now he’s translating that to training camp. Once again, outplayed Tom Malone." (Patriotsblog.net)

This was in reference to punter Danny Baugher. Baugher was cut by the Bengals last year and spent the season on the Pats practice squad.

"David Jones really impressed me today. He is a physical specimen and it looks like he can really run. On one play he stayed stride for stride with Jamal Jones on a go route and broke up the pass. He also had at least two other pass break ups that I can remember." (Whodatzone)

David Jones is a fifth-round rookie out of Winthrop. Jamal Jones signed a free-agent contract in '06 and did not record a catch last year. He made nine tackles on special teams. Not trying to squash Saints' fans enthusiasm...but just saying...he also looks like he's stoned here.

"TJB’s new favorite Jet, JUAN WONG, good burst on a punt/kick? return." (The Jets Blog)
This is from one of my favorite Jet blogs. This is also the guy I referenced in a post a few weeks ago. We need to settle down about Juan's burst.

And there are probably so many more. But here's to training camp. To unforgettable seven-on-seven performances, nifty cone drill cuts and great pass protection in half-contact drills. Now, how were the long-snappers is what I'd like to know.

Vote Hernandez and "No, Play for Mr. Grey!"

Herein lies the dilemma of a working man trying to make a go at this blogging thing. There are too many good stories out there. And oftentimes by the time you find the truly great ones, they are old news. The folks at Deadspin and many others have been all over this story for a week. I don't care. I'm going to pretend nobody's touched it. Because it's that good.

Just over a week ago, an organization decicated to "protecting the rights of, and fighting discrimination against, mustached Americans, by promoting the growth, care and culture of the mustache" did something great.

The American Mustache Institute officially announced a vote for the "Best Sports Mustache of All Time." In a word, phenomenal. As a marketer in "real life," the tactic (online poll) is rather pedestrian, yes. But in terms of tapping into the power of digital media, spurring consumer conversations and elevating awareness of your brand - simply brilliant. I honestly believe this could influence certain youngsters to foster ill-fated thoughts of rocking a little lip blanket in the spirit of honoring some of these legends.

Let's delve a bit deeper into this, shall we. Now, as I mentioned, the concept and its execution is not without flaws. The number of candidates originally proposed is paltry when one considers the magnitude of the debate. And aside from the nod to Adam Morrison , it risks alienating a whole younger generation of sports fans who have strong feelings about mustaches they've seen burst onto the scene in recent years, such as that of Redskins' QB Jason Campbell. Kudos to the folks at Hogs Haven for pushing "their guy" despite the overly oppressive stipulations of the AMI. By the way, Adam Morrison has always bothered me and I couldn't figure out why. It wasn't the crying or the psuedo-stache. It really annoyed me. But now it's come to me. Who he reminds me of...Richard Ramirez. Einhorn is Finckle. Finckle is Einhorn. Ok, that's neither here nor there.

As a self-proclaimed Gen-Xer, I've got to get behind #17 on this one. Whereas his Just for Men sidekick gets front-page billing (despite clear violation of the chin hair clause, I'd add), Keith "Women Don't Belong in the Dugout" Hernandez is not on the original ballot. This is an atrocity. Luckily, fellow Met fans have taken up the cause in support of Keith as a "write-in" and others are apparently coming around. Much like the MLB All-Star game, it's a popularity contest and the sheer number of New Yorkers is swinging the tide. It's good to see.

What's so great about Keith's 'stache? First off, it's not a gimmick. No fancy ringlets at the end, no elaborate handlebars or playing off stylish lamp chops. His is all-natural. Substantial. Well-trimmed. It has presence. Keith has also been unabashed about his lip 'do for years. No matter the prevailing fashion or cultural trends, he's stayed with the misplaced eyebrow. He should be rewarded. His has stood the test of time and, dare I say, improved with age.

On behalf of Mets fans, and all those who grew up watching you proudly sport that cookie duster, good luck Keith. We're pulling for you.

I Love...Helmet.

"Brick, are you just pointing to things in the office and saying that you love them?"

"I love helmet!"

He's one of the more likable guys in the majors. And it's great to have something new to talk about in the sports landscape. I'm one of those who's staunchly in the "Craig Biggio is a hall-of-famer" camp. His stats are arguably HOF-material on their own merit, regardless of era. He'll finish up with around 3,100 hits, and he's got four gold gloves to his name. Check out a few more of the numbers cited below pulled from Wikipedia:

• Is the only player in Major League Baseball history with at least 600 doubles, 3,000 hits, 250 homers and 400 steals


• Led the majors in runs scored in 1995 and 1997 and in doubles in 1998 and 1999


• In 1998 became the second player to have 50 stolen bases and 50 doubles in the same season. The only other person to accomplish this is Hall of Famer Tris Speaker


• Holds the National League record for most lead-off home runs in a career with 52. He is 2nd in MLB behind Rickey Henderson (81)


• Is a 7-Time All Star

His all-time lead in the HBP category, while not HOF criteria, speaks to the way he played the game. Not to go overboard, here, but the guy was the consummate "baseball player." He could play multiple positions and never looked awkward, because he understood the game and was a straight-up ball player. He slid hard, didn't get doubled up, hustled all over the field and did it all the right way.

Now, I didn't live in Houston. He could be the biggest a-hole around. This is just the superficial observation-based opinion of a Northeasterner. But, based on that surface exposure alone, he's the kind of guy you'd want on your team. And if Sosa, McWire and Bond are "punished" by the allegations and doubt that swirls around them, who benefits? How about guys like Craig Biggio? It seems like justice to me.

So, what really immortalizes Biggio? It's the helmet, of course. C'mon...have you owned anything for 20 years? People can do an archeological dig on this thing. Sure, it's a bit disgusting, but I love it. Vlad and Manny have both been rocking their original helmets for quite awhile, but they're not in Biggioland yet and it's questionable whether they'll get there. By the way, did these guys freeze-dry motor oil on their hard hats? What in the...

Anyway, Biggio's helmet should be placed right beside his shrine in the hall. It symbolizes everything he was about. Here's to Craig and all of the crap that's accumulated on that skull-protector over two decades.

Moises Alou, Former Ether-Opian, Now Buff on More Than Cheesy-Poofs?

Blogging is, at times, a dirty, whorish endeavor. I've come to accept this. In fact, I've embraced it.

Because penning original, compelling content daily is simply not feasible. So, today we lean on the folks at Nyjer Please, and the post below, for inspiration (posting video from You Tube, apparently curtails my ability to later edit/add hyperlinks in blogger, so apologies for burdensome link below. My tech-challenged self will soon conquer this obstacle).

As you'll see from the great Score player card image featured, Moises' forearms have doubled in size...he's gone from encaved chest cavity to bursting at the buttons...and even his chaw allotment has doubled. All interesting developments. Given his recent injury roll including torn calf, torn hamstring, and wait...what's this...ahh, Alou's triumphant return to Shea after a brief two-month stay on the DL has been postponed. Shoulder tendinitis. Sounds like he may have been receiving a prescription for a little steroid cocktail in past years. As a Met fan, can SallY Struthers at least help bring Moises the Ether-opian back? We just need another outfielder.

On a side note, doesn't that Score baseball card bring you back? Score was pretty ghetto in terms of the baseball card hierarchy. Upper Deck was the Rolls Royce with that sleek, glossy finish. Fleer and Topps weren't flashy, but reliable and occasionally sporty. And then there was Donruss and Score. Minivan- land. Remember those cards that came in the Drake's snacks boxes? Mmmm...Yodels. Did anyone else ever seem to get Jim Rice EVERY TIME. Ok, I'm digressing. Until later...

Weekend in Review

(Courtesy of Run Up the Score)


A snapshot of winner, losers and just plain 'ole ridiculousness.

Winner:

Jon Lester. 23-year old Red Sox pitcher takes the mound Monday night for the first time since a promising last season was cut short by cancer. Go Johnny, go.

Ok, that's it for the winners. Enough of all those sappy, feel-good stories. Yea, forget about sports. Let's talk about gambling, steroids and dogfighting. Woo-hoo. Now, for a mere sampling of a bevy of loooo-serrrs.



Losers (in no particular order):


Sergio Garcia. Lived down to all the expectations and then whined afterwards.

The D-Rays. 17-5. 21-4. Torre said: "I've never seen anything like it...even in batting practice you don't get hits every time you swing the bat.'' Imagine how that reads if you're a 'Rays pitcher. Got t make you feel pretty good about yourself, I'd assume. Please refer to final line of this post.

Yet, you have to admire the strength of their die-hards. Can you imagine being a fan of a franchise where this phrase can honestly be written?

"Yes you're part of a franchise with no history of success, and minus Fred McGriff no `heroes' of the past, but you know, that's no an excuse. "

Minus...Fred...McGriff. Read those three words over again. The Crime Dog? He of the Tom Emanski heroes? Don't ever underestimate what it takes to be a D-Ray fan. Ever.

Tim Donaghy. He should look at the bright side. He's only embarrassed himself, his family and the game. At least he hasn't gotten whacked yet...perhaps, he can look forward to an even more federal you-know-what prison.

ESPN. Again. Currently listening to Rick Sutcliffe reporting from AT&T Park, previewing the game tonight on ESPN. And discussing Bond's batting practice exploits. He is now going on mute. Luckily, we'll have updates on every single at-bat. Can't wait. How great would it be if Smoltz just beamed him in the head?

Vick. Goodell ordered him to stay home from camp. Probably a good thing, lest he open his mouth.

MLB. For Dane Cook.

Ridiculousness:

HELP WANTED: Attention all quarterbacks. If you have ever played the quarterback position, like EVER, the Tampa Bay Buccaneers want to hear from you.

QUALIFICATIONS: Must have started a game in the NFL. Mediocre career stats a plus. Those with long careers and questionable longetivity preferred.

C'mon, Chucky. Invite Doug Flutie. I dare ya. Do it.


Finally, in not-quite-sports news, an adjective that should never be associated with a White Castle hamburger...deep-fried. I've been thinking about anything else that could be deep-fried, which is not already, that could be more gastronomically-frightening than this concoction. I am at a loss. And, frankly, I've spent several minutes thinking about this. Actually, let's give credit where it's due. The Independent League's Gateway Grizzlies really blazed the trail on this. What would you expect from the folks who brought us Baseball’s Best Burger -- a burger topped with sharp cheddar, two slices of bacon and a sliced Krispy Kreme donut as a bun. Possibly worse...ummm, yes, that has just re-claimed the title.

That's all for now. Going to be another long week, so look for quick-hitters. Very much looking forward to the opening of NFL camps and some new fodder.

Speaking of which...Tim Couch is reportedly looking to make yet another comeback. Timmy...we may just have a team for you. You have started a game, correct? Good, that's all we were looking for.

Two Bright Lights, Slowly Fading

Today, I’m going to pretend I’m a "real" journalist and someone is paying me to write. It seemed like something different to do. This is a moment in time I remember well. If you don’t, that’s fine. Come back again when we return to pithy sarcasm about the sorry state of sports today.

“Electric.” It’s one of those descriptions that sportscasters use too often. It’s supposed to represent, in a single word, a style of play, a feeling, an aura that virtually emanates from a player when they’re on the field. It’s used for athletes whose performance entertains even those spectators who know nothing about the game…for players who seem to explode from the TV screen into your living room…for those who look like they’re moving at a different speed…that the game is easier for them.

It was January 4, 2000. College football’s biggest stage. Undefeated Florida St. versus undefeated Virginia Tech for the Sugar Bowl trophy - and the national championship.

Michael Vick and Peter Warrick were electric.

I remember thinking about the game beforehand. I’ve always loved college football but this was 2000. I was a wee buck. Less than a year out of school. Fairly oblivious to the real world. Reveling in the joy of drinking beers and watching every college football game broadcast on any network, and day, whatever the time. During the 1999 season, I’d followed the jaw-dropping highlights of the dynamic freshman quarterback. Michael Vick was being labeled the next coming. He was a weekly SportsCenter feature. And watching him play, there wasn’t much reason to doubt the hype. He led the NCAA in passing efficiency that season and ran circles around everyone. He did flips into the end zone. The Virginia Tech Hokies team went 11-0.

But Vick had also run wild against a schedule of opponents that included James Madison, UAB, Rutgers (they used to be really bad) and Temple (still really bad). Their Sugar Bowl opponent was Florida St. (used to be really, really good). I remember thinking…if this Vick kid is for real, let’s see how he does against the fastest defensive team in the country.

Michael Vick was still a relative novelty. Perhaps it was some sort of freshman magic and defenses would eventually “figure him out.” Peter Warrick was a no-doubter. He was a Biletnikoff Award semi-finalist his sophomore year. Following his junior season, he was a consensus All-American but declined to enter the NFL Draft and returned to Tallahassee for his senior season. Warrick returned kicks. He took direct snaps. He made spectacular catches deep down the field. He turned people around in the open field like Barry Sanders used to do. He was Reggie Bush before Reggie Bush.

On that night in January of 2000, neither Vick nor Warrick disappointed. The game - and its stars - were spectacular. After falling down by 21 points early, Vick led the Hokies back to score 22 unanswered and go ahead 29-28 towards the end of the third quarter. His stats were impressive, but not awe-inspiring (23-97 rushing, 15-29-0-225 passing), and the Hokies would eventually lose 46-29 after getting blanked in the fourth quarter.

But the world had been introduced to Michael Vick. The freshman had gone up against mighty Florida St., and he hadn’t looked slow. They had. Following the season, he would appear on the cover of ESPN the Magazine donning the title "Human Highlight.” He was on his way to becoming the Michael Jordan of football. He would change the quarterback position forever.

Warrick was also ok that night. Actually, he was a little better than that. The speedy Seminole receiver dominated. He had six catches…for 163 yards. Three touchdowns. A 64-yard TD grab in the first quarter and a 43-yard reception in the fourth. Oh yea, he also had a 59-yard punt return for a score. He was undeniably the most unstopabble player on the field and named Sugar Bowl MVP.

A year later, Warrick was selected #4 overall by the Cincinnati Bengals in the 2000 NFL Draft. Vick would go #1 the next year to the Atlanta Falcons. At the time, SI football writer Peter King said this (San Diego doesn’t look so foolish now, huh?).

Fast-forward to July 2007. Warrick, after four disappointing seasons in Cincinnati and an 11-catch campaign in 2005 with the Seattle Seahawks, was cut and failed to impress an NFL team in 2006 enough to make a roster. Earlier this year, he signed with the Las Vegas Galaxy of the Arena Football League. Weeks into the season, he went A.W.O.L. citing the desire to give the NFL one more shot.

Vick, although more successful, hasn’t lived up to his billing. He’s been consistently, and fairly, critiqued for his ability to read defenses, his decision-making (go, figure) and his throwing accuracy. More importantly, over the past three seasons, the Falcons have compiled a 26-22 record. And, of course, there was the finger thing…and the marijuana thing…and, now, the dog thing.

Oh, how the once-mighty have fallen. Not that they deserve much sympathy. Both were paid amply for their services. Vick’s lucrative contract and bevy of endorsement deals make him one of the highest-paid athletes in all of sports. This also not a rarity. This happens. Highly-touted players who simply never pan out. There are thousands of examples - many whose back story is tragic, unfathomable, unconscionable. Not the case, here.

But for the football fan who truly loves the game, it’s a bit bittersweet…that for these two gifted athletes, the light has come so close to flickering out, so soon.

Ready for a New Story

This is how I feel today. It's Groundhog Day. Again. Bonds. Vick. Goodell. Selig. Beckham. Bonds. Vick. Goodell...can't...take it...any...more.

In addition, it's been a long week and a little zapped of creative energy. For things that I thought were witty, check out previous posts here and here. Yes, these are past mental voyages courtesy of...you guessed it...me. Judging by the server-busting traffic to these posts and overwhelming number of comments, perhaps not so witty? If you can't market your own work to your own loyal readers...ahhh, the world of blogging...

Anyyyy-way. So, today we lean on resources beyond what lies between my ears. Here are a few highlights from other "news" around the blogosphere this week.

Heisman-hopeful Darren McFadden needs to talk to Brett Rhomar and friends at Oklahoma. Darren, you can have a booster let you "borrow" a car for the school season. Like, an Escalade maybe. C'mon. Seriously. This is like big-time college football 101. Because this is not the way Heisman candidates roll.

The Cubbies are the hottest team in baseball. No joke. This is one of those developments in sports that actully makes me smile. If for nothing more than folks like this get to write things like this.

Urban Meyer's daughter is becoming the next Allison Stokke. These are merely observations. Nikki has been making the rounds in the blogosphere this week.

Gary Player also declared that golf is not immune from performance-enhancing drug use among its players. Because we needed another steroids discussion. Also, when did creatine become a banned substance? Maybe I missed the memo on that.

Finally, this just out...an FBI investigation is underway into an NBA referee who allegedly bet on games he officiated. Maybe that's why the Knicks have lost so many games of late. Or it could have something to do with this guy...and this one...and...

That's it. I'm out. Have a great weekend all. Will be interesting to see if there are any stories about Bonds, Vick, Goodell, Selig or Beckam this weekend. "Now, put your little hand in mine..."

Dear ESPN...I've Got A Programming Idea.

Who's [Crazy] Now?

After promising not to jump on the EPSN-bashing bandwagon, I'm going to join for a quick ride. But no run-of-the-mill whining...we've got a specific problem...and we've always been taught to not just voice the beef, but try to propose a solution.

As bad as Sportscenter has become, I still watch almost every night. However, the ridiculous Who's Now? garbage is becoming intolerable. It's during those mind-numbing minutes I actually find myself flipping over to NY1 to check the weather. It's that bad.

So, here's the solution. It's simple. One word actually. Throw in the word "crazy." No, seriously. Think about the level of entertainment a "Who's Crazy Now?" tournament could create. There would be no channel-surfing for me.

And, frankly, there's not a lot the programming fellas at ESPN would need to do. Same basic idea, online voting, panel of experts, keep your brackets and all. Only the premise would be this: who's the craziest athlete in sports today. Period. The most looney tunes, certifiable nutbag. We'd have to limit it to active players, otherwise we'd have Iron Mike (this compilation is R-rated, but unreal) coasting to the finals.

But that wouldn't take away from the excitement. Can you imagine the chatter? Who should be the #1 seed in the Southeast bracket? Michael Vick or Pac-Man Jones? What about Gary Sheffield? Could John Daly make a run? What would the odds be on Stephen Jackson or Ron Artest? T.O., perhaps? There are sleepers out there, too. Hotheads like Tony Stewart and Julian Tavarez. Could be lower seeds, but watch out.

For my money, I'd have to go with Elijah Dukes. He 's my favorite.

If anyone at ESPN's listening, let's get this done. For now, I ask my faithful readers and visitors to help spread the word.

All-Natural, Baby!

Couldn't get over this photo from a decade-old poster created by the publisher of Outside Pitch, the "news magazine for Orioles fans." I've been thinking about whether to even bother going near this whole steroids thing, actually. You know what got me there? Kids. A frightening admission in its own right, but the thought entered my head: "what would I tell my kids?" What if I have a son who loves the game like I do and he asks me about some of the stars of the 1997 All-Star game? Guys like Caminiti, Bonds, Bagwell, Javy Lopez, Todd Hundley, Brady Anderson, Jeff Cirillo, Mark McGwire and Roger Clemens. All on that roster. And every single one I have my doubts about.

Even if most of these guys were doing it "on their own," how do you explain this monstrosity and his jump from 16 dingers in 143 games during the 1995 campaign to 50...50!...in 149 games the next year?

We all know the answer. It's depressing. It's unfortunate. It's reality. So, what's the answer? I'm not sure. But if I'm lucky enough to have one of those kids who buys a pack of cards every time he can get his hands on one, reads the Beckett's guide like it's the Bible and is constantly curious about the history of the game...Well, I'm going to try to tell him about how it was to watch Jose Reyes leg out a triple...or see Greg Maddux win 300+ games by mastering the craft of pitching...or observe the barehanded plays Omar Vizquel effortlessly made at shortstop (even at age 40). It won't be about watching Slammin' Sammy or the Bash Brothers...and it certainly won't be about Brady Anderson.

Our Favorite New Arrival...David Zoolander

More miserable hype around you know who. Yup, he's got his own blog. And, as you can tell from the home page it's all about promoting the game he loves. Doesn't he look like a tough, gifted soccer player? We may have to wait for the first post-game Galaxy review as it seems a nagging angle injury from June continues to bother poor Davie. Can you imagine Brian Urlacher or Ray Lewis featuring a photo like this on their home page? Nope, they look like they want to eat your children. Is comparing an NFL linebacker to a midfielder imported from England fair? Probably not. But I just can't take an athlete who says he's trying to raise the profile of soccer in this country, and yet all we've seen is half-naked shots with wife posh and and this blue steel look. Now, they're apparently blowing up the W magazine photos and putting them on their wall.
Tell me when I'm supposed to take this guy seriously?

Now, Posh, you can stay.

Thumbs Up, Down

Quick takes on some of the things I've enjoyed and lamented in the sports world and around the Web the past week or so. Sure, I'm a little late to the party on a few of these, but I was experiencing what it's like to watch a Cubbies game from a roofdeck on Waveleand Avenue, so cut me a little slack. So, how was it, you ask? I honestly have no idea other than that the bar was on the third floor and they wrote names on plastic cups as an amusing little form of entertainment. It also became quite helpful as the afternoon progressed. I was later told the Cubs won. OK, now on to the the roundup.

Thumbs Up:


To the various bloggers who've helped expose the world to "the white Reggie Bush." Check out this video posted at the Commision. Watch this. And then watch it again. I've bought into the hype. Let's get the guy up against Barry Bonds in a "Who's Now" faceoff.

Speaking of which...thumbs up to the folks at Awful Announcing for clearly and succinctly summing up what ails "the network". With all of the incessant bashing in the blogosphere, it's good to see someone who can clearly and articulately get to the root of the issue without a lot of extra hype.

A big thumbs up to the continued physical and mental detirioration of Barry Bonds. If we're going to have to see him break this record, let's see him limp to the finish and embarrass himself/get pounded by the media and public as much as possible along the way. In the meantime, we'll also continue to hold out on the slip hopes of a career-ending ruptured Achilles tendon at 754.

Thumbs Down:

To the New York Jets, for signing prolific NFL Europe receiver Juan Wong. There is no other reason to invite this guy to camp aside from his name...oh yea, and his one reception for 11 yards during last year's European campaign. Really?!

Also receiving votes: Gary Sheffield, Philadelphia Phillies. Ron Artest also got suspended...while in Kenya. According to unconfirmed reports, Stephen Jackson received the news in the champagne room of an Oakland strip club.

Where Have You Gone, B.D.W.G.?

Gregory Edward Butler

Center: New York Knicks

1988-1991

I apologize ahead of time if this topic has been covered better or more extensively somewhere else, as I've yet to stumble upon it. As we get back into the swing of second-half baseball, I'm taking some time to bounce around the sports world and share some other rather non-breaking news-related observations.

In today's installment, we bemoan the apparent death of the Big Doofy White Guy (or B.D.W.G.) in the National Basketball Association. Sadly, it seems the need for a poorly-coordinated, hack-happy, slow-footed American-born post player has come and gone. So, let's take a second to remember a few of those towers of lilly white who are relics of a bygone era.

The exploration of this topic is simply the examination of a trend. There hasn't been a dominant white post player in the League for decades. A quick look through the NBA All-Star rosters of the past 15 years, reveals one white big-man from the U.S. of A. to see action - Brad Miller. Others from across the ocean, including Die Hard terrorist extra Detlef Schrempf, chain-smoking Vlade Diva and Peja Sotjakovic made their appearances, but the elite white big man is a thing of the past. Unless you want to pin your hopes to rookie Spencer Hawes.

And that's all fine and good. Seriously. But where is the B.D.W.G.? The perpetual crowd favorite. Every one of us had one growing up. The guy who you never saw take their warm-ups off unless the deficit hit in the neighborhood of 40 points. For me, as a Knicks fan, it was Greg Butler. Butler fits the B.D.W.G. profile to at "t." We're looking for those players who played in the last two decades...actually got drafted by some genius GM...managed to stay around the league a few years...6 '9 or taller...averaged five points a game (max)...and generally managed to accumulate a greater number of fouls than any other statistic. Butler stuck around for three years, wowing the Garden faithful in the final minutes of many a nailbiter, managing to drop in 76 points over a 55-games played according to Wikipedia.

So, who's your favorite B.D.W.G. ever? And will they ever return to their role and have a place in the NBA? We also need to help define the hard-cut criteria for B.D.W.G. certification. Perhaps, we can even name a president? Here are a few of my other favorites from recent memory:

Will Perdue - Big Willie nabbed three rings with the Bulls in his glory years and played nearly 30 minutes/game for the Spurs during the 96-97 season (wait, did I just write that? Is that possible?). Will also had the largest shoe size in the NBA, during his career (21AAAAA). Who knew? Could explain some of his difficulty in moving them without tripping.

Greg Ostertag - The University of Kansas grad was a standout for the Jazz and has announced, and I'm not making this up, that he's gearing up for a comeback effort. We can only hope. He also had a great haircut.

Eric Montross - Montross burst onto the scene after being selected ninth overall by the Celtics. After scoring 10 ppg his rookie season, he solidified his B.D.W.G. status by slowly declining in productivity to finish his career at 4.5 ppg with a high-water mark of 0.8 ppg for the '99 Pistons. Apparently, he played there for multiple years.

Honorable mention B.D.W.G. - Bryant Reeves couldn't have been a better fit for BDWG-dom, but, alas, he did average about 12 ppg for his career. A little too good...although he did have a great 'do as well. Also, I'm not one to stereotype or presume things about people simply based on appearance...BUT...I can say in all honesty that not one of the things listed in Reeves' bio is at remotely surprising.

So, who's your all-time B.D.W.G.? Look forward to your thoughts and submissions. As far as a definition, would also welcome anyone stepping up and creating a definitive criteria. For example, I don't consider Scott Pollard a B.D.W.G. Why? Not quite sure...maybe it's because he can kind of jump and doesn't look completely awkward running up and down the court...except for the hair. What is it with these guys?

Anyway, need someone to define it for me. In the meantime, if you need more inspiration...think Cherokee Parks, Bill Wennington (technically, he's Canadian, so he really doesn't qualify, but you get the point) and Mark Madsen . By the way, I'm not making fun of any of these guys. Mark Madsen made $2.2M last year...to play 8.4 minutes a game. He also has a blog - the online home for all "Mad Dog" fans.

Rickey Would Like to Introduce Rickey

Quick hitter.


Rickey Henderson was recently announced as the Mets new hitting instructor. The news has provided an opportunity to reflect back on Rickey's hilarious musings and interactions with teams, players and the media over the years. Check out a great rundown at 100% Injury Rate.

ESPN Page 2's Jeff Pearlman follows up with a great take on Rickey's introductory press conference for the Mets.

Do You Have a Pinot Noir, Perhaps?

Check out some great snapshots of the Sox on the way to the All-Star game courtesy of Barstool.

This particular image is right up there toward the top of the "photos I would never expect to see" list.

In other news, I'm still in love with Alyssa Milano, and I will be checking out her blog more regularly now.

And What Was Your Major, Kool-Aid?

(Boston.com)

A random musing until more substantive content later today. Can anyone guess Laurence Maroney's major while at the University of Minnesota? Anyone? Bueller?

If you guessed "Pre-Intercollege Program," you're the lucky winner (http://www.laurencemaroneyrb.com/bio.html). Now, if you're reading this and wondering what the hell that means...well, that would make two of us. A quick Google search reveals no other mentions of the "Pre-Intercollege Program" anywhere else on the Web outside of Maroney-related sites.

A quick perusal of the UM Web site fails to reveal the exact major but does detail the Intercollege B.A. option.

http://onestop2.umn.edu/programCatalog/viewCatalogProgram.do?programID=1051&strm=1063

It goes on to describe it as most appropriate for...

• "self-directed students whose educational backgrounds and career and intellectual interests require both a clear personal focus and a flexible interdisciplinary approach."

Now, I don't want to rush to judgment on Kool-Aid, or the quality of education provided to athletes at the University of Minnesota...I mean this IS the man whose Facebook "Favorite Quotes" section contained the following (from Kissing Suzy Kolber)...

-“wash u ass”

-“bout time we got some construda in dis mothafucka”

-“u begul shitting”


-“Your ass backwards if you chase hoes, chase the cheese they come with the shit.”
http://kissmesuzy.blogspot.com/2007/06/koolaid-maroney-wants-u-to-wash-u-ass.html

BUT, I'm thinking Laurence's specially-designed, customized program was meant to sharpen his "clear personal focus" of running with the football. The "flexible interdisciplinary approach" provided the latitude to also catch balls out of the backfield and still squeeze in some "cheese-chasing" on the side. OK, I promise I'm done on Kool-Aid for awhile, but are you kidding me with this stuff!!? As the folks at KSK so aptly put it when this first came up, "the bar has been raised."

It's a Grind-Off!

Ok, it's not...but we should set it up. Maybe we even get Shaq, D. Howard and "LeBrown" James to participate. This would be quality entertainment.

Oden's moves are getting a second round of attention following this interview from AOL Fanhouse's Miss Gossip.

http://sports.aol.com/fanhouse/bloggers/miss-gossip/

(Synergy of Sports)

But I'm sure MJ could teach this rookie a thing or two about what it takes to play at a higher level. Determination, concentration and a steadfast dedication to the fundamentals. I mean, look at the way MJ cooly attacks the double-team as opposed to waiting for it to come to him. The lessons are there for the taking. Oden just needs to seize the opportunities...and a few summer league rebounds would be good, too.

(Via Deadspin)

A Least Welcome Import

Aren't you just brimming with anticipation? Tomorrow's the big day. David Beckham's press conference on the West Coast. His official coronation as a member of the L.A. Galaxy. Can you believe it? He's going to be here! In our country! Shoot me now.

My thoughts on soccer are fairly straightforward. It's not a sport for this country. It will never be a sport for this country. It's painful to watch. And any sport where the score consistently ends in 0-0 with the ball spending a large majority of its time being batted about within a 20-yard total area pushes the defined boundaries of sport.

One could go on for days providing insurmountable evidence to support this position. Lucky for us all, there is already a place where this assignment has been tackled -- with gusto. Take a trip over to http://www.soccersucks.net/.

Their mission, quite simply, is to save the world from soccer.

Now that's a cause I can stand behind. Here's to hoping the return of baseball drowns out as much of this hype as possible.

Athletes Spreading Their Wings: Bloggin', Rappin', and Jammin'

(Image Courtesy of Street Census)

This is going to be one of those posts where my professional and personal worlds collide a bit. So, will try not to make it too serious. But, if you haven't noticed, the trend of consumer-generated content is also extending to athletes. Couple that with our celebrity-obsessed culture and you've got an environment where players are doing things that were unthinkable only a decade ago...penning their own blogs, producing records, starring in reality shows, etc. As somewhat of a self-proclaimed "purist," one might think I'd be adamantly opposed to all these off-field shananagans. Surpisingly, I actually like it. A lot.

So often we never get to see the other side of these players, and, from a fan's perspective, blogs like 38pitches.com (http://38pitches.com/), although flawed, are intriguing. Even reading Mike Maroth's account of Verlander's no-hitter provides a bit more perspective than you're going to get from the booth http://www.marothbaseball.com/blog.asp.

One player blog that's getting me beyond excited is Greg Oden's new online home:

http://www.yardbarker.com/users/gregoden. Something tells me that the unintentional comedy level on this one is going to HUGE. Oden feels like he's got a little Shaq in him in terms of the one-liners and skillfull sound byte delivery.

Beyond the blogs, I could probably deal without the recording collaborations, movie cameos and television forays, but if nothing else it's entertaining. For example, who knew Tony Parker could sling rythmes the way he does assists?

http://www.wat.tv/playlist/586925/video/587229/tonyparker-Tony-Parker--Premier-Love-First-Love.html

Speaking of which, it's always fun to go back and check out some of the other chart-topping rap experiments by pro athletes. The team at Street Census breaks down a few of the more memorable efforts. Andre "Bad Moon" Rison. Another great nickname...

http://streetcensus.blogspot.com/2007/05/top-10-worstbest-athlete-rappers.html

Less Pac Man, More Kool-Aid

(Courtesy of Barstool Sports)

With baseball on hiatus, it's been a day to think football. One of the more compelling off-season developments in the NFL? You guessed it...the emergence of Laurence "Kool-Aid" Maroney of the New England Patriots. For those newbies to the sports blogosphere, the folks at Barstool Sports helped to break this groundbreaking compelling story a few weeks back, and it's slowly getting the recognition it deserves.

http://www.barstoolsports.com/randomthoughts/2007/06/22/

All of the images, along with the quotes from MySpace, are phenomenal. But, of course, the ability to truly embrace a nickname with every ounce of your being is what should really be lauded here. Any athlete can give themself a catchy moniker, but how many go the extra mile to market that tag through state-of-the-art jewelry including necklace and bracelet. Now, that's just special. If Laurence doesn't have a tattoo of the cheery, little red guy he needs to get on it. And if his agent hasn't contacted Kraft to offer Maroney as an official spokesperson, it's reprehensible.

In light of all the Pac Man news (at least give the guy high marks for trying to keep out of trouble http://sports.espn.go.com/nfl/news/story?id=2932509), it begs the question how do we get Kool-Aid permanently accepted into the sports lexicon? Adam "Pacman" Jones has had years to solidify his nickname with sportscasters and reporters across the country. Kool-Aid's a bit behind. This may require a comprehensive communications strategy. But, for now, please do your best to show your support for Kool-Aid by continuing to share his story with others.

Nothing would make me happier than hearing the NFL Primetime folks recounting highlights of Kool-Aid's sweetness come this fall.

In other Wednesday news...

- Brady Quinn hung out with Poison before a recent show. Uhhh...not sure what to say about this that hasn't already been said.
http://mondesishouse.blogspot.com/2007/07/bret-michaels-still-steeler-fan.html

- College football is clearly evolving and becoming the breeding ground for fine upstanding young men to gain maturity, a quality education and cultural awakening. Here are a few of the leads from the top stories on ESPN.com's college football home page today. An all-around good day for cover guys and NCAA president Myles Brand. He must be brimming with pride.

"Former Michigan player convicted in assault case"

"N. Colo punter loses bid to suppress statements" (from the infamous punter stabbing trial)

"Montana CB Wilson arraigned on murder charge"

"Former Gators cornerback found dead in his car"

- And, finally, as part of their annual V Foundation auction this morning, Mike & Mike announced the "SportsCenter Experience" package as one of the fine items available. The winner gets to join - get this - Brian Kenny and Jay Harris! - on an upcoming 6 p.m. edition. I'd expound on all the reasons why this is embarrassing but fellow bloggers have already been down this path and continue down it. An oldie-but-goody, EDBS's 52 Reasons ESPN/ABC/Disney sucks.

http://www.everydayshouldbesaturday.com/?p=1406#comment-231248

Please Let the Squirrel Stay, Bill

On August 14th, EA will launch Madden 2008 and rumor has it that former Bengal receiver Kelley Washington's "Squirrel" dance will make the cut (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lOV_aC0h570). For those of you who are all into the game still, there are certainly much bigger stories of interest to you. Well, there aren't for me. To be honest, I couldn't recall this little shimmy off-hand, but the video above was a pleasant reminder. Here's to holding out on the slim hope that Belichick allows the Squirrel to continue to scurry about for the 'Pats this coming season.

More to come on "things I like" over the next few posts. As I get the hang of this blogging thing, going to try to keep from heading to negative town on every post. No need for that. There are so many things to celebrate in the sporting world today. Like Laurence Kool-Aid Maroney, for example. Did I mention I love player nicknames? More on Kool-Aid later. In a word, fantastic.

Ahh...to be the Royals Skipper...Part II

ADDENDUM 7/11:

Deadspin references Royals Review in today's post chronicling the storied recent history of Royals All-Stars. Good to see Cecilio and Deadspin agree on the wonders of being a Royal fan. Hang in there Royal devotees, maybe next year's selection will get an at-bat. Fingers crossed!

http://deadspin.com/sports/all-star-game/the-royals-rule-the-all-star-game-277196.php

Oh No, It's Happening Again...

It's 9:03 p.m. and Chevy has punished us for the first time. I am having awful flashbacks to the NFL season...playoffs...World Series...national anthem...Super Bowl. Why do I have a sneaking suspicion this will not the be last time we are told that "this is our country?"

Home Run Debacle

Unwatchable. Mind-numbing. Painful. Those are just a few of the adjectives that come to mind in recounting last night's home run "derby." I've spent a lot of time debating whether this event would have been more appealing if I was, say, 12-years old...and concluded the answer is "no."

Roll up the lousy field of participants, a non-conducive ballpark, agonizingly-annoying commentators and an in-studio crew and it all equates to awful television.

Not shockingly, others in blogger nation have given this significantly more thought than I have prior to this post, so I'll defer to their collective infinite wisdom and count down my interpretation of the top five observations from around the blogosphere on last night's "event."

5. "I’m sorry: That thing was ENDLESS. I only tuned in for a few minutes, but I couldn’t believe how much it dragged on and on. The demise of the Derby and the Dunk Contest are two of the more regrettable erosions of the sports landscape over the last 20 years."

http://www.danshanoff.com/2007/07/tuesday-0710-am-quickie-barry-bonds-mlb.html

4. "So The Home Run Derby is on right now. The event is being called by three of the most appalling broadcasters you’ll ever see assembled at one time in Chris “I’m a Roaring Jackass” Berman, Joe “I Think Way too Highly of Myself and Hate Ryne Sandberg” Morgan and Dusty “Gotta Have My Horses to Win” Baker. Each is tragically painful to listen to for different reasons..."

http://www.cubscast.com/blog/2007/07/09/in-case-you-haven’t-heard-barry-bonds-is-a-douche/

3. "So who’s going to make the comparison of the Derby to the NBA’s Dunk contest? Anyone? Vlad beat out this guy named Alex Rios from the Toronto Blue Jays. Seriously, if Rios delivered a pizza to our apartment right now, we’d have no clue who he was. "

http://thebiglead.com/?p=2701

2. "I think I would have rather been kicked in the nuts than had to watch 3 hours worth of commentary on Matt Holliday and his swing plane. ESPN, hit an all new low last night with no less than 9 people to cover the endless spectacle that was about as boring as a junior high girls basketball game. "

http://bumpspage.blogspot.com/2007/07/eternal-sustaining-painful-network.html

1. I won't even do the folks at The Nosebleeds a disservice by trying to pull a best quote from their analysis. It's all too good. Can we arrange a conference call with Selig asap?

http://www.thenosebleeds.com/2007/07/modest-proposal.html

Ahhh...to be the Royals Skipper

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kamDqL-AGzI (Hal McRae Goes Nuts)

Back in the writer's box again. Hope everyone had a good weekend. A quick-hitter to get the juices flowing. Again, an assist to the wonderful resource that is YouTube. While I'd promised to dive deeper into the Devil Rays duldrums, the editorial decision hase been made to jump right to the Kings of the Midwest -- the Kansas City Royals.

And while most are probably waiting on the edge of their respective seats for my in-depth perspective on the franchise's woes and the sorry state of "baseball as a business" (or not), Hal McRae seems to capture...how do you say it...the essence of being associated with the Royals? To add insult to injury, Royals' owner David Glass is profiting from being pitiful. See below

http://www.forbes.com/free_forbes/2007/0507/040.html

A trip to the Royals home page bears the slogan "True. Blue. Tradition." Uhhh...ok. I'm in marketing and everything, but who came up with this one? Tradition?? Am I missing something here? I'm all for a little spin, but what exactly about this catchy new phrase speaks to the joys of Royaldom?

True. True what? True garbage? True AAA baseball? True commitment to losing?

Blue. Yes, the Royals uniforms feature blue. And when one things of the classic uniforms in all of sports, it conjures up images of the silver-and-black of the Raiders, the kelly green of the Celtics, Alabama crimson...and, of yes of course, Royals' blue.

Tradition. Yes, KC has a long and storied tradition. Oh wait, they really don't have one having debuted as an expansion franchise in 1969. To experience what it's like to be a Royals fan, see the links below. The first chronicles the many exciting highlights of the Royals franchise from 1990-1999. The second leads us to a series of commercials trying to fire up the KC faithful for the 2007 season.

http://kansascity.royals.mlb.com/kc/history/timeline3.jsp

http://kansascity.royals.mlb.com/kc/fan_forum/commercials.jsp

All of this is starting to depress me, and I'm not even a fan. I really can't imagine...

Coming soon...we hop off the team bashing and look at some old school rituals that make us gravitate to certain players.

A Visual Tribute to Previous Post

Still getting a hang of this blogging thing...meant to have this video accompany the previous post. Regardless, it's just as magical on its own.

Playoffs!? Celebrate Your Fan Independence

As the 4th of July fades in the rearview, it seems a good time to reflect on our good fortune as sports fans. Whether you're a loyal devotee of the Oakland Raiders, Memphis Grizzlies or Cincinnati Reds, there have been bad times, for sure. But, you have also savored the joys of fandom. Cheering for the likes of stars like Ken Griffey Jr., celebrating your franchise's first trip to the playoffs, or even a recent Super Bowl run. These are memories to relish...and for fans of teams like the Yankees, NY Giants, Phillies and others, please save the "woe is me" for another day. For sometimes it requires taking a different perspective to realize the gifts you possess. That perspective can be provided by examining a few of the more tortured franchises in all of sports. Sure these names are not new, but take a few seconds to really drink in the misery that these bunches must bring to their fans on a day in day out, year-over-year basis. Truly remarkable.

Example A: The Pittsburgh Pirates

The Bucos have not made it to the playoffs in the past 15 years. OK, not completely brutal, right. How about not having a WINNING SEASON in those 15 years? Think about that one for a moment. No, really. Take it in. Luckily for the fans of Pittsburgh, management has helped bring in a beautiful new stadium and pulled out all the stops this off-season to go after the big-name free agents like Adam LaRoche. 15 yeeears...can you imagine? How about the poor kid whose parents brought him up a Pirates fan back in '93? He's heading into high school and has never experienced a winning season. Still think your team has it bad?

May go radio-silent for a day or two, here. Thanks for checking in. Next installment, we continue on this path and discuss the exhiliration that is being a Tampa Bay Devil Rays fan. The 'Rays dropped their 11th straight last night. Over the past nine years, the Devil Dogs have averaged 97 losses/year. Thankfully for D-Ray faithful they're right on pace again this year. By the way, their "ace" (by wins total) is James Shields. Riiiiight...as a good friend of mine always says, "why do they even bother taking the field?"

Did It Break the Glass??? Oh God, it did...

I plan to share my views on the good, bad and ugly of sports today, and much of it will be in the context of how it compares (unfavorably) to the past. Here's a good example.

Recently, I took a trip home to see the parents and found myself rummaging through the old VHS files in the den closet...came across a tape I'd watched probably 50X. "1986 Mets: A Year to Remember." I remember sitting on my couch and memorizing the on-screen calendar that flipped from series to series, showing the arches as the Metros traveled to Busch, the Astrodome and the West Coast...knowing exactly what sound byte and video clip would play when...drinking in the player montages of Backman and Dykstra to Duran Duran's "Wild Boys," singing along to Seger's "Like a Rock" as Hernandez and Carter highlights danced across the screen.

So I watched it again...probably 10-15 years since my last viewing...and it was just as good...maybe better.

But one thing struck me. Or you might say annoyed me. Not that it'll be a newsflash for anyone.
PLAYERS TODAY DON'T CARE. I watched a 60-minute video and saw things that I can't remember seeing in baseball games for years:

- A full-on fist fight...at third base
- Players jumping on each other and boisterously high-fiving...on plays that were not walk-off home runs
- Fist-pumping...after line-drive base hits with nobody on
- Multiple no-holds-barred bench-clearing brawls

There were many more examples. This angered me. Until next time...

What's in a name...

Very little, actually. Thought the name of this blog might be a good place to start. There's really no special symbolism behind it. Once upon a time, I spent summers playing softball with guys that were years older than me. Truth be told, I was basically the bat boy for these beer-leaguers. And two of them apparently had a game where they would name random, semi-obscure baseball players and try to consistenly one-up each other. At least I think that's was the game was about...to be honest, I never found out how you played or any of the rules. However, like most fans trying to impress their older brethren, I wanted to play. So, one day, while warming up on the field, I heard them once again bantying names about...and I took my shot. 13 years old or so, playing an older man's game, I shouted out "Cecilio Guante!"

Their reaction told me all I needed to know. "Out of nowhere!" they exclaimed. Apparently, I'd come up with a good one. And, well, that story, and Cecilio, felt like the right place to start with this blog.

Senor Guante was one of those guys who you always seemed to have 14 cards of? Remember those guys? You'd rip open every new Topps, Fleer or Upper Deck pack searching for that diamond in the rough...that Griffey rookie card...and what would you find...Cecilio Guante...or the equivalent. Maybe Kent Tekulve. Or Rafael Santana. You get the point.

Anyway, in the spirit of sports in those days, this blog will attempt to capture thoughts of a Gen Xer and what's right and wrong with sports today. Welcome aboard. I look forward to chatting with you.