Behind Enemy Lines

Introducing the new A-Rod

2006-11-17T16:35:00.000-05:00

Let’s see: a star player with phenomenal talent has a team pony up massive amounts of money to land him, thereby bolstering already huge expectations to nearly unachievable levels.

Where have I seen that before?

With the six billion yen hurled at the feet of the Seibu Lions by the Red Sox ($13 million more than the next highest bid) for the mere right to negotiate with the Japanese star, the Sox front office has unwittingly sent Matsuzaka down the road to becoming the next Alex Rodriguez.

I’m not saying it’s a sure thing he’ll end up the tattered mass of nerves that Alex is. I’m just saying the scenario has happened before, and let’s be honest—how many guys who have gotten massive contracts over the past ten years have really been worth every dime? I can really only name two—Curt Schilling and Derek Jeter.

Matsuzaka has a strong advantage over A-Rod though, in that he doesn’t speak a word of English. He can’t have his psyche shredded by talk radio or the likes of Dan Shaughnessey, because he can’t understand them.

The only place he’ll risk getting his ego bruised is at the park. I’m guessing boo means boo in any language.

Hell, in a nickname contest on Boston.com, the leading moniker fans have chosen so far even bears an obvious similarity to Rodriguez’s: It’s D-Mat.

This guy might be doomed before ever pitching an inning. He’s got a lot going against him right from the start. There are more reasons that this is a bad decision than there are possible favorable outcomes. Let’s talk about a few negatives:

1. National League pitchers can’t even hack it in the American League. How’s a guy from another country going to fare? Japanese baseball has long been a graveyard where washed-up MLB hitters go to die. So say what you want about Matsuzaka’s success as MVP of the WBC. Freddy Garcia and Daniel Cabrera both went 1-0 with a 1.23 ERA in two starts in the WBC. The world’s best players, indeed.

2. It’s like putting a down payment on a house for someone else. $51 mil to talk to the guy, and what do they get for their investment? Three, maybe four years, if the talk is right about what Scott Boras wants for his new ace. After his contract is up, he’ll be a 29-year-old or so free agent in his prime. The next team to sign him will have to pay him more than the Sox contract will be, but they essentially get to waive the down payment. You better hope the Sox re-sign him. If they can't? On behalf of the Yankees organization, I’d like to thank Mr. Henry for his generosity.

3. Not just pressure. Worldwide pressure. Throwing this kind of money down on top of a lucrative contract gives the kid a lot of pressure in front of the fans in Boston. But he also has to deal with the pressure of a whole country. First, to the Japanese people who want to see him succeed because he’s their countryman and already a National Hero in Japan; and second, to the Japanese people who are genuinely ticked at him for contributing to the decline of the Japanese game, like Shigeo Nagashima, the defining player in Japanese baseball history. He called out the kid and said he was disappointed he wasn't staying in-country. That’s like Cal Ripken or Yogi Berra calling a guy a traitor. That’s got to mess with your head.

4. What happened to “preparing for the future”? Oh, the 2006 Red Sox season happened. But if you’re trying to tell me this was Theo’s call, you’re out of your mind. This was Larry, and it’s proof that the front office is again split. Of course, after Theo’s recent calls, this is probably a good thing for the Sox.

5. $51.1 to talk to a guy, but they couldn’t find $10 million for Damon to keep him for four more years? How much do you think Damon enjoyed watching Kevin Youkilis bat in the leadoff spot last year? No one knew Crisp would be that big of a flop, one so big his name was liberally thrown around before the trade deadline, only months into his Sox career. Seeing the money being thrown around for Matsuzaka is hilarious knowing the Sox didn’t think Damon was worth a measly $10 million. Maybe Damon will steadily decline, maybe he won’t, but is there any doubt he was worth the extra $10 mil? You should always pony up more for proven commodities. What’s really hilarious about this deal is the Sox weren’t willing to go higher for a proven commodity like Damon, but they’re willing to spend for an unproven one. Quality logic by the Sox front office.

6. This is a Yankees' move from the earlier part of this decade. After I did a double take at the amount, those were my exact words to my buddy Keith when he told me the news. Giambi, Sheffield, Mussina, Randy… all guys the Yankees tossed insane amounts of cash at just to win a championship, only to be upended by low-payroll teams like Arizona, Florida, Anaheim (twice) and now, Detroit. Matsuzaka might be worth every penny in the end, but I can’t say there isn’t a part of me that is glad the Yankees lost the bidding. It’s nice to be able to point the finger and laugh at another team for going beyond all rational reasoning. Throwing money at the problem doesn’t get you anything, except maybe a ticket to the playoffs. For the Sox and Yanks, that’s nothing special.

Of course, Matsuzaka could go on to become one of the greatest pitchers in baseball history, and decades from now people could look back and consider the $51.1 million a brilliant move, even a “deal.”

Or maybe he will be the MVP of a World Series over the next four years, bringing Boston a title.

Because anything less than either of those, and he’d be falling short of expectations, right? From the moves the Sox are making to get him, it sure looks like that’s what they’re expecting.

And that means the fans will be too. And that is not good news for D-Mat, um, I mean, Matsuzaka.

Back to the good stuff

2006-10-27T16:58:00.000-04:00

It’s Friday, and I have roughly an hour left in my workday. I just finished up a project (yes, I do actually do work at work) but there’s not enough time to really get into a new one. Plus, like I said, it’s Friday.

So I thought I'd write a bit. And while I don’t have a cohesive column to put forth, I thought I'd do a throwback to the original days of this blog when I would just throw out random observations at the end of every column.

I love writing observations, because:

A.) They don’t take a lot of thought

B.) I have a short attention span and so do most people I know

C.) They don’t take a lot of thought

Observations can really be anything: random thoughts floating through that vast-spacelike organ between my ears; points ripped from email exchanges I’ve had this week with friends; things that may not mean anything to anyone but me. I apologize for that, but this is my blog after all. So deal.

Without further ado, here are (drum roll please) my observations for this week:

I love Derek Jeter. Every Yankee fan does. But ESPN’s Buster Olney is exactly right—Jeter needs to get his head out of his ass and start speaking up for A-Rod. Like Olney said, there’s no downside for Jeter. Plus, it will make him look less like the self-absorbed ass he’s starting to sound like in the media because he will stick up for everyone but A-Rod.

A-Rod’s not going to be traded, just like Manny won’t be. Why? For starters, there is only one scenario that you would trade these guys for: young, proven pitching. Aka, Verlander, Zumaya, Liriano and oh yeah the list stops right around there because there aren’t many guys who fit that description. And no team is going to trade young proven pitching. So amongst the 2,000 other reasons (hall of famers for .50 on the dollar, etc) it’s just not going to happen. Can we start talking about something else?

I’m deeply saddened by the end of the Drew Bledsoe era in Dallas. I mean, his presence alone pretty much guaranteed the Giants at least a split with the Boys every year. And you knew he’d work hard to keep the opposition in every game. I’m going to miss him playing hard for my Giants, for the Skins, and for the Eagles. He was a great addition to our teams.

Though, if the entire Tony Romo Era is anything like it started out, I’m also going to thoroughly enjoy him too. His mobility buys him time to complete more interceptions.

As bad as Dallas played, the Giants looked good during the highest rated television broadcast in cable history. Other than Eli being Eli (which I like to describe as “periods of brilliance surrounded by moments of sheer terror”) the team looks like its really coming together. Someone finally told the defense that the preseason is over and the scores actually matter now, which is good. Hopefully losing Arrington for the season and Osi being out a week won’t bite them in the arse too badly. I’m not going to go as far as saying I think the Giants can make the Super Bowl, but I think the Giants can probably make the Super Bowl.

I guess I have to say something about Tiki’s retirement. Here’s what I think: have you seen Brandon Jacobs run the ball? Seriously? The man is a hybrid between a Sherman Tank and an Indy Car. Shades of Christian Okoye, except with speed and agility. To use a popular Giants phrase, he’s Thunder and Lightening in the same guy. If he learns how to catch a ball, look out. I’m not saying he’s as good as Tiki, but I’m saying I like my chances with him. (As for Tiki, I can’t wait till he’s doing the Today Show five years from now and cracking uncomfortable jokes with Matt Lauer and Al Roker’s stapled stomach.)

I like beer. Really, that’s not news, but it’s almost the weekend, so I just thought I’d throw that out there.

If T.O. had actually committed suicide, would you really have been sad or would you have just acted like it?

I think the Red Sox are going to suck royally next year if they don’t make some moves for more bats and get some pitching. Seriously, I’m thinking like 70 wins. I’m not kidding. That bad.

I think Bill Simmons’ wife is getting to be funnier than he is.

Mike Mussina may not be on the Yanks next year, and please GOD let them trade Gary Sheffield. Everyone thinks Alex is clubhouse problem. But Gary is the original clubhouse malcontent on this team. Don’t forget that. He’s certainly not worth $13 million to play first base. You think it’s chance that the Yankees were playing better baseball when he was on the bench and the bats immediately went cold when he came back? Um, it wasn’t. He craps on the chemistry of that team worse than anyone else. He needs to go. As for Mike, hopefully they can restructure his deal and keep him as a #3 or 4.

I made a trade for Steve Smith for my fantasy team this past week. (Frank Gore, who I got for Chad Johnson.) I’m shaky excited for the rest of the season now. I mean, I know it’s not possible for a fantasy team to have a chemistry problem, but mine did. Seriously. One week Julius Jones would go off, but no one else, the next Ronnie Brown would have a decent game, but neither Jones brother would, etc. I was mired at .500. If my team were real, analysts would be talking about this trade and throwing around phrases like, “this is just the kickstart this team needed” and “there’s a palpable excitement brewing in this imaginary locker room.” Yes, I think about this stuff too much. I know.

Whatever happened to the discount airlines? JetBlue? Song? Ted? Remember, they were supposed to be a cheap alternative to the juggernaut airlines. Now JetBlue wants $703 dollars for a round trip from NYC to Long Beach. Seriously? Sure, we’re at war, there’s an oil crisis, I get it. But $703 just to fly across the country? I refuse to believe no one can come up with a way to have an actual discount airline. I’m talking $75 roundtrip to NYC from Boston. And I mean Logan to LaGuardia, not Manchester to Islip. Is that too much to ask? (That’s another annoying trend with airlines. Manchester is not a local Boston airport, and Islip should never be referred to as an NYC alternative. Islip might as well be in Rhode Island. Really, I want to take a $340 cab ride to the city.)

Instead of betting on outcomes of actual football games, I want to bet on stuff like, “Steve McNair will get hurt and Kyle Boller will come in and throw two deflections that will somehow go for touchdowns.” On second thought, it’s probably better we can’t because I’d throw half my salary on this stuff.

I keep reminding myself that the Tigers were a horrible team as little as three weeks ago. I suppose I have a slight confession to make: I haven’t been watching the World Series, at least not without interruption. Programs I’ve chosen over the WS: Studio 60, Heroes, Friday Night Lights, How I Met Your Mother, MNF, and Sunday Night Football. (Keep in mind I have a DVR and I could watch any of those at any time, but I consciously chose to watch them instead of watching the WS.) Which explains the all-time low ratings. I mean, if a guy like me doesn’t really care, how can an average sports fan?

If you think baseball’s steroid problem is under control, just remember that Jeff Suppan was the NLCS MVP and Kenny Rogers hasn’t allowed a run in 23 innings in the postseason. So, either all the hitters were on steroids and now aren’t, or all the pitchers are now on them.

I have a bit of a reputation for coming up with really good Halloween costumes. (One year, I was the Verizon guy, last year Ron Burgundy, complete with red suit, turtleneck, moustache and Channel Four Action news mike.) This year I had the perfect Halloween costume lined up. I mean, I was excited about it. I was going to wear a #12 Jets jersey over a turtleneck with jeans and my girlfriend Mary Kate (no sister named Ashley, sorry) was going to wear a yellow coat, put her hair up and carry an ESPN mike. That’s right, Joe Namath and Suzy Kolber. “I just wanna kiss you.” And then Bill Simmons had to go and list that in his column this week. (see link above) Damn him. Not only does he have my perfect job, but he’s also giving away my costume ideas. Plus, he’s getting schooled by his wife in football picks. He needs to pull a Tiki and retire in his prime.

Did I mention I like beer? Maybe I did.

Not in my Stadium: Rules for fan gimmicks

2006-10-20T14:35:00.000-04:00

So the Mets went down in historic fashion, a game in which the worst pitching matchup in Game 7 history all but solidified the fact the National League is officially AAAA level ball. (And when the Tigers sweep next week, will anyone be surprised?)

But the biggest disappointment was not the game, but the Mets fans. I don’t really like the Mets, but I respect Mets fans. Mets fans are real fans, fans who know the game, respect the game, and respect the traditions of the game. They’re down-to-earth, salt-of-the-earth types. Guys you would shoot the shit with you if you sat next to them at the bar, and girls who wouldn’t mind sitting on the couch watching football with you on Sunday.

But the first cut FOX made to Shea last night showed nearly the entire stadium waving around towels like a bunch of mindless bums who couldn’t tell you the difference between a suicide squeeze and a sac fly. For a minute, I thought we were in Anaheim or Chavez Ravine. It looked like someplace where the majority of the fan base spends the year tanning in 80-degree weather, essentially making it impossible care about anything more serious than “I need a manicure” and “Is that Ben Stiller!? It IS Ben Stiller!!!”

I even laughed when I read the Sports Guy this morning—he had the same thought:

Hey, what about the Mets fans waving these white hankies? What is this, amateur hour? I thought the Mets had real baseball fans? I'd expect that crap at Tropicana Field or Chase Field, but not a place like Shea. Come on.

And it even came up with my friends Alana, a NYer (but Yankees fan) and Josh, a former NYer (and Mets fan) when we did our traditional morning after e-mail recap. Clearly, we were not the only ones who cared about this.

Alana was very opposed, but Josh didn’t mind, because “It looked cool on TV.” If I didn’t know Josh was a very good Mets fan I would question his integrity, but I’ll let that slip.

All this got me to thinking: what gimmicks or traditions are acceptable at what sporting venues? Are towels okay everywhere? Rally Monkeys? I think it’s time we got a ruling on this. What you are about to read is most definitely a work in progress, but I think this is an important topic if you give a crap about sports and have no work to do on a Friday.

I’m not quite sure how to characterize this, (By Stadium? By gimmick?) so I’m just going to set forth some ground rules for gimmicks and then maybe we can go from there. I’m not going to run down every gimmick, because there are sure to be some I’m not even aware of, but just set some guidelines.

Before you participate in a gimmick, such as towel waving, these are the questions you need to consider:

1.) Is the gimmick original to your stadium/fan base, or has the “statute of limitations” expired on it so long ago that no one really remembers where it started?

For example, towel waving is clearly indigenous to Pittsburgh, whose denizens have proudly waved the patented Terrible Towel for as long as I can remember. Now, I could be wrong, and this could have started elsewhere, but the point is that Pittsburgh fans took this idea, made it their own, even copyrighted it to the point that when you think about fans waving a towel Pittsburgh is what you think about. Therefore, unless you are in Pittsburgh rooting for a local Pittsburgh team, you should not be waving a towel.

By this rule, that also means other native traditions such as the cool octopus tossing in Detroit and the incredibly stupid rally monkey in Anaheim get grandfathered in. Which makes me think rule number 2 should be:

2.) Is the gimmick stupid and completely out of the blue?

Now, what on God’s Green Earth does a Monkey have to do with Baseball or Anaheim? Are the streets of Anaheim overrun with baseball-loving monkeys who eat bananas and discuss the merits of grass over Astroturf? I’ve never been there, but I’m guessing that’s not the case. I tried to find the origins of the Rally Monkey, but this was all I found on a random Web site not even worth linking to:

He was born by accident on June 6, 2000, at Edison Field during a game against the Giants. When the Angels trailed by six runs in the sixth inning, the video board operators showed a clip of a monkey jumping up and down with the words "Rally Monkey.

Right. So can we all agree that this: A.) Has nothing to do with baseball, and B.) Any gimmick that makes people bring stuffed animals to a baseball game is wrong. I think we can agree on that.

However, Octopus tossing? That’s permissible. Why? Because: A.) There’s a good reason for it B.) that’s just creative, C.) They toss real octopi, and D.) It’s just fun to say “octopi”.

Now, if the folks at Anaheim tossed live, crazed, shit-tossing monkeys on the field at Anaheim, I’d be all for the Rally Monkey. I’d probably move to Anaheim and buy season tickets. Or even if they tossed rotting monkey corpses. That would be interesting, if just to hear Joe Buck get indignant about it.

Until then, I’m declaring the Rally Monkey dead. Moving on. Let’s discuss gimmicks that include fans dressing up:

3.) If there’s a general A.P.B. out that tells fans to dress up in a certain color, is that okay?

The quick answer here is: Yes. Absolutely. In fact, if you attend an important game, like a playoff game, and don’t wear your team color, everyone in your section has the right to one free punch in your face. However, there is one important thing to consider:

3B.) Is the color we’re dressing up in actually a team color?

I know, it sounds like a dumb question. But if you’re sports fan, you already know who I’m getting after here. Everyone in Miami, I hate to break it to you, but White is not a “team color.” It’s just not, unless you are Penn State. The White Out can get away with it, because their most popular uniforms are about 98% white. I’ll give them a pass, but White is actually not even a real color in the technical spectrum—white is a combination of every color. Every team in every sport has a white uniform, or a uniform that has white on it. White doesn’t count.

I couldn’t even find the Heat’s official team colors on the official website, which I should have expected from a Miami sports franchise. I had to go to Wikipedia—which is equivalent to getting your news from Geraldo—where I discovered the Heat’s colors are Red, Black, White and Yellow. First, that’s wrong, because no team should have four freaking colors. And also, because as we’ve discussed, white is not a team color, unless you’re Penn State. So Miami fans—and I use the term loosely—please dress in RED next time. Seriously, the rest of the sports world will have a lot more respect for you if you do. The general rule should be, whatever your team’s primary color is, that’s what you should dress in. It’s not hard, people.

And those rules are general enough that they should cover just about every gimmick out there, I think. I just want to close with one additional rule that I believe anyone who is actually a fan of sport and not just “there for entertainment or a fun night out” will appreciate.

4.)Under no circumstances, and I mean, none WHATSOEVER, should you ever, ever, EVER, touch a thunderstick, let alone bang two together.

Seriously, treat thundersticks like they have herpes. Don’t even touch them. Step on them and pop them. They are the curse of the true fan. The annoying kid behind you will bang them incessantly. The drunk girl will wave hers around and hit you in the head, or worse, knock over your beer. Some guy 10 rows back will inevitably toss his toward the court like a penile javelin—but the damn things don’t fly straight, so they’ll smack you in the face on the way down. Which or course will cause your friends to make fun of you for getting hit in the face with a giant inflatable dildo. I’m just saying, they’re evil.

But there’s a bigger problem with those things: Who gave you the right to take the easy way out as fans? When I was growing up, you wanted to make noise, you wanted to be loud, you wanted to support your team in a tight spot, you screamed. You clapped. You chanted. You banged on the chair in front of you. When that chump missed that free throw or that pitcher threw ball four, you felt like you were a part of the team because you earned that break. No easy outs here, kids. If you don’t leave the game hoarse, you didn’t do your job. People that use thundersticks aren’t fans. Thundersticks are below Rally Monkeys on the fanolutionary chain.

At least until we get some live monkeys chasing Vlad Guerrero around the outfield. Then the Rally Monkey moves up to the one spot.

It’s time.

2006-10-09T10:16:00.000-04:00

There is a lot of speculation that the Yankees will fire Joe Torre. From the headline above, you can guess what I think about it.

The bottom line is, Joe didn’t get it done. I know it sounds insane to say that about a guy who holds four World Series rings, but it is the simple truth that the last of those rings came in 2000. That is an eternity ago in Yankee time.

Let’s think about Joe’s postseason results since 2000.

2001: The Last Night of the Yankees Dynasty as Buster Olney has now famously called it with his book of the same name. Torre was one inning away from a fifth ring, and maybe you can’t pin this one on him so much as you can give it to the Diamondbacks.

2002: First round loss to the Angels, 3 to 1. That, by any stretch of the imagination, is a failure.

2003: Lost in six games to the Florida Marlins in the World Series. Not a complete failure, but short of the ultimate goal.

2004: The greatest collapse in sports history to the team’s ultimate rival. This isn’t just failure, but failure on a historical level. And you have to think that most any other manager gets the boot after this. Torre’s past rings saved him here. I don’t want to use the phrase “A good manager would have prevented this” because Torre is an excellent manager, but that’s the general sentiment I’ve always had about that collapse.

2005: The Angels again, ALDS, in five.

2006: The Tigers, ALDS, in four. As you know.

The bottom line is Torre has consistently been given the tools other managers only dream about, and he has failed to make it out of the first round three of the last five years. He lost four straight to the team’s arch rival in the ALCS. Lost in the World Series twice. (And, we now forget, how close they came to losing in the 2003 ALCS.)

Unless you buy into Billy Beane’s Moneyball theory that “Whatever happens in the playoffs is complete luck” you have to agree that Joe Torre has failed in the postseason for the past six years.

And you can’t blame it on the players without the blame falling on the Manager’s head. That is the understood and accepted truth. There will be speculation that another manager (a feisty Pinella?) could have gotten production out of A-Rod. Maybe that’s true, maybe it’s not. But the Yankees’ post-season failure has been occurring since before A-Rod donned pinstripes, and it continues after.

I’ll say it again: with the tools he has been given, you have to believe that not winning the World Series is a failure for these teams and therefore a failure for the team’s manager, Joe Torre.

And that’s why I say it’s time. Even if it hurts for me to say that. Bye, Joe.

O Captain, Not a Captain

2006-09-21T10:15:00.000-04:00

By now you’ve read the SI article on A-Rod and his struggles by Tom Verducci, probably one of the best pieces of sports insider reporting in the past five years. And if you haven’t, then you’ve heard the quotes on SportsCenter or on talk radio.

The story is unfortunately drowning out the fact the Yankees clinched the AL East last night with a Red Sox loss to Minnesota.

But as for the story, I have a simple question:

When did Jason Giambi become the most likeable guy on the Yankees?

Apparently he was the only Yankee who was willing to confront A-Rod during his slump. He got in Alex’s face and challenged him. He made it clear that the Yankees needed him, needed him to get the big hits. He talked to Torre about putting an end to the skipper’s “coddling” of Rodriguez—and suggested that A-Rod was the type of guy who would respond better to tough love. And the manner in which Giambi did all that is very impressive. It was never accusatory or confrontational, but obviously done for A-Rod’s own good. “We’re behind you 100%” was how he began his challenge. Exactly the words Alex needed to hear before hearing the rest.

(Giambi would know about struggling. After his “admission” about steroids a couple years ago, Giambi played so awful that the Yankees tried to send him down to the minors. Giambi can understand exactly what A-Rod is going through, in terms of the media scrutiny, fan contempt, and self-doubt.)

But A-Rod is officially out of his slump now. And if Alex goes on to play a major part in a Yankees World Series Championship, Yankees fans everywhere can thank Giambi for it.

It was a class move by Giambi. It was an action that a captain takes.

And yes, that’s a direct shot at you know who.

Everyone knows Jeter and A-Rod have a cold relationship, and everyone knows why (See Esquire 2001).

But Jeter has let A-Rod struggle without so much as lifting a finger to talk to Alex or the media to offer the Yankees’ slugger an ounce of encouragement. He has left A-Rod out to dry, and done so in a painfully obvious way.

Jeter’s Godfather-esque “You’re dead to me” attitude is the exact polar opposite of the proper attitude a captain should have. The Yankees organization is all about class, and Derek Jeter—at least off the field—has been a disappointment to his honorary position this season.

That’s not to say Jeter hasn’t carried the Yankees this year and is not deserving of the MVP award he’ll likely win. He is, 100%. No doubt.

But Giambi’s earlier 100% statement isn’t as effective because you can’t help but feel that Derek wants A-Rod to fail, and even enjoys it just a little. If I’ve gotten anything out of the Verducci article and the resulting backwash, it’s a new viewpoint on Jeter. Apparently Derek is very well known for holding grudges, to the point where a Yankees’ staffer said, with Jeter, “…once you’re gone, you’re gone.”

Obviously that is not the attitude a captain should have. A Captain puts Team before Self. Even if you can’t stand a guy, if his play is hurting the team, it’s your job to sit him down. It’s your job to shake him loose. To stick up for him. And even though A-Rod thinks that’s not Derek’s way, it is—he’s done it before, for Chuck Knoblauch and even (here’s the kicker) Jason Giambi.

Jeter has left A-Rod out to dry on purpose. Some role model. Definitely not a Captain.

The thing here is, with Derek, not saying anything is as condemning as actually condemning Alex. That’s how much respect and power Derek has within the organization and the clubhouse, and rightfully so for all he’s accomplished. With the expanded rosters, there are lots of young guys in the Yankees clubhouse right now, and they take their lead from Derek.

I would think Derek would know it takes more than a .340 batting average and nearly a .400 BA with RISP to be a Captain. Leading by example doesn't stop once you leave the field. It's a 24-hour a day job.

That being said, I still have immense respect for Derek as a player. But my personal opinion of him has taken quite a hit.

Derek needs to be less the Godfather, and more a Captain.

He is and will remain the heart and soul of the Yankees. But for this season, the clubhouse MVP is Jason Giambi, in my book.

And should A-Rod come up with the big hits this postseason, I'll be interested to see what Derek's reaction—if any—will be.

The All-All-Star Team

2006-09-19T10:06:00.000-04:00

Hideki Matsui returned from injury last week in his first games since that ugly injury against the Sox cut short his consecutive games streak. And now, Gary Sheffield will reportedly be cleared to play by this weekend.

At a wedding this weekend, someone asked me what would happen with Sheffield. Where do you put him with Matsui back and Abreu playing out of his gourd in right?

The rumor, I said, was that Sheffield would play first base. And last night, the rumors were confirmed when Sheff took fielding practice at first base. Sheffield began his career as a shortstop, and has almost 100 career starts at the position, as well as around 450 at third base. So the infield is not a complete unknown to him.

It also helps that the Yanks have a nine-time gold glove first baseman in the dugout. Donnie Baseball.

You probably could have read that on any website. But what no one (at least that I’ve seen) has said yet, is the historical implication of inserting Sheffield into this lineup.

Unless I am mistaken, this will be the first time in history a major league club will field an entire team comprised of All-Stars.

Take a look at the potential lineup as I think it will be set up:

Damon CF
Jeter SS
Abreu LF
Giambi DH
ARod 3B
Sheff 1B
Matsui RF
Posada C
Cano 2B

The first eight guys are obvious All-Stars, and Cano was elected to his first All-Star game this year, even if he didn’t play because of injury.

This lineup will make opposing pitchers want to commit hari-kari on the mound. Matsui, easily a 3- or 5-hitter on any other team, is batting 7th. You have a guy hitting .336 in the freakin 9-hole.

Even the Yankees could never claim that they had an All-All-Star lineup before. The 1927 Yanks didn’t. And the 1998 Yanks had an amazing seven All-Stars (Chad Curtis wasn’t, and Posada didn’t technically earn his first bid until 2000).

Oh, and did I mention you can bring Melky Cabrera off the bench if you need him? Not that you'd pinch hit for any of these guys.
Who needs pitching anyway? This is a seven or eight run-per-game lineup. Best of all, it’s also capable of playing small ball if it needs to, with Damon, Jeter, Abreu, Sheffield and A-Rod all legitimate base-stealing threats.

This lineup would absolutely decimate a team like the Tigers in a five-game series. Now the Yanks just need the Twins to overtake the Tigers so the Yanks don't have to face Santana in the ALDS. Twins are obviously the better team right now.

I’m looking forward to this lineup coming together by the end of the season. As for next year and Sheffield’s $13M option, let’s leave that to the offseason to sort itself out. But for now, I’m just looking forward to this lineup taking the field. And I’m not going to even hesitate to say it:

Best. Lineup. Ever.

I Will Now Place Sharp Objects in My Ear: Worst Sports Broadcasters

2006-09-19T10:03:00.000-04:00

With the AL East being an anticlimactic non-story and with two-plus weeks until the playoffs start, I really had a hard time deciding what to write for this column. I could tout “Jeter for MVP” but with the Red Sox collapse (read: Ortiz being “disqualified” by association) that also seems like a non-story. Plus, I’d rather not turn this column into a script you would hear on any sports radio show.

Then I lucked out and got the following email from my friend Alana, a Yankees season ticket holder:

Just have to share this because it’s pretty pathetic…

I just got an automated message on my cell phone from none other than…John Sterling. He thanked me for my patronage this year as a ticket holder and oh yes…reminded me to pay my invoice for post season tickets. Pathetic…I love my team, but that was just ridiculous!

For those of you who don’t know John Sterling, he’s the Yankees radio play-by-play guy, famous for his signature game-winning call. It’s the one where he says “The Yankees Win” twice in a row, with the second time sounding like he’s having an epileptic fit. Don’t get me wrong, I like Sterling. I hear him, I think baseball. Can’t replace that feeling.

But that email launched a debate about which broadcaster you’d most like to have leave you an automated message, and hands down we decided that it would be Tim McCarver. Not because we like him, but because you can only imagine the comedy of the message he’d leave:

On behalf of The New Jersey Yankees, owner George Steinburner and Captain Dave Righetti, this is Tim McCarver, and I’d just like thank you for your playtronage this year. We're excited for the 2007 playoffs to start, and we hope you'll join us at Ebbets Field in Octuber when the Giants begin their postseason run.

And now with football having (finally!) kicked off, that debate kicked off a larger discussion of how horrible sports announcers have become. It seems like they’re handing out gigs to anyone.

Did you remotely make a name for yourself playing a pro sport? Come sit in our broadcast booth. Just think out loud, it doesn’t really matter what you say. We’re just going to use your name to promote our broadcast, the rest is really irrelevant. Feel free to contradict yourself regularly and use phrases like “back in my day” to date yourself while belittling the current generation of athletes. The announcers are so bad these days, you really can’t be any worse than the hacks out there. Oh, and talk a lot about steroids, because we don’t think people are sick of that yet…

Because this is Barstool sports, I’ve decided to give you some fodder to discuss amongst your friends (assuming you have some) while sitting at the bar. Who are today’s worst announcers? Guys you can’t stand, the ones who make you cringe when they say obvious things like, “They had better go for it here” when it’s 4th and 1 and your team is trailing by 20 with 2:00 minutes to play? I’ve decided to systematically tear apart most of the well-known broadcast teams from baseball and football. It’s totally throw-away column, I know. But I had fun doing it and that’s what really counts here.

These guys are chosen at random and not ranked (it would be rude to hand out negative numbers) and could be booth guys or pre-game show guys or even SportsCenter guys. Like I just said, random. I left out a lot of guys I enjoy, like Orel Hershiser, who is probably the best baseball color guy out there right now; and Tino Martinez, who I just can’t say anything bad about because he’s Tino Martinez.

Just the guy, and my thoughts on his performance. Take this column to the bar with you and start the discussion. (And if you actually do that, start a MySpace page or something and try to make some friends, okay?)

Tim McCarver: Probably the most infuriating broadcaster currently on air. Commonly puts players in the game who retired 10 years ago, like referring to a base hit by David Ortiz as "a nice rip by Mo Vaughn." (He actually did this. Seriously.) I’m convinced those random kids the Sox have announce batters during the 8th inning at Fenway could do better.

John Madden: I’m pretty sure he’s insane. Talks about football a lot, but never actually comments on the game being played right in front of him. I’m still scarred from a Cowboys game about 10 years ago where he discussed—at length—Leon Lett’s butt sweat, complete with close-ups from the FOX crackpot camera crew. Jarring stuff. I think Madden should be fired and replaced by his video game self.

Al Michaels: Okay, I could think of bad things to say about Al Michaels, but I’m not going to do it. If I say anything bad about Al Michaels—the man who made the greatest call in the history of sports in 1980—the sports gods will systematically dismantle all of my favorite sports teams, make all my bets go bad, and break all of my fantasy running back’s legs. He’s like a Sports Broadcasting Jesus. I’m not going there.

Joe Theisman: Incapable of criticizing anyone at all. Brett Favre could throw 10 interceptions in a game and Theisman would say, "Boy, he really wants to win this one, you have to admire his competitvity." (And yes, he would also say, "competitivity")

Mike Tirico: A fellow ‘Cuse grad and I like his play-by-play. But he should have considered radio. Just saying.

Tony Kornheiser: Funny and down to earth, but I'm pretty sure he saw his first football game in person in Washington a couple weeks ago.

Joe Castiglione: GETS OVER EXCITED FOR DEEP HIGH DRIVES WAAAAY BACK... to the shortstop for the second out.

Jon Sterling: Wishes he had a way to know which games “THE YANKEES WIN, TTHHHAAAHHAAAHHHAAA Yankees win” so he wouldn't have to do the other ones.

Suzyn Waldman (Yanks radio color): In my friend Alana's own words, "I'm for women's rights and all that, but come on."

Jon Kruk: Bitter and humorous, which I like, but he constantly waffles on his picks. Mmm... waffles.

Jerry Remy: Along with Hershiser, in my opinion he’s one of the best color man out there now, if only for the color his thick accent and his wonderful wardrobe from Eastern Clothing of Watertown bring to the table.

Don Orsillo: No human being has ever needed a color commentator as badly as Don Orsillo. I mean, ever. Does he pay Remy to follow him around to everyday places like the grocery store? I need to know.

Chris Berman: The Brett Favre of broadcasting.

Tony Saragusa: Dumb, fat people are the reason we invented reality TV, okay?

Joe Morgan: We know he played baseball and all, but it wouldn't hurt for him to watch a game once in awhile. At least read the rosters before the broadcast, and remember this is 2006.

Jon Miller: Where’s Joe Morgan? Where’s Joe Morgan? Good, there he is. I got nervous for a minute. Joe, please don’t ever take a piss break without telling me again. Okay? Can I go with you next time? Please Joe? Please? Who loves you? Jonny does. That’s who.

Stu Scott: Is he looking at the camera? Is he? Wait. No. Maybe? Yes. Crap, I can't tell.

Terry, Howie and Jimmy: Howie carried Milford High. He carried Villanova. He carried the Raiders defense. Some things never change.

Troy Aikman: When Dan Morgan retires, FOX had better team him with Troy so we can set a record for “Most Head Trauma in a Single Booth.” I’m guessing it would be in the neighborhood of 20 concussions combined.

Steve Phillips: Normally you hire guys who had successful careers.

Every female sideline reporter: Unless every interview contains a drunken Joe Namath, can we just get commentary from the cheerleaders and get it over with? Better yet, can they give us commentary in the form of interpretive dance? Please?

Mike Irvin: This column doesn’t exist, because I didn’t go to THE U!

Joe Buck: Content with running his father's name into the ground; petrified by the mere sight of Randy Moss; between the football and the baseball and the pre-game shows and the post-game shows and the Holiday Inn commercials, I’ve had about all I can stand. Joe Buck must be stopped. In fact, this October, do you think it would be possible for the FOX MLB playoff booth to have a little “accident”? Can someone who knows people who knows people arrange this? Sports fans everywhere would be eternally grateful.

That’s all I got for now. And just because I really couldn’t go a whole column without commenting on the Red Sox/Yankees four-games-in-two-days series and the last Rivalry meeting of 2006:

Did you see that catch Coco made?

Terrorists Stole My Birthday

2006-09-13T11:38:00.000-04:00

The morning of September 11, 2001, began for me like many of the previous 80 or so had — roused from an alcohol-induced sleep by a non-natural occurrence, in this case, a phone call.

I had been sleeping and drinking and sleeping a lot around that time. What many people now forget now is the “economic downswing” largely attributed to the events of 9/11 were well underway by the summer of 2001. My two-year career as a copywriter for a prominent Boston direct marketing agency had been cut short by mass layoffs in June. Low man on the totem poll, that sort of thing. With a decent severance, I had decided to turn the summer into a long vacation — hence the sleeping late and drinking much.

When my cell phone chirped me into consciousness on that morning, I already knew who the caller was and what they had called to say.

I was right on one count. It was my mother. I was so very wrong on what she would say:

“Turn on the TV, we’re being bombed.”

She may dispute those exact words now, but I remember them vividly, more than I remember anything anyone has ever said to me before 10 o’clock in the morning. I turned on the TV without responding and like everyone else, began to watch our new world take shape.

It was just after 9 a.m. on the East Coast when I clicked it on, barely minutes after United Airlines flight 175 from Boston flew into the south tower of the World Trade Center. My mother, a teacher in an upstate New York high school, had been slightly misinformed — like many of us in those early minutes — as to what exactly had happened in the city. Understandable. Like many of the preconceptions we had before that day, human beings purposefully dive-bombing an airliner into a building wasn’t even on my mom’s mental radar. But as we watched and as we talked it became very clear that this involved something much more sinister and complicated than a bomb.

It was a good twenty minutes of heavy conversation before my mother spoke the phrase I thought she had called to say:

“Happy Birthday”

Half-listening, I muttered a simple reply, “Thanks.” At that moment I didn’t care about my transition from age 23 to age 24. It was insignificant. There was a much bigger transition taking place right in front of me.

We were all growing older that day.

Very unemployed and with nothing else to do, I glued myself to the TV, flipping between channels in search of the latest information. With everyone knowing I was out of work — and therefore with 24/7 access to a TV and the internet, and with nothing else to worry about — I began to field phone calls from friends and relatives, becoming a point person of sorts. From my mother: “Who do we know in New York?”; Friends from home: “Where is Mark, have you heard from him?”; From a former coworker in the Prudential Tower in Boston in a harried voice: “They’re evacuating us; I have to go, call you back.”

In the confusion that followed, many of the callers forgot it was my birthday. I didn’t mind. I really had, too.

As the workday (if anyone did any work on that day) wound down, I was reminded that a casual birthday gathering had been slated for the evening at a local bar just outside the city. I sent an email around to the invitees; I still wanted to go. Between the tears and the anger, I needed a drink.

On that day and the ones that followed, there were essentially two types of people (other than those directly affected by the tragedy). There were the people that wanted nothing more than to go home and hide under the comfort and security of their bedsheets and shut out a suddenly evil and unpredictable world. And then there were the people that wanted to be around other people, needed to be around other people; needed someone to look them in the eye, and without even saying it, tell them that we’d all be okay. Comfort in numbers.

Many people declined the invite, including my girlfriend at the time, which—probably because I had so much emotion swirling inside of me — somewhat enraged me, causing an already tenuous relationship to end shortly thereafter. But a few friends and a couple of my then-roommates were on the same page as I was. Comfort in numbers.

We went to a small local bar — not the venue we had planned, as it didn’t have televisions — and had a few pints. The bar, surprisingly and not at the same time, was packed. Crowded. But quiet. We were listening. Listening for updates. Listening to the President react. Waited for him to say who did this. Wanted him to tell us it would all be okay. On that day, everyone was a fan of George W.

During the evening, from time to time, a friend would wish me a happy birthday with raised eyebrows and a half-smile, as if to say “I’m sorry”. That was the first time I’d heard it said like that. Not the last.

Five years later we stand here, still a powerful nation and — contrary to the outlook on that dreary morning — still very much okay.

A lot of people have personal ties to that day. Many lost loved ones. Others had close calls. Everyone has a story. (Goodbye Challenger, goodbye Berlin Wall, welcome to our new generational benchmark.)

My mother has made an annual tradition of begging me to write about my personal tie to that day. Not that I lost a loved one (I didn’t and don’t know anyone who did) or had a close call. I told her writing about that day would be selfish; bitching about the fact that something as insignificant as my birthday coincides with the worst attack on American soil in history could only be construed by others as selfish. Because it is. Feeling bad about that is selfish. How would a woman who lost her husband that day feel when they read about my insignificant story?

I still haven’t really dealt with the events of 9/11. Or maybe I have, I don’t know. (How do you know?) Because I still cry every year on that day, and sometimes even at the mention of it. I try to watch the reading of the names at Ground Zero each year, but never last more than 20 minutes. I even DVR’ed an HBO documentary on the Yankees’ World Series run post-9/11 and was a weeping mess for the duration. (And I still get teary every time Kate Smith or the Irish Tenor croons God Bless America.) I don’t know if I’ll ever put it behind me. And all that has nothing to do with my birthday.

But this year, I decided it’s time to be selfish, if only for two thousand words or so. Let me tell you how the fucking terrorists stole my birthday.

You’d be amazed how many times in the course of a year — in the course of polite conversation with strangers or acquaintances — you get asked when your birthday is. Normally, you’d be happy to answer. You’d say, “June 25th” and people would nod and smile. I say, “September 11th,” and people respond, almost universally, with that same wince — like someone pinched them — and a muted “I’m sorry.”

I tell them it’s okay, that I really don’t mind, that it could have been a lot worse. I make the brightside joke that I received more birthday cards in 2002 than I ever had before (true). Then I quickly change the subject before the conversation gets depressing. (It’s possible to “never forget” without letting an innocuous conversation make someone cry.)

It’s gotten to the point where I want to lie and say my birthday is September 10th, just to avoid it for everyone’s sake. Honestly, I used to love my birthday. It coincided with the fall, my favorite season, and the changing of the leaves in the scenic Mohawk Valley; it was the start of school, always exciting for the dorky kid I was; it was even a cool number, 911. But that was before 911 was a number that dialed heroes, and before it was a number synonymous with very real death and destruction.

Often, when I think about my birthday, I think about the babies who were born on that actual day, the ones who will walk around with birth certificates and driver’s licenses and passports with 09/11/01 on them. The Children of 9/11. Branded by a day on the Gregorian Calendar. Every day for the rest of their lives they’ll be inexorably tied to tragedy. Their birthdays will likely never be a celebration of life among the general public like everybody else’s birthday, but only a remembrance of horrible, painful death and sadness.

Want to know what that’s like? Well, a friend of mine summed it up in a simple response via email this year: “Too many moments of silence to really rock out and celebrate. Let’s do it another day.”

I hope the parents of the Children of 9/11 don’t let it be like that. I hope their parents are the need-to-be-around-other-people types. I hope they throw big parties on their kids’ birthdays, on the actual day, with loud bands and loud music and clowns and hayrides, real Americana/Norman Rockwell affairs. I hope they’re obnoxious about it. I hope those Children of 9/11 shatter every moment of silence with shrieks of joy as they hurriedly tear open their painstakingly-wrapped presents. I hope they can be heard at Ground Zero and the Pentagon and Shanksville.

Because at some point (but maybe not yet) September 11th needs to become a celebration of life and freedom and heroes, rather than a day to dwell on pain and suffering and death. We’re still here. We’re still okay. Yes, we lost people. Yes, there’s war. But every person dies, and there’s always been a war.

And we’ve always kept the kids from that. Sure, it’s too late for us. Too late for me and my birthday. I’m okay with that. But it’s not too late for the kids. Not for their birthdays.

The Children of 9/11 turned five this year. They’re getting old enough to understand.

Let them live. Let them be kids. When asked, let them say with a smile, “My birthday is September 11th — what’s yours?” and not think twice about it.

And let their contemporaries respond without wincing. Life, as an American, should be like that. The little happinesses.

For us, we can never forget, and rightly we shouldn’t. I’m willing to take a pass on my birthday.

But as for them, the Children of 9/11? I hope they get their day, with birthday cakes and candles and presents. And I hope they never think twice about how the world changed on the day they were born.

Anibel’s No-No

2006-09-07T09:49:00.000-04:00

So I was watching the Yanks take on Kansas City last night. Randy was on the mound, and he was tossing pretty well. But it was New Randy (not overpowering, hitters making contact) and not Old Randy (maybe that should be the other way around?) so I didn’t think much of it.

On the MLB Extra Innings Package, you don’t get a choice as to what broadcast you watch, so I was subjected to the Royals Broadcast. Now, you can imagine these announcers have it pretty rough. I mean, could you make a Royals game exciting day in and day out? So I didn’t even notice until the 5th inning that Randy was tossing a no-no.

He did this a few weeks ago at Chicago, taking a no-hitter into the 7th, and I started texting everyone I knew to watch it. Of course he lost that one, so this time I was keeping my big old mouth shut—or my fingers still? Is there an equivalent yet for texting?

I popped open ESPN.com to check the headlines, as I’m wont to do during the course of a game. I was excited by the fact that Randy might have the first no-hitter in the majors since he last did it. And there it was:

Florida’s Sanchez tosses no-no

My first reaction was, Crap, now Randy won’t have the first one.

And my second one was, Wait, wasn’t that the guy the Sox traded for Beckett?

Sure enough, it is. Anibel Sanchez and Hanley Ramirez for Mike Lowell and Josh Beckett. At the time, that looked like a smart move.

Now? Ramirez is batting .283 with 13 HR and 49 RBI in the leadoff spot. And Sanchez is 7-2 with a 2.89 ERA and just tossed the first no-hitter in two years.

Granted, they’re both doing it in the AAAA league, but those numbers are still impressive for a couple of rookies. Drop Hanley’s average by 10 points (a guess) and raise Anibel’s ERA by a point (the accepted math in pitcher league transition) and both those guys are more than competitive, especially given the state of the Sox rotation and the fact the Alex Platoon (Gonzalez and Cora) is holding down shortstop for the Sox.

Meanwhile Josh Beckett is a very overrated 14-10 (5.11 ERA) and Mike Lowell is a respectable .283 with 17 HR and 67 RBI.

But Lowell and Beckett are costing the Sox $13.3M this year, and Beckett just signed a $30M extension.

Ramirez and Sanchez? I can’t even use the M symbol. Their grand total: $654,000.

Theo Epstein has to be kicking himself this morning.

The Nation Blame Game

2006-09-06T19:19:00.000-04:00

I know I predicted the Red Sox Annual Collapse, but I never envisioned this. Quite frankly, I didn’t even want it to go down like this. Sure, I’m glad my Yanks will cruise to the postseason, but I almost feel a little guilty about the downfall of the Sox. Plus, it kind of sucks the excitement out of the month of September, and especially that four games in three days series coming up.

There’s only one word to describe what’s happened to the Red Sox: embarrassing. For the first time since Aaron Boone blasted his deep homer into the New York night, I feel bad for my many (actually nearly all of my) friends who are among the members of the Nation—and I’m sure they want the pity of a Yanks fan. But this downfall has been hard to watch for all of us, like the guy at the funeral who breaks out into tears. You feel bad, and it’s embarrassing for all involved, so you turn away and act like you don’t see it.

And make no mistake, this is a funeral.

The 2006 Red Sox are dead, and someone killed them. Folks, we got ourselves a genuine whodunit.

I know I’m not a member of the Nation—I just live in its capital city—but I love it when the Nation plays their favorite game. I’ve always wanted to play, so this year I’m going to MC the deal. And you know what game I’m talking about. So cue the theme music and the cheesy deep-voiced announcer, bring up the curtain—because it’s time for:

The Red Sox Nation Blame Game!

Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the Red Sox Nation Blame Game! I’ll be your host for the evening. Let me introduce my co-hosts, Lindsey Lohan and Eva Mendez, who will help me by standing in the back corner and making out for the duration of the game.

Who are today’s contestants, Bob?

First up, we have Terry Francona, Manager: Clearly Terry, you’re overrated as a manager. Everyone knows this, even if the Nation turns a blind eye most of the time. The Sox won in 2004 more because you didn’t make moves and let the team be idiots. Your pitching changes are questionable at best, though clearly you’re no Grady (but who is?). But we can’t put this on your head, Terr. Everyone in the organization thought Beckett would be a great #2—he’s not; Nation can’t blame you for Manny-being-Pussy; the front office didn’t get you any help at the deadline—until it was too late; You didn’t hit Matt Clement in the head with that line drive or trade Bronson; And you certainly couldn’t do anything about Tek or Trot or any of the other injuries. You’re doing the best you can.

So Terry… you’re off the hook! Congrats. Here’s your parting gift: You get to go on record as the manager of one of the worst months in Red Sox History! And here’s a complimentary Blame Game Towel for the next time you cough up some blood!

Next up, Curt Schilling, Ace: Curt, we know how much you love the spotlight, so we’ll get right to it: Your 4+ ERA and your 14-7 W-L aren’t exactly ace-type numbers (especially on a team that was leading the division almost all year); You’ve been inconsistent, notably against the Yankees, the Royals (when you gave up the most extra base hits in history) and a Sunday night against Anaheim when I sat behind home plate at Fenway—I thought you were throwing balloons, so many balls we’re floating out of the Park. Plus, you’re a loud-mouth who actually thinks people care about your opinions on the presidential race, steroids, and gun control. But the Nation can’t pin this collapse on you either, for the same reason Francona gets off the hook: too many circumstances are out of your hand, and you can only pitch once every five days. Plus, you haven’t been awful, and you’re better than Randy Johnson anyway.

So Curt… you’re free to go! For your consolation prize, you get to disappear into mediocrity for the rest of the season as the Sox waste one of the few remaining years of your diminishing talent! Look on the bright side, now you’ll have more time to play EverQuest in October!

Next… Everyone join me in welcoming Josh Beckett to the Blame Game! Josh, welcome to the real show. Sure, you beat the Yankees in 2003 in dramatic fashion, and you were an ESPN Mag cover boy despite not accomplishing anything else in your career; But here’s your portion of the blame: Your stats in your last year at Florida were worse than Carl Pavano’s in his last year there, but that didn’t stop the Sox from claiming you were their ace of the future; Your first year in Boston has been the defining season for my theory that a pitcher’s Win-Loss record is the most misleading statistic in all of sport; You’re leading the league in home-run balls, a statistic a teammate described as, “Pitch—blam! Pitch—blam! The same thing every time.”; Plus, you’ve openly admitted you’re stubborn and not likely to change your style.

But you don’t win the Blame Game! It’s not your fault the Sox flushed $30 million down the crapper and signed you to an extension; of course you signed it. And it’s not really your fault you’re completely overrated. You had one amazing postseason and have been barely mediocre since—it’s not your fault no one watched the National League anymore, or they would have seen that.

Thanks for playing, Josh! Here’s your parting gift: Getting torn to pieces for the next four years by the Nation and Red Sox media, the very same ones you so boldly claimed you couldn’t wait to pitch in front of! At least you’ll have your unearned $30 million to keep you company.

Coming to the stage now: Theo Epstien! Let’s welcome the WonderChild. Thanks for coming, Theo, that’s a nice gorilla suit you’ve got on. So you made the ballsiest trade in all of sports in 2004, dishing local icon Nomar G. for two average-at-best players. And boy, do we all know how that turned out. Personally, it still stings, let me tell you.

Must be hot in that gorilla suit.

But hold on! My producer is telling me… We’ve got a special surprise for you, Theo! (As we cross game-show lines…) Coming on the stage right now, it’s… oh my… I can’t wait to see your reaction on this… We’ve got a few special guests for you!!! Coming to the stage right now… it’s…

Every crappy player you’ve acquired since 2004! Wow! Look, they’re all here! Edgar Renteria, how are you? Matt Clement! How’s the head? Josh Beckett, thanks for coming back! Coco Crisp, what’s shakin’? And the bullpen guys, Rudy Seanez and Julian Tavarez! Javier Lopez, nice of you to make it. But wait, THERE’S MORE!

My producer is telling me we just got a phone call… you’ll never guess who it was! It was Johnny Damon, Dave Roberts, Orlando Cabrera, Bronson Arroyo, Pedro Martinez, Hanley Ramirez and Anibal Sanchez.

They called in to send their apologies that they couldn’t make it—we’re not sure why though. Maybe you know, Theo? No? Interesting.

We’re not finished yet! We’ve got a recorded message from Bobby Abreu, Cory Lidle, and Roy Oswalt… let’s take a listen…

Hey Theo! We just wanted to congratulate you on your appearance on The Nation Blame Game! We’re big fans of the show. We would have loved to have been there, but apparently you couldn’t get in touch with us at the trade deadline. We couldn’t have been more available without posting an ad on craigslist, but that’s okay. We just wanted to thank you, Theo, for saving us from being on a third place team with no hope of making the playoffs. Really, we can’t thank you enough. Good luck on the show!

Wasn’t that nice of them, folks?

Well, it’s that time. Time to pick a winner. And I don’t see how the Nation can turn down the obvious evidence! This humble host doesn’t think there’s really any doubt. Without further ado, the winner of the 2006 Red Sox Nation Blame Game is:

Theo Epstien! Congratulations!

And now, here’s your grand prize…

You get to be hung out to dry by Larry Lucchino and the Red Sox ownership—and then you’ll be crucified by the media and the Nation itself! And all just for destroying the first shred of momentum the franchise had in 86 years—not to mention catapulting the Yankees back to the forefront of baseball.

Theo, thanks for playing. You can put your gorilla suit back on now. You’ll want to be incognito for awhile.

In Defense of A-Rod

2006-09-06T13:35:00.000-04:00

People are dumb. Dumb sheep, to be more specific. We like to follow the herd, because we don’t know any better.

We are also malicious. We like to bring down people who are better off than we are.

We’re like dumb, evil sheep.

I’m no psychologist, so I won’t get into why we’re like that. But there can be no argument that we are.

And the latest corral all of you sheep have been herded into (notice I dropped the “we”) is the “A-Rod is done, cracking under pressure, and should be traded” corral.

Dumb, evil sheep.

I can understand why Sox fans are jumping on this bandwagon against A-Rod. It’s in their best interest. And I get why the Omniscient National Media have been calling for his head—it generates readership and viewership.

The greatest baseball player of our generation, potentially of all time, might be washed up? How could you not talk about this?

Before I head down the path that the title of this article will send me down, I’d like to offer a simple retort to all of the A-Rod haters out there, the ones who have claimed he’s washed up, the ones who claim he can’t handle the pressure, the ones who have called for the Yanks to trade him, and even to my fellow Yanks fans who continue to boo him:

You are all fucking stupid. Shut the fuck up.

Over the past few weeks, I’ve heard some of the most intelligent people in baseball say some of the dumbest things I’ve ever heard. They’ve said A-Rod is not able to handle the unique pressure of New York. I’ve heard very sensible friends, whose opinions I respect, and some Yankees fans, talk about trading A-Rod. I’ve read Barstool’s own Jerry Thoroton, claim in his very humorous but incredibly misguided and gun-jumping article, that A-Rod has the “yips.”

I’m not going to argue A-Rod’s mental state right now. He’s not in the best mental shape. He is absolutely over-thinking his every action. Worst of all, he’s doubting himself.

Is that because he’s done? Does that mean he needs to leave NYC? Retire?

No. IT MEANS HE IS IN A SLUMP.

Listen. A-Rod had two bad weeks. Yes, he played awful during that stretch. He threw the ball like Knoblauch and hit like—well, he didn’t hit at all.

Every player goes through this, even the best ones. Manny comes out of the gate every year batting around the Mendoza line. Varitek is easily having the worst year of his career. Every single player goes through this. Every single one. And if the people who get paid to comment on this took a second to think about it, they’d realize they were jumping the gun.

Some slumps last a week. Some last all year. We call them “Down Years”. It happens.

Hell, even Roger Clemens went 10-13 in 1996, inspiring the exceptionally accurate prediction by Dan Duquette that the Rocket was “in the twilight of his career.”

You could probably argue that A-Rod is having a down year. I’m not sure I would. But he’s not done. He’s not washed up. He isn’t cracking under the pressure of NY. He shouldn’t be traded. Or retire. He doesn’t have the yips. He’s in a slump.

Here are the reasons why everyone who has suggested any of those other theories is an idiot:

A-Rod was the AL MVP last year.

Let me repeat that. He was the FUCKING MVP last year. Have we forgotten that? So yes, I agree completely, he couldn’t handle the pressure of New York. He only put up the best numbers in the league. This alone should end all discussions of A-Rod being “done.” Did I mention he WON THE MVP last year?

A-Rod was the AL Player of the Month in May.

.330 AVG, 8 HR, 28 RBI. Just in May. That’s May of 2006. This year. The best player in the AL in that month. Not only was he the MVP last year, he was the best player in the league as recently as two months ago. Clearly, he’s washed up.

If this is a “down year,” he’s still the best bat at third base in the AL.

Only Joe Crede, the White Sox third baseman, has numbers comparable in every statistical category to A-Rod. And to say Crede is having a career year is an understatement. I won’t go so far as to say Crede is on the juice, but Crede is probably on the juice. And while Mike Lowell is having a fantastic year, his numbers still don’t compare all-around to A-Rod’s. So if this is a down year, what third baseman in the league would you rather have? (If your answer is Lowell, then tell me why Theo had his name out there in about 10 trade scenarios before the deadline.)

He’s having a bad year defensively. But he doesn’t have the “yips.”

I’m a lifelong Yankees fan, which means I had the agony of living through the Chuck Knoblauch era. It’s impossible to describe how incredible that was. We literally saw a man brain’s melt on the field and drip out of his ears. I kept waiting for him to break down in tears on camera. I don’t think you’ve ever seen a collective fan base wince like we did every time the ball dribbled down to second base. It was horrifying, yet simultaneously entrancing, like a woman’s cleavage, the sun, or any reality TV show. You know you shouldn’t stare, but you can’t help it. Knoblauch was a mental disaster. A-Rod had two bad games defensively last week. Of course, the ignorant masses have only been seeing what SportsCenter has been showing them. They’ve seen all the errors. If you’ve watched a single Yankees game in its entirety since that week, you’d know his throws have been crisp and on target. That’s not what happens when you have the yips. I love SportsCenter, but like any gatekeeping news show, they show you what they want you to see.

2,000, 450. In other words, you don’t trade a guy who is on pace to be the greatest player the game has ever seen.

During the week when he was in one of the worst slumps of his career, A-Rod also notched his 2,000th hit and his 450th home run on the same swing. You know by now he’s the youngest player to reach the 450-mark, at least until Pujols beats him in a few years. As a GM, Cashman couldn’t trade him. What excuse—other than a salary dump, which the Yankees don’t need and never do—could you possibly come up with for trading a guy with Alex’s numbers? When (not if) he returns to form after that trade, would you want to face the firing squad? As I’ve written many times, I believe A-Rod will be the greatest player in the history of the game when it’s all said and done. You don’t trade that talent. Period. And certainly not because he’s had a bad week, or even a bad month, or maybe a down year.

He only costs the Yankees $15 million—not $25 million. In other words, he’s a deal for club.

Everyone forgets the Rangers signed A-Rod to that ludicrous deal, not the Yankees. And everyone also forgets the Rangers are paying $10 million of A-Rod’s salary this year. (Texas is on the hook for $67 million of the remaining $179 A-Rod is owed.) When you look at it that way, he’s actually the fourth-highest-paid player on the Yankees, after Mr. Sanderson ($20M), Giambi ($20M), and Mussina ($19M). If this were any other team but the Yankees, all of those guys would be considered grossly overpaid. But this is the Yankees, so A-Rod is actually a deal for them. (Did I mention he won an MVP last year? Name me a team other than Oakland that wouldn’t pay $15 million for an MVP.) If you want to talk about a guy who isn’t earning his paycheck, talk to me about Randy Johnson ($15M).

Don’t listen to the booing at Yankee Stadium. Those people are morons.

Every fan base has a sect that is embarrassing. In Boston, most educated Sox fans are embarrassed by the ignorant masses who chant “Yankees Suck” at games… when the Patriots are playing. Those people are stupid, for obvious reasons. Yanks fans, we have the “boo-birds,” as they’re so gayingly called. (Is that a word, gayingly?) There’s a reason they call it a Bronx Cheer. These people would boo Jesus if he laid his hands on a leper and the guy didn’t get better. They’ve booed Jeter. They have booed DEREK JETER. Mr. Untouchable. Mr. November. The Captain. Pinstripe Jesus. Baby Ruth. The Face. The Franchise. The damn guy even has his own scent now. They booed Derek Jeter just because he was in—here it is—a slump a couple years ago. They also booed Rivera, the Best. Closer. Ever. They are fucking morons, and I cringe every time I hear them, the same way an intelligent Sox fan cringes when they hear “Yankees Suck.”

I could go on, but these columns do have word counts. I think that’s enough for now to shut everyone up.

And I know the talk on this topic has abated slightly with the Abreu trade and the deadline passing. It also helps that A-Rod is now pulling out of what was obviously just a slump, even if this does end up being a down year.

Believe me when I say that if the Yankees are going to win the World Series, it is A-Rod—not Jeter, Giambi, Abreu, or anyone else—that has to take the franchise back to the promised land.

I know he will do it—even if it is not this year. It’s only a matter of time.

You probably don’t think he will.

I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.

The Yankees Are Coming! The Yankees Are Coming!

2006-09-06T13:32:00.000-04:00

It was 12 straight wins, the longest winning streak the majors had seen in two years. The Red Sox dominated their National League opponents like Dom controlled Turtle and Drama on Entourage. Going into the All-Star break, the Red Sox were every so-called expert’s pick to run away with the AL East in the second half.

Meanwhile the Yankees were floundering. There were more injuries on the team than casualties in the final scene of X-Men 3. Randy Johnson was pitching with the same intensity as Jack Johnson when he recorded the Curious George soundtrack. The Yankees, by all accounts, were in for a long, arduous second half.

And yet, looking at the standings… there were no signs of it. When the Red Sox began their winning streak, the Yankees were one game ahead of the Sox. Twelve games later, the Red Sox were four games up on the Yankees.

(Not exactly buried, in my opinion.)

But certainly, the experts implied, the Yankees were in trouble. The Red Sox were looking like the best team in baseball. They took two of three from the White Sox (by all accounts the actual best team in baseball) right before the break.

But if you had read any second half preview from any major media outlet, you basically saw this:

Name: New York Yankees

Age: 9 year first-place AL East finish streak

Time of Death: June 29, 2006

The teams went to the break, where Ortiz and A-Rod chummed it up, much to everyone’s collective horror.

And then the second half started.

The Yanks beat the unbeatable Jose Contreras in the first game out of the break, a guy who hadn’t lost since he was, well, on the Yankees. The Sox? They encountered the start of the annual Oakland A’s second-half surge, and lost their first two.

I made yet another pilgrimage to The House that Ruth Built for the two remaining games of the White Sox series. As I sat in the sweltering summer sun of the upper tier of Yankee Stadium on Saturday, July 15, it was hard to concentrate on the game. A heat wave was crushing the Northeast, killing old dogs and stray women by the hundreds. (Or something like that.) It was so hot, my sweat was sweating. But as the Yanks pounded the World Series Champion White Sox en route to a 14-3 win, I couldn’t help but enjoy myself. Sure, I smelled like a goat lost in a tropical jungle, but I knew the Yankees weren’t as done as everyone believed.

They confirmed it the next day as I watched from the alcohol-free (sigh) bleachers in left field. (Was it as hot? Well, let’s just say a vendor was selling those misting fans for $20 a pop, and she didn’t even make it halfway up the bleachers before selling out. And then we wonder how the Yankees are worth $1 billion. Hey George, use some lube before slipping it in there!)

I didn’t know we were watching history when Mariano took the mound in the 8th and walked off it in the 9th with his 400th save. I was more concerned about the present: the Yanks were only ½ game behind the Sox.

Not bad for a team that was pronounced dead a few weeks ago. The Yankees of the past few years are the undead, zombies from Resident Evil… you think you’ve killed them, you start to walk away, and then they reach out and start munching on your ankle until they take you down.

This has unfortunately become a theme of late. Sure, everyone knows about the annual Red Sox September Collapse. Ever since the Boston Massacre in ’78, this event has been almost as predictable as the leaves turning in New Hampshire. (Yes, there were a few years in between when the Sox avoided it. But not many.)

Over the past few seasons, the September Collapse is still intact. But the newest trend seems to be the Yankees getting a slow start to begin the season. Last year, the Yanks were seven out at the end of April. In 2004, they were four back at the end of April. This year, well, you know how it’s been.

I’m going to christen this trend “The Yankees Break Late,” like a race horse that is slow out of the gate. I just like the sound of it when you say it with a Rat Pack-esque accent, like how Saul in Ocean’s Eleven refers to his dog at the dog track: “The Yankees break late. Everyone knows this.”

It has that perfectly condescending tone that I require to retort when a giddy Sox fan craps on the Yankees for being three out at the end of April—like it matters at that time of the year.

Because the Yankees Break Late (which everyone knows), they have still come back to win the division both times, thanks to the longer trend of the two: the Sox September Collapse.

When it comes to history forming the present, I’m very much a juggernaut. I don’t move my position on something that has been a standard until I see it change officially. It makes me a very bad predictor of things like the Internet boom and the stock market, for example. (I made my first investment on an internet company the very week the market crashed in ’01. I even convinced my mother to jump on board with me. Every year, she sends me the annual reports of the company we invested in. The stock of the unnamed company is worth about a fourth of what we paid, even after climbing for a couple years. I think she’s a little bitter about it.)

In baseball, my stubbornness serves me quite well. Essentially, I follow three rules:

If a team was good last year, they will be good again this year.
If a team was bad last year, they will be bad again this year.
There is one—and only one—exception to those rules every year.
Simple, right?

Sure, teams go on free agent signing binges, or work out trades everyone says will put them into the race. But it never really happens, does it? Take the Blue Jays for example. J.P. Ricciardi spent ownership’s money like Paris Hilton snorting away the family fortune, and to almost as much avail. Glaus, Ryan, Burnett and Overbay currently have the Jays… in third place.

MLB is not the NFL. There is no salary cap, and therefore absolutely no parity. The teams that can afford to dominate on a regular basis will dominate. The teams that can’t afford top-tier rosters may compete, but with very few exceptions over the past few years, they will not make the playoffs consistently year after year. To continue with the Blue Jays example: they may have upped their spending, but they’re still way behind the Yanks and Sox on that front ($50M behind the Sox) and therefore behind both teams in the standings.

Last year, for example, the Washington Nationals were in first place at the All-Star break, as were the Chicago White Sox. Personally, I doubted both teams. Washington proved me right; Chicago proved me wrong. In 2004, out of the surprise teams in contention in June (there were actually five) only one (Anaheim, who had had a losing record in ’03) actually ended up making the postseason.

One exception to the rule. And only one.

This year, the Mets are dominating, and the Tigers are in first place.

One of those teams will not finish in first place. My money is on the Tigers to fall back, given the size of the Mets lead and the fact the White Sox own the Tigers this year.

If only there was a way to make money on things like, “The Tigers will NOT win the World Series” in Vegas. Sure, you could probably bet that, but I’m guessing those odds won’t add up.

My rules are also why, in last issue’s predictions column, I stated the White Sox were the best team in baseball, and the Yankees will win the AL East.

Over the course of the past couple years—and following my rules—I haven’t seen anything to make me believe otherwise.

Sure, the experts like to be the bandwagon guys. They like to be the first to say, “I called that.” But most of the time they act like the fat-tastic John Kruk during the Home Run Derby and flip-flop their picks as the season goes on. (I like Kruk most of the time. He’s funny to the point of being mean, but also insightful. Plus I can’t help picturing Chris Farley singing “Fat man in a little coat” every time he comes on my TV.) I don’t blame Kruk for flip-flopping, though he should be less obvious about it. Analysts are forced to roll with the season to keep their jobs—no one wants to listen to an expert who is wrong all the time.

What they always forget is that Baseball is more reliant on history than any other sport. “The one constant through all the years, Ray, has been baseball.” It is the slowest to change, the last to adapt. Trends don’t extend across a year or two—they extend across a decade. From adding lights for night games to drug testing, Baseball is always behind the times. It’s a beautiful thing, sometimes. I love the serenity in knowing there’s a game at least six days a week, and they start at 7:00 or 1:00 if my team is at home, with the occasional 8:00 Sunday Night Game. (Though that beautiful feeling is more of a Julia Roberts classic beauty than an Angelina Jolie “I want to fuck your brains out” beauty.)

Other times, as we wait for Barry to get run up the flagpole, Baseball is ugly, like that portly chick you met after those Jagermeister shots who was a body double for Gwyneth in a fat suit in Shallow Hal.

The Yankees are going to win the AL East. Whether you think that’s fat Gwyneth or classic Julia depends on who you root for.

For a Yankees fan living in Boston, that would be almost Angelina-esque.

MLB Second Half Predictions

2006-09-06T13:30:00.000-04:00

I had an advertising professor in college who gave me a pretty good piece of advice:

Never start your pitch to clients by saying anything along the lines of, “This may not be the greatest idea…”

He was right, of course. You should never try to lower expectations on your ideas. The more highly you think of them, the more your audience will too.

That being said…

Sports prediction columns are as useful as Kevin Federline.

They are a great gimmick—everyone loves to hear what the so-called experts think will happen during the course of the season, because we love our teams so much we all hold out hope that our team can win the Series. And if some ex-player who sits in his suit in a broadcast studio thinks our team has a chance, then dammit, they do. We’re suckers.

Well, I’m shirtless on my couch right now and my playing days ended years ago in high school when Johnny Damon stole the Delorean, came back in time and beat me in a throwing contest.

(I know what you’re thinking… that’s like the 1,000th Johnny-Damon-throwing-arm joke I’ve made. I can’t help it; it never gets old for me, even when he’s on my team. Some wells never dry up.)

If you’re looking for some nugget of hope to help you make it through the second half, you’ve come to the wrong place.

Without further ado, here is my MLB Second Half Predictions Column, otherwise known as the “If I had done a first-half recap, I’d have had to do research, and I’m too lazy for that” column.

Team that will earn me free drinks: The Minnesota Twins.

My friend Kayla, who is too pretty to be from Minnesota but is naive enough to make a sucker bet with me (which makes me believe that she could actually be from Minnesota), bet me an entire night’s worth of drinking that the Twins will make the playoffs. Normally, I’d never take a friend’s money on such a sucker bet. The Twins are in the best division in baseball, and they just won something like 25 out of thirty games and are still more than nine back of Detroit, and still in third place. Kayla’s mistake, however, was betting me a night’s worth of alcohol, and I am not capable of turning down free alcohol. It is good to know I will be drunk for free at least one night in October.

Will win the AL batting title: Not Joe Mauer

He’s hitting an amazing .378 at the break. I have no reason to believe that it’s not going to happen. Just a hunch. But if he does win it, his average will be much lower than it currently is. The Twins went 16-2 against the National League in Interleague play, against obviously inferior pitching from the AAAA-clubs. Mauer feasted. A famine usually follows.

Will be seriously injured in the second half: Josh Beckett

And it won’t be because I pull a Tonya Harding on him. I’m telling you, he’s one wet mound or awkward throw away from being the next Carl Pavano. Just wait. He’s never pitched anywhere near 200 innings in a season in his career, and he’s on pace for 220. Just wait. I’m going to keep saying this until it comes true.

Will not be playing for the Yankees in September: Gary Sheffield

Doctors have said he’ll be fine for a September return, but something tells me that’s not going to happen. If the Yanks somehow fall out of contention, it definitely won’t. And with his contract up this year, I think there’s a very good chance we have seen the last of Gary Sheffield in pinstripes.

Won’t come close to accomplishing anything: Kansas City and Pittsburgh

In a few related stories, the sun will rise tomorrow, American Idol will annoy the crap out of me, you’ll get drunk and hook up with a fat chick, that new Selma Hayek-produced show with the ugly girl will get canceled, Tom and Katie’s kid will be a headcase, and George Bush will embarrass the crap out of us in front of the world.

(As for that Selma Hayek show that ABC pummeled us with previews of during the World Cup, someone needs to tell her that we didn’t watch her movies for her acting talent. So unless she’s actually in this show, we don’t give a crap about the fact she’s producing it. Essentially, this show is a pilot away from being the next “Emily’s Reasons Why Not”.)

Will hear the most boos: A-Rod

Even I’m starting to feel bad for him. The guy is a league leader in late-inning go-ahead RBIs this year, and everyone is still booing him. I’ve crapped all over the guy in this space. It stops now—or until October, anyway. He just can’t win. You know it’s bad when I have sympathy for a guy making $25 million, which coincidentally is $25 million more than I make writing this column.

Will win AL Cy Young: Jonathan Papelbon

Actually, he won’t. But he’ll have the numbers for it.

Will win AL MVP: David Ortiz

I’ll admit, I’m old-school when it comes to picking an MVP—he has to be a position player in my book. But even I can’t overlook what Papi is doing this year. If this doesn’t happen, it will be because of one reason and one reason only: the Red Sox don’t make the playoffs. Speaking of which…

Will win the AL East: The New York Yankees

A year ago on July 9, the Yankees were in third place and 3.5 back of the Sox, who looked like a sure thing to break the Yanks’ streak of consecutive AL East titles. And we all know how that turned out. But my real reason for this is that the Red Sox went an insane 16-2 against the National League. If you take away the Interleague games, the Sox would currently be in third place, three games behind the Yankees and two behind Toronto. That doesn’t bode well for the rest of the Red Sox season against the American League.

Will win the AAAA League: The New York Doesntmatters

After what the Sox and Chicago did to the AAAA teams they played the past two years, and with how Interleague play went this year, and how the All-Star games goes every year, does anyone seriously believe an NL team can compete in the Fall Classic? Anyone? (As an aside, if you pick this up after the All-Star Game, write me an email and tell me how good my prediction on the Midsummer Classic was. I’m picking the AL to win, with the score 5,345 to 3.)

Will win the AL Wild Card: The Detroit Tigers

All last year I dumped on the White Sox. I predicted a collapse, called it inevitable. Called them “flukes having career years.” I waited. And waited. They made the playoffs. I predicted a first round exit. They swept. I predicted a quick second round exit. They won. Undeterred, I picked the Astros in 7 in my old blog. They’re flying a World Series Champions banner in U.S. Cellular Field this year. Chicago, I’ve learned my lesson, and I’m not doubting this team and its certifiably-crazy manager again. Even if Detroit is the new Chicago, I’m still saying:

Will win the World Series: The Chicago White Sox

Detroit will fade slightly in the second half, and Chicago will win the division. But with no Wild Card to spare, either the Sox or Yanks will be staying home in October for the first time since 2002.

Unless Toronto goes on a run—in which case, both teams could stay home.

But my shirtless non-former-player expert instinct tells me that’s not going to happen.

Your (Not-So) All-Star Voting Guide

2006-09-06T13:27:00.000-04:00

Ladies and Gentlemen, this year’s American League All-Star starting Catcher will be:

Jason Varitek.

Are you kidding me?

As if we needed any more proof that the All-Star game is a big sham. It has become such a popularity contest they should make the players wear dresses and do a tap-dance number. (Just think of the pure comedy provided by the sight of Ortiz and A-Rod arm in arm in kick line.)

Admittedly, I’ve used an All-Star nomination as a positive commendation to support a player’s skills in this very space. I mentioned Derek Jeter was a six-time All-Star as well as an All-Star Game MVP. Maybe I should rethink what it means to be an All-Star.

But let’s talk about the real importance of the All-Star game. (Don’t worry, I’ll dismantle Varitek’s nomination later.)

When you sit down to the computer or in Fenway and you nominate your All-Star team, I want you to remember this:

The winning league of the All-Star game gets home field advantage in the World Series.

Since the beginning of the 2-3-2 format in 1925, the team that has the home-field advantage in the World Series has won the Fall Classic about 60% of the time. That’s a pretty serious advantage.

When this new All-Star rule was enacted after the debacle of the 2002 All-Star game, I thought it was one of the more insane rules I had ever heard. I believe my reaction was something along the lines of, Are you fucking kidding me? I knew Major League Baseball had to do something appease the outcry from that travesty of a game, but let home field advantage for the most important series of the year ride on a meaningless All-Star game?

(Not only that, but it also frightened me, because it confirmed my belief that Bud Selig is one of the most powerful men in the country. There is NO WAY the average player, manager, or owner would possibly buy off on this cockamamie idea. It doesn’t make any sense. But Bud pulled it off. Seriously, can you see him in the meeting? I picture him staring down the owners with a Kaiser Sose-like chill in his eyes, describing the ways their families will disappear one by one if they don’t get on board. Be very afraid of this man.)

While I still think it’s ridiculous, I also enjoy it in the same kind of sick way that you enjoyed watching Kaiser Sose kill his family to “show those men of will what will really was.” I used to watch the All-Star game anyway, but now? It’s a must-see. Bud was right.

And so was ironic slogan MLB ran in 2004 to promote the game: This time it counts.

But to bring us back to topic, that means you need to select an All-Star team just like you would a National team. (Or a WBC team I guess, but not really. In fact, forget I said that.) You need to put the best team on the field. Give your league the best chance to win.

But also, for historical record, we need to keep some merit to the true meaning of the All-Star game, which is to reward the players having the best seasons this year—so years from now when people look back they can clearly see who was having a great year. Plus, it’s a simple reward that they deserve, and unfortunately, so few fans do that already, as evidenced by the Sox captain leading the catcher voting as this goes to press.

So here are my guidelines for picking an All-Star team for your league:

1. Pick the guys having the best year at their respective positions.

Do that even if you know they’re flukes having career years, or if they are doping for the first time in their careers and haven’t been caught yet. If they’re hot this season, there’s no reason to suspect they won’t perform up to their current caliber in the Midsummer Classic.

2. If two players are statistically equivalent, make your selection based on which player has been consistently better over the course of their career.

This rule helps you select which guy is more likely to perform up to par during that one now-important game.

Those guidelines should help you field a damn good team, and give your ballclub a better chance to walk away with a World Series victory should they make the final round.

But this begs an interesting question: what do you do when voting for the other league? In the spirit of fair play, you should fill it out with the same guidelines. Put the two best teams on the field and let them duke it out. Not only will that make for a better game, but it will also make the newly-acquired home-field rights feel all the more deserved should your league win.

But there’s a definite side to me that wants to vote for the worst National League team possible. If you’re a Sox or Yanks fan (like me) this would give our teams the best odds at winning the Series, something they compete for every year even when they’re not that good, like this year. Also, I’d love the pure comedy of seeing Sal Fasano come to the plate with two outs in the bottom of the ninth in Pittsburgh against Rivera or Papelbon. (Which one of those guys gets the closer role on the team is a whole different article.)

For kicks, here’s my picks for the National League Not-So All-Star Team Starters. (Remember, the selections are limited to the choices provided by MLB.)

1B Lance Niekro, SF
2B Luis Gonzalez, COL
SS Clint Barnes, COL
3B David Bell, PHI
C Ryan Domuit, PIT
OF Brandon Watson, WAS
OF Geoff Jenkins, MIL
OF Jose Cruz, LAD

(I guess I would have to write in Sal Fasano. His handlebar moustache alone would be worth it.)

Of course, that team would never take the field, because presumably the National League fans would be voting enough to get their best players on. But with the Sox and Yanks having the two biggest fan bases, wouldn’t you just love the sight of Sal Fasano ranking fourth in the voting, sending National League fans into a complete panic? In fact, I think we should make that happen. Think of the endless teasing you could lord over your National League fan friends—like my friend Josh, a Mets fan, who has been loving life this year as his team rips through quadruple-A Ball. Hey, your league is so good this year… who did you have starting behind the plate in the All-Star game again?

But that brings us back to V-Tek. Let me start by saying I have more respect for Jason than I do for any player on the Boston roster. In fact, when I bought a birthday present for my buddy Jim one year, Varitek’s 33 shirt was the only one I could bring myself to purchase without throwing up in my mouth.

But there is no way Jason Varitek is an All-Star this year. At the time of writing, he’s batting a miserable .252. I’m sorry, but you should never have to scroll down on an MLB.com statistics-by-position page to see an All-Star player’s numbers. To say Varitek is in the basement of AL catchers statistically is an understatement. Mauer, Pierzynski, Rodriguez, and even Posada—they all have better numbers, pretty much across the board. You can’t even justify Varitek’s selection under rules one or two, or if even if you know at heart he’s a great player (which I believe he is) and you want him on the team because he makes your whole pitching staff better (which he does when he works with them regularly).

Yes, my instincts want him on the team, but the stats tell me I don’t want him playing in that game. And I definitely don’t want him coming up to bat in a tight spot. So do the Red Sox a favor and stop voting for the Captain. He doesn’t deserve it. And do you really want a guy batting .252 starting in a game that could ultimately decide your team’s chances of winning a World Series?

No you don’t, not even when it’s Jason Varitek.

***

Some quick business:

• Need to send a thank you to Barstool reader John O’Connell, who wrote in response to my article in the last issue concerning my proposed nickname for Melky Cabrera. I had suggested “The Kid” for Cabrera, and after John used my article to clean his john, he wrote in to remind me that “The Kid” was Ted Williams’ nickname. Williams is the greatest pure hitter the game has ever seen, and believe me when I say that I was not trying to steal his nickname for an unproven rook. I can just be dumb sometimes. My sincere apologies go out to all Sox fans, to Mr. Williams’ family, and to Ted’s unfrozen head. As a form of self-punishment for this grievous oversight, I will return the total sum of my last Barstool paycheck. (Cough.) If you have ideas for a new Cabrera nickname, I’m all ears.

• Bruce Arena is the Grady Little of American soccer. He didn’t go to Eddie Johnson in the Italy game or until it was too late in the Ghana game, even though Johnson is clearly the only guy on the team with stones big enough to take shots on goal—which if I understand the game correctly is the only way you can score. (Apparently Bruce’s strategy was, “If we play sloppily enough, the other team will feel so bad for us they will score an own goal.”) Bruce needs to get his walking papers, and we need to get a foreign coach for 2010. Americans don’t know enough about soccer to take us to the next level. It’s time we admit it. Klinsmann in 2010.

New Kids in Town: the Rivalry Rookies

2006-09-06T13:24:00.000-04:00

In a city that features one of the world’s best known road races, all of the Fenway Faithful that attended the Saturday afternoon-turned-evening (June 10) game ran a marathon of their own.

But they ran it with their arms instead of their legs, as they drank themselves silly waiting for the rain to subside and the Sox to take the field.

I was among them as we waited, watching the rain at the newly-renovated Cask & Flagon (which if you haven’t seen, you need to get there). We were all waiting for the much-anticipated debut of the highly-touted Jon Lester, but by the time 5:00 rolled around the scene at the Cask was more like a bar at midnight than a mid-afternoon scene. Everyone was tanked, including yours truly, and everyone was dancing like it was New Year’s Eve. (Also guilty, which just tells you how drunk we were. Can you remember the last time you were drunk and dancing before 3:00 that didn’t involve someone getting married? Neither can I.)

While we drank up and watched the world’s game instead of America’s pastime, I got to thinking about what we were waiting for.

If Lester even lives up to half his touting, he could be one of the next greats, the best prospect since a guy named Roger tossed his first few at Fenway. The more I thought about it, I couldn’t remember a time when both the Red Sox and Yankees were relying on so many young players and untested rookies. With all the injuries to both sides, younger guys are getting a chance this year.

I thought about spending the duration of this issue’s column ripping the Sox organization for TURNING OFF THE BEER AT FENWAY AT 5:00 YESTERDAY which was even more aggravating given the fact I had roof table seats, which come with $100 worth of food and beverage. (Of course, we weren’t looking for diet cokes.) Hell, we even bitched to the unexpectedly-attractive concession manager Bridget about it, because drunk people complaining about not getting served is always effective.

Instead, I think I’ll be a little more productive and discuss the Rivalry’s young players. (I have to fill the two-month gap between Sox and Yanks matchups with something.)

These two teams make a habit of not relying on young talent, especially the Yankees. (Why grow corn when you can just buy it at the grocery store?) With Robinson Cano and Chien-Ming Wang making major contributions to the Yankees eighth-straight division title, last year was the first year I can remember young players playing such major role for the Yanks since some kid named Jeter came up back in ’96.

(As an aside, is the “Jeter is overrated” argument the most overrated argument of all time? Quite frankly, it’s just dumb. Here are just a few accolades Derek Sanderson Jeter has earned: Four World Series rings, six All-Star appearances, Rookie of the Year, a World Series MVP, an All-Star game MVP, two gold gloves—not to mention a .315 career batting average. Wow, he’s awful.)

If the Yanks are going to make it nine—or if the Sox are going shake the second fiddle role—young players will be playing major roles again this year.

So let’s talk about the young guys. Just to tick everyone off, I’m going to rank them, even though I’m perfectly aware that one start from Lester is not enough to judge him on, and zero starts by Phillip Hughes is, well, zero starts. (But I’m going to do it anyway, because who’s column is this? That’s right, it’s mine, beyatch.)

Some parameters: the player doesn’t have to be making his debut, but he has to be considered a rookie. That means, for example, Robinson Cano and Kevin Youkilis aren’t eligible.

1. Jonathan Papelbon,

The obvious choice to top the list, Wild Thing blew his first save of the season in his 21st attempt, only allowing a single earned run along the way. By all accounts, he’s been impressive. Despite his poor hairstyle choices, he has proven he has the intelligence and rare skill that it takes to be a closer. He’ll be in the starting rotation next year, but for now he’s dominating in one of the hardest roles in sports. (But please, don’t make me come to your house and beat you to death with a blunt instrument of your choosing by comparing him to Mariano. Thanks.)

2. Melky Cabrera, OF

We’re going to be seeing his game-saving robbery of Manny in every Rivalry montage for the rest of the year, which is of course just fine with me. He can hit for average and, contrary to the sentiments of the usually-excellent Jerry Remy (who I think is one of the best color men in the game) he has a fantastic arm: he’s currently tied for the AL lead in outfield assists. His D has improved immensely since giving Trot Nixon a free trip around the bases last year. However, I’m a little ticked off that he already has a nickname, especially because it’s a horrible one: The Melk Man. Why? Get this: Because he delivers. Um, rip off Karl Malone much? I’m starting a petition to call him The Kid, because he’s only 21 and he looks like he’s 12. Also, I know he’s going to be around for years, and I am eagerly waiting for the day when he’s 37 and everyone is calling him The Kid, like the way you call a 6’7” fat guy “Tiny.”

3. Jon Lester, LHP

We don’t know enough about him for me to put him higher on the list, but he pitched well enough in his debut for me to not completely doubt the hype. At least that’s what I read this morning on ESPN.com’s recap, because I only have a vague recollection of the game thanks to several gallons of beer I consumed during the delay. He’s also a southpaw, so that instantly puts him ahead of

4. David Pauley, P

After watching supposed Yankee-killer Josh Beckett get battered around in a game where the Yankees scored the most runs before the fourth inning in the entire history of the Rivalry, this kid comes out and shuts down the Bombers, holding them to two runs for six-plus innings. Definitely a hard-luck loss, not that I minded it. I know Lester is supposed to be better; I know he got hammered by the Jays in his debut; and I know this guy is going to bounce back and forth between Pawtucket and Boston all year, but if shutting down even a depleted Yanks lineup in The Stadium doesn’t prove you can play with the big boys, I don’t know what does.

(Aside: I said it last year, and I’ll say it again here… Josh Beckett is a rich man’s Carl Pavano. He’s only an inevitable elbow injury away from living up to his potential in the same way Pavano has. I also said that Mike Lowell will end up being the better part of that deal, and so far I’ve been right. And yes, I’ll be the first person to tell you “I told you so” when Beckett goes down.)

5. Phillip Hughes, RHP

You haven’t seen him yet, but he’s the Yankees top pitching prospect. I want to rank him above Pauley, but seeing as how he has yet to throw a pitch in a Major League game and I have no idea what he looks like (his MLB.com profile is sans any information, including a picture), I think we’re best served putting him right here. Quite frankly, I’m not even sure he exists. I could have dreamed him up. But if he is real and if he’s still with the Yanks you know he has to be good or he would have been an “…and prospects” guy on the back end of a Tori Hunter trade announcement by now.

6. Bubba Crosby, OF

I’m admittedly stretching the rules including Crosby on this list, because he was on the Yanks roster for 55 games in 2004 and 76 games last year, but he had fewer than 100 at bats in aught-five so he might as well be a rookie this year. The Lesser Crosby may earn a chance to play every day with all the injuries to the Yanks—if he gets off the DL (hammy) any time soon. Before the season started and Damon was bought, I was perfectly content to let him start in center for the Yankees this year. He’s a hit with Yanks fans because he gives 100% every time he’s out there, even if it means running over Gary Sheffield in the process. And unlike Damon, he can throw farther than my sister.

7. Kevin Thompson, OF

You probably have never even heard of him, but he hit his first major league home run on Saturday, and scouts say he’ll likely hit a few more before he’s done. When the Yanks don’t pick up Sheffield’s option at the end of the year, Thompson and Cabrera will likely be battling it out for the open outfield spot. (Unless Cashman goes shopping.)

8. Andy Phillips, 1B

He’s already doing his part to lock up this year’s Aaron Small Award for the “old guy” finally getting some playing time (he’s 29) and doing well with it. He had four homers in five days a few weeks ago, and had the best batting average in baseball over that week. But his career is half over before it has even begun due to the fact he’s just getting PT and he’s only a year shy of A-Rod, who only had about 9 years of experience when he was Phillips’ age. Then again, I’ve seen Phillips get a hit with runners in scoring position this year, unlike A-Rod, so who knows.

(Aside: One of the few things Yanks and Sox fans agree on is Choke-Rod’s ability—or lack thereof—in the clutch. And somehow, you know the guy will still have 40-140 by the end of the year. So here’s something to chew on: what happens if A-Rod ever sheds his “unclutch” ways and actually starts producing in those situations? The numbers would be staggering. I’m talking 60-70 HR, maybe 180 RBI? He’s already on pace to shatter the record books. It’s worth noting. Then again, the earth could start spinning in the opposite direction tomorrow too, but I don’t think there’s much chance of that happening.)

Needless to say, it should be an interesting year. It’s always exciting to watch young guys cut their teeth, and even moreso when they do it on one of sports biggest stages, which is what the Yanks/Sox Rivalry is.

It will be fun to watch guys succeed and stars be born—and equally entertaining to watch them fail. Assuming the ones failing are on the other team.

Honorable mention: Yankees: Kevin Reese, OF; Darrell Rasner, RHP; Sox: Manny Delcarmen

Bronx Issues

2006-05-31T20:57:00.000-04:00

This week, I had the distinct pleasure (ahem, sarcasm) of watching two Jaret Wright starts in person.

Much to my amazement, the Yankees won them both.

On May 23, I climbed the bleachers in Fenway in the cold. And on Sunday, I made my first trip to the Bronx to catch the Yanks take on the Royals in the scorching heat of an early “summer” day.

Despite the 80+ degree temperature and my lobster-colored kneecaps, a trip to Yankee Stadium is always something I enjoy. I donned my Rivera #42 and trudged up the steep, circuitous ramps that line the intestines of the House that Ruth Built, and made my way to my top-tier seats, where the sun had already cooked the blue plastic seats to a butt-sweat inducing sizzle.

The heat wasn’t the only thing making the Yankee faithful sweat. After the Yankees chased Royals stater Runelvys Hernandez after 33 pitches and 5 runs in the first inning, the Yanks made things interesting by letting the lowly Royals creep back into it. I had thought my shirt wouldn’t be telling the tale of a game against the Royals, but sure enough, Enter Sandman was heard in the Bronx later that day in a “shouldn’t-have-been-that-close” Yanks win.

(Aside: The concession stand ran out of water in the sixth inning. A billion-dollar franchise ran out of water in the sixth inning. Seriously. We can pay A-Rod $25 million but we can't get me a damn bottle of Poland Spring. Life is just mean sometimes.)

Sitting amongst “my people” for the first time this year, I took the opportunity to cheer like a drunken fool (something, if you read last issue’s column, I can’t normally do) and to discuss the “State of the Yankees” with a fellow fan, even though I was in attendance with my friend Mary Kate, a transplanted Sox fan. (She lives in NY now, but I think the conversion has begun…)

I thought I’d bring back a scouting report to Boston, in the form of 5 Issues Facing the Yankees. So if you care, here they are:

1. Randy and the Staff. Watching Clement and Johnson last Wednesday was worse than being forced to watch Girl Interrupted. Even though Randy two-hit the overrated and soon-to-collapse Tigers on Monday, no one is convinced The Big Unit is on his game. I know he had a similar start to the season last year, and I know he’s a warm weather guy (it was 92 in Detroit) but there is strong concern about the Unit in the Bronx. He is the Yanks #1, and when your number one has an ERA hovering around infinite, you worry about it. It doesn’t help that we only have four starters right now, either, even if Moose is pitching very well and Wang has been above average.

2. Matsui’s injury. Joe could write his name on the card in pen every day. He was the most technical, and in my opinion, most clutch Yankees hitter. And he absolutely killed the Red Sox. So losing Matsui is a huge blow. But it’s not an insurmountable barrier. Matsui’s numbers were never gaudy, and his defense was average. The Yankees may not find a guy who can replace all Godzilla brought to the table, but they can find someone to plug the hole—and by the look of Melky Cabrera, that stopgap may come without having to expend any prospects in a trade. The real concern here for New York is the deluge of Japanese reporters and cameramen in local karaoke bars, now that they don’t have Matsui to cover anymore.

3. Defense. Or lack thereof. The Yankees are second-last in the AL, in front of only Cleveland, in both fielding percentage and errors committed. A-Rod has been awful, and like his team, Robbie Cano is the second-worst two-bagger in the game this season (5 errors). I compare him to another New York youngster, Eli Manning, when I describe his game: it is flashes of brilliance surrounded by moments of sheer terror. I know he’s young; I know he works with Larry Bowa every day; and I know that he had better keep that average above .300 if he wants to justify his playing every day until his defense improves.

4. Old Bones. This is the best way I can describe it. We’re only in May and we’ve got one major contributor (Matsui) likely out for the year. The Yankees depend of veterans, and by that I mean Old Dudes. The Sheff got burnt and was already on the DL; Posada’s legs are shot; Randy is a slippery mound away from shutting down. Then there’s our laundry list of not-so-old guys who are currently on the DL: Crosby and Chacon (legs); Dotel (Tommy John surgery); Sturtze (surgery, out for year); and of course, the bastion of durability that is Carl Pavano, who has been listed on the DL with everything from (sore elbow) to (sore butt).

An aside: Seriously, a sore butt? Doesn’t that just raise concerns and eyebrows? I mean, I want to know what he did to get a sore butt, and I want to know why the Yankees couldn’t figure out anything better to list him with. Bruised tailbone? Sore groin? And given all his injuries, we need to ask what this guy is made of… Paper mache? Is he the biggest pussy who ever wore a uniform? What’s he going to be out with next? I’m waiting for the day when I open the paper and see:

Pavano, 15-day DL, (hair pain)

Probably only a matter of time. I wish I could earn $49 million for not working at all.

The Yankees need to find a way to get some of these guys to get healthy if they are going to make a run at this thing. Moving on…

5. Lack of Routine. When it comes to having a routine, baseball players are like your Uncle Frank—they like to do the same damn thing every day, from a morning coffee to a beer at Joe’s Bar after work. The Yankees have used seven players and at least 16 different outfield configurations this year, and I can’t even begin to contemplate how many different lineups. Defensively, guys work together better when they work together consistently, and offensively, batters like to know the tendencies of the guys they follow and precede, and where they consistently will appear in the lineup so they know how much time they have to prepare—among other reasons. Shuffling hurts everyone, and the Yankees have been forced to shuffle the lineup like Sawyer shuffled against Jack on Lost.

With all the chaos, it’s worth noting a few things: the Yanks are just a game out of first behind a Sox team that has its own issues; hot-hitting Toronto can’t seem to catch either team; the Yanks have won five of six at the time of printing and are nine games over .500 for the first time all year; and it’s still only the end of May, after all.

Given the situation, things are relatively stable in the Bronx. Don’t look for major trades for outfielders. (I won’t say the same about pitchers.) Don’t look for signs of panic. Above all, don’t think the Yankees are done.

In the Bronx, the Stadium is still standing tall, the Yankees are still winning, and unlike Boston, at least the friggin sun has been out lately. I’ve got the kneecaps to prove it.

Gearing up for Fenway

2006-05-31T20:56:00.000-04:00

Life isn’t easy.

You work your ass off. Your bills are too high. Your credit card company has you on speed dial. Your bank apparently makes up new fees just for you. You haven’t gotten laid in four weeks, but you’ve been laid off twice in four years. Your car is a homing beacon for meter maids.

And to top it off, you live in the city that’s home to your baseball team’s rival.

Oh wait, that’s my life.

Don’t get me wrong, I love Boston. It’s way better than New York. Boston has big-city culture with a small town feel. New York is… well, New York.

So my baseball team plays about three hundred miles to the southwest, and I spend my days living behind enemy lines. I’d say it only matters during the season, but when it comes to baseball, there’s no such thing as an off-season in Boston.

Sure, there are worse things I could be than a yanks fan. In fact, in Boston, the “most hated people” list looks something like this:

1. Sex offenders
2. Murderers
3. Yankee fans
4. Terrorists
5. Common criminals

I wish I was kidding. But actual blood relatives of Osama bin Laden live here. And no one really seems to mind.

Yankee fans? We’re not welcome. Maybe it’s because it is the best rivalry in sport and the tension is infectious, or maybe it’s because Yankees fans rubbed in 86 years of futility just a little too hard. (Guilty!)

When I tell a Bostonian that I’m a Yanks fan, a look crosses their face like someone took a shit in their shoe. I’ve literally had girls in bars turn around and walk away. (I tell myself it’s because I’m a Yanks fan, anyway…)

They don’t take kindly to my folk in these parts. Especially not at Fenway.

It is a cathedral, a living homage to the talent, passion and skill of some of the greatest players every to walk on this planet. In the same way I like Boston more than New York, I like Fenway more than Yankee Stadium, if only slightly. It is more unique, has a little more character. And it’s smaller, which makes it, ironically, more intimidating. Like you packed 38,000 friends into your living room to watch the game in HD.

It may be a cathedral, but the language at Fenway would make a priest’s ears bleed.

I’ve gone to a lot of Yankee games at Fenway, and I think I’ve attended just about all of them clad in some kind of Yankees gear. I’ll do the same when the Yanks come to Boston for the second time after what Joe Torre called “a taste” earlier in the month.

Even though I write for one of the few publications that wouldn’t censor anything I wrote—in fact, David Portnoy, the managing editor, told me, “There’s nothing that can’t be published in Barstool”—I won’t reprint some of the names I’ve been called. (One rhymes with “bunt” and another with “mucking grassnole”)

Of course, I could deserve it. I’m the kind of guy that bought a Rodriguez shirt after the Sox failed to sign him a few years ago, and promptly wore it to the first Yanks game at Fenway.

Amazingly, I’ve never gotten into a fight while at a Yankees game—I’m not stupid enough for that—because I know that it’s possible to cheer for a team without being a complete jackass, something that more than a few sports fans don’t seem to grasp. But I also follow a few simple rules that are essential to surviving the bleachers while wearing Yankees gear:

1. Wear a shirt, not a hat. You wear a hat, you’ll never see it again, and you’ll probably end up in handcuffs if you try to get it back.
2. Don’t look anyone in the eye. Seriously, treat fans in the bleachers like you would a gorilla in the wild. In fact, don’t look at or talk to anyone.
3. When the Yanks do something good, don’t jump up and down. Unless you’re a girl with big jubblies, which I decidedly am not. You can clap and cheer, just don’t overdo it.
4. If you yell at a player, it had better be a Yankee.

I do a lot of that last one. I’m what you could call a high-demand fan. If you put on the Yankee uniform, you had better be good. I do expect to win, and every game. I know it’s not possible, but there isn’t a team top-to-bottom that has more talent on the roster, so I expect to win. And when my team sucks I’m pretty damn vocal about it. (If only my TV could talk.)

But I love the game and my team, so I’m willing to risk possible mental abuse and bodily harm to watch my team play, even if it means I’m surrounded by angry gorillas (and I seriously mean that in a “respect” way—it’s your job to make Fenway inhospitable… I just wish it was more about the actual players and not about the fans.). It makes life interesting, and makes me a better fan. I can probably tell you as much about the Sox as you can, and definitely can tell you more about the Yankees, because that’s how I’ll get your respect.

There’s nothing like walking into Fenway with a Yankees jersey on. I’m a little kid at heart, so I love any stadium. But when you do it like that, it’s an adrenaline rush. You’re the enemy. My buddy Tim—a Sox fan—and I went down to New York last year for the September series, three games of Yanks and Sox. The first day, he didn’t wear his Sox stuff. He was unsure of the reception he’d get. I kidded him about it, but I could understand. The next night he wore it, and got some choice words shouted in his direction. “I know how you feel,” he said. Good times.

But it also matters what jersey you have on. I wouldn’t wear a Jeter shirt, even though he’s the player the team counts on the most. Jeter shirts are for chicks. I also don’t want to hear “Jeter sucks” a million times. Damon, also for chicks. I wouldn’t wear a Randy Johnson shirt, because I just don’t like him. Matsui’s on the DL for three months. And I have retired the Rodriguez jersey, because quite frankly, until he does something in the postseason, he doesn’t deserve my praise or my loyalty.

I thought about the Rivera shirt maybe, because the last player who will ever wear #42 is also the best closer of all time. But instead, I’ll be clad in my #23 Mattingly shirt when I climb those steps to the top of the bleachers. I’m gonna go old school. As a Sox fan told me one time I wore it in the bleachers, “If you don’t like Donnie Baseball, you don’t like baseball.”

I guess Sox fans do know a thing or two about the Yankees, after all.

Yanks and Sox odds

2006-05-31T20:53:00.000-04:00

With the 2006 edition of the best rivalry in sports already underway by the time you read this, I thought I’d lay down some betting odds for the Sox and Yanks games this season.

Johnny Damon gets booed in his first game at Fenway
Odds: OFF
Assessment: This has already happened by the time you read this. I just wanted to get started with a sure thing.

Curt Schilling’s other ankle bleeds
Odds: 50 to 1
Assessment: Seeing as how the devil has not come to collect on the pact Curt must have made with him during the 2004 season, I’m guessing he just might be getting old.

Alex Rodriguez comes out of the closet
Odds: 18 to 1
Assessment: I’m a Yankees fan, and even I have my doubts.

David Ortiz wins a game with a walk off
Odds: 5 to 1
Assessment: Oh, how I long for the day when Joe Torre realizes that you should not pitch to David Ortiz under any circumstances. Honestly, the only reason David Ortiz has as many game winning hits as he does is because MLB managers are apparently idiots. I’d take my chances with Manny.

The Red Sox start handing out Viagra in the dugout
Odds: 500 to 1
Assessment: In a desperate attempt to make the offense more potent, Sox management starts… well, you get it.

Manny washes his hair
Odds: 15 to 1
Assessment: Seriously, I can smell it through the TV.

The NY Post publishes an article that Randy Johnson is actually a corpse
Odds: 1,000 to 1
Assessment: Either that, or Joe Torre brings the geriatric lefty out to the mound in a wheelchair.

Kyle Farnsworth puts a two foot hole in Jorge Posada
Odds: 10 to 1
Assessment: The Yanks middle reliever regularly hits 100 on the radar gun. Pure gas.

Mariano Rivera blows a save
Odds: 2 to 1
Assessment: I’m not about to say that the Sox have his number, but he hasn’t been the same against the Sox since 2004.

John Papelbon grows dreads
Odds: 5 to 1
Assessment: With the Wild Thing Mohawk under his belt, he moves on to pick up the slack left by “Brandon” Arroyo as the token white guy with nappy hair.

Gary Sheffield finally snaps and kills a fan during a game
Odds: 25 to 1
Assessment: Gary Sheffield’s brain is like that creaky, boarded up dock on a spooky lake. All it takes is one idiot who takes a wrong step.

Alex Rodriguez gets a two out RBI hit in the late innings to win a game
Odds: 10 billion to 1
Assessment: Alex is the first guy to have 130+ RBI without ever getting a hit with men on base.

A Yankees baserunner gets caught in a rundown
Odds: 7 to 1
Assessment: Thanks to the MLB Extra Innings Package, I’ve been able to watch the Yankees attempt to break the record for most run-downs in the month of April.

Josh Beckett becomes the next Carl Pavano
Odds: 22 to 1
Assessment: Despite the early season results, Pavano’s numbers were better than Beckett’s when he came over to the AL. I’m just saying.

The Yankees Suck chant will be recorded by the Hall of Fame and get its own exhibition as the “Dumbest Chant in the History of Sports”
Odds: 8 to 1
Assessment: I can only wish.

There will be a bench clearing brawl
Odds: 4 to 1
Assessment: Did the World Baseball Classic make these guys best friends? Or do they still dislike each other? We’ll see how things go when tension gets high. But I want a brawl to happen just to watch Johnny Damon wander around like a confused, lost child.

The teams will combine to set a season record for most men left in scoring position
Odds: 9 to 1
Assessment: If the early season trend continues, the odds on this will be a lot lower soon.

Roger Clemens will pitch for the Yankees
Odds: 3 to 1
Assessment: Honestly, if both teams are in contention, it’s going to be all about the money. And when that happens, you know who wins.

FOX Sports will still run Babe Ruth stories
Odds: 5 to 1
Assessment: I don’t think any other network has been hit harder by the 04 Sox Championship than Fox. I mean, after they won, someone had to teach Jeannie Zelasko a new baseball story. This was all she had.

We’ll see that 2K6 Sports commercial with Jeter and Beckett 1,000 times
Odds: 2 to 1
Assessment: Cool commercial. I like it. But after a whole season of it, I’m going to want both those guys dead.

Derek Jeter will make an amazing play
Odds: OFF
Assessment: Remember when he dove into the stands for a foul ball two years ago while Nomar moped in the dugout? Sox fans can say whatever they want about Jeter (and they do) but at the end of the day, he’s just one of those guys who has “it” and any manager would love to have him.

The Yankees win the division
Odds: 2 to 1
Assessment: Nine years in a row.

The World Series Ain’t In April

2006-05-31T20:50:00.000-04:00

Schilling’s ankle hasn’t imploded… Beckett looks like the real deal… Papelbon is throwing like Rivera… Lowell is having a Giambi-like resurgence… and the Yankees’ pitching is struggling.

Clement looks like the guy who ended last season rather than the guy who began last season… Coco Crisp “can’t stay healthy”… David Wells pitched so bad he must be sober… Wakefield’s knuckler isn’t knuckling—and no one can catch it anyway… and the Yankees hitters are on pace to score enough runs to match their payroll.

This is early-season baseball.

Of course, the baseball writers have one in the bag for this, one of the many trite sayings they uncork on us, the lowly baseball public, over the course of the season:

You can’t win a division in April, but you can lose one.

This is one of their tactics to get us to keep watching—not that most of us wouldn’t anyway. This is why the opinions of the mainstream media are worth as much as that Nomar rookie card you’ve been hanging on to. You would think guys who have been around the sport as long as guys like Olney and Gammons have would know better. If anything this just makes us nervous, and drives the powerful engine that is sports talk radio.

You can’t win or lose a division in April. April is as meaningful as spring training.

There’s a reason they play 162 games. Think about that number for a minute. From Opening Day until the last out of the regular season on October 1st, baseball players will go to “work” on more days than you will. Position players will field more ground balls than you’ll send emails. They’ll have twice as many at bats as you’ll take dumps (unless you have a thing for Taco Bell). Starting Pitchers will throw more pitches in a week than you’ll drink beers in a month (unless you’re me). Teams will travel more miles than you’ll probably walk in feet.

Judging the outcome of games in April is like judging Tom Cruise’s mental stability right after Top Gun.

In other words, the first month of the season means jack shit. Of course, when we see the early stories unfold, like Wells getting pounded or Tanyon Sturtze throwing tater tots, it makes us crazier than time-traveler Darren Daulton. But those of us who have actually watched baseball all our lives shake it off after about five seconds, because we know you can put as much stock in Papelbon’s April saves as you can in Dalton’s claim that he’s “crossed over” through other dimensions.

That’s not saying that Papelbon won’t have a banner year and dominate. In the same way how bad you perform early has nothing to do with how good you’ll perform late, the reverse is true. He’s got the stuff, and he’s got the mentality down. He’s an icy son of a bitch, and I don’t want the Yanks to face him. But if he can hold up in October on the Big Stage, only time will tell. (In the interest in circumventing any angry emails from Yanks fans, my comparison to Rivera in the intro was meant to be a humorous exaggeration.)

Has everyone forgotten last year? Let’s see, the Yanks had their worst April ever. The Orioles were the best team in baseball for that month. Brian Roberts—BRIAN ROBERTS, at the time a career .264 hitter—was the early season MVP candidate. Matt Clement started off 6-0. The Big Unit’s first 10 starts went about as well as Jeff Weaver’s career in the Big Apple.

And where did things end up in the standings at the end of the season? The same damn place they had the previous seven. Despite all of that early season crapola.

This week, I had a confrontation with a Sox fan—who shall remain nameless because I won’t justify her comments by publishing her name (and because I’m still friends with her)—who said she’s positive the Sox are the better team than the Yankees this year, and that she’s positive they’ll win the division this year. This was a statement, not a prediction. Anyone can make predictions, I do it all the time. But this was a statement, based purely on the first week of the season.

These are the types of fans that drive me nuts. Unfortunately, Boston is as rife with them now as New York was in the late 90s. People who love their team but don’t know anything about baseball.

This sort of “Blind Optimism” is what separates fans of teams from fans of the sport. It’s one thing to want your team to win. It’s another to KNOW they will. BO—as I will call it from here on out because it is just as disgusting—is one thing and one thing only: stupid.

Look. I hope the Yankees will win the division. I hope they’ll win the World Series. If you want me to make a prediction, I think they will win the division (but not the Series), and the Sox will finish second. But I’m not Nostradamus. I can’t see the future. And there’s nothing in the first few weeks of the season that make me think—for better or for worse—the Yanks can’t win the division, or won’t. Same with the Sox or Toronto.

(Okay, I know Tampa Bay won’t. But hell, everyone knows that.)

So listen. You casual fans out there who don’t know what the 6 in a 6-4-3 double play means; you who think a suicide squeeze is a tactic pulled by the investigators on Law & Order; you who have never watched a game your team wasn’t playing in; you of the BO… do us all a favor and play Helen Keller for a bit.

That way we all can enjoy April Baseball for the one reason we should: we’ve got our sport back.

And for that I’m grateful.

Tournament Preview

2006-03-13T13:54:00.000-05:00

Before we get to the Tourney Preview, here’s my thoughts on last week.

-What can I say about G-Mac that hasn’t already been said? All I know is we were the epitome of obnoxious at Game On sports bar on Saturday night. Every time Gerry hit a shot or made a pass, we were yelling out, “He’s SO overrated!” Good thing we were at an SU alumni party or they may have called in the Ned Devine’s bouncers on us. Bottom line is, Gerry just didn’t want to lose.

-Best part was the press conference after the game. Gerry and Jim were talking about the Daily Orange article that started the “overrated” talk. Gerry named the reporter, and said, “Oh, I know who he is, don’t worry. Is he here?” When told he wasn’t, he basically said, “Yeah, he was only at our losses this year.” Classic stuff. Gotta love Gerry. You can view it here.

So overrated.

-You have to give credit where credit is due: Big props to Josh Wright, from… THE U… (Utica, NY) for hitting those four key free throws after coming in cold from the bench, and a guy I’ve been taking large smelly dumps on all season, Daryl Watkins, for rebounding like a man possessed in the closing minutes on Saturday. We’ll need those sorts of contributions this weekend—and next year.

-Sunday, I also got to watch Syracuse hero Carmello Anthony and the Denver Nuggets drop one to the Celtics on a few last second shots by The Truth, Paul Pierce. ‘Melo did us proud though, making his first 11 shots from the field and pouring in 36. 2003 National Champs, baby!

-I'd just like to personally thank Louis Hinnant of BC for hitting a late, acrobatic three against Duke on Sunday, and helping me cover the 5 point spread, which was very generous of whoever set that line, forcing me to take it even though I am going to Vegas next weekend.

But let’s get down to business. Here’s my NCAA Tournament Preview!

In the “Did the Committee Make These Selections in a Hot Boxed Room?” Category:
How does Air Force get in over Cincy? I’ve never seen such an egregious selection in my life. So you’re telling me, if Air Force plays Cincy’s schedule (5th best in the COUNTRY) they’re 19-10, and 8-8 in the Big East? Seriously? I think the Jamaican guy on the end of the Syracuse Bench get some new clients over the weekend.

In the “The I’ll Be Burning My Shirt Again This Year” Category:
You win an amazing four games in four days in the toughest conference tournament in the country, and you’re rewarded with a 5th seed. Ok. That’s generous, considering Syracuse wasn’t even in if they lose to Cincy (how big did that game turn out to be?). That’s a solid seed. But then you “reward” them with a game against 12 seed Texas A&M, who beat Texas two weeks ago and played them to four points in the Big 12 Tourney. Seriously, thanks a lot. I think Syracuse will win, but won’t be surprised at all if the Orange have some deja-vu with a one-and-done.

In the “I’d Rather Walk Through Dorchester in a Klan Suit” Category:
Rather do that then play in the Atlanta bracket. There are five teams in here that won a major conference tournament or regular season. Five. (Dook, LSU, Cuse, Iowa, Texas) There are only six major conferences. Let’s go for a walk!

In the “You Have to Pick at Least One” Category:
5-12 upsets. Every year since the inception of the 64 team format, a twelve has beaten a five. This year, you could easily go with the Aggies over the Cuse, but I’m picking Utah State over Washington. The other Huskies have a POY candidate in Brandon Roy, but the Pac-10 is about as strong as the skinny kid from Road Trip.

In the “This Will Be More Unbelievable than 3-6 Mafia Winning Best Song” Category:
My upset pick of the Tourney is UNC-Wilmington knocking off Duke in a second round match-up. I watched this team play in the CAA championship, and they were beyond impressive. Great shooting, an offensive chemistry that would make any coach proud, good size, depth, senior leadership at the point, and tournament experience. Plus, I think Duke is overrated, and not in a G-Mac kind of way. Wilmington has a tough first round matchup against another overrated team, GW, but if they get to the second round, they could pull it off. I’m not saying it will happen, I’m just saying it could. (In other words, I’m picking Duke in my brackets, but I’m taking UNC-W to beat the spread while I’m in Vegas.)

Speaking of Vegas, let’s talk about the “You’re Money And You Don’t Even Know It” Category:
Looking at the early lines, as my friend Rog has already said, “Someone is a big fan of Penn” as they’re only getting 19.5 against Texas. Um, I’ll take Texas to cover, thanks. But my biggest shocker while looking at the lines is Illinois only giving up 9 against Air Force. The Illini went to the National Championship game last year. They returned a few starters, including Dee Brown. They have six losses on the year playing a Big Ten schedule, while Air Force has five losses against teams that couldn’t have made the finals in Dodgeball: A True Underdog Story. Straight cash, homie.

"Baby, we gonna be up 5-honey by midnight!"

In the “Fool Me Once Shame on You, Fool Me Twice Shame on Me” Category:
Gonzaga. One win? Two? That’s the most you should ever give this team. “You still have not brought me the gun of Rambo” Mr. Few, and I don’t think you ever will. The Zags should have lost the WCC championship to an under-.500 Loyola Marymount team, but Loyola airballed a wide-open last second layup. And you’re saying these guys are a 3-seed? I’m not buying.

In the “No Really, His Eyelid Went behind His Eyeball!!” Category:
Allen Ray. This is the biggest pre-tournament injury since Kenyon Martin’s fibula went snap in the C-USA tourney a few years back. I have a team of four tailing Andy Katz everywhere he goes, and I've gotten George Bush's permission to wiretap his cell phone.

In the “We Shouldn’t Be Playing College Ball in April But We Will Be” Category:
Here’s my Final Four: ‘Nova (assuming Ray plays), UConn (too much talent, too good of a coach, and they won’t make the same mistake they did in NYC), Texas (if Duke even makes it to the Atl regional final, Texas will be itching for a rematch of the worst televised loss of the entire season), and even though it physically hurts me to say this, I have Kansas out of Oakland. Kansas does not fit my ideal tourney team profile (see UNC-Wilmington above, but must be in a major conference) but they’re on fire at the right time, and they looked damn impressive beating Texas yesterday.

In the “Hand Me the Scissors Mr. Trainer!” Category:
‘Nova cuts down the nets, beating Texas in the Final. Assuming Ray plays. And only if Ray plays.

In the "Vegas, Baby, Vegas" Category:
That's where I'll be for the first weekend, watching the games, drinking too much, and pissing away my tax return making bad bets. Have fun refreshing ESPN.com while you sit at your desk with a hand on Alt-Tab in case your boss walks by, chumps.

Wait, I'm going to make Gretzky's head bleed.

Bill Beard is an independent writer who can't wait to throw down that first Dewars on the rocks and tell a waitress "if you tell that bartender to go extra easy on the water, this 50 cent piece has your name on it." He can be reached at wrbeard@hotmail.com. But don't text or call him this weekend, because he doesn't want to get kicked out of the Sportsbook, alright?

Open Letter To the Syracuse Men's Basketball Team

2006-02-20T14:09:00.000-05:00

Lazy Bitches,

So... who's your dealer?

No, I'm not talking about Steroids. I wish I was. In fact, if I could get you some steroids, would you take them? I know steroids cause unprovoked displays of anger and the like. Anger is an emotion, and it would be nice to see one of those once in awhile.

I'm not talking about steroids, I'm talking about pot. Weed. Mary-Jane. Whatever you want to call it.

With apologies to G-Mac and Matt Gorman, the rest of you guys have all the symptoms. You're lazy; your eyes are bloodshot and half-closed; your reaction time is equivalent to Spiccoli. In other words, you're pathetic. Watkins and Devendorf disgust me, and Roberts shows up for six minutes a game. Nichols shows up for 10 minutes a game, but only after missing 10 shots first.

Is it that Jamaican-looking dude with the dreadlocks on the end of the bench? Who is that guy?

I'm watching my TiVo'ed Louisville game from Saturday, a game you ultimately won. You look impressive in the second half... where has that been all year?

I'm not saying I expect you to win every game. You guys played UConn, Nova and Pitt in a span of a week. At the time that was three top-ten teams. I didn't expect a win out of those, but a typical Syracuse team would have come away with one. You guys didn't even make those interesting.

Listen. If J.J. Redick can get off 10 threes a game, how come we can't get Gerry looks like that? It's called a screen, people. A screen. And when you cut off one, you don't swing wide like your teammate is a sweaty mess like the shirtless guy from Along Came Polly. You cut shoulder to shoulder. That's junior high basketball, and you guys don't know it?

Let's not even get in to the stupid plays. The bad passes, bad shots, lousy ballhandling, dumb fouls, defensive brainfarts, poor rebounding, charges, poor screens, and of course, the ungodly, disgraceful free-throw shooting. I play in a basketball league with a bunch of engineers, and most of the guys in the league shoot free throws way better than you guys. (Again, sorry you have to see this Gerry.)

Worst free-throw shooting team in the Big east. Worst offensive team in the Big East.

But Gerry. Love you baby, you are the Orange. You'll always be my boy. But you're trying too hard. Let the game come to you. I know your 3-point percentage has fallen off, and that's because when you do get an open look you're so shocked you can't concentrate. But I am disappointed in you. You should take control of this team more. You need to grab these guys by their man-tackle and go Ike Turner on them. And you need to cut off their weed supply.

That reminds me. Hey Eric. Shut the F&*K up and play basketball, you freakin freshman. You could be a great one eventually, but you're not yet. Don't act like you are.

At the end of the day though, there's really only one person to blame for this team's lackluster play. That's Jimmy B.

Jimmy, I'm pretty confident you're the worst coach in the Hall of Fame. You've got 700 wins because you can recruit well, and you've got a National Championship because you got lucky and had all the right pieces. Carmelo, Hakim, Gerry, Pace, Edelin, those guys could just ball. That's why you cut down the nets in ought-three.

The best coaches adapt as the game goes on. Jimmy, you make a plan and stick with it, come hell or high-water. With a guy who has your resume, how come not a single person I know—not one—thinks you're an outstanding coach?

Maybe you guys suck because they castrated you this year, by changing the name from the masculine “Orangemen” to a pretty color—or worse, a citrus fruit.

(Though I got nothin' but love for my boy Otto.)

So guys. You're looking good right now against Louisville. Let's keep the momentum going against West Virginia tonight. They're a better team than you, I know. They shoot better, play better defense, play like a team the way you guys have only read about. No one is picking you to win, certainly not me. I don't think you can pull it off. I don't think you have a chance.

Still, I'll be rooting for you, because my blood is Orange, even before it's Yankee Navy or Giant Blue.

And I'm still paying my damn loans, after all.

So go ahead and prove me wrong, guys. Pull one out of the hat tonight.

Because right now, I've got three letters for you:

N. I. T.

Still a fan—even though you guys drive me nuts,
Bill Beard
Class of '99

***

So you may have noticed that BEL took a bit of break over the past few weeks. I want to apologize, but I have good reason: I got laid off. I was already looking for a new job, so I'm not upset, other than the potential financial ramifications. But I already have an interview lined up, so no worries. Sorry about the lack of columns, I know you're disappointed, but I've been busy looking for a new job, so I'm sure you'll understand. I would have thought I would have had more free time, but that's not how it's been, strangely.

-Some thoughts over the past few weeks:

-It's too late to comment on the Super Bowl I suppose, but how about the commercials? The Sprint one with security protection on the cell phone where the guy chucks it at the guy's head; the Ameriquest ones with the defibrillator pads and the fly, “That killed him”; and the Diet Pepsi ones... oh wait, those sucked. Though the Pepsi can was more entertaining than Jay Mohr.

-I love the Olympics. The competition, the national pride. Normally, I fall asleep during the opening ceremonies, but this year's were pretty impressive. All the dancers forming that giant ski jumper had to be one of the coolest pieces of choreography I've ever seen. Really nice job by the Italians, my hat's off to them.

-And there is nothing better than the Olympics in HD.

-By the way, special thanks to Bode Miller for making Americans look like even bigger jackasses than we actually are. As if the rest of the world didn't have enough animosity toward us in the first place. And great job by him to back up all that talk with a few quality 6th place finishes. Nike, I hope you're happy.

-That new Jordan commercial gives me chills every time I see it. Amazing orchestration. God, I love sports. I so want to be like Mike.

-In the “You're sure not to care” category my basketball league team is 9-1, after winning 9 straight, with three scorers in the top 10. Last week, we had only four guys show up, and still won. My friend Jesse dropped in a Morrison-like 37 and I poured in a G-Mac-like 24, which could have easily been 30+ if I had hit a 3 in the first half or made more than 50% of my free throws. Maybe I shouldn't be ripping on Cuse free-throw shooting after a performance like that, but then again, I'm still paying students loans and wasn't getting a scholarship, so screw them.

-And last, but not least, Pitchers and Catchers have reported for many teams. So look for me to ramp up to the heart and soul of this column soon.

Thanks for your patience over the past few weeks.

Bill Beard is an independent writer who made a lot of jokes about getting paid for this, and now he's living off a severance package. He can be contacted for real jobs at wrbeard@hotmail.com. He's willing to travel, but probably not to relocate, unless you're offering a job covering the Yankees or Giants. If you are, he loves you, and wants you to know it.

C-O-N... spiracy.

2006-01-20T09:47:00.000-05:00

Scene 1: Saturday, January 14th. A dark room in an office building. The only light emanates from a gigantic plasma TV on an otherwise empty wall. In the middle of the room there is a large leather high-backed chair. The Camera is situated behind the chair, framing it in the surreal light from the TV. Next to the chair is a small table, with a phone and an intercom. The sound of a football game can be heard from the TV. The announcers are setting up the Seahawks/Washington game.

Announcer 1: So Seattle will take the ball for the first drive of the game. You have to know they’re relying on Sean Alexander in this game. The league MVP rushed for a record 28 touchdowns this year, most in NFL history.

Announcer 2: You can’t say enough about Alexander. He’s the heart and soul of this offense. Without him, they wouldn’t even be here.

The announcers keep discussing Alexander’s merits to vomitous extents. Camera closes up on the chair as an arm reaches for the intercom. A spindly finger pushes a button.

Intercom Voice: Yes sir?

Old Man: Are you certain the concussion device we installed in Alexander’s brain will work properly?

Voice: Yes sir. We tested it on some homeless children, just like you ordered. They all went out cold.

Old Man: Good. As soon as he gets the handoff, push the button. I want him concussed. Concussed! You understand?

Voice: haha. You said, “concussed.” I love saying, “concussed.”

Old Man: Shut up, you fool. And do as I told you.

Voice: Your wish is my command. It shall be done. Ha ha… “concussed…”

The intercom disconnects. The announcers are heard again.

Announcer 1: So here’s the first play of the game for the Seahawks. Hand-off to Alexander…. OH! He goes down and LOSES THE FOOTBALL! Washington recovers! What a shocking turn of events on the very first play of the game!

Announcer 2: Wait a minute. Alexander is down. He’s not moving. This does NOT look good…

As the announcers drone on, the old man begins to cackle as the scene fades.

Scene 2: A meeting room in Mile-High Stadium, Denver, Colorado. A man in a striped outfit and white hat is ushered into the room against his will by two well-dressed thugs. As the man is thrown into the room, the thugs quickly hurry out and lock the door audibly behind him. Confused and scared, the man tries the door. Locked. He looks around the room. It is well lit, and clearly empty. He relaxes, and picks up his hat, which has fallen to the floor in the scuffle. Suddenly, out of a patch of darkness, a voice speaks out.

Voice: Do you value your life?

The captive jumps and spins around.

Captive: Who’s there? Show yourself.

Voice: Do you value the life of your family? Your wife and children? It would be a shame if any harm were to come to them. Your daughter has a beautiful smile.

Captive: (nervously) What? Who is that? Paul Bettany? Paul, what are you talking about?

Voice: This isn’t Paul Bettany. Listen. Your family is okay, for now… and they’ll be perfectly fine if you do exactly as I ask.

Captive: Are you crazy? Where is my FAMILY!? Who are you?

Voice: I’m someone who is not supposed to be alive. And don’t raise your voice to me. I wouldn’t want to have to take it out on your son, you insignificant pawn. I hear Michael Jackson is looking for a new “friend.”

Captive: No! Anything but that! What do you want?

Voice: Listen closely, and do exactly as I tell you…

The Voice details his plan as the referee’s face slowly becomes more distorted with the horror of it. Slowly, it turns to dejection as the innocent victim realizes he has no choice but to comply with his warped tormentor. The camera fades to black.

Scene 3: Chicago. Saturday night. A dark bedroom. A man is asleep in a bed. We see a figure appear out of the darkness, only his outline visible in the black of night. He leans over the man in bed, and begins to whisper in his ear…

Man: Lovie, you will not double team Steve Smith tomorrow. Charles Tillman can play him in single coverage. Lovie, you will not double team Steve Smith tomorrow. Charles Tillman can play him in single coverage. Also, your name is gay. You will not double team Steve Smith tomorrow. Charles Tillman can play him in single coverage. Also, your name is gay. You will not double team Steve Smith tomorrow.

The Scene fades out as he repeats his hypnotic speech.

Scene 4: Sunday, January 15. Indianapolis. It’s the fourth quarter of the Steelers-Indy game. Troy Polamalu has just made a game ending-interception—except he fumbled right after the play. To keep any hope alive, Tony Dungee is forced to challenge the interception, even though he knows it’s hopeless. The entire stadium can clearly see that it’s an interception. The entire world has seen the play and agrees it’s an interception. Meanwhile, the referee is staring intently into the replay hood, discussing the play with the replay booth on his headseat.

Ref: Run it back again. (He watches the play again.) Yup, I think it’s an interception and a fumble. What do you guys think?

Booth: Yup. We think it’s… ***CRACKLE**** he caught ***CRACKLE*** turnover.

Ref: What was that? You guys are breaking up. I think we have a bad connection.

Suddenly, a sinister voice comes on the line.

Voice: Your connection is just fine.

Ref: What? Who is this?

Voice: Someone who knows where you live. Someone who knows where your family is. She has a beautiful Smile, your daughter.

Ref: What? Is this Paul Bettany? What do you want?

Voice: Yes, sure, this is Paul Bettany, whatever. Do you agree that was an incomplete pass?

Ref: Paul Bettany! Seriously, I loved you in “A Knight’s Tale.”

Voice: DAMMIT! This isn’t Paul Bettany, you jackass! Now, do you agree that was an incomplete pass?

Ref: What? No. It’s clearly an interception. He caught it and then he fumbled. Who is this? And where’s my family?

Voice: I think it was an incomplete pass. And I think your daughter agrees with me. Should I ask her? She’s right here. A little tied up, though. For her sake, I hope that was an incomplete pass.

Ref: Listen, don’t hurt her, okay? I’ll do anything. Ok, it was an incomplete pass. But how do I explain it? I mean, it’s clearly an interception!

Voice: If you want to see your daughter alive again, you’ll find a reason. Good Luck. ***CRACKLE*** ****CRACKLE***

Suddenly, we’re back in the dark room with the plasma TV and the highback chair. The old man watches as the referee steps on to the field and announces that the pass was incomplete. As the old man starts to cackle, we fade out…

Final Scene: It's Monday night, Januray 16th. Another dark room in the same office complex. Wide shot. A solitary desk lamp illuminates a piece of paper on the desk. An older gentlemen is seated behind the desk, staring intently, but the light does not illuminate his face. His suit is flawlessly pressed and obviously expensive. His weathered hands form a triangle as he contemplates the sheet of paper.

Cut to a shot over the man’s shoulder. Slowly, the camera pans down to reveal the contents of the paper:

My to-do list for the weekend:

1.) Turn Steve Smith into a playoff God.
2.) Annihilate the Patriots Dynasty
2a. Destroy meddling Brady in process.
3.) Ensure Colts victory at all costs
3a. Note: get room in hotel next to Peyton’s in Detroit
4.) Show idiotic writers that Peyton is MVP by removing Sean Alexander and then ensuring Seattle victory
5.) Remember to place bets in Vegas

Slowly, he picks up the list and produces a lighter. Soon, the flame begins to consume the sheet. As it burns, there is a knock on the door.

Old Man: Come in.

A burly man in a dark suit enters.

Thug: We have him for you, sir.

Old Man: Excellent. Bring him in here.

The Thug disappears for a minute. Then we hear a scuffle, as the thug and another burly man drag an obviously tortured Mike Vanderjagt into the room. He has clearly been beaten. Blood runs from his nose and mouth, and one eye is swollen shut. The thugs toss him at the foot of the desk. The old man says nothing, and waits for his prey to recover his senses.

Vanderjagt: (head down, while trying to catch his breath) I don’t know who you are, but you’ll pay for this…

Old Man: I wouldn’t be so sure, Mr. Vanderjagt.

Vanderjagt recognizes the voice instantly. You can see the horror spread across his face as he lifts his head to see his captor.

Vanderjagt: Paul Bettany???!

Old Man: DAMMIT! I AM NOT PAUL BETTANY!!!

Vanderjagt: (as he look up, his eyes meet those of his captor.) Oh my God. You’re Paul… Paul Tagliabue! Oh my God. NOOOOOOOO!!!!!

As he lets forth a blood curdling scream, Tagliabue cackles meniachally, and, Vanderjagt’s fate sealed as the thugs approach to finish the job, the camera fades out as Tagliabue’s cackles grow louder…

Observations from the past week:

-That’s why they call it “gambling.” Obviously, I took a bath last weekend, going 0-4 on my picks. I don’t think that’s ever happened to me before. What’s worse, I actually bet Chicago to cover (lost outright), Washington to cover (9.5 spread… so what was the final score? 20-10!) and the Pats to cover (it was a F-in TOUCHBACK!). So yeah… a hard, quick lesson learned by yours truly. I feel like I just sat down at a blackjack table with a depressed William H. Macy.

Sure, buddy, have a seat! I'm on a roll!

-That Indy-Pittsburgh game had to have been one of the craziest in NFL history. I’m just glad I wasn’t actually rooting for either team, because I would have been shaving my head with a kitchen knife doused in alcohol by the end of it. What a game. From the minute Peyton waved off the punt team (castrating Dungee on National TV) to Vanderjagt’s kick, it was absolutely surreal. I still don’t know what to think about it.

-Because I had to be right about something last weekend: As Vanderjagt lined up for the kick, I said to my buddies Breeze and Bundy, “With the way this game has gone, there is absolutely NO WAY he makes this kick. I’m calling ‘wide right.’” Sure enough… wide right. (I would have rather been right about my picks, but I’ll take consolation in this.)

When you go 0 for 4, you end up posting pictures of your cousin's kid in your column. Cute kid, just too bad his parents don't know how to dress him.

-No really, don’t double team Steve Smith. I wouldn’t. I mean, he’s not good or anything. He doesn’t account for ¾ of the Panthers offense. He wasn’t the second-best receiver in the NFL this year, statistically. He didn’t single-handedly end the Giants season or anything. I’d put him in single coverage. It’s the obvious move here. I’m totally siding with Lovie on this one. Yup. Seriously.

- To follow up from last week’s post, the Annual MLK Football Scorpion Bowl ended in a tie for the first time ever, thanks to a controversial play of our own. My buddy Breeze scampered across the goal line on the last play to tie it up, right before some rent-a-cops kicked us off the field. Replay was inconclusive, so the play stands. 8-8 final score.

-It was announced last night that Theo Epstein will return to the Red Sox in “an undisclosed capacity” … whatever that means. Do you really want a guy back who already walked away from the team once because he “couldn’t give his heart and soul to the job.” I wouldn’t. And I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but for once, I agree with Dan Shaughnessy.

*****

NFL CONFERENCE CHAMPIONSHIP PICKS
Last week: I don’t wanna talk about it.
Playoffs: 3-5.

Pittsburgh (+3) over DENVER
3:00 Sunday, January 22.
O/U:41
Tough game. Pittsburgh is on the road for the third straight week. No #6 seed has ever made the conference championship game, let alone the Super Bowl. But Pittsburgh already did one of those.

In this game, you have two evenly-matched defenses, two evenly-matched running games, and two evenly-matched head coaches (despite the fact one has two Super Bowl rings and the other has none). The difference? The Quarterbacks. One has a history of turnovers and downright offensive decision-making, and the other has only lost something like four games in his career as a starter. I think we see Jake crack this week under the Steelers blitzes, a lot like Peyton did last week. The Colts offensive line is better at pass protection than the Denver offensive line, and we all saw they “had some problems in protection” last week, despite Peyton trying to be a good teammate. They’ll force The Snake into bad decisions. Pittsburgh goes to the Super Bowl.

(As an aside: “I’m trying to be a good teammate here, but we had some problems in protection.” Wow. The worst thing about that statement is that Peyton is right—but it looks like he’s pointing fingers. If he had just said, “We had some problems in protection” which was true, then this wouldn’t have been an issue. But he pointed a finger when he said, “I’m trying to be a good teammate here” which implies that it wasn’t his fault at all. That’s the difference between guys like Peyton and guys like Tom Brady. Tom Brady would have just said the second part, which is a team-oriented statement and one of fact, and everyone would have been fine with that. If you think that kind of tact doesn’t translate into Super Bowl wins, you’re crazy.)

Carolina (+3.5) over SEATTLE
6:30 Sunday, January 22.
O/U: 43.5
Unless he turns up in a shallow grave in the next 24 hours, I’m not betting against Steve Smith again. And even then, I think Seattle should double-team his gravesite, just to be sure.

Bill Beard is an independent writer who still loves the NFL, despite the fact that the NFL does not love him back sometimes. He can be reached to write a movie script about NFL conspiracies (even though he is afraid of Paul Tagliabue) at wrbeard@hotmail.com

The MLK Game

2006-01-12T15:10:00.000-05:00

I walk outside in my T-shirt and jeans to see how cold it is.

The chill bites almost immediately when I crack the door. I let out a deep breath, and a cloud swirls in front of me. I watch it evaporate, and then inhale. The frozen air fills my lungs. I feel them struggling with it, fighting to rip the oxygen free from the chill.

It’s a sensation I’ve come to know—and love, almost. A smile spreads across my face. It’s perfect.

Yes, it’s cold. Bitter, almost.

(How many stories about life in New England could begin like that?)

I head back in, quickly slamming the door shut, sealing the warmth of my apartment building inside.

Need to dress accordingly. Warm clothes, but flexible ones. Not too many layers. We’re going to heat up once we get going.

In a few short minutes, I slap on my gear and my sneakers and I’m out the door. A light jog takes me to the T, where I hop the Red Line to Harvard Square. My gloves—receiver’s gloves, not winter gloves—are tucked in my pocket. I can’t wait to pull them on, to feel the grasp of a football through them.

But we’ve got some business to take care of first.

In Harvard Square, another short jog to the restaurant. My feet crunch through pockets of not-so-newfallen snow. Inside, a small group has already gathered, and they call my name as I enter and pull up a chair.

We’re about to kick off one of the most fun days of our Calendar Year here in Boston—except that you couldn’t look at a calendar to know it. It’s not Marathon Monday, or some other city-wide or state-wide holiday-turned-celebration. It’s all our own.

But first, we need to warm up, to brace ourselves for what’s to come. At this particular establishment—the Hong Kong—that means only one thing: Scorpion Bowls. (Damn the fact that it’s only ten past noon!)

We eat teriyaki and down some bowls. Friends trickle in. Soon, we’ve got a good-sized group. Enough for two full football teams, almost. We pay the bill. I poll to see who has room in their car. Then we head out.

A few minutes later, I break from the car. The gloves are already on. The waist-high fence proves no challenge—I’ve got a wide-open, snow-covered field in front of me. I burst into it, giving my body a test run. A sensation flows through my legs, a memory of days when I ran patterns for hours. When I represented a school. When I wore the colors, and there was pride in that. When I spent weeks sprinting under hundreds of passes, because I didn’t want to let anyone down. When the crowd noise was all the adrenaline you needed. When I didn’t realize how fast those days would fade.

A friend tosses the ball. Deep. Really deep.

But I can get there. I open it up, turn on the gas. I’m flying. And the ball is sailing. My legs burn—should have stretched first—but I’m going to haul this one in.

It’s coming down now, and I’m at full speed. It’s still far. But I’m closing. Then, suddenly…

Thud.

It lands a good five yards ahead of me.

Hey, my legs aren’t what they once were.

Smiling, I pick it up, and dust off the snow. Others have followed me onto the field. I turn, and chuck that pigskin as far as I can. (Ouch. Should have stretched the old arm, too.)

As they toss it around, and run haphazard routes around the field to warm up, I take another deep breath. And I smile again.

Today is our own holiday. The Annual MLK Game. Or, as some of us like to call it, the Annual Martin Luther King Jr. Football Scorpion Bowl.

We started it in 2000, just a bunch of friends who had spent a winter watching football, and were eager for a little competition of their own—and a little fun. Now it’s a tradition, one we never miss—or at least haven’t for six years now. I don’t ever see it stopping.

At least I hope it never does. Most of the original founders are still here. One has been ousted from the group by the worst kind of betrayal. Others, by marriage. A couple by distance. But for the most part, our friends come out for this—some even traveling hundreds of miles for the event.

Because that’s what tradition means.

We choose up sides, and the game begins. There are crazy plays we’ll recount later over beers and pizza. Interceptions and touchdowns, fumbles, sacks, and tipped passes. There are memories from every year, ones we still talk about. There’s the year we went to the Sports Depot directly post-game and were apparently so disheveled they gave us a private room in the back just to hide us from regular customers. There’s the year I almost broke The Senator’s nose—luckily, it was just his sunglasses, and luckily for me, he’s not really a senator. And there are years I can’t remember at all, they feel like they happened so long ago.

It’s a competitive game, but not overly so. We play until we get too cold, and it really doesn’t matter who wins.

Because it’s not like High School. There’s no pride here, no colors. No crowds.

And this time around, I understand how fast it all can fade.

I look around at all my friends.

I take a deep breath, and a smile crosses my face.

****

Observations from the past week:

-What is wrong with Marcus Vick? Is anyone else tired of athletes throwing away their chances to make the show? (As an aside: I’m in a Death Pool at work. We have to submit our lists next week. And if you think I’m not putting Marcus Vick on my list, you’re nuts. In the past year he: got a DUI; drove with a suspended license; got a speeding ticket; lent a friend a car without insuring it; spiked a guy from Louisville during a game on national TV; and this week, he pulled a gun on a couple of teenagers in a parking lot. And since he was booted from Va Tech two weeks ago, he’s got all the free time in the world. Seriously? It’s not a question of if, just a matter of how.

-If you have a gym membership, you’ve noticed attendance has probably tripled. I’m okay with that at my ghetto gym in Downtown Crossing—until last week, it was me and a couple of extras from Resident Evil. Now the female gym contingent has risen considerably, and suddenly, going to the gym isn’t as much of a hassle… (As an aside… I’ll never understand why girls wear those tight little sweat-shorts with things like “F.B.I.” written across the back and then give me dirty looks when I spend 20 minutes reading them. I’m a slow reader, okay?)

-The only thing I’ll say about the Giants game, because it wasn’t a performance worthy of comment: The Eli Bandwagon went off the road and hit a telephone pole, and some of us were thrown from the vehicle. The mechanics are assuring me the Bandwagon will be repaired and ready to go in the fall, so I’ll get back on it then.

-I love how all the media networks tried to promote the Reggie Bush press conference and Bush’s declaration that he is going Pro as “Breaking News.” Yes, that’s hot stuff. This also just in: Tom Cruise is a nutcase, Katie Holmes is pregnant with his spawn, and the North just won the Civil War.

-They also stated that “the Texans are expected to draft Bush no. 1.” Seriously? I didn’t know that. Ever since I moved to my new apartment under that rock, I’ve been really out of touch.

-Not that I generally care about this stuff, but Justin Timberlake is officially engaged to Cameron Diaz, officially cementing his position as the “Best Revenge Ever Taken By A Celebrity Without The Use of Two Thugs and a Lead Pipe.” I mean, Brittney is married to trailer trash, is pregnant, and her career is over. Meanwhile, Justin just bagged one of the hottest women in Hollywood after releasing a hit song about how horrible Brittney treated him, with a video of a hot girl crawling all over him. I can’t think of a sports metaphor for this. I mean, this would be like Roger Clemens getting ditched by Boston because “he was at thetwilight of his career” and then going to Toronto, winning a few Cy Youngs, and finally ending up in New York, where he’d lead the Yankees to a few World Series rings. Oh wait, that actually happened.

I wish I could get revenge on Brittney.

-Programming Note: 24 starts this week, with a two-hour episode sunday and a two-hour episode Monday night. You know a show is good when you DVR it as far in advance as your DVR will let you--even though you know you're going to be present to watch it. "I'm someone who's not supposed to be alive!" has officially replaced, "You're risking a patient's life!" as the Fox promo catch-phrase.

NFL Divisional Playoff Games:

Couple of things from last week:

· There’s a new trend in the NFL media that needs to cease immediately—calling the NFL playoffs the “Super Bowl Tournament.” The ESPN guys have been tossing this phrase around , and it really needs to stop. Not because it’s not true, but because it just sounds stupid. It’s the NFL Playoffs. And they end in the Super Bowl. This isn’t the NCAA Tournament. There’s no random seeding. Stop it, it’s not cool. I’m telling you.

· I placed my first official gambling bet ever, meaning one placed with an “outside agent” and not amongst friends or in pools. After joking that I needed to find a bookie in last week’s column, I realized that I really did need to find one, because the Pats only giving up 8 in Foxboro against a mediocre Jaguars was just too damn easy. Of course I won, and no, Mr. IRS, you can’t have any.

With the exception of the Giants game, you’ll notice I was 3 for 4 on last week’s picks. And since I had the Giants bowing out in this round in my Playoff Scenario, it’s still mostly intact. So, without further ado, on to this week’s picks… (note: these are outright picks to win, not against the spread)

Washington (+8.5) over SEATTLE
o/u: 41
Saturday, 4:30
I want to keep my original Playoff Scenario alive here, but it’s a tough call. The Skins could only muster just over 100 yards of total offense last week against the Bucs. That doesn’t bode well for their chances against the Hawks, the NFL’s best offense, who will put up at least 21 points, if not more. I don’t know if Washington can counter despite playing a much weaker D than Tampa Bay. I could see Washington winning this game, I could see Seattle winning by 20.

New England (+3) over DENVER*
o/u: 43.5
Saturday, 8 p.m.
Only bet the underdog in the playoffs if you think they can win outright, right? Well, here’s what I think: I think New England can win this game. I think Denver barely beat New England earlier this season despite the Pats being more banged up than Larry Johnson’s girlfriend. I think Denver hasn’t done anything in the playoffs since a certain “lonely” QB retired. I think Shanahan is overrated. I think Jake will come apart if the game is close down the stretch. I think the Pats are better than everyone thinks (except for people in New England, anyway). I think I’m betting on this game.
*This is something I’m going to call my Money Pick. Put your money on it, because it’s a lock. Pats will beat the spread.

INDIANAPOLIS (-9.5) over Pittsburgh
o/u: 47.5
Sunday, 1 p.m.
I don’t think Indy is as strong a team as they were earlier in the year when they dominated the Steelers on national TV, but consider all the factors here, don’t all signs point to an Indy blowout? There’s: Indy’s 13-0 start, and still no one really believes in this team; the death of Dungee’s son—no matter how crass it is—you need to consider the motivation something like this causes (see Giants & Wellington Mara); the fact Peyton doesn’t have to win games single-handedly anymore now that Indy has a solid, capable D; no way the Steelers can stay in a shootout with the Colts; the state of Indiana might implode if the Colts lose; the Colts would go down in history as the most disappointing team ever if they lose; and this game is in the RCA dome. I think it’s a tough, physical game, but not necessarily a close one. Even the spread seems about right.

CHICAGO (-3) over Carolina
o/u: 31
Sunday, 4 p.m.
I hope Chicago buries Carolina and then builds a Wal-Mart on their gravesite to desecrate it. Oh, sorry, I let my personal opinions get in the way for a minute. But seriously, Chicago has the NFL’s best D. I think that will be enough. Chicago will be double-teaming Steve Smith, which for some reason the Giants didn’t do. I mean, Smith wasn’t one of the top receivers in the league this year, and the only viable receiving option on the team, after all. Lovie Smith’s game plan is going to be to get physical with Smith, and receivers hate that (see Colts vs. Pats, 2004 AFC Championship Game). Tough game to call from a betting standpoint. The o/u is perfect, right where I’d set it. Chicago by 3, also perfect. I’m not sure Chicago is the 2001 Baltimore Ravens, despite earlier comments in this space, so I could see Carolina pulling off the upset.

For Bets: I’m definitely taking the Pats to beat the spread; considering the Skins to cover; and toying with taking Carolina to cover.

Bill Beard is an independent writer who never really gambled on sports because he has no willpower when it comes to vices, and could easily find himself ending up like the guy in the gutter at the end of a bad Bruckheimer movie. He can be reached by Gambler’s Anonymous at wrbeard@hotmail.com.

For the Love of HD

2006-01-06T12:45:00.000-05:00

I hate Comcast Cable.

And they hate me.

If this were 1812 and duels were still in fashion, one of us would be dead by now.

First, I think everyone who has cable will agree that it is the most overpriced utility out there. For my cable (including HBO, a necessity), my DVR box and service, HD, and High-Speed Internet, I pay Comcast Cable the highway robbery amount of $138.33 per month.

That’s almost as much as my student loans. (Come to think of it, I probably get more out of my cable.)

And they hit you with all those “hidden fees” (not to sound like a cell phone commercial) including the Access Fee, Service Fee, Leased Internet Modem Fee, FCC User Fee, Franchise Related Cost Fee, Screwing You In the Ass Because We Can Fee, We Only Employ Non-Native English Speakers Fee, and the Repairmen You’d Never Invite Into Your Home Under Any Other Circumstances Fee.

And I’m also charged for State Sales Tax. Twice. Every month. No matter how many times I call.

Best of all, because they charge you proactively, I’m always a month behind, no matter what I do.

Yet, I’d endure it all. Because I need my cable. I need my HBO, my Rome, my ESPN, my ESPN HD, my NFL Tonight, my Fox NFL Sundays, ESPN Big Mondays, my Lost, my West Wing, my Grey’s Anatomy, my PTI, my CNN, my March Madness, my Rivalry Week, my Championship Week, my Extra Innings, my Baseball Tonight, my ESPN Sunday Night Baseball, my Shield, my 24 (one week!), my MNF, my How I Met Your Mother, my Whose Line Is It Anyway, my late-night HBO softcore porn, my NEXT!, my Simpsons, my Family Guy, my FX DVD on TV, my South Park.

And of course, my Sportscenter. Ah, how I love thee… let me count the ways. (Is there something wrong with me that I have a better relationship with Karl Ravich than I do with most women I meet?)

Yes, I’d endure all of Comcast’s faults for my TV, for all those reasons.

Well, that, and my building doesn’t allow satellite dishes. (Screw you, Beacon Hill Housing Commission!)

But it still is a lot of money. And for that kind of coin, I expect service.

Recently, my HD box has been experiencing an interesting problem. Both HD channels for ABC and NBC stopped working. For no reason. There’s just no signal at all on them. And they’re the only two channels.

It’s been over two months now.

My top three shows right now (West Wing, Grey’s and Lost) are on those channels. That means I also missed the last installment of MNF on ABC, as well as every single BCS game. And yes, I watched all of those on regular digital feed. But it’s not the same. Watching HD is like sleeping with black person.

Once you go HD, you can never go back.

So four repairmen, three new boxes, and countless hours later, Comcast is completely stumped. They’re out of ideas. They’ve never seen anything like it. And I’m left without HD on two of my most watched channels.

(If it had been ESPN, I’d be in jail right now for bursting into Comcast Headquarters and going ballistic with a Chinese AK-47 I bought off some guy named “Pedro” in Downtown Crossing.)

And I probably could have survived without HD on those channels.

Until this weekend.

I realized this weekend that the NFL playoffs are on ABC. More specifically, ABC HD.

When I saw the promo for the first time while watching the Rose Bowl Wednesday night in “Unspectacular ABC Not HD” my hands literally started shaking. I started sweating. I curled up into a fetal position and started rocking back and forth like I had just experienced a Band of Brothers Bastogne-like shelling from the Germans in my living room.

Not being able to see Reggie Bush and Vince Young in ESPN HD was bad enough.

But the NFL Playoffs? Unacceptable.

I’m not worried about the Super Bowl being on ABC. I highly doubt I’ll be watching that at home.

But still. I need my HD. And I need it now.

After I finish my Playoff Preview below, I’m going to pick up the phone.

I’m going to call Comcast.

I’m going to give them a week to fix it.

I’m going to get at least a couple months knocked off my bill.

And they’re going to like it.

If I don’t get it fixed, well…

Someone go to Downtown Crossing and tell Pedro he should probably get out of the country while he still can.

****
No observations this week, even though I had a bunch, because there just isn't time... it's "Review Time" at work and I have to get my "Self-Evaluation" done because it will determine whether or not I "Deserve a Promotion or Raise." They're all in quotes, because it's all a bunch of made up crap... the last one, especially.

Playoff Preview and Picks
Last Week: 7-8 (.467)(My first and only losing week!)
Season: 169-86 (.663)

My buddy Darren sent me an email earlier this week, saying “this has to be the most wide open playoffs ever.”

I think he’s right. Let me sum it up for you.

Here’s why each team could win it all… and why they could stumble. This week’s picks further down.

AFC

INDIANAPOLIS
Why: Ran off 13 straight and are still the best team in football this year.
Why Not: Showed they were beatable in a loss to San Diego, and then dropped a meaningless game to Seattle in blowout fashion (a good team should never get blown out even if starters aren’t playing). Plus, they could get a very hot Pittsburgh or the Pats in the second round. Is that supposed to be a good thing for them?

DENVER
Why: The Broncos have Jake Plummer.
Why Not: The Broncos have Jake Plummer.

CINCINNATI
Why: Dynamic offense finally came of age this year. And Chad Johnson has to make a payment on his Gold Teeth with his playoff bonus.
Why Not: Cincy got shellacked by greatly inferior teams in the final few weeks of the season, and has the worst defense of any playoff team in terms of overall yardage (28th 338 ypg) and scoring (28th 20.1 ppg). And we know what Defense means this time of year, don’t we?

NEW ENGLAND
Why: 1. Tom Brady. 2. Bill Belichick. 3. Do you really want to play the Pats in the playoffs?
Why Not: They might have to go on the road to Indy if the Colts make it that far. And the Pats secondary isn’t up for that.

JACKSONVILLE
Why: I’m not going to bother with this because:
Why Not: They’re playing the Pats in Foxboro this weekend.

PITTSBURGH
Why: Pittsburgh is easily the best #6 seed ever. Good O, above average D. Experienced coach who always looks angry.
Why Not: If they win, they get Indy in the second round.

NFC

SEATTLE
Why: Seattle has the best O line and the MVP (and hero to countless fantasy teams), an underrated D, and a QB who is good enough to take them over the top.
Why Not: Would you pick them over the Colts or Pats?

CHICAGO
Why: Chicago has the best D in the NFL. “Defense wins…” well, you know what. After all, if the Ravens can win the Super Bowl with Trent Dilfer, the Bears can win it with Rex Grossman.
Why Not: I don’t think the Bears can win it with Rex Grossman.

TAMPA BAY
Why: Caddy can carry them to a championship, and Simms has an arm that can get it done. D is back up to Tampa standards.
Why Not: This is one of those teams that plays to the level of their opponent. Which means they’re inconsistent, and they don’t have that killer instinct. They remind me of Syracuse Basketball. And we all know what happened to Syracuse Basketball last year in March, don’t we?

NEW YORK GIANTS
Why: This team is like a drunk Joe Namath. I have no idea what to expect from them, they do stupid stuff regularly, they’re completely unreliable, but I still like them and I’d still pick them to get it done with the game on the line.
Why Not: Is there a better fantasy matchup than Will Allen vs. [Insert any NFL Wide Receiver Here]?

CAROLINA
Why: Steve Smith is that good, and Jake has been there before. D can hold its own.
Why Not: Because my buddy Keith moved to Charlotte last month, and immediately became a Carolina fan. Which means he is now an Eagles/Carolina fan. So I really need them to lose in the first round. That’s reason enough.

WASHINGTON
Why: Clinton Portis, Joe Gibbs, Santana Moss, and a D that beats you like the Riffs beat Luther in The Warriors. Hottest team in the NFL right now.
Why Not: This was a 5-6 team at one point. They can play awful if given the chance.

So it’s wide open… here’s what I think will go down this weekend… and a quick synopsis after this week’s picks.

Washington (+2.5) over TAMPA BAY
o/u: 37.5
Saturday, 4 pm
This is the toughest game of the weekend to call. I know Washington played poorly in Philly, but I’m ignoring that. Santana Moss and Brunell have a Vulcan-like mind-meld going, Clinton Portis has rushed for 100+ in his last five, and the D is one of the NFL’s strongest. Honestly, Tampa Bay hasn’t impressed me all season. They’ve been mediocre, never great, and I’ve never said “wow” to anything they’ve done. I just don’t see any explosiveness from them. They don’t have any ability to dominate a game, or at least I haven’t seen it. Of course, I still wouldn’t be surprised if Tampa Bay won by 14. So what does that tell you?

NEW ENGLAND (-7.5) over Jacksonville
o/u: 38
Saturday, 8 pm
Listen to me. Jacksonville is not a good football team. I know they’re 12-4. I get that they’re the Red Sox of the NFL (only a wildcard and not the division champ because they’re unfortunate to be in the same division as Indy). But they’re only those things because they played more pie teams than Syracuse Basketball, when the Orange run the New York State Circuit for seven or so wins every year. (Can you tell I'm almost fully ramped up on college basketball? Number of rips on my own team is the indicator.) Leftwich is an average QB with no mobility who has never lived up to his potential; Fred Taylor is one of the most overrated backs in the NFL when he is at 100%, which is never; their best WR is 36 years old—and is no Jerry Rice; their secondary is average at best. The only thing they have going for them is one of the NFL’s best defensive lines.

Against the Pats? In Foxboro? And the line is only 7.5? Seriously? I need to find a bookie.

NEW YORK (-2.5) over Carolina
Sunday, 1 pm
o/u: 44
I don’t care what Carolina did to Atlanta last week. I do not care. They’re still a soft team with one WR and virtually no running game.

Which means they’ll be a tough matchup for the giants, who can’t stop anyone with their secondary, and let Larry Johnson run for eight miles a couple weeks ago.

The Giants saving grace will be Tiki Barber, just as it has been all season. Carolina has one of the best rushing Ds in the NFL (4th, 91 ypg) but I still think Tiki will romp for 100+. But he’s more dangerous as a pass receiver and on screens… so I think this game comes down to Eli’s hand. And honestly, I’m okay with that. I know he’s only completing 51% of his passes, I know he’s been throwing interceptions like Brett Favre (ouch), but I’m on the Eli Manning Bandwagon people, I’m moving to the back of the bus and I ain’t getting off.

I just hope Jay Feely’s foot can back up Eli and my mouth. Because I think it will come down to a late kick.

If you’re looking for me around 3:45 on Sunday, I’ll be resembling George Clooney in Syriana: looking shabby like I've been trapped in the jungle and devoid of fingernails.

Me, 3:45 Sunday.

Pittsburgh (-2.5) over CINCINNATI
o/u: 44.5
The most anticipated game of the first round has to be one of the craziest. The six seed is favored over the three seed at home. Has that ever happened before in the history of the NFL playoffs? Doubtful. Pittsburgh’s the more balanced team, they’re playing better football right now, and I think Cincy’s D is the weak link here. I’d even take the spread.

So, based on what you see above, here’s how I think it shakes out.
-Pittsburgh goes to Indy and beats up on them, but Indy wins.
-New England goes to Denver and Brady puts on a show.
-Washington deals with Seattle in a spectacular upset.
-Chicago’s D eats Eli and Tiki for dinner.
-New England pulls off the upset in Indy, cementing one of the most disappointing seasons in history for Indy.
-Chicago’s D shuts down Porits, and Brunell throws four INTs as the Bears take it.

Super Bowl 40: Chicago vs. New England

The winner? Congrats to the Pats. The three-peat goes down, and everyone forgets about Theo Epstein for one whole day.

Bill Beard is an independent writer who is willing to pay large amounts of cash to anyone who can fix his HD box. He can be reached by anyone not representing Comcast Cable, as well as experienced Lawyers, at wrbeard@hotmail.com.

Two Points for Honesty

2005-12-30T12:42:00.000-05:00

I was debating doing a “Year in Review” for my final column of 2005, but every chump does that. So then I was thinking of writing about New Year’s Resolutions for 2006, but I don’t really believe in that kind of stuff.

In the meantime, in the past week I lost my Fantasy Football Championship in my Syracuse League by two measly points… and while I was thinking about that and about New Years resolutions (or the lack thereof) that triggered the name of a Guster song (if you don’t know Guster, you need to recognize), so I came up with a little different twist.

I’m going to do 2006 Predictions! But I’m going to be honest about it.

So here you go. Enjoy. And have a safe and happy last few days of 2005, and have a prosperous 2006.

Honestly…
It won’t be any more prosperous than any other year.

Honestly…
I’m not going to work out more in 2006. And neither are you. So don’t kid yourself.

Honestly…
Peyton Manning is Dan Marino. And that’s not a compliment.

Honestly…
Tom Brady will win Super Bowl MVP again.

Honestly…
Syracuse will bow out in the second round of the NCAA tournament.

Honestly…
Neither Duke or UConn will win the NCAA tournament.

Honestly…
I have no clue who will.

Honestly…
Lindsey Lohan’s breasts will somehow get even bigger in 2006.

Honestly…
Hockey still sucks, even with the new rules.

Honestly…
Family Guy will continue to be the funniest show on TV. (“I want you to imagine a naked Lindsey Lohan doing a backwards crab walk for me… JUST DO THIS FOR ME!”)

Giggity Giggity!

Honestly…
The U.S. won’t make it past the opening rounds of the World Cup.

Honestly…
Most Americans won’t even care.

Honestly…
We’ll still be in Iraq at the end of 2006.

Honestly…
I can’t wait for the 2006 Winter Olympics. They’re in Torino, Italy, opening on February 10th. Unlike the World Cup, Americans actually care about this.

Honestly…
I just realized there’s a good chance I could be in Italy for work during that time. Sweet.

Honestly…
Reggie Bush won’t live up to the hype.

Honestly…
Sony pushed the Playstation 3 launch until December of next year, which means my Christmas list for next year is written already.

Honestly…
“Someone will hit Colin Farrell with a truck” just fell into the #2 slot on my wish list.

I want you... to get hit by a truck.

Honestly…
Brittney Spears will attempt a comeback in 2006.

Honestly…
In a related story, I will shove railroad spikes into my ears in 2006.

Honestly…
The Yankees will win the AL East easily in 2006.

Honestly…
The Red Sox will finish third.

Honestly…
Manny will still be on the team.

Honestly…
Manny will still be a jackass, and just because he doesn’t realize he’s being one, doesn’t change the fact that he is one. If a six year old kid consistently hits another kid in class, do we let them off the hook, saying, “That’s just Johnny being Johnny?” No. So why do the media and the fans let an adult get away with this?

Honestly…
Everyone rips on A-Rod for his huge contract, but I’m willing to bet the Yankees could easily unload it and him if they wanted to. How come no one rips Manny for signing his deal?

Honestly…
As if you couldn’t tell, I’m tired of Manny and his crap.

Honestly…
A-Rod is Peyton Manning who is Dan Marino.

Honestly…
Brokeback Mountain will go down in history as the movie to win the most Academy Awards seen by the least amount of straight men. (Let me get this straight… they expect me to pay $9.50 to watch a a couple of gay cowboys go humpback on the hillside? Not that there’s anything wrong with that… but seriously? I wouldn’t watch that movie if they were paying me $950.)

Honestly…
New Year’s Eve is the most overrated night of the Year.

Honestly…
You won’t get that raise or that promotion you were looking next year.

Honestly…
American Idol will still be popular in 2006, despite my best efforts.

Honestly…
Josh Beckett will be the next Carl Pavano.

Honestly…
Carl Pavano will still be on the Yankees, despite my best efforts.

Honestly…
I hope he pulls a Kevin Brown and gets put on the DL for the season.

Honestly…
Reality TV will finally run its course in 2006, at long last.

Honestly…
Terry Francona will get his walking papers in 2006. And so will several of the Sox GM “By Committee” members.

Honestly…
Eli will be much better in 2006, and the Giants will be a popular choice for Super Bowl 41. (But Eli will never be as good as his brother or father.)

Honestly…
Rocky VI will suck worse than Rocky V.

Picture this... plus about 30 years.

Honestly…
The Chicago White Sox will win about 20 fewer games in 2006.

Honestly…
I wish I were an Oscar Meyer Wiener, because then everyone would be in love with me.

Honestly…
The Devil will finally collect Curt Schilling’s soul in 2006.

Honestly…
The Pats will win Super Bowl 40.

Honestly…
The Pistons will win the NBA Finals. (I’m really out on a limb there.)

Honestly…
No one cares who wins the Stanley Cup.

Honestly…
Neither the Yankees nor the Red Sox will win the World Series.

Honestly…
I will still be writing this column in 2006.

Honestly…
I still won’t be getting paid for it.

Honestly…
Thanks for reading in 2005.

***

Observations from the past week:

· If you’re one of the people who attacked the Damon signing as a financial faux-paus, you’ll be interested to know the Yanks payroll is actually dropping from $205 to $175 Million. Um, so there.

· As I mentioned, I lost my Syracuse league Fantasy Championship by TWO POINTS, easily making it the closest Championship game I’ve ever seen. Crazy thing is, I played Ryan Moates and Eddie Kennison, both of whom scored a whopping ONE POINT each. Just about every guy on my bench did more, and when you lose by two points, well, that’s hard to take. I wouldn’t have done it any differently—Moats against the Cards was a good play, and Kennison had put up 119 and a TD in the previous game against San Diego, and this one was at home. So I’ll have to be content with my loss. As for my other league, let’s just say the guy had Alexander, Santana Moss, and Larry Johnson. So you can guess how that turned out.

· Congtrats to Kevin Wall, who takes home the kitty in the Syracuse league, and Jersey Mike (Dave?) who won my Keeper League, and whose name I can never remember. That’s what happens when you play in a league with strangers. (At least I lost to a Giants fan in that one.)

If you have time, read Patrick Hruby’s Recap of the Stupid Sports Year in Review. “I’ll… (mrph)….be right… (mrph)…. out.” Hilarious.

***

NFL Week 17 Picks
Last Week: 11-5 (.688) (Is it just me, or am I 11-5 just about every week?)
Season: 162-78 (.675)

Last chance to win a week, and I’m two games out of a top 5 spot to take home a portion of the season winnings. Step yo game up!

This is one of the hardest weeks of the season to pick, because these games mean so little to so many teams. I always look for the following five scenarios in Week 17:

1.) A team who needs to win to get in, and will come through
2.) A team who needs to win to get in, and will crap the bed
3.) A good team who can lock up a spot, playing poorly against a bad team but still winning
4.) A team with motivation to play spoiler
5.) A bottom tier team with nothing to lose beating a much better team

SAN DIEGO over Denver
San Diego is my pick for #4. San Diego, who is eliminated from playoff contention, can eliminate the Chiefs with a win here. That’s huge, because the Chiefs eliminated them with a win last week. Is there a motivation bigger than revenge? Don’t think so.

Aside: I am usually very good with tiebreakers, but it’s beyond me how a team that is eliminated from playoff contention can eliminate a team they’re not even playing, when the team they are playing is guaranteed a spot. This is like reading tax code—I don’t understand it, but I know it means someone is getting screwed.

NY Giants over OAKLAND
This game has scenario #3 written all over it, even though the Giants have technically already clinched a spot. The Giants are awful on the road, and this game is on the West Coast, and there isn’t a team in the NFL that can make that trip and play flawlessly. The Giants need this game, because unless the Giants get a first-round home game, they’re a mortal lock to take a bow in the first round of the playoffs.

Aside: Who put this game at 8:00 on New Years Eve? Seriously? I’m going up to Killington for the long weekend, so my DVR will be buzzing for sure. Nobody talk to me about football until Tuesday, okay?

INDIANAPOLIS over Arizona
Tony Dungy will be back to coach this game, and Indy’s second-string offense is still better than the Cards first-string D. Plus, Indy doesn’t want to go into the playoffs with a three-game losing streak, even if they weren’t playing their starters.

Baltimore over CLEVELAND
As for the Kyle Boller bandwagon: I’m guessing it’s much easier to play quarterback when your season was over eight weeks ago. I can’t wait to rail on the guy who drafts him in one of my leagues next year.

Buffalo over NY JETS
Because I have nothing important to say about this game:

If you haven’t been watching the new show “How I Met Your Mother” (CBS) you need to get on board. It’s like “Friends” was, except in the early years when Chandler was hilarious, before Monica cut off his comedy balls. Neil Patrick Harris’ character, Barney, is one of the funniest on TV, and marks the Comeback of Doogie complete—and is his second-best role since playing a cracked-out version of himself in Harold & Kumar Go To White Castle, one of the more underrated movies of the past few years. Seriously, start watching.

ATLANTA over Carolina
This is scenario #4 and scenario #2, so Carolina is screwed. Atlanta was eliminated by TB last week. Carolina can get in with a win. Though the AFC might be the best conference in football, the NFC South is the nastiest. These teams genuinely hate each other. My buddy Breeze is from the ATL and we were watching the TB/ATL game earlier in the season—you could see the punches being thrown when guys got down into a pile. Though I’m sure it helped that Breeze has a 72” projection HDTV with 12.1 surround sound.

Besides, as much as Michael Vick hates me, I think he hates Carolina more.

Chicago over MINNESOTA
I’d like to thank the Vikings for tanking against Baltimore last week, and giving my Giants their playoff spot. Awfully nice of them. At least we can stop talking about Mike Tice as a Coach of the Year candidate—not that we should have been in the first place.

KANSAS CITY over Cincinnati
Nobody beats KC in Arrowhead in December.
(Too bad the Chiefs will be eliminated before they even take the field.)

Detroit over PITTSBURGH
Just kidding:

PITTSBURGH over Detroit
This is scenario #1. Pitt gets in with a win. Though technically that could be registered moot if SD beats Denver on Saturday.

Miami over NEW ENGLAND
Tom Brady will start this game. But Bill Belichick is too smart to let him finish it.

TAMPA BAY over New Orleans
I was tempted to pick this for scenario #2, but New Orleans is just too bad, and the game is at Tampa.

Houston over SAN FRANSISCO
The “Bush” Bowl. This is the pick I am the most sure about. The Texans are too unlucky to lose this game.

Aside: NFL analysts are crazy. Obviously if the Texans lose, they’re first in line to draft Reggie Bush. Several analysts have said that the Texans could trade the #1 pick for a bunch of picks or top players because they already have a good running back in Dominic Davis. Let me say this: Dumbest. Idea. Ever. Reggie Bush is the next LeBron James. No draft pick is a sure thing, but you don’t trade away a guy who comes along with that much hype—a guy who has the potential to be a Hall of Famer, a guy who could revolutionize your sport and singlehandedly turn a team around. You trade Dominic Davis. Seriously, why are we even talking about this?

Tennessee over JACKSONVILLE
Scenario #5.

Seattle over GREEN BAY
I’d like to thank Sean Alexander for singlehandedly carrying my Fantasy Team for an entire season. He almost won the Championship for me all by himself with a 32-point effort in a game that meant next to nothing.

Aside: Seattle had the ball late in the fourth quarter on the 1 yard line, with the game out of reach. Did you doubt that Mike Holmgren was going to put Alexander back in so he could tie the single-season TD record? Last year, Alexander accused Holmgren of robbing him of the rushing title by pulling him in the last game of the season after Alexander came up a yard short. No way he benches him again. I staked my Fantasy Championship on this, and I was right—except, unlike Alexander, I came up short.

Washington over DONE
I know it’s been decided for a few weeks now, but have I mentioned that the Eagles are done?

Aside: Plax drops a TD pass in the first quarter, and a Toomer TD gets called back in the fourth last week. Feely misses three game-winners against Seattle. Giants are headed to overtime against Minnesota, but Brad Johnson pulls one out of his sock drawer to get them in field goal range. The Cowboys pull one out in OT. Everyone thinks the Giants are overrated—including me—but do you realize how close the Giants were to being 15-1 or 14-2 and having home-field advantage throughout the playoffs?

DALLAS over St. Louis
Dallas needs to win to get in—but if Carolina and the Redskins win, it would be moot. And wouldn’t that be sweet?

Next Week: NFL Playoff Picks!

Bill Beard is an independent writer who is looking forward to 2006, despite his pessimistic nature. He can be reached for Nostradamus-like prognostication atwrbeard@hotmail.com.

Yankee Swap

2005-12-22T14:46:00.000-05:00

On Wednesday, my department had our Christmas party. I witnessed the largest Yankee Swap in history (yup, that’s a YANKEE swap, not a RED SOX swap) with over 51 people. It was a tedious process, watching everyone unwrap their gifts and swap them.

(Luckily I brought a 12-pack to work for the party.)

But Tuesday night, in another kind of Yankee Swap, the New York Yankees signed former Red Sox centerfielder and Idiot King Johnny Damon to a four-year, $52 million dollar deal.

(Can you hear the Gillette executives shouting for joy?)

I guess it’s not a true analogy, because the Red Sox don’t get a crappy bottle of chocolate syrup, a cheap desk toy, or “gay magnets” in return.

(Don’t ask.)

The Red Sox get nothing, and lose the most productive leadoff hitter in baseball.

Look. Johnny Damon as a person? I can’t stand him. The only person on the planet who is dumber and more obnoxious than Johnny Damon happens to be married to Johnny Damon.

But Tuesday night, Damon made a smart decision.

The Yankees dropped a deadline at his feet—sign by midnight or we’re ending negotiations. Four years, $52 million on the table. Damon (more likely Damon’s agent, Scott Boras) signed it, knowing that if the Yankees dropped off the table, the offer he’d get from the Sox once the Yanks were out of the picture would make his dream of seven years at $80 million as realistic as a magical land in a wardrobe.

So Damon signed. And no matter how you slice it, this is a huge blow for the Red Sox.

(And please, can we just leave loyalty out of these discussions? Are you telling me if your company’s #1 competitor offered you a considerably better salary, you wouldn’t take it? Exactly.)

Already, at least one of my friends who roots for the 2006 third place AL East team has tried to play this off, commenting on Damon’s throwing arm. Well, when the worst thing you can find to say about a player concerns their throwing arm, I think he may be a pretty good player.

Listen, I know Damon throws like a pre-pubescent girl. I get that. In fact, Damon’s throwing arm has been much ridiculed in this space, and even helped “create” B-E-L. He’s been one of my favorite targets. I wrote the following in an “observations” email from the 2004 ALCS Game 3:

“Best moment of the game: A-rod hits a ball out onto Landsdowne street, fan throws it back on to the field. Damon throws it back onto Lansdowne street. Fan throws it back. Red Sox immediately sign fan and replace Damon with him.”

But hey, the Yankees won the division last year with the only guy in the league who couldn’t out-throw Damon: Bernie Williams. And Williams’ average was, well, not near his career average. (I can’t rip Bernie, sorry.)

But Red Sox fans will try to play this off, even though their team doesn’t have a shortstop, is without a centerfielder, and are short a leadoff hitter.

Sure, they can trade for Jeremy Reed, the Mariners CF. I think this would be a good deal, because a guy hitting .253 with 3 HR and an OBP of .322, and an average defensive player by all accounts, is exactly what will replace an All-Star Centerfielder. (Of course, if they trade Matt Clement for him… well, that IS an upgrade.)

This is a good move for the Yanks. It lets Jeter bat in the 2-spot, which is where he belongs. Solves the CF problem and the leadoff problem. But with all my past animosity about Johnny as a person, welll... I still have mixed feelings about this. You know when you feel like you have something in your nose, and it makes you all self-conscious, but you check the mirror like five times and you know there’s nothing there—but it still bothers you anyway? That’s kind of how I feel about this. I know everything's okay, but it makes me a little uncomfortable.

I may dislike him as a person, but at the end of the day, JD was the best option out there. George overpaid, but only slightly. Four years is about right. I can’t complain about this. At least he’s not killing the Yankees for the Sox anymore, right? And he did kill the Yankees, if you remember 2004.

Plus, we get to stick it to Sox fans. You know that’s why George did it. You know that’s why Johnny—upset with the lackluster approach of the Sox “GM by Committee”—did it.

So that’s always fun.

And it will also be fun to hear Damon’s reception when he shows up in Fenway in the road grays for the first time.

But the real drama here is when the King of Kings will have to lose his trademark Captain Caveman/What-Would-Johnny-Do-Look and go “clean.”

As sure as you're reading this, the Gillette executives are scheming, preparing for the media event that is sure to be Damon’s shave and haircut. (It will be bigger than the charity event where he let about four smoking hot girls shave him… the poor guy.)

It’s a rite of passage. It’s like hazing, except they’re paying you millions of dollars for it. It’s what you need to do to play for the most successful sports franchise in history.

Johnny's already come over to the dark side. He uncorked a "This Organization" quote in reference to the Yankees in his first interview about the signing.

He wasn't always the Captain of Cavemen.

But when Johnny pays his two bits to the barber... that's when he'll truly welcome the dark side and come over to the Evil Empire.

Sure, the Rebellion might have had a successful 2004. But today, the Empire wins, as Luke was swayed not by his father... but by a pocket full of Franklins.

The Gillette Corporation has its headquarters here in Boston. And right about now, they’re the only Boston residents—other than transplanted Yankees fans—who can really be happy about this.

Observations from the Past Week:
-The Yanks also signed Octavio Dotel, formerly of the Oakland A's, who spent most of last season recovering from shoulder surgery. Two years ago this guy was a premier closer in the league, but after a rough 2005 and the surgery, it remains to be seen how effective he will be in 2006. If he regains his form, along with Kyle Farnsworth and of course Mo, the Yankees could have one of the best bullpens in baseball.

-So I'm in both my fantasy football leagues' championship games this week-as if there was ever any doubt. If you've ever played in multiple fantasy leagues, the #1 problem is something I'm going to call the "Bizzaro Effect." For example, on my team in my Syracuse league I have Sean Alexander. However, in my keeper league, the guy I'm playing has Alexander. In my Syracuse league, my opponent has Tiki Barber. In my keeper league, I have Barber. So it's a catch-22. Really, I'm screwed either way, and in neither league can I consider myself the favorite to start with. Thankfully, both leagues have second-place payouts, so I won't come away empty-handed. I know, these are the things I worry about, I have such a rough life.

-On a more somber note, Tony Dungee's son James was found dead in his apartment last night in Florida. Dungee is the head coach for the team favored to win the Super Bowl this year. Condolences out to his family... but I'm not afraid to be the coarse one (seeing as how um, Dungee would never read this) and speculate how his abscence will affect his team. I'm sure Vegas is playing close attention to this.

-Apologies for no Lines last week. My boss was on vacation, and when he's out, I'm technically in charge. Seeing as how most of the people I work with can't make a decision on their own, it's hard to write a column at work with no one noticing when people are at your desk every two minutes asking you questions.

NFL Week 16 Picks
Last Week: 11-5 (.688)
Season: 151-73 (.674)

In honor of the holiday, I'm making my picks in "Wish List" format! Here we go:

TAMPA BAY over Atlanta
I'm wishing that Michael Vick gets coal in his stocking, because he's been nothing but mean to me this year.

CINCINNATI over Buffalo
The Chad wishes for 8 tiny reindeer, because I think his "surprise holiday TD celebration" is going to be Santa and his sleigh.

CAROLINA over Dallas
The Dallas Cowboys are wishing for a few extra shovels, so they can dig a hole and hide in it after last week's showing at Washington.

NEW ORLEANS over Detroit
The people that live in these markets are wishing they had DirecTV so they don't have to watch this crap.

Jacksonville over HOUSTON
All they want for Xmas in Houston is Reggie Bush. Except for Jonathan Wells, who scored two TDs last week and carried the Texans to a win, because he's fighting for a roster spot.

WASHINGTON over NY Giants
The Redskins are wishing for a playoff spot. And quite frankly, they've got the Giants right where they want them. Tiki Barber is wishing for an MVP vote, and if he doesn't get any, then Santa needs to start banging some heads around.

Philadelphia over ARIZONA
Andy Reid is just wishing this season was over.

Pittsburgh over CLEVELAND
Charlie Frye is wishing Pittsburgh didn't pick last week to figure out how to play defense again.

KANSAS CITY over San Diego
The Chargers are wishing this game was in San Diego, because no one beats the Chiefs in Arrowhead in December. No one. Nothing like beating the best team in football at home, and then seeing this game on the schedule.

ST. LOUIS over San Fransisco
Both these teams are wishing for anything but coal in their stockings.

MIAMI over Tennessee
Ronnie Brown and I are both wishing Ricky Williams had stayed a pot-smoking accupuncturist for another year.

SEATTLE over Indianapolis
Seattle got its wish granted: this game doesn't matter at all for the Colts. And Seattle still has another wish: home-field advantage, so they're going to be playing all out.

DENVER over Oakland
All Randy Moss wants for Christmas is a quarterback who can throw him the damn ball. (Me and him both, for that matter.)

Chicago over GREEN BAY
All the fans in Wisconsin want is for Brett to retire. Now.

BALTIMORE over Minnesota
All Mike Tice wants is a playoff berth. But he's Mike Tice, so he's not getting it.

New England over NY JETS
All every team in the NFL wants is not to have to play the Pats in December or January. Becuase they're still the most dangerous team in the NFL. And after last week's punishing of Tampa Bay, everyone knows it.

Bill Beard is an independent writer who would sell out just like Damon if SOMEONE, ANYONE would give him the chance! All he wants for Christmas is a paying sportswriter gig. He can be reached by potential Santas at wrbeard@hotmail.com.

Picking Your Knows

2005-12-09T10:09:00.000-05:00

(Busy week this week, so I apologize for the brain dump you're about to experence...)

After a guy in our league went 16-0 last week, I’m pretty much out of contention for my Picks Season Pool. So now I just have to hope to win a single week and break even. Because of that, I’m going to a system I like to call “Pick Your Knows.” Essentially, this system comprises of one truism: take the strongest piece of knowledge you have about a game—a piece that trumps every other possible piece of logic, and run with it.

For example:

Chicago over PITTSBURGH
I know that Defense Wins Championships.

See, I know Pitt has a much better offense than Chicago, I know this game is in Pittsburgh, I know Big Ben threw for three TDs last week. But more than anything, I know that in the NFL, a good D beats a good offense 90% of the time. So that’s how we end up with Chicago, even though my gut tells me Pittsburgh is still the better team. With that in mind, here are my other “knows” for the week, including my NFL picks and some Hot Stove Action.

NFL Week 14 Picks
Last Week: 13-3 (.812)
Season: 128-64 (.667)

CINCINNATI over Cleveland
I know that Carson Palmer—not Peyton Manning—is this year’s MVP.

TENNESSEE over Houston
I know that Houston is the worst team in the NFL.

Indianapolis over JACKSONVILLE
I know that the Colts are the best team the NFL has seen in a long time.

New England over BUFFALO
I know that, this time of year, there aren’t too many teams I’d pick over the Bills in a home game. But I know that New England is one of them.

NY Giants over PHILADELPHIA
I know that Philly is DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE.

(As an aside: I know that the lesser Manning has to play better if the Giants are going to make the playoffs—a 54% completion rate is not going to cut it.)

NY JETS over Oakland
I know that Marques Tuiasosopo is starting this game for the Raiders. I know the guy’s been in the NFL for five years and has never thrown a touchdown pass. And I know that they brought Kerry Collins in because they didn’t think Tui could get it done. And I know a guy with a name like “Marques” is not NFL starting quarterback material.

SEATTLE over San Francisco
I know that San Fran hasn’t won an away game all year. (And I know that Seattle is going to get a first round bye.)

MINNESOTA over ST. Louis
I know that—for a team like the Vikes—Brad Johnson is a better fit.

CAROLINA over Tampa Bay
I know that I was wrong last week when I said, “Carolina is the most overrated team in the NFL.”

Washington over ARIZONA
I know that Kurt Warner could throw for 300 yards every game—and the Cards would still lose to even a .500 team because they can’t run the ball at all.

DENVER over Baltimore
I know the porn moustache let me down last week. But I know that Denver isn’t going to lose at home this time of year.

Kansas City over DALLAS
I know that Priest Holmes getting hurt was the best thing that’s happened to the Chiefs all year. I know that Drew Bledsoe had his worst game as a Cowboy last week. And I know I couldn’t be happier that he’s on the Cowboys, because I know he can single-handedly sink their season.

SAN DIEGO over Miami
I know the Chargers have LT.

GREEN BAY over Detroit
I know I don’t pick against Brett Favre in Green Bay in December.

ATLANTA over New Orleans
Tiebreaker: 49
I know that I’m .500 on Atlanta games. I know that’s the worst record I have with any single team. I know that I don’t have any idea which Atlanta team is going to show up. And I know that’s not good.

Ike Reese, hard at work "Picking His Knows."

Completely out of nowhere:
With the snow coming down in New England today, here’s a great article on December football.

Quick Fantasy Notes:
· I know I earned a first-round playoff bye in both of my fantasy leagues this week. Ironically, though, I’m headed in a different direction in both. In my “main league” (only so called because I’ve been doing it the longest) I’ve lost the last three games, and only earned the second-seed bye because the guy behind me lost. I lost to the second-worst team in the league last week, mainly due to the solid –6 that the Pitt D put up. I would have won had I not played a D at all. Regardless, dropping my last three games doesn’t bode well for my playoff momentum.

· In my other league, it’s a different story. I haven’t lost in 8 weeks, though I did have a tie in there, which is pretty amazing in a league where we start four individual defensive players. I won the regular season after starting off 1-4, and also had the most points. Banner season. I also have no players on my team who are facing a Colts-like scenario, where they might be sitting over the final few weeks, so I’m considering myself a strong favorite to win it all. It’s weird though, to still be alive and not to be facing anyone this week in either league. I’m feeling a little fantasy restlessness.

(As an aside, that second league is a keeper league, which I've never done before. It only recently occurred to me that I have LT in a keeper league. Does that instantly put me in contention for the next five years? I think it does.)

Baseball Hot Stove

Stuff I know:
· C Doug Mirabelli to San Diego for 2B Mark Loretta
I know that Varitek can’t catch Wakefield, so that’s a problem. But I know that Loretta is a big upgrade from Graffinino at second, both offensively and defensively.

· SS Edgar Renteria to Atlanta for 3B Prospect Diego Marte
I know that Edgar was a disaster, but the general rule is you only swap veterans for prospects if you’re rebuilding. So I’m looking for the Sox to move Marte, who hit two home runs and had six RBI in only 9 at-bats with the Braves last year, somewhere for a shortstop.

· No more Helmet-Head!
John Olerud retired this week at the age of 37. I know Olerud was a top-notch hitter: a career .295 hitter, 255 home runs, and a batting title in with Toronto in 1993 when he hit an absurd .363. But when you think of guys who have been involved in the conspiracies of baseball, you should think of Shoeless Joe, George Brett (the Pine Tar incident), Babe Ruth’s infamous called shot, and “what’s under John Olerud’s helmet?”

· Tony Womack to Cincy for Player to Be Named Later
I know that I’m very excited about Player to Be Named Later joining the Yankees, because I’m pretty damn sure he can’t be any worse than Tony Womack.

Speculation guessed on what I know:
· I know the Red Sox have an opening at shortstop. And I know Nomar is still available. I also know Nomar could be in centerfield for the Yanks next year, because he’s openly said, “I’ll play anywhere.” If there’s even a miniscule chance Jeter, A-Rod, and Nomar could be on the same team, I’m going to root for that to happen. This would be like having Christina Aguilera, Brittney Spears, and Kelly Clarkson in your bedroom all at the same time. (Take a guess as to who is who in that scenario.)

You guessed it: Nomar.

· I know that Roger Rocket isn’t going to retire, because he doesn’t have the stomach for it. And I know that the Yanks would love to have him back, even for one year…

And I know I’d love to have him back on the team.

Bill Beard is an independent writer who has no problem Picking His Knows in public. He can be reached for comment, commentary, or by Miss Manners at wrbeard@ hotmail.com.

Roundball

2005-12-02T12:26:00.000-05:00

We were bored with a lot of time to kill, and—luckily—a few cases of beer to kill it with.

Often, that’s a dangerous combination. Not on this day.

We came up with something else.

It was a nice fall day in Syracuse—and no, I don’t mean there were just two feet of snow on the ground instead of the usual five. It was cool but not cold, and the sun was actually shining—a rarity in this cloudiest of cities. Maybe it was, say, 50 or so degrees. (That’s a heat wave for Syracuse in November.)

There were about 10 of us outside of a South Campus apartment (picture a rolling hillscape of oversized concrete boxes) when someone found a little ball about the size of a mini-basketball. With beers in hand, we began kicking it around. Somebody would lazily kick it to someone else. And then it would go back. Then to someone else. Most of us weren’t even paying attention, more focused on discussing the Orangemen’s—still “men” before we castrated our teams this year—chances in the afternoon’s football game.

But we’re guys. And nothing involving a ball stays relaxed for long.

Someone kicked it hard past his target. The ball smashed up against the glass sliding door of the apartment with a resounding “thud.”

It just took one word to get it started:

“Score!”

And “Roundball” was born. Soon, we had teams, and a hodgepodge of rules were verbally agreed upon as the game went along. It was a bastardization of soccer and half-court basketball—with some very, well, messed-up rules.

1. Each team has one goalie—which gets real interesting, because:
2. Both teams shoot at the same goal simultaneously (in this case, the diameter of the glass doors—we only had one back door, after all, so this rule was born out of necessity).
3. One hand must hold a beer at all times (the cardinal rule)
4. The ball is not allowed to go higher than anyone’s knees
5. Light checking is allowed, but knocking someone over is a penalty shot (hey, we only brought so many clothes, and it’s always muddy in Syracuse)
6. Spilling your beer while in possession of the ball results in a loss of possession
7. When your team scores, the other team drinks (not to say that constant drinking was illegal in any way!)

And we played until we had to leave for the football game. I think the final score in the First Annual Roundball Championship was something like 25-21. (Hey, we had just invented the scoring, we didn’t get around to drawing up any “Belichickian” defensive schemes.)

Needless to say, we got pretty drunk. And a little muddy. But it was fun. It was a bunch of 20-something guys doing what guys do: getting drunk and being competitive.

We’ve only revisited the game once or twice since then, and neither time did it duplicate the beauty or drama of its inauguration game.

So why do I tell this story? No reason really. Just a fun story, a good memory, and maybe to point out that guys are crazy, competitive, alcoholic idiots. And I’m so glad I’m one of them.

So very appropriately, let’s move on to:

My NFL Week 13 Picks

Last week: 11-5 (.69)
Season: 115-61 (.65)

While that record doesn’t appear bad, it was one more of those weeks when the majority of people did better. The guy who won only missed one game. We’ve officially dropped off the leaderboard (by one game) so we need to go out on a limb or two this week to get back in the chase. We’re not in Detroit Lions “panic mode” just yet. But we’re getting there.

It’s getting desperate though, to the point we’re talking about ourselves in the plural.

I’m also including the lines this week, but solely for discussion, because there are some interesting ones. These are still just straight picks, not spread picks.

This is the best week of games on the docket yet. Three division-title matchups (Carolina/Atlanta, Giants/Cowboys, Pittsburgh/Cincy) and some other games that are virtual toss-ups. This is the week when football pools are won... and lost.

Atlanta (+3) over CAROLINA
The Panthers have never beaten a Michael Vick-led team. (People are picking the Panthers to go to the Super Bowl. I think they’re the most overrated team in football right now.) Is it obvious I’m back on the “Michael Vick just wins” bandwagon?

MIAMI (-3) over Buffalo
Two top tier running backs versus the worst run defense in the NFL. It’s all about R&R (Ricky and Ronnie) this week, baby!

PITTSBURGH (-3.5) over Cincinnati
The Chad’s already got a routine worked out for a TD dance. He’s had some good ones this year. But he didn’t have any in Week 7 when the Steelers dominated the Tiggers at Cincy, because The Chad didn’t see the endzone. And he only had 4 catches for 94 yards, most of which came on a big catch in garbage time. So as much as I enjoy The Chad’s antics, I think he’s getting a little ahead of himself. Gots to score before you can dance, yo.

NY GIANTS (-3) over Dallas
I was driving back from NY last week, so I didn’t watch live as Jay Feely’s season went in the crapper with not one, not two, but three missed Field Goals to lose the game for the Giants. Meanwhile, Billy Cundiff missed a late-game FG that would have won it for the Cowboys against the Broncs. So why do I think this game is going to come down to a Field Goal? I’ve been nervous about this one since Josh Brown’s Tivo’ed kick sail through the uprights last Sunday night. I was doubly pissed about it, because I had Tivo’ed the Simpsons, and because the game went into overtime, I not only got to watch the giants lose, but I also lost the Simpsons episode. Karma hates me.

(Because you care: There is a 50% chance I may be attending this game, which would make it my first Giants game… ever. I know, hard to believe. I’m not holding my breath or anything, but if my ticket connection comes through, I’d be happier than I was when I heard Nick and Jessica were splitting up. I think I have a chance…)

CHICAGO (-7) over Green Bay
Brett Favre was one of the greatest quarterbacks ever to play the game. (Read that sentence again.)

BALTIMORE (-7) over Houston
If Houston can’t hold on to a 24-3 halftime lead against a team playing as poorly as the Rams, even when the Rams are on their third string QB, then they don’t even deserved to be picked to win a game. (Fitzpatrick is still better than Kyle Boller, but that’s not saying much.)

Jacksonville (-2.5) over CLEVELAND
Since I have nothing interesting to say about this:

Scariest headline of the week: Affleck a Father Seriously, I’m frightened. As if the world needed another Affleck. Luckily, it was a girl. Red Sox Nation has a new dark princess.

Forgive her, Father, for she knows not what she's done.

Minnesota (-3) over DETROIT
This has trap game written all over it. Detroit has the, “Let’s Play Hard So We Can Show They Shouldn’t Have Fired Coach” –thing going for them. You can’t underestimate the power of that. And with Dre Bly shooting his mouth off this week, I mean, the possibilities for this game are limitless.

As an aside, I think we’re about three weeks away from Joey Harrington showing up at practice with an AK-47 and pulling a GTA-style Rampage on them: “Kill 25 Teammates in Two Minutes.” Seriously.

Tampa Bay (-3.5) over NEW ORLEANS
Marc Bulger. Ben Roethlisberger. Josh McCown. Brad Johnson. Jamie “First Series Concussion” Martin. My fantasy team has been a revolving door of quarterbacks this year. The latest entry? Chris Simms. Has there ever been a worse season for Fantasy Quarterbacks than this season? I mean, ever?

Tennessee (+15.5) over INDIANAPOLIS
Just kidding. I wanted to see if you were paying attention.

INDIANAPOLIS (-15.5) over Tennessee
There we go. And for the record, I was on the “Undefeated Season” bandwagon way before all these NFL analysts were. Thank you very much.

Arizona (-3) over SAN FRANSISCO
With the exception of the KC/Denver game, this is actually the hardest game on the schedule—even though it might appear obvious. The Niners beat St. Louis and Tampa in the Bay (um, I mean, the one in California), and also did the following at home: came a two-point conversion away from taking Seattle to OT, lost to the Cowboys by 3, and played the Giants tough for three quarters. All of those are better teams (yes, even the Rams) than Arizona. But I’m giving Arizona the edge because of Fitzgerald and Boldin. Arguably among the best receiving tandems in the league. But I would not at all be surprised to see the Niners take this one. Tough, tough game to call.

Washington (-3) over ST. LOUIS
After last week’s game at Houston: Please, there’s no more room! Stand clear of the closing doors! There will be another bandwagon arriving shortly. The Ryan Fitzpatrick “I went to Hahvahd” Bandwagon is now leaving the station! Next stop, St. Louis!

After this week’s game at Washington: Attention please, the Ryan Fitzpatrick “I went to Hahvahd” bandwagon has been re-routed. St. Louis will be the final stop for this bandwagon. Everyone off, please. Wait on the platform, the Tampa Bay TE Nate Lawrie “I went to Yale” bandwagon will be along shortly.

Denver (Push) over KANSAS CITY*
Stat of the week: Kansas City has not lost at home in December since 1996. But do not underestimate the power of the porn moustache.

By the way, the worst part of my weekend last weekend? Watching Ron Dayne break off the game-winning run in OT against Dallas. Anyone but him. The guy was a waste of skin on the Giants. Mark my words, something is amiss in Denver. I think they’re doing crazy experiments in Mile High, real “The Island of Dr. Moreau” type stuff. I refuse to believe they can just turn any chump into a solid back. It reeks of evil, I’m telling you. Can you see Mike Anderson, Quentin Griffin and Ron Dayne turning on Shanahan and devouring his flesh? It’s only a matter of time.

*This is my asterisk pick of the week--meaning I could change my mind at any time.

NEW ENGLAND (-10) over NY Jets
Two things come to mind for this game: First, New England has the easiest closing schedule in the NFL. So they’ll get a chance to defend their title. And secondly, the Jets may actually want to throw this game so they have a chance at the Reggie Bush sweepstakes. Actually, Brooks Bollinger is slated to start for the Jets. So maybe they are.

SAN DIEGO (-10) over Oakland
You’ve got two of the best players at their positions in the NFL (LT and Gates). And somehow, Marty forgets this every week. If San Diego fails to make the playoffs, he needs to be fired. Actually, he should probably be fired now so they have a chance to make the playoffs.

SEATTLE (-3.5) over Philadelphia
Philadelphia is done. This game might be close, but that doesn’t change the fact that Philadelphia is done. Done Done Done Done DONE DONE DONE. Done. Seriously. Done. That is so much fun to write.

If I’m lucky enough to get those tickets, believe me there will be a column about the Giants/Cowboys game. If not, well, you might get one anyway.

Bill Beard is an independent writer who doesn’t have anything against the city of Philadelphia, even though he’s ripped the Eagles and Villanova in the same week. He likes McNabb and Cheesesteaks. And the city’s history. But yeah, that’s about it. He can be reached for comment or commentary at wrbeard@hotmail.com

Most Likely to Not Be Read By Anyone

2005-11-28T13:21:00.000-05:00

One piece of business to take care of before we get underway… I probably received more emails about my usage of “irregardless” two weeks ago than any other single item I’ve ever written in a column. I’m not sure how to take that, as in, do my opinions suck so bad that people don’t feel the need to write me about them? Or… are my friends just a bunch of grammar nazis?

Allow me to climb up on my high horse for a minute… okay, there we go. From the online version of the Merriam Webster dictionary (bold emphasis mine):

Irregardless originated in dialectal American speech in the early 20th century… The most frequently repeated remark about it is that "there is no such word." There is such a word, however. It is still used primarily in speech, although it can be found from time to time in edited prose. Its reputation has not risen over the years, and it is still a long way from general acceptance.

That’s right people. I’m a damn trendsetter! A visionary, even. You better recognize.

Irregardless… thanks for the emails. Now, moving on…

Most Likely to Not Be Read By Anyone

In honor of my high school reunion this past weekend, I’m presenting the Behind Enemy Lines College Basketball Preview in a special format:

College Basketball Superlatives!

I'm not going to lie--I'm way over my head with this one. It's not that I don't know a lot about college basketball, it's just that there are 326 teams in Division I Basketball, and about 250 of them are irrelevant—or at least until March, when schools with great names like “Sam Houston State,” “Austin Peay” and the “Derrick Zoolander School for Kids Who Don’t Read Good And Want to do Other Stuff Good” appear on the national radar after winning their conference tournaments. One man can’t cover them all—at least not a guy who’s receiving no financial compensation for this. (Well, excluding the fact I’m writing this at work, but that doesn’t count.)

So for the most part, I’m going to stick to the Big East, and sprinkle in some top players, and maybe a few Top 25 teams here and there. Hopefully, it doesn't leave a foul taste in your mouth, like that week old turkey you're still eating.

Irregardless, I’m going to try to do my best to give you a jump on the college basketball season.

(A side note: My class (New York Mills Jr./Sr. High School Class of 1995) was not permitted to have Senior Superlatives… I vaguely remember a family had actually sued a high school when their son wasn’t awarded “Most Likely to Succeed.” My school was afraid of the same thing, which was ridiculous, because it wasn’t cool to be “smart” or successful in my High School. They probably would have been sued for picking someone.)

So here we go:

Most Likely to Succeed (And Possibly Win It All)
It’s impossible to pick the winner of the NCAA tournament based upon preseason reviews and a few early season games. That would be like picking the winner of Survivor 10 minutes into the season premiere. So I’m going to go with this superlative literally, and pick a team I think will have the most “success”: Connecticut. They’ve got some questions—Guards Marcus Williams and A.J. Price apparently didn’t know that stealing laptops and trying to re-sell them has nothing to do with the “fencing” class they signed up for.

But Josh Boone can be a force, and they have a few top perimeter shooters (especially Hilton Armstrong). They’ll be tough without Williams and Price, but if they’re able to play, this team could be unstoppable. Of course, everything revolves around their superstar, a potential first overall NBA lottery pick, Rudy Gay. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.

Best Eyes
Marcus Williams of Connecticut led the nation in assists last season, with 8.1 per game. If the gansta doesn’t get locked up, look for him to do it again—It’s easy to average that many assists when you have so many options.

Team Least Likely to Get Any Good Press in this Column
Boston College. Fucking traitors.

Team Most Likely to Annoy the Hell Out of Everyone
West Virginia. I was in a bar last year when this team took on Wake in the tournament. My buddy Craig’s band was on stage during the OT periods—not that you would have known it. The entire bar was ignoring them and glued to the TVs. The game was so good, even the band was watching while they were playing. Maybe the most exciting college basketball game I’ve ever seen.

This team just has amazing chemistry, and a slew of guys who not only have similar games, but are hard to guard because they all look the same—not surprising, as they play in Blacksburg and are all probably related. I watched this team take Texas down to the wire last week with their energetic defense, a great running game and a spread offense where every man is dangerous and can shoot the trey. They’re like a talented, athletic Princeton. That’s a formula that will win you a lot of games, especially in March.

And no, I don’t care that they’ve already lost three games.

The Complete Stranger Award for Team Most Likely to be Punished By Last Year's Draft
North Carolina. They lost their Top 7 scorers to the Draft and Graduation. I'd feel bad for them, but they won a National Championship last year. So I don't. Besides, they're North Carolina. With the recruits they get, they'll still win 20 games. Just watch.

Most Likely to be a Columnist in the Future
I don’t know if he can write, but JamesOn Curry of Oklahoma State has the best name for it. Can you see it? This week: JamesOn the Cowboys Schedule. Classic.

Most Likely to Take—and Hit—the Last-Second Shot
He’s not in the Big East, but picking any guy other than J.J. Redick to hoist one with the game on the line is like picking the overweight girl to beat the two hot girls making out during a wet T-shirt contest.

The Wooderson Award for the Guy Who Still Hangs Around Even Though He Probably Graduated 10 Years Ago
Carl Krauser. The point guard and 6-2 “senior” is back at Pittsburgh this year. Again. He led the team in scoring and assists last year, despite the fact he might have the ugliest shot in college basketball. I think he’s been there about seven seasons now, but I can’t prove it.

"That's the thing I love about Karl Krauser. I keep getting older, and he stays the same age. Alright Alright."

The War of the Worlds Award for the Over-Hyped Team That Can’t Possibly Live Up To Expectations
I have to give this one to Villanova. They just lost a superstar, Curtis Sumpter, for the season due to injury. They’re returning all five starters. They nearly upset eventual National Champion North Carolina in the Regional Semi-final. They’re ranked 4th in the country. Is there anywhere for this team to go but down?

Just like “War of the Worlds.” Classic storyline, big names (Tom Cruise, Dakota Fanning), historic director (Spielberg). And it sucked. But it couldn’t have possibly lived up to expectations. Well, there’s that, the fact that Tom Cruise went nuts this year, and I had to listen to Dakota Fanning scream her Fanning off about 6,578 times during the movie. I’d rather be forced to listen to “I Will Always Love You” on repeat for two hours.

Irregardless, Nova gets tested early when #5 Oklahoma comes to town this weekend.

Team Most Likely To Walk Into A Crowded Shopping Mall and Open Fire Just to Get Attention
Name the four new teams in the Big East: Louisville, Cincinnati, Marquette… You can’t come up with the last one, right? Well, it’s DePaul. What? How did they get into the Big East? Did Louisville say, “We’ll come in, but not without DePaul. They’re with us.” This is like Harvey Keitel vouching for Tim Roth in Reservoir Dogs. “No, no, he’s cool. He’s with me.” It’s just going to end up badly for all parties involved.

Best Game of the Year
Yeah, I know this is a “preview” -- but it already happened. Gonzaga vs. MSU in the Maui Invitational. 3 OTs and more big shots than a Jenna Jameson movie. If not for a missed MSU layup with seconds remaining, this might have gone down as the best game in recent history. Still in the top 5 though. If you missed it, well, you’re probably better off, because every game from here on out can’t help but be a little disappointing.

Biggest Game Changer
Adam Morrison, Gonzaga. He scored 43 in the triple OT game, setting a Maui record. But he was unstoppable. Way outside, driving to the hoop, midrange, foul shots, didn’t matter. MSU had no solution for him, even with Mo Ager answering prayers like a Peruvian Shaman every trip downcourt. Plus, Morrison (who's white) is emulating Jim Morrison by sporting the long unkempt hair, and has added a 70s porn-style moustache, literally pushing his physical appearance to the comical limit.

The “Jason Did What?” Award for Most Likely to Hit a Cop
I think John Chaney has officially passed Bobby Knight on the Psychotic Scale. He's completely nuts -- he's threatened to kill an opposing coach, and the guy sent a "goon" in to intentionally hurt an opposing player last year. Who does that? How is this guy still employed? I don't care what his record is, and neither should Temple. (See observations for an explanation of this superlative.)

Most Likely to End Up Like Spicoli
Every class had a pothead, a guy who you all knew would never amount to anything. Just a dissapointment every step of the way. So for that, I'm picking Syracuse. My Orange were ranked 16th to start the season, and we’ve already fallen to 24th after losses to Florida and Bucknell. Unless they find a way to absolve G-Mac of his point guard duties (Wright or Devendorf?) then Syracuse is an early favorite… to exit in the first round again this year. Personally, I hope not, because it’s costly to buy a new Syracuse T-Shirt every year after I burn mine in the middle of the street.

The Syracuse season already going up in smoke.

Most Likely to Cover the Spread in the First Round of the NCAA Tourney
According to my friend Jon—a Vegas veteran for the Tourney—most top seeded teams don’t cover the spread in the first round because they’re so exorbitant, with one exception: Duke. They always cover. Now I don’t care if they barely beat Memphis last week (even though they should have lost). Coach K is ruthless. Proof: In the preseason NIT first-round game against Seton Hall, with Duke up 43-13 at the half and with the rest of the tournament still to play, J.J. Redick still played nearly 30 minutes. That’s just cruel.

That's all I've got for you. Now back to our regularly-scheduled brain dump.

Observations from the week:
· I’m sure you want to know how my reunion was. Right. Well, in a word, disappointing. For a class of 65 people—many of whom still live in central New York—we had fewer than 20 classmates show up. And everyone was easily recognizable. There was no “guy who gained 50 pounds” or “girl who definitely had a boob job” or “Who the hell is that? I don’t remember that person at all” which made it a lot less fun than anticipated.

However, we did have two fun topics: First, every single girl that showed up is now married or has at least one kid, but none of the married girls have kids—love the small-town irony there; and best of all, we did have the “Guy who couldn’t attend because he’s in jail” whose name I’ll keep to myself for my own personal safety, because he’s in there for beating up a cop. (BRILLIANT!)

We also reportedly have one guy out of the closet, but he wasn’t there, so we can’t confirm. But overall, you know it’s a sad reunion when the best part was the four hours of OPEN BAR—and the bartender says the 30-odd people there (due to spouses) drank more than a party of 100 they had earlier in the week. Guess some things never change.

I kept hoping a hit man would come through the door and I'd have to stab him to death with a monogrammed pen, and then dispose of his remains in the incinerator with my best friend from high school just so I could have a good story to tell.

· Apologies for not getting my picks posted last week. I was too busy traveling, eating, and/or getting drunk to deal with relatives and former classmates to worry about posting last week over the holiday. And as you’ve heard me say before in this space… I ain’t getting paid for this. Irregardless, judging by my record (which you’ll see later this week) you were much better off anyway. Stupid Cleveland…

· The Red Sox traded for Marlins pitcher Josh Becket, who went 15-8 with a 3.38 ERA last year. I think this is the best trade…for the Yankees. Why? Well, let’s look at a very comparable pickup from last year… Carl Pavano went 18-8 with a 3.00 ERA for Florida a year before the Yanks acquired him in free agency. That’s better than Beckett by all counts. And Pavano has been super for the Yankees.

And yes, I’m very aware Beckett was the guy who dominated the Yankees in the 2003 World Series. I’m also aware that was 3 years ago. I can’t wait for a repeat of the Matt Clement-type season, where Beckett comes out and gasses six or seven teams and all of Boston piles on to his bandwagon, and then he proceeds to go in the crapper during the playoff stretch run. In fact, I’m more excited about this than I am about Schilling’s inevitable sub .500 season next year, where he limps off into retirement obscurity having used up all of his good graces with the Boston fans because he can’t keep his mouth shut.

In the end, the best part of this deal might be Mike Lowell. Why? Four words: Gold Glove Third Baseman. Have you watched Bill Mueller play third base at all? Seriously.

· But speaking of Carl Pava-“No gonna pitch here anymore”, he said recently he’s “miserable” in NYC and wants out. Jim Rome of Rome is Burning (who I ordinarily can’t stand) went off on Pavano during one of his “burns”… I’m paraphrasing, but his burn went something like this: “He’s miserable? What about the fans who had to watch him? What about his teammates who had to watch their hard work go in the toilet every time he pitched? What about the opposing batters, who had to run all those bases when he was giving up runs? What about their bats, which had to hit all those balls out of the park? Pavano is the last guy who should be complaining.” Amen, Jim.

· Chad Johnson is setting a new standard for TD celebrations. His marriage proposal to a smoking hot Bengals cheerleader last week in the Indy game was classic, if only because it got a smoking hot cheerleader on TV without having a sponsor’s logo slapped over her “assets.” But he 1-upped himself this week by putting the football with the end-zone pylon after a score. I’ve decided to write his written note sympathizing with T.O. off as not-so-temporary insanity. (And yes, I have a soft spot for him because he and Alexander have been carrying my fantasy team. So there.)

· Just as an aside, if anyone out there happens to know Randy Moss and could pass along the following message, I’d really appreciate it: RANDY! FANTASY FOOTBALL PLAYOFFS START NEXT WEEK! GET OFF YOUR F&^KING ASS AND PUT UP SOME NUMBERS! THIS “1 catch for 20 yards” CRAP AIN’T GONNA CUT IT. DON’T MAKE ME BENCH YOU! I’M GOING TO START SAMKON GADO OVER YOU IF YOU DON’T GET YOUR ACT TOGETHER. SERIOUSLY, SAMKON F^%KING GADO. AND DON’T BLAME IT ON KERRY COLLINS EITHER, YOU LAZY ASS! NOW GIT-R-DONE! Ahem. Thank you.

Bill Beard is an independent writer who couldn't possibly be happier that he is not married, doesn't have kids, didn't gain 50 pounds, has served no jail time, doesn't live in central New York, and still doesn't need a boob job. He can be reached for comments or commentary at wrbeard@hotmail.com

The Scarlet Letter

2005-11-18T14:02:00.000-05:00

Roger Maris has the most famous one.

Paul Hamm has the most controversial one in the past few years.

Michelle Wie earned one a few months ago, which I wrote about here.

Raffy Palmerio, Mark McGuire, and Barry Bonds deserve one.

And someday, if there is a God out there, we'll discover that Curt Schilling is a cyborg, and he'll get one too.

Some, like Maris' are not deserved. Some, like Wie's, are unfair. Others, like McGuire, are shameful.

It is the Scarlet Letter of sports. It is the asterisk.

Most of you probably know Maris' story. When Maris hit his 61st home run in the year of the same number on the last game of the year, he broke Babe Ruth's previous record of 60. But in Ruth's time, the season was only 154 games. Maris accomplished his feat in the 162nd game of the season. New York Sportswriter Dick Young—who openly disliked Maris—joked that Maris didn't deserve the record, and an asterisk should be placed next to his accomplishment in the record book.

You've probably even seen Billy Crystal's phenomenal portrayal of this controversial season in the movie 61*.

But what you might not know the most famous asterisk of all doesn't exist. Major League Baseball has no official record book, and no record book carries that asterisk to this day.

The stress of the home run chase bothered the slugger so much, it even turned Maris into a Sinead O'Connor look-alike.

Amazing, how much we love to keep a man down.

Paul Hamm won't get one either, but that doesn't mean he doesn't deserve one. When the gymnast became the first U.S. man to win gold at the all-around competition at the 2004 Athens Olympic games, he became an American icon—as much as a man in tights can, anyway.

It was later discovered that a South Korean gymnast, Yang Te Young, who had won the bronze, had incorrectly been assessed a .10 deduction on his parallel bars routine. The .10 difference would have earned him the gold medal. However, the International Olympic Committee, the most powerful sports committee in the world, and the International Gymnastics Federation (appropriately called the “FIG”) agreed that Yang had been unfairly docked, but the Federation would not overturn the medal standings.

Hamm could keep his medal.

But others argued that Hamm should give up his Gold. He didn't win it fairly. Yang was cheated. But Hamm, with his good American values, refused to give up his gold.

I will not root for Mr. Hamm, I do not like Hamm, Sam I am.

He won't get an asterisk either. But unlike Maris, Hamm deserves one. And I hope every time he looks at it, he realizes what a jackass he is.

And as for those baseball players, I don't think I have to tell you why there's a slew of them that deserve the Scarlet Letter next to their names—even if we can't give them one, because we don't know what we don't know.

Now I don't claim to be on par with Maris or Hamm when it comes to physical ability or even importance, but I find myself debating if I deserve an asterisk after last week's football picks.

Here's why:
Washington over TAMPA BAY

A simple pick. Almost the right pick.

The pool I'm in has a website where we enter our picks every week. It's a good site, not confusing at all. You simply select the radio button next to the team you think will win.

Then, every team you pick gets entered into a table with everyone else's pick. If the team you picked wins, it turns to boldface. The more boldface teams in your row, the better week you had.

Simple.

So after I watched my Giants crap the bed against Minnesota last week—I'm not going to talk about that—I watched the Skins/Bucs game on Sunday. Heck of a game—turnovers, big plays, lots of scoring, even a huge day from Clinton Portis, which (thanks very much) I called.

And it even had a last second finish. The Bucs, scoring a last second touchdown to potentially tie the game, decided to take the Dick Vermeil route and go for two.

I didn't know what to think. Maybe this was a good thing. Momentum was in the Bucs favor. In overtime, the Skins might not survive. But if the Skins hold here, I get my pick.

Simms handed the ball to Allstot. He surged forward. Took a hit. Kept going. And using that massive fullback frame of his, he surged again.

And broke the plane. Game over. Bucs win.

I was okay with that—a skins loss was good for the Giants—but a little disappointed because I lost my pick.

So I was surprised when I checked my picks on Monday and saw this:

TB

Either subconsciously or—more likely—mistakenly, I clicked on the Bucs when making my selections that week.

That put me in the running for the pool. After Dallas' dramatic comeback, I ended up coming as close to winning it as you possibly can without actually winning. My final total score was 39. The actual final score was 41.

And some chump had 40.

I'm okay with that—I didn't want to face a Hamm-esque decision, because I'm pretty damn sure I would have gone the same route as he did. No way I would have given that $50 back. And you would have never read this column, because I wouldn't have told anybody.

As the saying goes, “I'd rather be lucky than good.” Well, maybe it was luck I picked the Bucs by accident. Or maybe I deserve an asterisk. I'll leave that up to you.

But for now, I'll take an 11-3 week and be happy about it.

Asterisk or not.

Quick observation before we get to this week's picks...

*So... A-Rod won the AL MVP this week. Allow me to address all my Red Sox friends in the most mature way possible: NANNY NANNY BOO BOO!!! HE BEAT PAAAAAPI... NANNY NANNY BOO BOO!!!
Seriously though, he deserved it. His numbers were just better. And he played the field. And yes, that matters.

*The Yankees resigned Hideki Matsui to a 4-year, $52 million contract which in my opinion is worth every penny. He was the best available player at his position, but even more importantly: He absolutely kills the Red Sox. Enough said.

*Apparently, my NASCAR column has struck a chord with some people. I've gotten some pretty serious feedback on it. That means:

1.It was good.
2.It was right on.

I'm thinking about posting some comments in the upcoming weeks. So if you have some on that column, send them in.

NFL Week 11 picks:

Last week: 11-3* (.786)
Season: 95-49 (.660)

(Home team in caps)

ST. LOUIS over Arizona
Arizona is bad, umkay?

Carolina over CHICAGO*
Carolina had the weakest first-half schedule in the NFL. But Chicago isn't quite there yet, for reasons beyond my comprehension. I don't think Chicago can stop the Steve Smith Show. This is also a new feature for Lines picks, my "Asterisk Game of the Week" meaning I could change my mind on it at the last minute.

I'm sure you saw Nathan Vasher's 108-yard return for a TD last week, but how crazy were those field goal attempts? Strangely enough, they reminded me of my tee shot. Except that my drives do that on calm days.

DALLAS over Detroit
Don't expect a repeat of Joey Harrington's game from last week. He's not that good.

Indianapolis over CINCINNATTI
Why is everyone hating on Indy’s chance for an undefeated season? The Indianapolis Colts are the A-Rod of the NFL. They’re damn good, they get respect, but no one really likes them. I’ve never been able to figure out why for either of them, but I’m guessing it could be that neither A-Rod or this core Colts team has won it all.

But put aside the fact the Colts have the NFL’s toughest remaining schedule (at CIN, PIT, at JAX, SD, at SEA among others) and they only played one team with a winning record so far. Forget that Peyton hasn’t had one of “those games” yet this year, the one where he looks like he walked into a dance club and realized it was a gay club. (Not that I know that feeling.)

I’m going to say it: I think the Colts will run the table. If Pitt has a healthy Big Ben, that might be the only game. Otherwise, I don’t think any of the other teams match up as well. The Bengals can’t stop the run, the Jaguars are too inconsistent, the Chargers secondary won’t stop Peyton and Marvin, and Seattle just isn’t on that level yet.

You heard me right: Colts 16-0.

Jacksonville over TENNESSEE
Guess what? Fred Taylor is out for this game too. At what point can the media start calling this guy a pussy? I think we passed this point years ago, and no one is doing it.

Miami over CLEVELAND
My buddy Kevin got on my case for picking Ronnie Brown over Cadillac Williams in our fantasy draft, and even worse after the Caddy rolled out to a big start, setting a record for rushing yards by a rookie over the first three games. Hey Kev, who's laughing now? (Actually, Kevin's still in first place in our league, so he probably is. But we go head to head this week for first place. Game of the Week baby!)

NEW ENGLAND over New Orleans
The Battle of the News won't be much of a battle at all.

WASHINGTON over Oakland
What the hell is wrong with Oakland's offense? What's up with Randy Moss? Is Norv Turner underachieving more than any other coach this year, given the weapons at his disposal?

NY GIANTS over Philadelphia
No one questions how much the Giants organization is committed to winning. I mean, their owners keep dying just to motivate the team. Look for another emotional environment in the Meadowlands similar to the one when the Eagles pounded the Redskins a few weeks back. Plus, the Giants were already fired up for this week after last week’s idiotic loss to the Vikings. And with McNabb and T.O. out, the Eagles won’t have a chance. The Eagles are going to be in the basement of the NFC East when the season is over this year, and yes I enjoyed writing that.

ATLANTA over Tampa Bay
Do I look like a bitch? Do I look like a bitch? Then why is Michael Vick trying to **** me like a bitch? (Name the movie!) Seriously. I finally get on board the “Michael Vick Just Wins” bandwagon and he falls to a “1 and Season” Packers team.

Sean Alexander over SAN FRANSISCO

SAN DIEGO over Buffalo
Too many weapons.

DENVER over NY Jets
I think this will be a close game. If Brooks Bollinger can .... hahahahah no okay, I'm sorry, I couldn't do that with a straight face.

Pittsburgh over BALTIMORE
Tommy Maddox is horrible. Just awful. He didn't come within 10 feet of a receiver last week, to the point where the crowd made a sarcastic cheer when he actually completed one. And Antwan Randle-el tossed a 51-yard TD pass to Hines Ward on his only throw. Why would you not start him? He can't be any WORSE than Maddox.

KC over Houston
Houston doesn't need Matt Leinhart. But they're probably going to get him.

GREEN BAY over Minnesota
I’m loving the “Samkon Gado Era.” The guy wasn’t even in the league three weeks ago. And not only does he have the coolest name in the NFL now, the potential for the cool nickname (“El Gado”) but he also carried my fantasy team with 29 points last week. Is there a better feeling in fantasy when you pick up the sleeper of the week and play him? I don’t think so.

But irregardless, are you betting against Brett Farve? In Lambeau? On a Monday Night? I don't think so.

Bill Beard is an independent writer.* He can be reached for comments at wrbeard@hotmail.com.

Back To Earth

2005-11-11T13:40:00.000-05:00

No rant this week, but I would like to have my agent read the following statement:

“Last week, when Bill made his NFL picks, he was doing so in the best interest of his Readers. In no way, at any time, did he purposefully intend to harm or lead his Readers astray. In fact, I see last week’s football picks as an indication of how strongly Bill wants to compete, and give his Readers an edge in their own football pool. I mean, come on guys! You know he gives it his all. And if he writes something from time to time, that other people take out of context, it’s not his fault! He’s a good guy. I like B.B. You like B.B. You can’t question his ability. He’s a top writer. One of the best there is. He’s a solid guy, a good human being, and a performer. And I think you should put him right back in your lineup, and give him a chance with this week’s picks. I’ll now open the floor for questions.”

Reporter: “So why were Bill’s pick’s so bad last week?”

“NEXT QUESTION!”

***
NFL Week 10 Picks
Last Week: 8-6 (.571)
Season: 84-46 (.646)

People that know me know I have a tendency to get a little cocky. Hey look, I like me. In fact, I like me so much I often tell other people how much I like me. My self-esteem has been rated by others as anywhere from “confident” to words I won’t print here, but most of the time I like to think of my self-confidence as a healthy mix of confident and occasional cockiness.

And really, when it comes to sports, the bottom line is that I’m right most of the time. (In the words of the immortal Dizzy Dean, “It ain’t braggin if you really done it.”) I’m right a lot because I study a lot. I read ESPN.com about 10 times a day. I read sports magazines. I haven’t watched a CNN newscast in decades—SportsCenter always comes first.

Plus, I’m a Yankees fan living in Boston. I need to know more than everyone else—especially when it comes to the Sox and Yanks—so that I can earn people’s respect. When I walk into a bar at Fenway wearing my Rivera or Rodriguez shirt, I’m a step below the Really Drunk Guy Who Just Tried To Make Out With Your Girlfriend Right In Front Of You. I’m instantly at a serious disadvantage.

So I need to know my shit. Mostly to avoid getting my ass beat.

But there are times I’ve been wrong. I don’t mean wrong as in, “I referred to Aaron Boone as in Brett Boone,”-wrong, I mean really wrong. Flat out wrong. Foolishly wrong.

And my football picks last week were a prime example of that.

“But Bill,” you’re saying, “you went 8-6. That’s not bad.”

And you’re right. It’s not bad. Hell, against the spread, that would even be considered good. But I’m not using the spread.

But then you take into account this:

I’m in a football pool with 56 other people. I was one of SEVEN people to have fewer than 10 games picked correctly. That’s abysmal. Even worse when I consider I know some of the people in this pool. My Aunt is in there, for crissakes, and I’m pretty sure she swept the floor with me last week. Inexcusable. Needless to say, I plummeted out of the top five.

So I had to have my agent read that statement, T.O. style. Maybe I was trying too hard. Maybe I didn’t pick enough favorites. Went out on too many limbs.

Well, the cosmos sent me back to earth last week. After a spectacular Week 8, I got cocky with my Week 9 picks and paid for it. I’m back to earth this week. No wild guesses. No hunches. I’m going with what I know, not what I “feel.” I can’t say I’ll stay that way for the rest of the season, but I’m looking at this like a playoff-bound team looks at the game after the one where they get their asses handed to them. Essentially, I’m the Pats this week. I need a solid performance and a win. No funny stuff. No trick plays. Go back to the fundamentals, good old smash-mouth, and get it done.

So here you go. Picks for Week 10. GIT-R-DONE!

JACKSONVILLE over Baltimore
Guess what, Fred Taylor is out for this game. Shocker! Maybe this is the game where Del Rio figures out that Greg Jones is better than Taylor. And I'd say Jones is more reliable, but that would be as obvious as:

INDIANAPOLIS over Houston
If this game were a bar, the Colts would be the hot model chick that makes your jaw drop to the floor, and the Texans would be the girl who is apparently the primary stockholder of the Hostess Corporation. It's no contest.

DETROIT over Arizona
Because I have absolutely nothing to say about this game:

Is there a better show in recent history than "Rome" on HBO? The last two episodes I've watched On Demand not only had an epic battle, but have also featured the following: two naked chicks having a swordfight; a brothel lineup; a man stabbed in the throat; three sex scenes with naked women; underhanded, backstabbing politicians; more infidelity than a season's worth of Desperate Housewives; two ~~Carolina Cheerleaders~~ um, Roman noblewomen having sex; a shipwreck in a hurricane; and a man beheaded right in front of his family.

Now let's put aside that I was an Ancient History minor with a specialization in Roman Civilization and that this show's plot was apparently written by someone who thinks Marc Anthony is a pop star—I'm still burning through On Demand episodes faster than Tom Cruise is running out of friends.

Personally, I'm waiting for the video game. I haven’t heard any rumors or anything, but if they make it, I’m telling you, it will be the heir apparent to the GTA series.

Kansas City over BUFFALO
Priest Holmes is done for the season, and may announce his retirement soon. How many teams in the league could survive if someone this integral to their offense went down? Three? Four? Larry Johnson could start for about 28 different NFL teams. And now that he's got his second straight game in the #1 spot—with no one looking over his shoulder—he’s going to go off. This may be the only saving grace for my buddy Craig, who has T.O. and Johnson on his fantasy team. I feel worse for my buddy Breeze, who picked Holmes with his first pick and was already in last place before this happened. Plus, he's roommates with Craig, who once picked a kicker in the fourth round. I'm putting Breeze on "fantasy suicide watch" this week.

NY GIANTS over Minnesota
The Giants are 6-2. Will they win the NFC East? I think so. Will Eli meet his brother in the Super Bowl? Doubtful. But the Giants defense hasn't allowed a touchdown in two games. Sure, they give up more yards than just about anyone, but as they say, “Ain’t no yards on a scoreboard.” You’ve heard that one before, right? Sure you have. I think the no-TD streak ends this week, but the Vikes are no match for the G-men in the Medowlands.

New England over MIAMI
If Gus Frrrrerrrotte beats the Pats, I'll pick Miami for every single game for the rest of the... okay, no I won't, but you see what I'm getting at here.

CHICAGO over San Fransisco
Chicago's D is one of the best in the league and Thomas Jones has turned into one of the best backs in the league. But even if he can't go, Cedric Benson proved last week that he can get the job done (14 carries for 86 yards). And Kyle Orton is having a great rookie year, considering he's a rookie. What I can't figure out is how this team is as bad as it is... almost losing to Detroit and New Orleans in two weeks. Everyone is praising Lovie, but I'm wondering... what gives?

Washington over TAMPA BAY
Is there a bandwagon that emptied faster than the "Mark Brunell Comeback Season" bandwagon? Everyone seems to forget this guy was competing with Patrick Ramsey for the starting job. This is like being forced to make a decision between an OV Split and a Schlitz. Sure, they do the job, but it’s still the bottom of the barrel.

But these teams have two of the best defenses in the NFL. So when that happens, I have to give the nod to the team with the better RB. I think Portis makes the difference in this game. And no, I can't back that up.

Denver over OAKLAND
What happened to Randy Moss? Isn't he supposed to be the best receiver in the NFL? Does he know that he's the only reason my most important fantasy team isn't undefeated? He's given me crap for the last four weeks and I've still won them all. I was striving for fantasy perfection here, people. He better turn it around this week. But it still won't be enough if he does. Denver just has too many weapons.

CAROLINA over NY Jets
News stories like this come along once in a lifetime: Apparently two Carolina cheerleaders were arrested for having sex in a bathroom stall in a Tampa bar. Damn, I love football.

I'm going to Carolina in my mind... about four times a day.

ATLANTA over Green Bay
Okay already, Michael Vick just wins. I get it. But I’d still pick any of these guys over him as my QB: Either Manning, Big Ben, Favre, Hasslebeck, McNabb, Brady, Palmer, Delhomme, and Bulger, in no particular order. I think you need a traditional QB to win big in this league. A pure passer. And if he’s quick and can scramble, even better. But he has to be a able to throw the ball downfield consistently and accurately. Vick can’t. Plain and simple.

SEATTLE over St. Louis
Probably the best game on the docket. St. Louis beat Seattle three times last year (2x regular season, 1x playoffs) so Seattle has the revenge motif locked up. Plus, St. Louis is banged up, even if they return Bruce, Holt, and Bulger for this game. This is one of the NFL’s best rivalries and no one talks about it… probably because it doesn’t involve any East Coast teams. The Rams are essentially a West Coast team, right? I mean, there’s the fact that they moved from L.A. and that I really don’t have a sense of where St. Louis is in relation to, well, anything. (Someday, someone needs to explain to me why people bother to live in the Midwest. Seriously.) Though I can’t get too down on a city that is one of the world’s leading producers of beer. In fact, now that I think about it, I fucking LOVE St. Louis. Seriously. Best. City. Ever. And I mean that, even though I’ve never been there.

PITTSBURGH over Cleveland
Aren’t you just a little disappointed in the Romeo Crennel era so far? Just a little? Me too. I can’t help thinking Cleveland should be 5-3 instead of 3-5. They lost to Houston and Detroit. Still too soon to start printing the “Romeo Must Die” signs, but I’m just saying. Why is this game the Sunday night game? I can picture myself falling asleep on the couch already.

Dallas over PHILADELPHIA
Tiebreaker points: 39
I only have one gambling rule that I never go against: NEVER, under ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, bet against The Tuna on Monday Night. Never. Of course, with T.O. out, Philly’s lack of a running game and D, it just makes this pick a gimmie. If someone can explain to me how the hell Philly is favored by 3 in this game, I’d love to hear it. I know it’s in Philly, but did anyone see the 33-10 thrashing Dallas gave them earlier this year with T.O.? I’m not saying it will be that bad, but Philly should not be favored in this game. I might have to place a real bet on this one…

Bill Beard is an independent writer who is Back To Earth this week. He can be reached if you know a bookie so he can bet on that MNF game at wrbeard@hotmail.com.

So Long, Theo

2005-11-03T23:15:00.000-05:00

This week, Red Sox General Manager Theo Epstein accepted a three-year, 4.5 million contract to remain as Red Sox GM.

Then, within hours of that announcement, Theo Epstein resigned as General Manger of the Red Sox. Sending shockwaves through the organization and the city of Boston.

(Do you hear the champagne bottles popping in the Bronx?)

There are currently three or four different theories as to why Theo is abdicating his throne as GM and as the most eligible bachelor in Boston (other than Tom Brady), and if you’re curious I’ll let the expert on obnoxious conspiracies tell you what they are.

To be honest, I’ve had mixed feelings on Theo during his tenure. Actually, I still do—I’ve rewritten this column three times since Monday. (So if this column is wishy-washy on the guy, don’t be surprised.)

I’m not sure if the guy was good, lucky, or even worse, both.

Of course, I wanted to hate him from the start, for several reasons:

1. He works for the Red Sox and is a lifelong Red Sox fan, which for me is reason enough.

2. He was the youngest GM in baseball history (After you turn about 18 and realize that you’ll never actually play professional sports, this is your next dream job. So don’t tell me that doesn’t make you a bit jealous.)

3. The guy is nearly flawless. He’s smart, good-looking, rich (even before he got the job), humble, patient, not a glory hound, etc. As much as you like the guy, you dislike him for all that too, right? Isn’t this like that old cosmetics commercial where the girl says, “Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful?” Every woman hates that woman but wants to be her, and every guy wants her. Theo is her male counterpart.

Of course, the fact that the guy brought the Red Sox their first World Series Championship nailed the lid in the coffin for me. I may not like him, but I respect him.

But now that Theo’s tenure is being dragged through the media mud, it really begs a question: is Theo as good as his rep?

A popular rumor over the past few weeks stated that the Red Sox didn’t think so. And in many ways, it’s justified. If you think about it, Wonderboy has failed at his job as much as he’s been successful. Bill Simmons nails it on the head in this week’s column, which I’m going to partially reproduce here without express written consent:

Many of the blockbuster moves [Theo] wanted to make over that time (Jose Contreras before 2003, Javy Vazquez and the Manny/A-Rod and Nomar/Magglio Ordonez trades before 2004, Carl Pavano and Adrian Beltre before 2005) would have worked out poorly in the end. In each case, his Plan B or C (keeping Manny, getting Curt Schilling and Orlando Cabrera) ended up being a better move than his original intention. Is that skill, is that luck, or is it a little of both? You tell me.

So you can’t deny he was lucky. But he was also good. And here’s my proof for that. I give you the lineup for the Most Important Game in Red Sox Postseason History. That is, of course, Game Four of the 2004 ALCS, and I just threw up on my keyboard thinking about it.

Take a look at it. It’s every Sox player who was on the field that night Boston stole the momentum and pretty much ruined my life for all of 2005 (until the sox were swept—that’s right, swept—this fall, thank God).

Every player, the year they were signed, and who signed them:

Batters	Year	Responsible
Damon (CF)	2002	Duquette
Cabrera (SS)	2004	Epstein
Ramirez (LF)	2001	Duquette
Ortiz (DH)	2003	Epstein
Varitek (C)	1997	Duquette
Nixon (RF)	1996	Boston Farmhand
Millar (1B)	2003	Epstein
(PR Roberts)	2004	Epstein
Mueller (3B)	2003	Epstein
Reese (2B)	2004	Epstein
Bellhorn (2B)	2004	Epstein
Mientkiewicz (1B)	2004	Epstein

Pitchers (in order)
Lowe (SP)	1998	Duquette
Timlin (BS)	2003	Epstein
Foulke	2004	Epstein
Embree	2003	Epstein
Myers	2004	Epstein
Leskanic (W)	2004	Epstein

So Epstein and his management team were responsible for putting in place 13 of the 17 of the Red Sox players who took the field in that historical game.

Without Theo, there’s no Kevin Millar to get the big hit off Rivera, no Brian Roberts to steal second, no Bill Mueller to drive him in, no David Ortiz to win it three innings later, and no upending of my world as I knew it.

(And no fucking bloody sock enshrined forever in Cooperstown either.)

So you can't deny he was good.

But regardless of who or what Theo was, the fact that he’s bolting Boston is great news for the Yankees—especially after resigning GM Brian Cashman last week.

But one thing that a couple of people have asked me… Why weren’t the Sox willing to give Theo whatever he wants in order to keep him?

Great question.

This is the guy who brought Boston a World Series, right? The first one in 86 years? Who almost ruined the aforementioned conspiracist’s career when he put the team in place that ultimately broke “the curse”? The guy who had the balls to trade the face of Boston, Nomar, for two lesser players who turned out to be exactly what the Sox needed, singlehandedly turning the season around and going down as potentially the best mid-season trade of all time? And to top it all off, he’s only 31 and was the youngest GM in history when he was hired? The native Bostonian who should have been the GM for the next 30 years?

They’re not willing to give this guy whatever he wants?

Apparently… not.

I can’t say why definitively, and don’t hold your breath waiting for the Sox too, either.

But I’m not surprised by it, for two simple reasons:

This is what the Red Sox do. They have a set price or contract in mind, and when they hit that limit, that’s it. New Ownership, Old Ownership, doesn’t matter. Most notable example: A-Rod, and no, it wasn’t visionary not to sign him, it was idiocy at the time and remains that way, regardless if they lucked out on the outcome. This would be like picking U2 over Bon Jovi in the late 80s. Two superstar bands, two top albums (Joshua Tree, 1987; Slippery When Wet, 1986) and both potential long-term players in the field. But Bon Jovi was just astronomical at the time, and big hair was hot. So what if you got lucky and went with U2—now the biggest band in the world, playing the largest arenas, while Bon Jovi plays small rooms packed with single horny women in their late 30s, still with big hair—you still would have been wrong at the time.

The other reason is that Tom Henry (the Owner) and Larry Lucchino (minority owner/CEO) are very good friends. If Theo and Lucchino are butting heads as rumored, Tom is going with Larry, even despite the worst acting performance by an owner in press-conference history.

Theo’s out, and after his "White House Press Secretary During Every Presidential Scandal in the Past Thirty Years" -style press conference, it's clear he's keeping the reasons to himself.

But really, all we can do now is look at how he’s leaving. Some people are saying Theo’s exit is on his terms, and they’re admiring him for it.

Not me. I don’t buy the crap about “he accomplished his goal and knows it was time to move on.”

Really? His goal was one World Series? Just one? Maybe he wasn’t that smart or driven after all.

There are only two teams that set their GMs up with a chance to put together a World Series team every year:

The Yankees and the Red Sox. That’s it.

Outside of those two, you've got small markets, small payrolls, fan disinterest, poor attendance, years of playoff droughts, penny-pinching ownership, etc etc etc.

And he thought the job in Boston would be too much for him to take?

Theo is in for a world of hurt. Seriously. He’s going to go away to another job, lured by the unlimited money and the unlimited power a guy like Frank McCourt of the Dodgers is going to toss at him, and he’s going to find out the hard way that the grass was greener where he was.

Not only that, but who was the last guy to walk away from the dream life? That's right... Theo is a nappy beard and a half-completed acupuncture degree away from becoming the next Ricky Williams.

I think Theo would look cool with dreds and a hobo beard.

So to Theo, I’d say this…

On behalf of Yanks fans everywhere, thanks for leaving your hometown team and abandoning the city you claimed to love. I don’t care if it’s the right decision for you or not—you’re still running away for personal reasons, and in my book, that’s something we call “selfish.”

But thanks for getting the hell out of dodge and letting the Sox replace you with someone inferior. There's no way the next guy will be as good and/or lucky as you. Thanks for giving up potential superstardom and hometown hero status for the rest of your life. (Brilliant!) And a special thanks to Sox Ownership for once again refusing to go the extra mile, or to reward a guy for extraordinary service.

Theo, I wish you the best of luck…

…as long as you sign with a National League team.

Observations from the past week:

AL Gold Gloves were announced this week. Among the first time winners was Jason Varitek, which makes no sense, considering how he’s not even the best defensive catcher on his own team. How can you justify a Gold Glove for a guy who gets replaced every five days because he can’t catch Wakefield’s knuckleball? … Jeter also won his second straight at Shortstop, and he promptly thanked A-Rod for switching to third … Kenny Rogers also won, even though I had no idea he was a good defensive pitcher. I thought he was only good at getting his hands on cameramen.

Poker-gate! A-Rod was reportedly warned by the Yankees not to play poker in illegal poker joints. I never figured A-Rod for a gambler. But I think A-Rod should take the Yankees advice—a guy who just put forth the worst postseason performance after an MVP season should avoid ALL connections to gambling. And yes, I’m implying what you think I’m implying.

The most shocking news item of the past week by far: Manny wants a trade! Hey, didn’t see that coming.

The first news item on ‘Cuse basketball this year was a little unexpected… Head Coach Jimmy Beoheim was thrown out of the game for arguing foul calls during an exhibition. It's Beoheim's 30th year as head coach, and I'm not certain of this, but I'm pretty sure that's the first time he's ever been ejected from a game. (I'm going to start diving into college basketball over the next few weeks, so get ready.)

One thing about writing this column every week is how much deeper I've been letting myself dive into the sports world. I'm even tempted to start following the NBA, which tipped off it's regular season this week. Unless Kobe goes to Colorado for some fun, I'm going to do my best not to write about the NBA at all.

Last week in my football picks, with the return of Bruschi to the Pats, I asked if one NFL columnist would mention that the Bills are just a bad team. Well, of the 2,000 articles that appeared on the game, no one did, but Michael Smith came closest in his last few paragraphs. And by the way, if we saw a “revitalized” Pats team in Foxboro last week, New England is in serious trouble. They gave up 394 yards. Against Kelly Holcombe. Seriously.

Had enought yet? Well, on to this week’s NFL picks…

NFL picks for Week 9

Last week: 12-2 (.857)
Season: 76-40 (.655)

Had a hell of a gambling week last week, as you can see. I was 9 points away from winning my weekly pool, but lost thanks to an out-of-the-blue performance by the Ravens on Monday night, which was the most unexpected thing I’ve seen during a primetime football game since Janet Jackson’s nipple. (More on the Ravens later.) I’m also tied for fifth place in for the season in that pool, three picks off the lead. Plenty of time to make that up (or fall apart). I’ll also point out I correctly picked Houston to get its first win of the season, thanks very much.

And both my fantasy teams won handily. I’ll file that under “like you care.”

But I digress. To the picks! (Home team in CAPS)

Atlanta over MIAMI
You can say whatever you want about Michael Vick’s record as a starter. You can say whatever you want about his athletic ability. You can say whatever you want about how he’s the most exciting player in the game. You can say it all, and it’s all true. But he’s still a crappy quarterback who makes way too many mistakes. He’s never going to win a Super Bowl if he doesn’t learn that a quarterback’s primary job is to pass the ball. He’s like an athletic Brett Favre… all “shock and awe” … shock, as in, “I DON’T BELIEVE HE MADE THAT PLAY!” and awe, as in, “AW SHIT I CAN’T BELIEVE HE TURNED IT OVER AGAIN!” (I broke a cardinal rule here, and had Miami in this game. Then I changed it. Which of course guarantees a Miami victory. So I'm changing it again:)

MIAMI over Atlanta
So you know what this means, right?

Carolina over TAMPA BAY
Tampa Bay got SHUT DOWN by San Fran last week. One of the two games I got wrong. Which begs the question… is San Fran not as bad as we thought, or are the Bucs not as good as we thought? Well, when the Giants beat the Niners by about 30 this weekend, and you see the final score in this game, you’ll have your answer.

Chicago over BATON ROUGE
They’re not in New Orleans anymore, and they’re not going back after this season. And after this season, the people in New Orleans will probably thank them. And also in the news this week, Saints owner Tom Benson won his first Gold Glove.

BALTIMORE over Cincinnati
Do you see what I’m doing here? Do you see it? Do you know why? Let me refresh your memory… from last week’s pick against the Steelers:

”If Baltimore scores more than 9 points, I’ll pick them for every game for the rest of the year regardless of the opponent. I’m not kidding, I’ll really do it. I'll screw my entire pool for the rest of the year.”

Of course, true to my luck, Baltimore had 10 points midway through the second quarter. I’m going to make this pick, and screw myself for this week, but that’s as far as I’m going to let it go. I’m in contention here for over $500, so that should teach everyone a lesson: never listen to a guy who has a chance to win money. He’s probably lying.

But how about that game? I'm glad I bought cans of beer instead of bottles, because I would have broken them and tried to gouge my eyes out during this game. I had 30 points as the tiebreaker, and no one was lower than me. So all I needed was for the game to be 30 points or lower. With the state of the Ravens O, that was a given, right?

But I underestimated Brian Billick. Think about it. You're the head coach of a 2-5 team, you're playing on the road without your starting QB, without two of the best defensive players in the league, and your starting running back is averaging 2.9 yards per carry. Not a single expert is picking you to win this game. Not one. So you basically say “fuck it” and turn your backup QB loose, letting him throw the ball anywhere he wants, deep as he wants. The Ravens caught the Steelers completely off guard, and if Matt Stover doesn’t miss a field goal in the second quarter, this could have been Ravens victory.

Who knows? Maybe the freakin Ravens can win this…. Okay, nevermind.

MINNESOTA over Detroit
What else is on?

JACKSONVILLE over Houston
Here are some teams on the remainder of Jacksonville’s schedule: Houston Junior High, Tennessee A&M, Vancouver Argonauts, Mexico City Cardinals, San Francisco Giants, etc. With the exception of a game at Indy, there is no reason Fred Taylor’s Groin Squad can’t win out.

Oakland over KANSAS CITY
I’m like Charlie Sheen in a brothel on this one: just can’t make up my mind. Probably the toughest game to gauge on the schedule. Too bad I can’t just pick the “over” and be done with it.

I wonder who Charlie would take in this game?

San Diego over NEW YORK JETS
Not even close. Seriously.

Tennessee over CLEVELAND
Is this week’s schedule a piece of crap or what?

New York Giants over SAN FRAN
Ditto. And I’m not willing to give the Giants the NFC East (or the NFC Championship as some NFL “experts” like Michael Wilbon on PTI are) but that was the second most impressive win I’ve ever seen by a Giants squad. Just absolute domination. I kept repeating myself while watching it… “I don’t think I’ve ever seen them play like this.” And this is the first time I’ve ever watched a DVRed football game in its entirety. So you know it had to be good. (The first most impressive win by the G-men I’ve seen was the NFC title game in 2000 when Collins went off and they beat Minnesota 40-0, in case you were wondering. Of course, they went on to get beat by Trent Dilfer in the Super Bowl, which is all the reminder you need not to trust the Giants at all.)

The most inspirational tactic Wellington Mara ever employed: dying.

Seattle over ARIZONA
When the major plotline is, “How many touchdowns will Sean Alexander score?” you might be in trouble.

Pittsburgh over GREEN BAY
I’m willing to pull for Brett Favre this year, as long as he promises to hang it up at the end of the season. But even with Roethlisberger on the sidelines, Pitt only has to ask Charlie Batch not to screw up on his 15 pass attempts to win this game. He can do that, right? Despite the fact he's got the second-longest losing streak (10 games) among active quarterbacks? I think Cowher learned his lesson after the Maddox incident in Jacksonville, and I'm sure he'll avoid putting Batch in a position to influence the outcome of the game--for better or worse.

Philadelphia over WASHINGTON
Congratulations if you had Week 8 on “The wheels will come off the Brunell-Moss combo.” You’re the big winner here. And how about those Eagles? Say it with me… “You can’t win in this league if you can’t run the ball.” I think TO is going to play in this game. And I think Philly is still a better team than Washington, despite that Deer Hunter-esqe performance we saw in Denver last week.

I'm not going to comment on T.O.'s comments this morning, when he said he agreed with Michael Irvin's assesment that if Brett Favre were the Eagles quarterback, the Eagles would be undefeated right now. Okay, I take that back, I am going to comment: First, no one doubts Favre is a better QB than McNabb. Second, no one doubts that Favre is tougher than McNabb. Third, there's no way the Eagles would be undefeated with Favre, because Green Bay certainly isn't, and McNabb didn't give up 49 points to Denver last week. And fourth, T.O. is an idiot, as if you needed me to tell you that. Why's he got to go hating on my boy McNabb like that? Does he have any concept of "team" at all? To quote Leon, "There ain't no 'we' in team, either" right T.O.? Can they ship this guy back out to a non-contender on the West Coast so we don't have to hear from him anymore?

NEW ENGLAND vs. Indy
This is the year, right? The year Peyton gets off the schnide? The year Dungee has it figured out? The year the Pats look weak and are so depleated with injuries they finally crack? The year we see that Crennel was the defensive mastermind who shut down Peyton? The year that Indy is the better team even though they've only played one team with a winning record and the Pats have played seven teams that averaged 11 wins last year?

So this is year that the Colts finally emerge from Foxboro with a victory?

Nope. NEW ENGLAND over Indy

I could talk about all the pieces of this game, and easily make this its own column. But it doesn't need to be. Because really, it's obvious:

Until I see it happen, I will not believe it. And I'm certainly not picking it.

Bill Beard is an independent writer who thinks twenty years from now, we could be looking back and talking about Eli instead of Peyton. He can be reached for offers to take the Red Sox GM job at wrbeard@hotmail.com.

Overrated, Underestimated

2005-10-27T17:11:00.000-04:00

I want to say something about the 2005 World Champion Chicago White Sox:

I wasn’t wrong about this team.

My stance on the Chi-Sox has been that they’re a team full of guys having career years. I stand by that statement. Talent-wise, they’re not nearly as good as they played in the first half of the regular season or in the playoffs.

But I will give them credit on two fronts: they believed they could win it, unlike the Astros, who looked beaten after game 1—let alone after Podsednik’s walk-off. And they rode that confidence (and momentum) through the playoffs and right to the title.

And two, Ozzie Guillen deserves all the credit. I mean, all of it. The unconventional choices he made (most prominently, eschewing the lefy-righty pitching matchups) as well as his understanding that the World Series is about fundamentals (bunting, fielding, etc. especially when the games are in NL parks) won his team a title. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a manager influence a team from every aspect of the game the way he did, from every perspective: emotional, mental toughness, confidence, decision-making in lineups and switches, what have you.

But I will—wait for it—admit to being wrong about the Astros. Their pitching was solid, but not dominating, and their bats were colder than Nicole Kidman locked in a room with Tom and Katie. They failed to score a run in about 15 straight innings to end the Series. I think some credit is due to the White Sox staff, but I’m telling you, Freddy Garcia… not that good.

So, not to take anything away from the White Sox—well, okay, just a little—they didn’t win this thing as much as the Astros lost it.

So Congratulations to the South Siders who have waited since 1916, who endured the loss in ’59, even the few remaining who remember the 1919 Black Sox Scandal that nearly ruined baseball.

(By the way, Eight Men Out was on Encore last night and I got suckered in. Who didn’t realize that movie A.) was made in 1988—I always thought it was older—and B.) starred John Cusack and Charlie Sheen? Did anyone realize that the acting roster in the 80s was so full of effeminate Coreys that Charlie Sheen was cast as a lead actor in not one, but two baseball movies?)

So South Siders, enjoy your World Championship. Unless Ozzie pulls off another miracle next year, I see this team winning 80 games (assuming Konerko is gone), barely staying above .500. Maybe. Because I’m telling you, to borrow a slogan from another sport, “These guys are(n’t that) good.”

* * * *

Observations from the last week:
Roofgate! Why wouldn’t Bud close the roof at Minute Maid? Hey Bud, it’s called "Home-Field Advantage" for a reason. If the home team wants to manipulate the stadium, they should be allowed. If we ever needed proof that Bud is a power hungry despot, we saw it this week. In fact, I'm calling it the "MLBud" from now on. What I was wondering the whole game: why didn’t the Astros just close the damn thing? What could Bud do to them? Fine them? That’s the worst he could do, right? He couldn’t make them forfeit a World Series Game. No way. Can you picture Bud forcibly trying to hit the switch to close it? Do you think FOX wouldn't have been all over that, a knock-down drag-out "fisticuffs" between Drayton and Bud? That would have been infinitely more exciting than the actual games. Wouldn’t it have been worth it?

With all of the action of this year’s series, with all of the runs being scored, I’m really surprised this was the lowest rated world series ever. Wait. There was no action, there were no runs scored, and no I’m not. $10 says the Yanks and Sox make the ALCS next year, because MLBud is going to rig it for the ratings.

I stayed up for the entire “epic” 14-inning game on Wednesday. Did you? No. Why? Because you’re smarter than I am. You knew that game was going to be among the most boring extra-inning games in history (postseason or otherwise) and you went to bed. If you were even watching in the first place. But I watched the every regulation frame, and once you’re invested like that, it’s nearly impossible to turn off the TV. Because you know, the minute you do, you’re going to read online next morning the game ended in the next half-inning in dramatic walk-off fashion, or worse, went on to something insane like 28 innings and was so legendary people will be talking about it for years.

There’s a sick pride in saying you stayed up for it, just like I take a sick pride that I was at Fenway for Game 3 of the 2004 ALCS (the 19-8 Yanks slaughter that everyone thought slammed the door) or that I still remember staying up to watch the 16-inning 1986 NLCS game between the Mets and Astros when I was 9. The Mets barely won that game 7-6 even after scoring 3 in the top of the 16th off hits by a coked-out Strawberry and by ultra-clutch Lenny Dykstra. I took pride in having witnessed that. (Unfortunately, that’s not the “longest game in postseason history” anymore, thanks to the 18-inning affair between the Astros and the Cards in the ALDS this year. Ironic that the 1986 game eliminated the ‘Stros, and this year’s sent them to the World Series.)

We all know who the real man in '86 was. That's right. Mr. Carter.

Holy crap, that was a ramble. Let’s move on.

NFL Week 8 picks

Somebody asked me why I wasn’t using the spread. Well, because the pool I’m in doesn’t require it. Plain and simple.

Last Week: 10-4 (.714)
Season: 64-38 (.627)

DALLAS over Arizona
I love the fact Drew Bledsoe is playing for a team in the same division as the Giants. He guarantees the Cowboys at least 5 or 6 losses solely on his own, like last week’s game at Seattle, which is probably in the top 5 of all time turnarounds where you sat there going, “wait, did they just lose that game? Did that really happen?” Which is typical of any game involving Bledsoe. Lucky for him, he has a top tier D that won’t allow for many close games. Including this one.

Chicago over DETROIT
Thomas Jones. Raise your hand if you thought we’d be watching the Cedric Benson show by now. Yeah, mine’s up. Meanwhile, the Jeff Garcia era continues in vintage Garcia style: .500 ball.

HOUSTON over Cleveland
Because this is the NFL, and it has to happen sooner rather than later.

CINCINATTI over Green Bay
Brett Farve always scares me. He scares me with how good he can be, and how bad he can be. Playing with his 3rd string RB and without two of his three best WRs, I’m guessing this week is for the bad. Plus, the Packers D is horrendous.

Jacksonville over ST. LOUIS
No Torry Holt. No Marc Bulger. No Issac Bruce. No Pass Defense. Of course, that could all be offset by No Mike Martz, which actually makes St. Louis better. But I doubt it.

Miami over NEW ORLEANS
It’s Ronnie Brown’s world, baby… And Ricky Williams is just a pothead with a nappy beard.

CAROLINA over Minnesota
Green Bay has no defense, so don’t put too much stock in the Vikes win last week. Plus, John Fox had the bye week to prepare. [Insert bad joke about Vikings season setting sail here.]

Oakland over TENNESSEE
Name three playmakers for the Raiders. Name three playmakers for the Titans. Exactly.

NY GIANTS over Washington
Tough game to pick. The Giants had a HUGE win last week, and yes, I believe that Eli is the real deal, and no, I didn’t need to read the approximately 1,000 columns on ESPN.com this week about him to tell me that. I need horse tranquilizers to watch the Giants D without punching my TV, but their offense makes up for it. Washington has found its offense from Mark Brunell and Santana Moss, which I can’t believe I just wrote. (Moss is leading WRs in yards and TDs.) I ultimately give this to the Giants because it’s in the Meadowlands. And don’t underestimate the inspiration of the passing of Wellington Mara for the G-men.

As a side note: I am loving the Eli era and the resurgence of the NFC East because it gets ratings… I can’t remember the last time the Giants were on TV in Boston for three straight weekends.

SAN DIEGO over Kansas City
The other 1,000 articles on ESPN.com this week were about San Diego’s A-Rod-like performance in the clutch. I can’t believe LT got shut down that badly last week (7 yards? Seven?), though I did think his TD streak might end (playing in Philly is tough on anyone, not just the Eagles). Kansas City is coming off a long weekend after their Wilma game, so they’ve had extra time to prepare. But KC’s D isn’t even in the same league with Philly’s. Look for LT to go, as the kids like to say, “off.”

DENVER over Philadelphia
Philly can’t run the ball. Their D is strong enough to make up for it at home (like last week’s lucky blocked FG), but not in Denver. Allow me to be trite and say, “you can’t win in this league if you can’t run the ball.” And please, don’t give me the crap that, “a three yard pass is just like a run.” Actually, did you see that part where he throws the ball? That’s called a pass. The play, the blocking scheme, the trends it establishes, everything is different. What’s the over-under for the week that Donovan’s arm falls off? I’m setting the line at week 13.

Interesting note about that FG block last week from ESPN’s Len Pasquarelli:

Now it can be told: When safety Quintin Mikell broke through the right side of the San Diego field goal unit last Sunday afternoon, and blocked a Nate Kaeding attempt that was then recovered by teammate Matt Ware and returned 65 yards for the game-winning touchdown, the Philadelphia Eagles had only 10 players on the field.

Tampa Bay at SAN FRANSISCO
If you have anyone—and I mean anyone—on Tampa Bay on your fantasy team, and you don’t start them this week, I’m instantly confiscating your entire team and distributing it to the needy, or my friend Breeze, who’s team is in the crapper at 1-6.

NEW ENGLAND over Buffalo
When this game is over, and after everyone gets all fucking teary-eyed over Tedy Bruschi’s inspirational return being the main factor behind the win, will at least one national columnist have the courage to point out that Buffalo started Kelly Holcombe at QB—yes, Kelly Holcombe, who backed up Tim Couch in Cleveland, who’s not even in the league anymore—and that Buffalo has the league’s second-worst run defense? Seriously, one columnist? I’m guessing… not.

PITTSBURGH over Baltimore
Not to beat a dead horse with this shtick, but: No Ray Lewis. No Ed Reed. No Kyle Boller. No Jamal Lewis, even though he is in fact playing. Did anyone see what the Steelers did to Cincy in Cincy? If Baltimore scores more than 9 points, I’ll pick them for every game for the rest of the year regardless of the opponent. I’m not kidding, I’ll really do it. I'll screw my entire pool for the rest of the year. In fact, I’m so confident they won’t, I’m willing to take bets from anyone who thinks they will. Email me with denominations or dares.

Two quick hits:
In the "If you don't know you better asx somebody" category: Jason Whitlock's NFL truths is a weekly must-read. Sports Humor at its finest.

In the "Clouds parted, Angels sang, and I wept with Joy" category: The first college basketball poll was released by the AP today. It's too soon for me to comment on this, but if Vegas is giving favorable odds on "Bill will write a 4,000 word college basketball preview column at some point in the near future" I strongly you slap money down to the affirmative.

Bill Beard is an independent writer who will be on a Halloween costume bar crawl tomorrow, telling all of Boston to “Stay Classy.” He can be reached by Veronica Corningstone’s everywhere at wrbeard@hotmail.com.

Why NASCAR Sucks

2005-10-18T16:23:00.000-04:00

In case you haven’t heard, ESPN is expected to announce a multi-million dollar deal with NASCAR that will allow the Worldwide Leader to carry NASCAR races in 2006, purportedly in the fall months.

To ESPN, I say… I thought we were over this.

I know you used to carry NASCAR races years ago, and even had shows like “RPM Tonight,” which absolutely no one outside of Alabama or South Carolina watched.

I thought you had moved on.

You’re the class of the sports world now. Every young athlete hopes to someday see himself on SportsCenter’s Top 10. You’re “The Show” for every sports desk jockey commentating over grainy clips of local high school football in every Podunk town—someday, they hope to get the call. You’re so good that you even had a reality show to become a sports anchor on your own network system.

So why are you regressing to this second-class sport? (Yes, that’s what it is.)

I thought your foray into Poker was just a phase. It was hot, and you picked it up like a drunk guy hitting on the group of fat girls at the pizza place at 3am. No one could blame you. Luckily, Behind Enemy Lines didn’t exist at the time, or I may have written a 3,000 word diatribe on how Poker is not even remotely a sport.

I thought your Poker phase would come and go, just like Colin Farrell’s career has. I was wrong about Poker—somehow it’s still around and popular, which doesn’t change the fact it’s not a sport and should never be broadcast on TV.

But I thought it was nothing a few Sox/Yankees ALCS matchups couldn’t fix, just like a pint of Ben & Jerry’s Gobfather fixes depression for dumped girls everywhere. I thought we’d fight through it, and you’d go back to your upstanding ways, the standard for all who broadcast sports, the true Worldwide Leader.

But now this. You’re lowering yourself down into the dregs of humanity. Into… ugh …. NASCAR.

Well, you’ve asked for it. I didn’t want to have to do it, but you’re forcing me. A little tough love is in order. And remember, this will hurt me more than it will hurt you. (Didn’t you love it when your parents said that? Then give me the damn belt, right?)

ESPN, you need to be reminded why NASCAR sucks.

It’s time for a little intervention. I’ve got your 12-steps right here, biatch. Even if I could only think of 6.

Six Reasons why NASCAR sucks.

1. The damn cars go in a circle 500 friggin times.
Holy Crap. I’ve had physical exams from doctors with cold hands that were more exciting than this. Seriously, 500 times? In a circle? Listen, most TV viewers have the attention span of Speedy Gonzalez on Speed. They’re not going to stay tuned for this. And why on earth would they want to? I can tune into SportsCenter, watch the flaming wrecks, see who wins, and check online for the Bikini Wax standings. At a time when the MLB is cutting down on delays in baseball games, you expect viewers to watch cars go in the same circle 500 times? There’s a reason why NBC dropped NASCAR. The ratings are awful.

2. >The announcers are the worst in sports.
My dad watches NASCAR, though I won’t go so far as to call him a “fan.” (When he was at the family channel they sponsored a car, so he had a financial interest in it.) When I lived with him in Florida for a brief stint, out of deference of my not having to paying rent, I’d let him watch races. Not only are the announcers usually bigger hicks than the fans, but their conversation is worse if John Madden was teamed with Bill Walton for a curling match:

Hick announcer 1: Looks like the Number 8 car is moving up! He just passed the number 6 car!

Hick announcer 2: Oh boy! You’re right on about that! He’s making his move!

Hick announcer 1: Yup! There he goes! Look at that!

Hick announcer 2: Yeah! I see it! Looks like we’ve got a race on our hands!

Hick announcer 1: OOOO-EEEEE race fans! How do y’all like that!
Hick announcer 2: Yeesssssir! Can you feel the excitement!? Only 475 more laps to go!

Seriously, ESPN. This is what you’re about to bring into households nationwide. On second thought, I’d rather watch John Madden and Bill Walton announce a curling match, with Marv Albert doing the play-by-play. The more I think about it, I’d watch that over a lot of sports, from a purely comical standpoint.

3. The NASCAR fan base is too poor to buy shirts, let alone make a television contract lucrative.
Listen, certain stereotypes exist because they’re true (at least in a large percentage). Have you ever seen a NASCAR fan with a shirt on? Or at least one with sleeves? Neither have I. It’s a grandstand full of those fat drunk guys you see in Buffalo in the winter at Bills games spelling out, B-L-I-L-S. You expect these people to bring in advertising revenue? Unless you’ve got something worked out with Wal-Mart or “Crazy Joe’s Chop Shop,” (motto: If You Lost Your Car in the Hurricane, We’re Pretty Doggone Sure It Ain’t Here So Stop Callin’”) in which case, you’re in for a financial windfall.

Found this shot on some NASCAR fan site. Classic sleeveless shirt shot, with trailers in the background. Yup, here's your new demographic, ESPN.

3. Drinking and Driving
NASCAR has recently agreed to let liquor companies sponsor race teams. And that’s fine, because Americans are smart enough to know that drinking and driving is wrong. It’s not like it’s the leading cause of accidental death in this country or anything. And experts everywhere agree that having a liquor label on the side of a race car will in no way inspire people to drink and drive, just like listening to Ozzy Osbourne will in no way cause kids to blow their brains out, or playing Grand Theft Auto will in no way make kids shoot at passing cars on a freeway with a .22 caliber rifle, killing one person. Because people are smarter than that, right? Especially this demographic. Hey, I’m all for Darwinism, don’t get me wrong. But drunk drivers kill other people too.

4. I’ve got a small bladder.
The people in my family have small bladders. It’s true. Mine is bad, but we had to ration my sister’s liquid intake on family road trips. So what I’m saying is, I need my piss breaks. Yes, I have DVR, but I don’t like to use it on live-action sports. (It just feels not as exciting, like it’s not really “live.”) The “action” (and I use the term loosely) in NASCAR never stops. You have to piss eventually—especially if you’re drinking enough to make this interesting—and with my luck I’d walk out the minute the big wreck happens. Now imagine a football game with no two-minute warning or halftime. Imagine a baseball game without “between innings,” the seventh-inning stretch, or warm-ups for the relief pitcher. When would you take a piss? Answer the door for the pizza guy? Make a beer run? I’m willing to bet this is the real reason soccer has never caught on in the U.S. Well, other than the fact it’s gay.

5. Races are on Sundays.
How are you going to spend your Fall Sundays?
A.) Confessing to the Parish priest about something you did with chickens after chugging drinking moonshine the night before.
B.) Watching Football
C.) Watching hicks in cars go in a circle 500 times
D.) Eagerly anticipating a new episode of Desperate Housewives

If you answered anything but B, there’s a good chance you’re a hick or a chick. (It’s okay if you look forward to Family Guy, or Grey’s Anatomy. though. Those are acceptable, as long as you watch football in the afternoon. I’d include my favorite show, West Wing here too, but I’m still adjusting to the fact NBC moved this to Sundays. Completely screwed up my week.)

6. It’s the most popular spectator sport in the country.
There’s a reason they refer to it so specifically when defenders of NASCAR make this statement. “Most Popular spectator Sport.” That means you have to be at the event in person to enjoy it. Although I’d argue this statement is untrue anyway. If you tallied up the number of people who attend the one NASCAR event every Sunday, and compared it to the number of people who attend the 14 NFL games, I think it would be closer. I’m willing to bet whoever did the math on this compared one NASCAR race to one NFL game. That way, you’d no doubt have more people at the NASCAR race, due to the capacity of the venues. But really, what I’m trying to say is, I’d rather be locked in a cold room with a naked Janet Reno than watch a NASCAR race on TV.

But I’m an understanding guy. You go on your little foray, ESPN. Have fun with it for a year. And when the Race for the Shaved Bush or whatever it is ends next fall, and you see your ratings have dropped, get back to business as usual.

Until then, I’ll be hiding in this corner and fighting off Ms. Reno.

Some other observations about things more interesting than NASCAR (which doesn’t narrow it down at all):

Why no one cares that the White Sox made the World Series for the first time since 1917
It’s simple really.

1.) They’re not the Yankees or Red Sox, who account for about seemingly 90% of the MLB fan base
2.) There isn’t a single “personality” guy on this team. Not one. When the guy SportsCenter features most is your manager, you might be in trouble.
3.) They’re the fourth-string team in their own hometown, behind the Bears, Cubs, and Bulls. If that sport on ice whose name I can’t remember hadn’t gone on strike and only recently come back, I’d argue that the Sox are the fifth-string team in Chi-town. If no one in Chicago cares, how can you expect anyone else to?

Even my friend Sam—a Boston transplant/Red Sox fan currently living in Chitown—had this to say when I asked her if the city was crazy with excitement:

“Chicago is actually NOT losing its mind. There really isn't a buzz like you'd think. Ya, people are excited and it's all over the news, but walking around, you'd never know. The White Sox get no love here though. It's all Cubs, especially where I live.”

So there you have it.

Why Roy Oswalt isn’t human
The 6-0” 185-pound Oswalt manhandled the Cards two nights ago, going seven strong and only allowing one run, maintaining a no-hitter into the 5th. It’s not possible for a guy that size to pitch like he does. I should know, because his physical specs are similar to a guy I know. Namely, me. He’s my size and weight exactly. I’m guessing his weight is in muscle, where mine is mostly in beer fat, but I can’t throw 55, let alone 95.

Interesting (short) story on this freak: apparently, years ago he was about to give up pitching, and was working on his truck (yeah, he’s a hick) when the car battery zapped his pitching arm. Since then, he’s been able to throw freakishly hard with no repercussions.

Isn’t this how X-Men get their powers? Can we come up with a cool mutant nickname for him, like “Electrode” or “The Zapper” or something? Does someone with a dorky friend know the naming convention for X-men monikers? Is this the beginning of the mutant war those movies talked about? Am I the only one who cares? Don’t answer that.

Why Teddy Bruschi WON’T help the Patriots
Everyone has seemingly forgotten that, after the Pats won their first Super Bowl in 2002, they went 9-7 in 2003. Of course, that’s easily overlooked when you come back and win two years in a row. But the Patriots this year have lost too many key elements. The secondary is horrendous. Harrison’s done. Ty Law, who needed to feed his starving family—apparently he has about 6,500 relatives, if he needed more money than what he was making—and in retrospect, they probably should have paid him.

But it’s looking more and more like “genius” Belichick was getting credit for the work of two other guys. The Patriots D has more holes than a Montreal strip club, and Crennel has a Cleveland team at 2-3 with Trent Dilfer as his QB. Yes, Trent Dilfer.

And then there’s Charlie Weis, who has single-handedly turned around Notre Dame. The Irish played a team that would be undefeated if they were in the NFC North, the USC Trojans, right down to the wire, losing on the very last play. (As an aside, this may have been the best college game I’ve ever seen, and I only saw the last quarter. I was having dinner at a very crowded Legal Sea Foods, and the place was going berserk. It was a surreal experience, made even moreso by the fact that the Legal Sea Foods is located right next to the New England Aquarium—irony at its finest.) Weis has restored the credibility of a program that had been licking its wounds from the failed “No, we believe he’s the best coach, it’s not just because he’s black” Ty Willingham experiment.

Do you think the Pats would be better than their 3-3 record if Bruschi had played? I don’t. And he won’t be the difference down the stretch. Yes, he’ll help shut the swinging gate that is the run defense, but this team is headed for a 10-6 season, at best.

But I’m not saying they won’t make the playoffs or win the Super Bowl. Because I’m not stupid.

Why Stallone shouldn’t make another Rocky movie
Stallone’s publicist publicist Michelle Bega announced the star has agreed to make a new installment in the Rocky series. Several reasons why this movie should never be made. Not only because Rocky V was ungodawful, but Stallone was nearly intolerable as a young Rocky Balboa. Yes, the movies were fantastic. I’m not saying they weren’t. But I’ve never understood how Stallone was a runner-up for Best Actor after the original Rocky—I guess no one believed that Stallone really talked like that, and everyone thought he acting. Do you want to see an old Stallone dragging around the ring like a 59-year old goat trying to box? He couldn’t get anyone to watch The Contender, what makes anyone think this is a good idea? I hate production companies.

I suppose it could have been worse… they could have tried to make a prequel with Matt LeBlanc as Rocky.

Why my fantasy team is screwed
Because I’m a loud-mouthed idiot. Last week in this space, I wrote the following about team:

“I’m going to make playoffs unless someone puts Bulger and Alexander on a stretcher, and even then I might be able to pull it off."

One of the guys in my league read that, and posted it as Bulletin Board fodder on my league’s message board. (Thanks Mickey!) So what happens? In last night’s game, Bulger tosses an interception, and during the ensuing return, gets hammered to the ground by a Colts linebacker. (Who didn’t see that coming? Is there anything more Linebackers love than to annihilate pathetic QBs during runbacks?) Bulger misses the rest of the game—destroying my season-long streak as the only team to put up 100 points every week (I finished with 96).

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!

Somehow I managed to win the game. But Bulger may be out for 2 weeks or longer. Time for Big Ben to step in. Football Gods, I ask you to have mercy and spare Alexander from my foolish comment!

Why the Lions are in trouble.
In a great article, Michael Smith of ESPN details the lion's problems. Great piece of writing from a guy I’ve never had any respect for as a writer. So you know it has to be good.

Why golf is the most professional of sports
Though Anika still rules the roost in the LPGA (yes, I’m writing about the LPGA, I can’t believe it either), Michelle Wie is the lady of the moment—and is being hailed as the next Tiger, you know, with the exception that she’s a woman. At the Samsung World Championship this past weekend, Wie took a fourth place finish in her first event as a professional. But her standing—and her $54,000 paycheck—were revoked when it events officials were notified by a Sports Illustrated reporter Michael Bitchberger—I’m sorry, Bamberger—that Wie had taken an incorrect drop from a bush, inadvertently placing the ball closer to the hole, and Wie was disqualified.

The bullshit of this is the drop in question had taken place the day before. Had Wie and events officials immediately addressed the drop, Wie could have modified her score by taking a penalty stroke and still qualified. But because she signed her scorecard at the end of the round—testifying that the score was accurate—the score was final, and Wie was disqualified.

Two things here: first, Bamberger should be removed from the beat by Sports Illustrated. I don’t know why no one is talking about this. Not only is it not his place to point out the discrepancy—any good reporter will tell you you’re only supposed to report, not become involved—but I’d put money down that he withheld his secret until the last day to purposefully disqualify Wie and make a bigger story—why else would he wait?

Of course, Bamberger explains his situation in a Q&A with SI, but every question is answered so perfectly it reeks worse than Colin Powell’s UN briefing on WMD. If Bamberger wanted to tell his story, he should have agreed to be interviewed by ESPN or a non-biased news source.

But why is golf the most professional of sports? Two reasons:
1.) Because they play by the rules—and no one is above them. The rules are not debatable. And the players are responsible for following them, and policing themselves. You have to respect that kind of trust and honor.
2.) But also, because they adhere to it: Wie, after hearing that she was disqualified, cried in private for a bit, then went and answered every question reporters had, even stating that she “had learned a valuable lesson.” You have to admire that attitude. You think if the same thing happened to Allen Iverson or David Wells, they’d take it so well? Riiight.

And one more thing: it was Wie’s birthday—she turned 16 on Sunday.

Some quick hits
Torre will return as Yanks manager in 2006, as if anyone doubted that.

The Red Sox are lowballing Theo Epstein, reportedly only offering him between 8-900K. A’s GM Billy “I can’t believe people are buying my Moneyball even though it’s never won a post-season series” Beane was offered 2.5M by the Sox three years ago. And Theo has a ring. Give him the cash. Or better yet, don’t… and if Cashman leaves, we’ll be happy to have him in NY.

Football picks for Week 7: (Without the spread, home team in caps)
Detroit over CLEVELAND
The Jeff Garcia era starts in Detroit (supposedly), and it starts with a win.

Green Bay over MINNESOTA
Everyone wants to wait until the end of the season to fire Mike Tice. Why? So they can lock up the first round draft pick?

Indy over HOUSTON
Duh.

Kansas City over MIA
I have no logic behind this pick whatsoever.

New Orleans over ST. LOUIS
The Rams were 2-3 with Marc Bulger.

San Diego over PHILADELPHIA
LT. And really, that’s all you need. Philly’s D is not what it was last year.

Yes, I realize I just picked six visiting teams in a row for the early games. Sue me.

WASHINGTON over San Franfinished
You happy now? SF has the worst passing D in the league, and they’re running into a red-hot Brunell-Moss combo.

SEATTLE over Dallas
Should be a great game. But Drew Bledsoe is way overdue for one of those classic Drew performances, with four interceptions and a couple of fumbles. I’m guessing it’s this one.

CHICAGO over Baltimore
I hope you like 6-3 games. Two of the best Ds in the league. Have to give the edge to Chicago on offense, and for home-field.

Buffalo over OAKLAND
No D + no Randy = no W.

NY GIANTS over Denver
Hard time here. Denver could win big. But 4 of their 5 wins have come at home. But they’ve all been against +.500 opponents. But the Giants will be pumped after the close loss to rival cowboys last week. But the Giants secondary is one of the worst in the league. But they force a lot of turnovers. But Jake hasn’t turned the ball over in something like 21 quarters. But he’s still Jake Plummer. So what I’m saying is, I have no idea. Normally, I’d go against my favorite team in a situation like this, because if they lose, then at least I was right, and if they win, I’d rather have them win than be right. So if you’re smart, go with Denver.

ARIZONA over Tennessee.
Unless Kurt Warner starts, then…
Tennessee over ARIZONA

ATLANTA over NY Jets
The most mobile QB in the league against the least mobile QB in the league.

Oh, one more thing. My World Series pick!
Two teams with dominant starting pitching. This is going to be some classic baseball. Look for a lot of bunts and sacrifices. A lot of 2 to 3 games. I think the Astros have the better pitchers, and they certainly have more experience in the postseason. Chicago has the better hitters, but I’m waiting for Contreras or Garcia to throw a clunker. You know one of them will. I think it runs the full bill, but in the end…

Astros in 7.

That’s all for this week, as if that wasn’t enough.

Bill Beard is an independent writer who just gave you enough fodder to power you through your boring Friday afternoon, including pictures of a drunk Keith Foulke licking some girl's face. He can be reached for Friday chatting at wrbeard@hotmail.com.

It Ain’t Over Till It’s… Wait, It’s Over.

2005-10-12T14:54:00.000-04:00

On behalf of my liver, my bloodshot eyes, and especially my bank account, I’d just like to thank the Yanks and Sox for crapping the linens and not making the ALCS.

Seriously, did you really want to see another Sox/Yanks drag-down, knock-out brawl? I know they would have taken it to seven games as surely as I know that Charlie on Lost (not that one, the one from Party of Five) is going to be slipping his banana to Kate before they get off the damn island.

I remember last October. And the one before that.

It’s hard enough to save money in Boston during the summer. You’ve got a four month window to enjoy the city’s 1.5 outdoor bars and restaurants, and all Bostonians know this. Bostonians don’t go on vacation during the summer, we stay and enjoy life in one of the most appreciative summer cities in the country.

No Boone or Roberts this year.

So when October rolls around, and the temperature drops a predictably unpredictable 20 degrees in two hours one Saturday afternoon, we anticipate breaking out the storm windows and going into hibernation fo the next six months.

Not before we lock down a hot girlfriend for the winter though. Seriously girls, is there an easier month to meet a guy who “wants a relationship” than September? Those guys don’t want commitment, they want an excuse to stay in when it’s snot-freezing cold out there.

So you’ll excuse me if I’m not upset that neither the Sox or the Yankees made the ALCS. Maybe I can afford to take a vacation this year. (On a side note: I was slated to take a two-week trip to Sicily for work in November, but my bosses here at GrannieTravel cancelled it last week for a little something I like to call “no apparent reason.”)

Think about it: 7 games. Minimum $100 per game in food and beverage, because you know you’re not staying in.

That’s $700 pissed away, and + or – 4 ulcers from beer, spicy wings, and the stress of a David Ortiz at bat.

Thanks, I can do without.

At least that’s what I’m telling myself.

****

End of Season Observations:

▪ What a ride. The Yanks threw more guys at opponents than the Russian military threw at the Germans in WWII; The Sox predictably broke down with a month to play—called that, thanks very much; Manny asked to be traded, got booed for it, and the Sox couldn’t find any takers, so Manny said he wanted to stay, and got cheered for it, which proves once again that Boston fans are easier to fool with than Michelle Damon on a first date; Al Leiter—“we’re pitching Al Leiter, for chrissakes!!”—tosses an Instant Classic in Fenway a day after being picked up, leading to Joe Torre throwing him into the mix and relying on him out of the bullpen during every jam, which inevitably led to at least 10 Yanks losses; and I could go on.

▪ If anything, this was the season that wasn’t.: The Schilling-Johnson opening day duel that never materialized because Schilling sold his soul and Johnson aged 10 years in one offseason; the Manny trade happening and not happening; the Yanks starting rotation of Johnson, Mussina, Pavano, Wright, and Brown falling apart faster than the girl at the wedding who sees her ex dancing with another girl (especially when the girl is hotter than she is—the upgrade always kills them); Johnny Damon not winning the batting title after he had it locked up in mid-August; the Red Sox refusing to talk about resigning him until after the season was over; Bernie Williams’ final season being his worst as a Yankee instead of a Ripken-esque tour; all culminating in the Yanks and Sox not making the ALCS, and—more importantly—the Sox not repeating as World Series Champs. And, even more disappointingly, my friend Tim not having to live up to his napkin-written promise of shaving his head when the Yanks win the World Series.

▪ Because this is my column and I can brag if I want to: With the exception of the Sox-Sox series, you’ll notice I not only correctly predicted the correct teams, but even the exact number of games it would take in each of the other series. I’m expecting a call from Al Pacino any minute now.

▪ I took some flak for my “prediction” posting, especially from my cousin John, who questioned my loyalty to the Yanks. Hey, what am I, a Red Sox fan? I know when my team is outmatched. Blind Faith is for stupid people, terrorists, and Sox fans who wear pink hats. Any Sox fan with an IQ higher than the kid who ate paste during recess knew the Sox didn’t have it this year. And it was obvious the Yanks didn’t have it this year. I knew it, and they knew it. And the Angels proved it. Sure, I hoped I was wrong, but… I wasn’t.

What's that Al? There's an envelope in my desk drawer? With plane tickets?

▪ But the Sox went down and got embarrassed in the process. The defending champs barely made the postseason, and then they get swept by Chicago, who I’m telling you is the worst-best team I’ve ever seen in my life. (They just got beat by an Angels squad subsisting on No-Doz and Grande Lattes.) I didn’t get to watch the final RSox game, as I was driving to Syracuse for a wedding, but I didn’t need to. Let me sum up my opinion of this Sox team: They flat-out sucked. Clement had the worst outing since ALDS inception, among other things. But you know what? I still think they’re a better team than the White Sox.

▪ So who do you blame? Francona. I’ll repeat something I’ve been saying since last year: The Red Sox won the Series last year IN SPITE of Francona. Has anyone used the words, “Led the Red Sox to a World Series Championship” to describe him? Ever? No, and there’s a reason for it. He’s awful.

▪ If Epstein and Co. don’t have Francona on the chopping block (along with his crony Dale “send ‘em” Swayne) by the Winter Meetings, I personally guarantee the Sox do not make the playoffs next year, no matter what happens in free agency.

▪ As for the Yankees-Angels series it wasn’t so much the Angels pitching, as it was the Yanks season-worst play. They couldn’t hit, couldn’t move runners, couldn’t catch the ball, couldn’t throw the ball, couldn’t get on the same page with hit and runs, couldn’t steal bases, etc. etc. etc. They arguably played their worst baseball of the year, at the worst time of the year. I’m amazed they won 2 games.

▪ Everyone was right about A-Rod. I’m just glad MVP ballots are due after the last game of the regular season, because you could have just handed it to Ortiz otherwise. (Yes, I still think A-Rod deserves MVP.) I don’t have the numbers on it, but I’m willing to bet A-Rod had the worst postseason series of any league MVP in history. Not only did he have just two hits and a goose egg in the RBI column for the entire series, but he had a top of the 9th GIDP after Jeter got a single with no outs in Game 5 when the Yanks were trailing by 2 that basically ended the Yanks season. If A-Rod just strikes out, we could be watching the Sox/Yanks right now. They got two hits, which would have scored Jeter, and when Matsui grounds to first, Bellhorn (running for Giambi) would have scored, because it would have only been the second out. Tie Game. Instead, Scrod had to take it the extra mile. Thanks, A-Rod. You’re the least clutch player in baseball. Oh, and one more thing: you suck.

▪ As a complete aside is it possible to EVER please a woman when it comes to room temperature? My office is completely female dominated (about 95%, not exaggerating) and it doesn’t matter if the A/C is on at full blast during the summer, or the vents are dripping lava during the winter, they’re never content. And what’s worse, they won’t shut up about it. Because this is the first truly cold day of the year, they were testing the heater, and apparently they forgot about it and left it set on “Earth’s Core.” The woman next to me skinned a Polar Bear, a lion, and the Postman on the way into work, and she’s wearing their skin around the office and still complaining about how cold it is in here. Meanwhile, I’m making photocopies in my boxer briefs and sweating like A-Rod during a postseason at-bat.

(Hell yes, that whole paragraph was a set up for that joke. Where’s my damn contract, ESPN! You pay Caple for shit like that every day!)

Miscellaneous Crap you’re sure not to care about:

▪ Is anyone else secretly glad that the Pats are starting to get their come-uppins? (How do you spell that, anyway?) I mean, after four years of “Bill Belechick is a genius” and “Tom Brady is the new Joe Montana” and “the Pats are the best dynasty in NFL history” I think you have to take a certain joy at seeing that these guys are human. Don’t get me wrong, I like the Pats: Belechick is as likeable a coach as there is in sports, because he refuses to say anything about anyone; Brady is definitely a cool customer, even if he’s the textbook example of the “right-place at the right-time” guy putting up big numbers and no one seems to notice this; and it’s good to see that the Pats D scheme isn’t so solid that you could sub the residents of the amputee wing of Mass General into the game and they’d still be successful.

▪ Guess what, all you Red Sox/Pats fans… the Pats are the new Yankees, and everyone hopes you lose. No one outside of Boston hated the Yanks in 1996, when they won the World Series for the first time in almost 20 years. And now they’re the most hated franchise in sports. Seriously, the Pats are one more unprovoked “Angry Tom” press conference (who, for the record, completely misunderstood Schottenheimer) away from launching a Bill Simmons alter-ego out in someplace like Pittsburgh or Indianapolis. And then it’s only a matter of time before payroll goes over the Salary Cap and you’re not resigning guys like Dillon and Branch who will go to someplace like Chicago and haunt you for the rest of your days. (aka Pettite-Clemens)

▪ I’m sure you care that my fantasy team is 3-2 despite leading in points scored by 70 points. I’m the only guy to score over 100 every week, and I’m in second at 3-2 behind my newly-married buddy Wall (who’s wedding I was at this weekend, congrats buddy!) who is magically 5-0. (Hey Wall, are you happier at being married or that your fantasy team is 5-0? On second thought, don't answer that.)

▪ Yes, there was the weekend McNabb went off and he beat me. I can deal with that. But every league has that guy who forgets to change his team once in awhile, and Wall had a giftwrapped win a couple weeks ago because of that. And I had a no-win situation this Monday, when I was trailing by 15 going into MNF, with Gates and the Steelers D playing. And you see my conundrum. Basically, unless the Steelers D scored 2 touchdowns I was going to lose because they’d cannibalize each other. Oh well. I’m going to make playoffs unless someone puts Bulger and Alexander on a stretcher, and even then I might be able to pull it off. Not counting the pot money just yet. (The fantasy pot, not the smoking kind. Geez.)

▪ As for my boys, the G-Men head to Dallas this weekend. I’m starting to believe in Eli, if only because he’s been hitting my WR Burress as his #1 go-to-guy and helping my fantasy team turn into the St. Louis Rams (winning with offense). With the way the Cowboys manhandled Philly last week (um, how about running the ball, huh?) it should be an interesting matchup. Unlike the Eagles, the Giants can run the ball, so I don’t think we’ll see a blowout like that. However, the Giants secondary defends the pass as well as Tara Reid’s brother defends his sister’s decency on “Taradise.” So we’ll see.

▪ So you can see this column will be delving into football over the next few weeks (with one eye on the rest of the MLB playoffs) and some more random stuff. And just wait for college basketball! Regardless, I hope I can be clever enough to keep you reading.

▪ I’m sure once the Hot Stove heats up, I’ll have plenty to say about the deals going on. The Free-Agent signing period begins 15 days after the close of the World Series. Free agents from the Sox and Yanks this offseason: Damon and Matsui are the headliners. (Matsui will almost certainly stay in the Bronx.) But there’s also Gordon, Timlin, Millar, Mueller, Leiter, Embree, Felix Rodriguez, John Flaherty, Ruben Sierra, and of course Bernie Williams, who may have played his final season in the Bronx. This year’s Pavano is B.J. Ryan, the Southpaw from Baltimore, who both the Yanks and Sox are already expressing interest in. Should be very different teams on the field next year for both squads. So stay tuned.

▪ Seriously, thanks for reading this baseball season. I’d call the first full season of Behind Enemy Lines a success, despite the lack of a lucrative offer from SI or ESPN.com, or even Barstool Sports. Their loss.

Thanks again.

Bill Beard is an independent writer who enjoyed writing this very inconsistently-posted column on “the Sox and Yanks rivalry, and other random crap you’re sure not to give a damn about.” He can be reached for debate, procrastination, fantasy football tips, or really any reason at all at wrbeard@hotmail.com.

For the Record...

2005-10-04T16:30:00.000-04:00

After having a decent weekend as far as predictions went (who would have thought Cleveland would have blown all three games? No surprises, right? Well, THAT was a surprise) I wanted to get my postseason picks up quick before things go too far. I haven't looked at any scores or current games today. You'll just have to trust me.

Yanks vs. LAAASC: Angels in 5
Why: Good pitching beats good hitting in the playoffs. Every time. And the LAAASC have the best bullpen in the league.
Why I might be crazy: The Yanks were eliminated in the first round by LAAASC in 2002. And if you think the MLB conspiracy machine will let the Yanks or RSox not play another ALCS...

Sox vs. Sox: Red Sox in 4
Why: The White Sox are the worst "best record in the league team" in the history of baseball. They had about 6 guys who were having career years in the first half and they all came crashing down in the second half, almost blowing the biggest lead in baseball history. Can you spell "done"? I think you can.
Why I might be crazy: Who knows which Red Sox will show up? The team who held the AL East lead all season or the team that couldn't hold off the makeshift Yankees pitching staff?

RSox at Angels: Angels in 6
Why: Same thing... good pitching beats good hitting.
Why I might be crazy: If the Red Sox get this far, there's no reason to believe they can't run the table. I can't picture Papi or Schilling letting the team go down if they make the ALCS. But I'm picking it anyway.

As for the National League...
Houston vs. Hotlanta: Houston in 4
San Diego vs. St. Louie: Cards in 3

Houston vs. St. Louis: Houston in 7

WORLD SERIES
Angels vs. Houston
You like pitching? This is your World Series: Clemens, Pettite, Oswalt, Lidge, Colon, Byrd, Washburn, K-Rod.
The Difference? One guy: Vlad Guerrero. Series MVP, because:

Angels in 6. And my World Series pick from midseason holds up.

Now comes the fun part: Watching this go to hell. Because the only thing you can be certain of is that what you think will happen won't happen.

Enjoy the games.

You Want to Know?

2005-09-30T11:46:00.000-04:00

I’m going to make this real easy for you.

You want to know how big last night’s Sox win was?
Enormous. Tremendous. Crucial. If the Sox go into this weekend down two, they’re as good as done.

You want to know how big that one game lead is?
Enormous. Tremendous. Crucial. It essentially negates the Home-Field Advantage. Yanks only have to win one to force a one-game 1978-déjà vu playoff—except this time, it’ll be in The Stadium.

Wait for it... wait for it... THERE, WATCH YAZ'S KNEES BUCKLE!

You want to know why the Sox are even still in it?
David. Ortiz.

You want to know who the MVP is?
Whichever guy plays better this weekend.

You want to know which team is going to win this weekend?
Whichever team’s starting pitchers last longer.

You want to know what Fenway is going to be like?
Hostile. Chaotic. Frenzied. Apocalyptic.

You want to know what my liver will look like after this weekend?
It’s already packed up… it was last sighted crossing the Mexican border.

You want to know if there will be a brawl on the field because tensions are so high?
Nope. Too much at stake now. The time for that Bush League crap is over. These guys aren’t here to rumble. They’re here to win.

You want to know who’s under the most pressure?
The Sox. They blew a lead they had for almost the entire season. They need to capture the AL East this year, or last year is just a pleasant memory.

You want to know who has all the motivation?
The Yankees. It’s payback time. They can send the Sox home for October just like they got sent home last year.

You want to know who is going to be the difference maker this weekend?
Derek Jeter. Everyone talks about A-Rod, and Ortiz may be the most clutch player in Baseball, but in a “playoff” scenario, I’m still taking Jeter before either of them. This is his forte. If you think Derek Jeter is a laid back kind of guy who hasn’t thought daily about dropping that 3-0 lead last October, the type of guy who doesn’t hold grudges like that, you have no idea what kind of competitor Derek Jeter is.

You want to know the only difference between these two teams?
Mariano Rivera. That’s it. Both have had unreliable starting pitching, horrible bullpens, record-setting offenses… and the only thing that one team has that the other doesn’t is a proven closer. Mariano. With that said…

You want to know who is going to play the goat at least once this weekend?
Mike Timlin. He’s allowed 56% of inherited runners to score. Sure, he’s been clutch in the postseason before. But pitching the 8th with a 1-run lead is a lot different than pitching the 9th with a 1-run lead. And Mike is about to find that out this weekend.

You want to know who you should keep an eye on?
A-Rod… and Manny. Manny has been in Ortiz’s shadow all season. And I think A-Rod is ready to show the world what’s he’s really made of. He may not get a game-winning hit, but I think both these guys put up tremendous numbers.

You want to know which games will fit into the formula?
The blowout game, the regular game, and the nail-biter… all three go out the window this weekend. This is the playoffs. Normal rules don’t apply.

You want to know if I’ll survive the weekend?
I’m wearing my Yanks jersey into the bleachers tonight, my Rivera shirt to Tequila Rain tomorrow, and I’m breaking out the Old School Mojo Shirt for my trip into the upper echelons of the bleachers tomorrow: Donnie Baseball. So will I survive? Probably not. Along the same lines…

You want to know if there will be riots if the Sox win?
Boston Police are putting a record-setting 876 cops on the street to prevent a repeat of last year’s ALCS violence that left a fan dead (by police force). But one thing is true about Boston fans—they have no idea how to celebrate, and Boston cops have no idea how to handle the crowds. So yes, if the Sox win there will be riots and more people will get hurt.

You want to know how much work I’m getting done today?
Absolutely none whatsoever.

You want to know how much I care if I get fired for that?
I’m probably not going into work on Monday anyway. So that would save me the trouble of calling in sick.

You want to know why this is so critical?
It’s not just about the AL East. The White Sox clinched yesterday. They’re playing Cleveland this weekend. The ChiSox are going to save their best pitchers (and maybe best hitters) for the upcoming playoff series. Cleveland could very well win all three games this weekend. And if they do, they’ll automatically win the wildcard, because there is no scenario where the team that loses this weekend’s series would have a better record than them if that happens.

You want to know if that last statement was true?
I have no friggin idea. Remember, I suck at math. But I think it was.

You want to know what the Yanks need to do to win?
Win two games.

You want to know what the Sox need to do to win?
Sweep. Or win two, and then win the playoff game.

You want to know which outcome would be most surprising?
None. I would not be surprised at any outcome. This weekend, anything is possible. Yanks sweep; Sox sweep; Sox two of three; Yanks two of three; Sox win a one-game playoff; Yanks win a one-game playoff; all games blowouts; all games close; Curt Schilling implodes on the mound spraying guts all over the Fenway Faithful; angels come down from heaven and carry Jeter up to his Father; Damon’s wig falls off when he rounds third trying to score; Randy Johnson gets tossed for throwing a pitch he calls a “dirty-hick spitball”; Ortiz’s shirt flies open to reveal that he’s actually a robot; I mean, I’m ready for anything.

Domo Arigato,
Mr. Roboto.

You want to know how I think this plays out?
Yanks win two. Sox go home.

You want to know what you’re doing this weekend?
You’re watching baseball. And if you’re not, I don’t know you anymore.

You want to know what line sums it up this weekend the best?
I. Live. For. This.

Ladies and Gentlemen, Your MVP

2005-09-23T13:56:00.000-04:00

With the season winding down, the “Who is this year’s MVP?" debate is going full force. These are the kind of things baseball writers and sports radio announcers love. This is the bullcrap debate material that keeps them employed.

So of course, I’m obsessed with it.

This year, there are two clear candidates for the award in the American League: Red Sox DH David Ortiz and Yankees 3B Alex Rodriguez.

As if we needed any more logs to stoke the fire of this rivalry.

(Yes, that last sentence was a blatant excuse to work "logs" and "stoke" into the same line.)

Some will argue for Cleveland’s Travis Hafner, who has been spectacular as of late. But he’s not up there with these guys. He’ll finish third.

Ortiz's and A-Rod's stats are comparable. Where one leads in Category A, the other is the leader in Category B. So let’s put numbers aside and address the bigger discussion.

Two candidates, and coincidentally, the people who decide this thing are strongly divided into two groups:

1.) People who believe that the MVP is the guy who helps his team win the most games
2.) People who believe the MVP is the best overall player in baseball—meaning he needs to play the field as well just to “qualify.”

Which camp am I in? When it comes to New School or Old School, I’m in the Will Farrell/Vince Vaughn/Lesser Wilson category, and very firmly planted in the second group.

Why? It’s simple. I’ll even do it for you in two parts:

1. It’s harder to play the field and hit than just to hit. It takes more energy, more skill, more talent, more mental concentration. And a guy who does both is a better player. Period.

2. Just as you have more chances to help your team win when you play the field, you have more chances to hurt your team when you play the field. Why doesn’t Ortiz play first base? Because he’s a liability. He makes errors. He costs his team runs. A-Rod, on the other hand, is an above average third baseman, and at one point this year he had the longest consecutive errorless streak for any third baseman over the past seven years. Every time a player makes a diving stop down the line and gets the out at first to save a run, hasn’t he done as much as the guy who hits a go-ahead HR? The answer, quite simply, is yes. You can argue all day about which might be harder. But if you don’t agree with that statement, well, you’ve been drinking the punch that Bud and Major League Baseball have been handing out ever since the Sosa-McGuire HR chase that saved baseball.

That's two very simple reasons you can’t win an MVP without playing the field. Fielders with comparable offensive stats deserve it more.

If you need another reason, here’s what Ortiz does while the Red Sox are out in the field: He reviews tape of his previous at-bats. The advantage here can’t be understated. How much higher do you think A-Rod’s stats would be if he had time to do that? Not to take anything away from Ortiz’s natural talent or his grace under pressure, but this could be just as big a reason that Ortiz is so effective in the late innings.

Think about it: while Ortiz is studying for his next at-bat, A-Rod is out there concentrating on the scorching line-drive that’s headed his way.

Ortiz chimed in not too long ago on his candidacy. He said that, if defense is so important, why hasn't a Gold Glove winner who batted .230 ever won MVP? And he's right, that's never happened. Why? Because like Ortiz, that player is only good on one side of the ball.

To me, it’s cut and dry. Ortiz is having the best season at Designated Hitter in the thirty-two years since Major League Baseball instituted the position.

But in those 32 years, a DH has never won the award. And there’s a very good reason why.

If he wins, I won't be surprised, and I won't even be upset. The guy's amazing, a freak of nature. He's certainly deserving.

But A-Rod deserves it more.

****

Like the All-Star game, the Presidency, and anything else that relies on voting, it’s not just about ability. So let’s compare these guys head to head, in the categories that really matter.

Likeability: Everyone hates A-Rod for many reasons, but no one can deny that he’s the best overall player in baseball. Meanwhile, Big Papi is like a big teddy bear. He’s good and he’s likable. EDGE: D.O.T.

Celebrity: A-Rod is one of sport's most recognizable athletes, and along with Jeter, is in the top 10 in marketability. Papi is climbing the list, but he’s not quite there yet. EDGE: A-Rod.

Nickname: It's “Big Papi” vs. “A-Rod”. Though Big Papi is a lot more fun, A-Rod is the most recognizable nickname in sports. It’s a classic, even though it gives most fans a nervous tick. It’s even spawned wannabes, like “K-Rod,” (Francisco Rodriguez) “F-Rod,” (Felix Rodriguez) and, well, “A-Rod” (Andy Roddick). But "I love it when you call me Big Papi..." EDGE: DRAW

Clutch Performer: Seventeen games in which he’s had a home run that’s tied or given the Red Sox the lead, and eight of those in the final two innings. A-Rod is clutch in his own right. But, well, okay, who are we kidding? Thanks for playing, Mr. Rodriguez. MAJOR EDGE: D.O.T.

Athleticism: Both can hit for power. And for a guy his size, Ortiz can run pretty well. But A-Rod is a five-tool guy, and maybe one of the best athletes of our generation. EDGE: A-Rod.

Hot Wife: Swimsuit Issue model vs. average girl off the street. I'd put David's wife's picture up here, but I couldn't even find a flattering one of her. Sorry, no contest. MAJOR EDGE: A-ROD

To make Fridays more interesting, I like to play a little game of chance called, "Surfing the swimsuit photos on SI.com in an office full of women while trying not to get fired for Sexual Harassment."

Team Player: Ortiz is a great guy, never says anything about anyone. A-Rod does the same, but because he’s so damn good and makes so much money, he draws more attention, has more quotes, and therefore, ticks people off more—and makes more enemies. (See Schilling, Curt.) Big Papi hugs his teammates when they play well. And hey, you can always use a hug. EDGE: D.O.T.

So what's the score? 3 to 3. Just like the real debate may turn out, we've got ourselves a tie.

Bill Beard is an independent writer who thinks David Ortiz could have done better. Maybe he should have waited till he got out of Minnesota. Bill can be reached by the women who are undoubtedly going to be offended by this statement at wrbeard@hotmail.com. Unless you're from Minnesota. Then he doesn't want to hear it.

Four Games in Four Days (Part II)

2005-09-22T11:50:00.000-04:00

Note: This continues from the last post. Scroll down to read it or click on the link at the right.

With two straight Red Sox losses under my belt, I was feeling pretty good on Saturday morning—despite the fact that I could barely get out of bed and my head was pounding from three SoCo & Lime shots we had done the night before, among other things. We were all dragging a bit, but I still had Frank Sinatra in my head from the Yankees win the night before to keep me going. (When the Yanks win, you get Frank singing “New York New York”; when they lose, you get Liza Minelli.) We managed to make it to The Stadium at just about

12:45: Our attempt to arrive early and explore Monument Park is dashed by the security guard who tells us that the park is closed. I joke that we should just go past him, and he looks at us as if to say, “Oooo, I’m shaking in my bright yellow shirt.”

1:05: We’re in our seats, in the middle tier in left field fair territory. But the teams are still warming up. Apparently, this is a 1:20 start. I’m wishing we had known—the gnome who’s hammering a metal beam inside my skull would have probably enjoyed an extra 15 minutes of sleep. Must… get… food…

1:20: I’ve consumed two hot dogs, and am contemplating a third, when the game starts. Schilling v. Chacon. I’ve been looking forward to this game the most—I want to see the Yankees pound Schelling. They cannot do this enough this year to make me happy. “Today’s the blowout game.” In retrospect, I was still right.

Top 1st: Chacon is all over the place. He got the first two batters ugly, and then walked Ortiz, which I’m okay with. But then Manny proves that I do not have power over him and blasts one in nearly the same spot as Posada did. Just like that, 2-0, Sox. Not a good start.

Bot 1: Three up, three down for the Yanks. Schilling looks spot on. My buddy Tim is wearing his Schilling jersey today. About this time, I decide to have my first beer. I’m starting to think I’m going to need it today.

Bot 3: The past two innings were uneventful. Chacon is still wild, but getting outs. Schilling, however, has a no hitter going. Matt Lawton, he of the .122 batting average, reaches base on an error. The catcalls start immediately: “So this is what First Base looks like!” “Where do I run now?” “Soak it up, not gonna be back there any time soon!”

Top 4: Helmet Man leads off with a shot into the Short Porch. 3-0. The ditzy girl in front of us casually remarks, “Didn’t he used to be on the Yankees?” I resist the urge rip her lungs out. Chacon clearly has no control. From our vantage point, we can see directly into both bullpens. Felix Rodriguez and Al Leiter start warming up. Yes, if I was coaching the Yankees, these are precisely the guys I would use to stop a potential blowout. Always the right move, to replace a guy having control problems with two guys that have control problems.

Top 4 still: “DID HE JUST DROP THE &%$%$ BALL? I CAN’T BELIEVE HE JUST DROPPED THE %$%&# BALL! TELL ME HE DID NOT JUST DROP THE $%#$ BALL!” In case you’re wondering, it’s true, Matsui did drop the ball. Should have had Ortiz as an easy out. Instead, he’s on first, Damon scores.

Top 4 still: “A double play ball! Out of the in—WHAT THE CRAP WAS THAT???” Apparently, Robinson Cano knows the person sitting in Section 25, Row 15, because he just threw them the ball. Unfortunately, I think he forgot that the inning was still in progress, and he was in the middle of turning a double play. The Sox score 5 in the inning. I completely misjudged Torre. Bringing in Al Leiter and letting his team go down 8-0 is an obvious attempt to challenge the Yanks batters and light a fire under them. Can’t believe I didn’t see that sooner.

Mid 4: Our view into the bullpens has provided the afternoon with an unexpected twist: Doug Mirabelli has a very big mouth. I’m not sure who started it, but he’s been trading insults with someone in the stands below us ever since the rout started. Now all sorts of fans are joining in. We’ll see how this progresses. Though, if Curt Schilling pitches a no-hitter, I’m going to jump from here anyway. Maybe I can crush Mirabelli in the process.

Bot 4: Luckily, Giambi just took Schilling for a date on the Short Porch, so Doug and I are both spared a grisly demise. 8-1. Let the comeback begin! Right.

Bot 7: The Mirabelli Scenario is playing out full force. Timlin has joined in, and the insults are showering down. A guy from our section stands up and starts screaming insults I can’t print here at the top of his lungs. Of course, we’re all egging him on. He’s about six rows in front of me. As this huge cop walks by me, I know he’s just punched his ticket out of The Stadium for the day. We give him a round of applause.

Top 8: Mirabelli is STILL going at it. Another guy in our section gets tossed after making several gestures to his groinal region, and yelling something that rhymes with “bucket.” Mirabelli has gotten more fans thrown out than he has hits this season. FINALLY, a cop goes over to Mirabelli and tells him to shut it. Probably the loudest cheer Yanks fans gave all day.

Bot 8: Schilling’s gone through 8 full. Tim keeps talking about it. I remind him that I’ve been watching Prison Break, and I’m going to make a shiv out of a deadbolt if he doesn’t keep it down.

I was wearing this same face all day.

End of Game: Mercifully, the Game is over. It was the blowout game, alright, just not how I had hoped. Curt Schilling is vying for a top spot on my “Baseball Players I Despise the Most” list. One more performance like that, and I might have to push him up past Manny into the 3-hole.

4:45 pm: Get back to Alana’s apartment. We were all asleep faster than Ms. Lippy’s kindergarten class. Alana stayed up and watched the documentary on “The Industrial Revolution: The Puppy Who Lost His Way.”

8:00 pm: Hit up a really good Mexican place with Tim, Alana, and a couple of Alana’s friends. A couple of pitchers of Sangria later, the night is rolling. That Sangria is good stuff! Me Hablas Espanol, Bitches!

Midnight: It’s my birthday, officially. First Birthday Shot, SoCo and Lime.

12:10 am: Second Birthday Shot, Jager. (My favorite!)

12:30 am: Third Birthday Shot… unidentified.

1:00 am: Fourth Birthday Shot. I think.

Sometime after 2 am: Vague memory of a Karaoke bar. Sketchiest one on the planet. There’s a couple dirty dancing to a completely inappropriate song, like Brown Eyed Girl. If you took Patrick Swayze and Jennifer Grey and stuck them in a giant microwave, aged them 30 years, and took away all their dancing skill… yeah, that’s about what they looked like. We get sketched out before we get a chance to sing—but not before Alana accidentally dumps a wax-filled candle all over me. That’s hot.

3:28 am: Illegible note written in notebook. Possibly an Aramaic reference to “Mushroom and sausage pizza.”

4:25 am “THIS IS THE BEST PIZZA I HAVE EVER TASTED IN MY ENTIRE LIFE!”

5:00 am Looking through the Comcast On-Demand movies. Euro-Trip comes up. “THIS IS THE FUNNIEST MOVIE I HAVE EVER SEEN IN MY ENTIRE LIFE!” We order it.

5:01 am Passed out.

Given the amount of alcohol consumed on Saturday, I woke up Sunday feeling pretty good. Mostly just tired, which is understandable, because I haven’t seen 5 am since Brittney Spears made Christina Aguilera look like a slut, and not the other way around. We made it to the game on time, dragging Alana’s friend Kim with us, because she had the unfortunate luck of passing out at Alana’s place, and we had an extra ticket.

12:50 pm: Have you ever been to one of those stadiums where the upper deck is so inclined, you feel if you lean too far forward, you’re going to tumble off the edge? That’s what The Stadium is like. Instant Vertigo. As soon as we get to our section, I’m reminded of something—I’m afraid of heights.

12:52 pm: Okay, we’re directly behind home plate, and at an elevation equal to Mt. McKinley. The view is great: I can see the game perfectly, and I think that’s the Prudential building off in the distance over there.

1:00 pm: The Yankees give a moment of silence for September 11th. Some idiot, as always, yells out in the middle of it, and completely ruins the moment. Who are these people? Can we start making this a criminal offense? Or worse, can we put the camera on them, and then have some really big guy slap them in the groin? Seriously? Something needs to be done about this.

Top 1: Johnson looks decent. He got Damon and Renteria, but walked Youk before getting Manny to fly out. Ortiz is not in the lineup, which makes me downright giddy. Eight more innings of this, and Johnson will be gift-wrapping me a sweet birthday present. One for him too—his birthday was yesterday. He’s 42.

Bot 1: Giambi takes a floater by Wakefield and puts it just fair along the Short Porch. 1-0 Yanks! I’m keeping a scorecard for this game for the first time in a decade, and I ecstatically shade in the diamond on my score sheet. The only game in the formula left is the Nail-Biter, so I can’t help wondering if this will be enough to win it. Probably not.

End 2: I just put four K’s on the card, two for each pitcher. I have a feeling this is going to be a hell of a game.

End 4: We saw a triple by the “lesser” Crosby for the Yanks, and a single by Youk, but neither team could push the man across. Still 1-0 Yanks through four, and we’re shaping up for our Nail-Biter. In the meantime, I’m still hungover, afraid to walk down the stairs, and the soda man is playing with my head—he refuses to come into our section. I think I’ve been watching him almost as much as the game.

Top 5: Randy Johnson just struck out Captain Caveman with a 99 MPH fastball! This is the Big Unit we’ve been looking for all year! Welcome to the Big Apple, Mr. Johnson!

I bet he could have hit a 99 MPH fastball with that thing.

End 5: I haven’t seen this many Ks in a game since I don’t know when, and not in a Yankees game since Clemens-Pedro a few years back where Trot Nixon won it with a homer. Johnson had two that inning, and Wakefield struck out the side, making the Yanks look foolish. They have never been able to figure him out—but that still doesn’t justify bringing Wake in during extra innings in a 7th game of a Championship Series. If you don’t understand why, look at the scoreboard: He’s losing 1-0 on a Giambi HR. With a Knuckleball, there are two results: Strike out, or Home Run. There is no in between.

End 5: I finally got up this inning and trudged down the stairs—holding the rail the entire time—to get some chicken fingers, fries, and a Commemorative Reservoir-sized soda. Getting down the stairs wasn’t bad—getting back up carrying all that? I don’t want to talk about it.

Middle 7: No Ronan Tynan? On September 11th? Are you serious? I was disappointed with the lack of ceremony for this special a date in NYC, but after four years, I guess New Yorkers are ready to just move on. I can understand that.

End 7: My scorecard looks like a memo from the Clan. K’s all over the place. Johnson has about 108 pitches, but he’s on fire. Gordon is warming up. I’m hoping Torre doesn’t make that mistake. Johnson can throw 120 or 130.

Top 8: Torre makes that mistake. (Later, we’d find out Johnson had a strained calf.) Gordon comes in, immediately gives up a single to Graffanino. Here we go again. Big Mouth Mirabelli grounds into a FC, and as Mueller steps to the plate, Mr. Clutch steps into the On-Deck Circle. The Stadium lets out a collective groan—drowned out by all the Sox fans in attendance who know he’s their only chance.

Top 8 still: Mueller flies out, and we hear it… Hush little baby, don’t say a word… and nevermind that noise you heard… THE STADIUM IS GOING ABSOLUTELY NUTS. Fenway can’t match this decibel level. Mo has about 45,000 people yelling his name and singing along as he trots from the pen. David Ortiz vs. Mariano Rivera, in a 1-0 game with a runner on. What time of year is this again?

Top 8 still: Mariano runs him full. The Stadium is in full voice, there isn’t an ass in a seat. I’ve got my Mo shirt on today, and for the first time ever I’m tempted to rip my shirt off and wave it around like a maniac! LET’S GO MO!!! …. And he walks him – which I am completely okay with. Damon gets up and HITS A BLOOPER DOWN THE LEFT-FIELD LINE THAT DROPS… foul. After the EMTs take the shock pads off my chest, Mo breaks Damon’s bat, and then gets him to ground out to first. THREAT OVER!

Top 9: Yanks couldn’t add insurance in the bottom half, so Giambi's first inning dinger will have to carry the day. I’ll be wearing band-aids on my fingernails tomorrow. Reteria hits a scorcher up the middle—and Mo snags it. One away. Trot hits, grounds out. Two away. The Stadium hasn’t sat down for about two innings, and it’s not about to now. Mo walks Manny – I’m okay with that – but then Millar singles, and Manny – “did someone get that on tape, I think he actually hustled!” – makes it to third. My bladder is about to explode from the soda, my heart has already stopped twice today, my head is pounding from a hangover, and now I’m looking at first and third with two outs. I’m pretty convinced I’m going to die today, 28 years to the day. And Helmet Man steps to the plate.

What do I have to do? Go to Church? Give to the poor? Sell my belongings? I’ll do it, please God just let him get this guy out… okay, you know I don’t mean that crap, but let him get this guy out anyway….

HIGH FASTBALL, SWING AND A MISS, THE YANKEES WIN, TTTHHHHHEEEEEEEEE YANKEES WIN!

If we weren’t 5,000 feet up, and hanging on the edge of a precipice, I might have jumped for joy. We took two of three, exactly what we needed! Happy Birthday to ME! Happy Birthday to ME!

Observations from the past week:
Apologies for taking so long to get up part II. There are weeks when work gets out of control, weeks when you move into an apartment that has no cable jack (and therefore no internet) and weeks when there’s way too much good football on. And then there are weeks where that all happens. So sue me. Will somebody start paying me for this so I can do it full time? Seriously.

As for what happened last night, all I’m going to say is that this is the closest division race has been since 1978 (before they even had divisions). Yes, that year, the year of the Boston Massacre, and the one-game playoff. Bucky “Bleeping” Dent and the Shot that Brought Yaz to His Knees.

If you think I’m going to jinx this thing, you’re crazy.

Bill Beard is an independent writer who knows better. And until someone pays him to jinx it, he’s not about to do that. He can be reached for anti-voodoo lessons at wrbeard@hotmail.com.

Four Games in Four Days (Part I)

2005-09-15T13:37:00.000-04:00

It’s not "50 States in 50 Days," but hey, I’m not Peter Gammons either. So live with it.

It’s still a ton of Baseball. More than I’ve ever taken on in person in a given week. Plus, there was the fact that it was my birthday on Sunday – which meant heavy partying all weekend on top of the games, no doubt. I was pretty sure halfway through the weekend I’d be feeling a bit like Dennis Leary’s character on “Rescue Me” – that weird combination of drunk and hungover, unsure about where I was, generally pissed off at the world… but somehow managing to have fun through it all.

So here it is… a somewhat disjointed diary of my weekend. Some is from notes, and other parts are from something we’ll call “loose memory” … in other words, I had probably been drinking when it happened, so the Lines are a little blurred.

It all started on Thursday:

Thursday afternoon: Actually it was 5 games in 4 days, if you count the annual “Executives vs. Associates” Corporate Softball game my company plays during our yearly outing. In this year’s version, the “Indians” beat the “Chiefs” (okay, we get it, you make more money than we do) by a score of 17-4. Because we had about 20 people on the team, I got in for only two innings at the two-bag and only one at bat. My line: 1-1, 1B, 1RBI, 1R, 0 PO.

Thursday, 4:05 pm: Got a text from my buddy Jim asking if I wanted to go to the Sox/LAAASC game that night. Considering I’d been at The Barking Crab (Motto: We Have Crabs – not joking) for about an hour by then - and the tickets were free - I took the offer.

Thursday, 5:35 pm: Still haven’t left the Crab, and I’m supposed to meet Jim at 6:30. Need to go home first to shower, as I smell like the Dallas Cowboy offensive line after running the bases just one time after my hit.

6:00 pm: Bad time to forget that I moved last week. Went to the wrong apartment. Good thing I only moved three blocks away.

6:35 pm: Meet Jim at the Summer Shack for a drink. Not entirely sure how I did that so fast – did a quick check to make sure I put on underwear. Yup, we’re good to go.

7:05 pm: Get into Fenway just as the first pitch is being thrown. Of course, we’re still 15 minutes away from our seats, because I need to use the bathroom and get something to eat – haven’t eaten since lunch, and I’m not about to make that mistake.

Middle of the 2nd Inning: Finally get to our seats, two beers, two hot dogs in hand, and 20 liters of liquid lighter. Here's when I realize I forgot my notepad. (From this point on, all times and events are “approximate.”) Will be the third time this year I see LAAASC play, and I’m eager to make comparisons to how they faced the Yanks.

6th Inning: There won’t be any comparisons… Paul Byrd is pitching the game of his life, and has a two hitter through six, facing one over the minimum. Hasn’t walked a batter. The Sox are losing 1-0, and the Pats game is looming. The plan was to leave sometime during the 7th, but can we leave a 1-0 game? The debate begins.

Top 7: My third trip to the bathroom. I can’t wait till I’m old enough to wear a man-diaper and not be ridiculed for it.

Mid 7: The Angels just made a case for the Pats game by scoring two. We’ve decided to give the Sox one last at bat. Any other night, no way I’m leaving… but tonight is about football season. I’ve been looking forward to football way too much this year. I’ve read one article about how FEMA’s handled New Orleans and about 20 on where the Saints may play their home games. Something is clearly wrong with me. (Jim gets a text… Raiders are up 7-0, breaking a streak of about 200 games or so when the Pats have scored first.)

Bot 7: After Millar doubled, Scott Shields relieved the Byrdman and got Napster, Renteria, and the Department Of Transportation (David OrTiz) to strike out swinging. Two of the best hitters go down, Sox have no chance. We’re out of here. IT’S FOOTBALL SEASON, BABY!

Second Quarter: No idea what time it was, but Moss catches a 30 yard pass from Collins, bobbles it, catches it, pantses Rodney Harrison and struts in for a TD. Half the guys in the bar cheer, because like me, they have Moss on their fantasy team. I want the Pats in this game – Collins lost more games for my Giants than I’m losing brain cells tonight – but if the Raiders are going to score, then that’s how I hope they do it.

Halftime: I make a complete ass of myself, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to print how I did it here. Let’s just say if I needed proof that I should have gone home earlier, I got it, and the people present are going to have lots of fun reminding me of it for a long time. Watched a little of the third quarter, and then packed it in.

That was just Thursday… already almost 1,000 words. Get ready for:

Friday, 1:00 pm: Napster plants his behind in the seat across from me. (See Monday’s Column.)

Friday, 3:35: Land in NYC, almost puke my brains out from the turbulence. Get in cab with Middle-Eastern driver who can barely see over the wheel.

Friday, 3:50:: Get out of cab, almost puke my brains out.

Friday, 6:50: We get to The Stadium. I’m with my friend Alana (NY native), her dad, and my buddy Tim, who took the bus down from Boston for the weekend. He’s a Sox fan. With only a Sox hat on – he was afraid to wear his Schilling jersey – he gets heckled on the train, heckled in the concourses. “Welcome to my life,” I tell him. For once, somebody else is Behind Enemy Lines.

6:58: We get inside The Stadium, and make our way up the steep, paved concrete concourse. Tim is all smiles – I’m reminded that it’s his first time in Yankee Stadium. I can’t help myself: “Welcome to the House that Ruth Built.”

7:00: We head up the tunnel, and as only a sports stadium can do, the field opens up before us. The blue and green swirl of The Stadium looks dazzling under the lights. Tim: “Wow.” Yeah, that about says it. I get chills by association.

7:05: Which game will this be? Every single Sox and Yanks series has the same exact formula: One blowout, one nail-biter, and one average 2 to 4 run baseball game. Never fails. Tonight, we’ve got Biggie Smalls vs. David Wells. “Average baseball game” is my vote.

7:12: Tim: “$8.50 for a beer? What?”
Me: “Yeah, but they’re 20 ounces.”
Tim: “Nice!”
Me: “This is the only time you’ll ever be excited about a $17 dollar round of beers.”

7:44: Tim’s hat has drawn the attention of the 10-year-olds sitting behind us. “We’ll buy you a new hat if you want one.” Start ‘em young!

Bot 2: With the Yanks trailing 3 to 1, Posada hits an absolute BLAST into the visitors bullpen. Arguably one of the longest home runs I’ve seen in person in a long time. The fans break out in their comical chant: Hip Hop Jorge, Ho-o, Hey, Ho-o, Hip Hop Jorge…

Bottom 3: A-Rod hits a solo shot that creeps just into the Short Porch. Tie Game. Hard to tell if we’re looking at the nail-biter or the regular game. We’ll see. In the meantime, we’ve already coughed up enough money for beer to rebuild New Orleans. “Feeling good, Louis? Looking good, William!”

Mid 5: Somehow, we got into a conversation about Brazillian Waxes. Don’t know how, just did. Of course, it got out of hand, and finally, the woman with two teenagers sitting in front of us had to turn around and say, “Do you mind?” We probably ticked her off even more by quoting Old School and saying “Inappropriate! Inappropriate!” about 1,000 times. Meanwhile, her sons are laughing their asses off.

Mid 6: Where would the Yanks be without Aaron Small? Biggie Smalls hasn’t been pretty, and he doesn’t blow anyone away, but the guy gets outs. And hey, I’m not picky. No runs is No runs, and that’s okay with me. Then again, I've got a buzz going, so the following are also okay with me: pizza, hot dogs, that girl four rows below us that probably isn't attractive, anything involving cheese, shelling out $34 for four beers.

End 6: The Yanks just made a bid for the Blowout Game by hanging five on the board. I’m still not entirely sure what happened, but the Sox made two errors on one play. First, Damon booted a ball in the outfield, and then he hit the cut-off man, Renteria, who apparently is excited about football season too, because he tried to spike it like a football. 8-3 Yanks.

Top 7: The Stadium is going nuts. Aaron Small just walked off to a standing "O" of about 43,000 people (every Yanks fan anyway) and tipped his cap. The 28-year old is a career minor leaguer - he must be loving this. His line: 6.1 IN, 9 H, 4 ER, 2 BB, 3 K. It may not look impressive, but stats and alcoholics don’t always tell the whole story. (He'll get the "W" later, too.)

Top 7 still: Alan Embree comes in, and I instantly go into a fetal position. And he instantly gets a ground out—wait, make that an error by Cano, and a run scores. Even when Embree does the right thing, it goes wrong. Torre pulls him after one batter, and he may as well have been in a Boston uniform, because it was the mirror opposite of Small’s exit. Gordon quells the threat.

Bot 7: Bob Sheppard, Yankee P.A. announcer: “Now pitching for the Red Sox… (pause) …. (pause) …. (pause) …. Chad …. (pause) … Har … ville.” Chad Harville? Yeah, I would have been confused too.

Top 9: Four run lead. “No Mo Tonight, but I’ll take the win.” Then it rises up over the Bronx skyline, the sweetest song you ever did hear: Hush Little Baby, don’t say a word … and nevermind that noise you heard … Mariano! Turns out he hadn’t worked in about four days. He gets three out of the last four, and we’re out of there with a W! Huge for the Yanks. Need 2 of 3. Got the “regular game” tonight, wonder which of the remaining two tomorrow’s will be?

Writer’s Note: I know I said there would be three columns this week, but did you really believe me? Well, you should have, cause there will be - just not in the manner you were expecting. I want more time on the third one (it's a meaningful one, not my typical sports comedy). And as you can see the second one is already longer than a Dan Brown novel, so I’m divvying it up into two installments. I’ll post the events of the next two games on Friday or Saturday. Sorry to disappoint.

Encounter of the Nappy Kind

2005-09-12T16:44:00.000-04:00

He sat down right across from me, and I did a double take.

It was 1:30 p.m. on Friday, and I was in Logan International Airport (Slogan: We Don’t Know Which Terminal is Yours Either). I was catching the 2:00 US Air Shuttle flight to New York for my birthday weekend, a three-day stint of Baseball and NYC bars.

I was exhausted, having gone straight from my corporate outing on Thompson Island in the Boston Harbor directly to the Red Sox game the night before, after my buddy Jim offered me a ticket at the last minute. I hedged – that would make four games in four days. I love baseball, but even I have a limit, both physically and financially.

Then he mentioned it was a free ticket, and really, that’s like saying no to free beer.

On top of the game – a great game pitched by LAAASC’s Paul Byrd shutting out the Sox – we hit up Tequila Rain after the game to watch the second half of the Pats game, where Pretty Boy diced up the horrible Raiders D for 300+ yards. (Don’t get excited… that game was just as much the Raiders D being horrible as it was Tommy playing well.)

So I’m at the gate, half-asleep, essentially staring into space, when a big guy with nappy hair sits down in the seat right across from me.

Manny Ramirez.

My first thought: Holy crap, that’s Manny Ramirez.

My second thought: What the hell is he doing here? Shouldn’t he be in NY? Where is the rest of the team? What time is batting practice? He must be going right to The Stadium.

My third thought: If this plane crashes, I’ll die, but so will Manny.

I’m not sure why I thought that. Maybe because every time I get on a plane I think about death, a thought is as inevitable as me thinking about sex when I see a beautiful woman. Or maybe it’s because I could picture people talking about the day Manny’s plane crashed, and then one of my friends piping in, “Yeah, I knew a guy who was on that plane.”

Not exactly the kind of immortality I dream about.

My fourth thought: Son of a B*tch, I forgot my camera.

After I texted anyone who would care, I sat there watching him, trying to figure out how I could capture this moment. It was quite a sight. Manny was very busy being Manny: signing autographs and chatting with a few airport employees en Espanol, all while listening to his MP3 player and talking on the phone.

I couldn’t help but smile. The guy approaches his life like he approaches baseball. Just takes it all in stride, never gets worked up. His entire life must be a spectacle.

(No, Alana, he doesn’t look as disheveled in person, but his hair is just as nappy and disgusting.)

I managed to steal a marker from one of the autograph seekers and get his John Hancok, a completely illegible grouping of squiggles. (But what do I do with it now? Get a framed picture and put it in there? But then I have to have a picture of the Red Sox player I dislike the most hanging up in my apartment. I don’t think so.)

While I watched Manny be Manny, I also had another thought: I should take the Yankees jersey out of my garment bag and put it on.

I couldn’t help think about my Arroyo Head-Nod Curse, so I only hoped the fact he gave me an autograph would keep him down for the weekend at least.

Of course, the spectacle didn’t last long enough for me to whip out the jersey, as Manny got escorted on the plane before anyone else, the preferential treatment that only mega-stars and politicians get accorded. Maybe the US Air employees did it to save him from the small throng that had gathered, or maybe they did it to have a chance to talk with him themselves.

But after he boarded the plane, I overheard a ticket agent saying he didn’t even say “thank you,” and that he seemed spoiled rotten to her.

But that’s not what I had seen. I had seen Manny being Manny: I’d seen a cheerful guy, chatting away with everyone, signing at least 30 autographs, and wearing that signature Manny smile that irks me and makes me roll my eyes when I see it in the field.

And the strangest thing happened when I heard her say that:

I opened my mouth to defend the guy.

But before the words came out, I checked myself. Maybe I couldn’t bring myself to defend him, my third-least-favorite guy in Baseball (Bonds, Pedro). Or maybe I didn’t think the ticket agent would care.

But the point is: I almost defended him, and for once in my life I thought someone gave Manny less credit than he deserved.

I gave the agent my ticket, boarded the plane, and found my seat. It was a ways away from Manny’s spot in First Class. The flight was miserable. I get motion sickness watching a rollercoaster. The turbulence on the flight wasn’t exactly something from “Lost” but it was above average. And the flight was well over an hour thanks to delays at LaGuardia, and it’s never that long.

When I stepped off the plane, Manny was long gone. I was queasy, so much so that I took a seat in the airport to regain my composure. As I sat there, my lips pursed and trying not to think about the scene with Billy Bob from Varsity Blues (“Thinkin about callin’ up some dinosaurs?”), I took some solace in the thought that somewhere, Manny was probably feeling queasy too.

Maybe he would play like crap because of it. The Yankees are in playoff mode now, and we need every break we can get.

But I was glad Manny hadn’t died in a fiery plane crash.

And not just for selfish reasons.

Observations from Four Games In Four Days:

BREAKING NEWS: As Lines goes to press, the AP is reporting that the New York Yankees would host the tie-breaker if the Yanks and Sox finished the season with the same record. The Yanks won a coin toss to determine the host. Here is more from the AP:

The Yankees, who trailed the Red Sox by three games entering play Monday, end the regular season with three games at Fenway Park from Sept. 30-Oct. 2. If the teams finish with identical records and the wild-card club comes from another division, the Yankees and Red Sox would shift to New York for the tiebreaker game. (ESPN.com)

• I find that amazing, because I wrote this just before I saw that: ”Two of three was what we needed, and it’s what we got. I didn’t think we could sweep, so this was the best possible outcome. Three games back. Did anyone doubt that the division would come down to the last weekend in Boston? As if we needed what could potentially be two Yankees/Sox playoff series in the same year. I’m not sure my liver could stand it.” (I was referring to the regular season, and I didn’t even think about the ramifications of a one-game playoff!)

• Did I curse Manny? Let’s see… over the three-game series, here’s his line: 3-11, 1 HR, 2 BB, 2 R, 3 RBI. Essentially right on with what he’s been doing all season. Can’t claim a curse on that, unfortunately.

• As Buster Olney writes in his weekly blog (only for insiders on ESPN.com), if the Yankees fail to make the post-season, it won’t be the fault of Randy Johnson. His performance yesterday (7 IP, 1 H, 0 R, 8 K) against the best lineup in baseball was a sign that he’s still among the best in baseball. The Yankees have won 18 of his 30 starts, he’s going to toss around 40 more innings than any other Yankees starter, he’s going to collect his 200th K next start (good for second in the AL), and his run support is only 22nd in the league. I’ve had mixed emotions about him all year, but if he is finally coming back to form, well, now is the time the Yanks need that more than ever.

• After leading the division all year, the Sox could technically be left out in the cold this year come playoff time. If the Yanks take the division, and the Indians keep playing the way they are (7 in a row!) then only one AL East team gets in.

• In the “Not that you care” department, but my fantasy team rolled this week despite my best player, Sean Alexander, having only 74 yards and not scoring. Bulger, Moss, and the Pittsburgh D all came up big. I even had 50 points on my bench (Jimmy Smith, I. Bruce) Barring what happens tonight, I could walk away with the highest point total for the week. Which would ironically be exactly what happened last year before Quentin Griffin was exposed for a fraud and William Green grabbed a bottle of Jack and went for a joyride – and I ended up missing the playoffs.

• After what seems like 32 seasons, we finally have an heir apparent to the Simpsons: The Family Guy. I loved this show the first time around, and was ready to call the network when they cancelled it. It’s back, and last night’s season premiere – supposedly not the episode they wanted to air because that one was pulled for offensive material – was better than ever. I’ll be picking up the DVDs… after my bank account recovers from this weekend. Baby Stewie is the new Bart, Peter the new Homer.

• An additional benefit to being in NYC this weekend was I got to catch some of the Giants game. Tiki and the rookie Brandon Jacobs both looked good, and may give the G-Men the “Thunder and Lightening” combo that Dayne couldn’t deliver. As for Eli, I’m still not sure he was worth blowing a half-decade’s worth of draft picks on (not sure anyone is) but his play is best categorized as moments of pure brilliance surrounded by periods of sheer terror. And his line shows it: 10/23, 172 yards, 2 TD, 2 INT.

• The Pats are the Pats, Randy Moss is still Randy Moss, Tom Brady is Tom Brady and Kerry Collins is still Kerry Collins. Rare that a game that goes exactly to script can still be so exciting. Probably was just because we were all starving for football, as this is the part of the season where casual baseball fans start asking the die-hards, “How much longer to playoffs??”

• If all goes to plan, you’ll get three columns from me this week to make up for the three week hiatus when you cried yourself to sleep because there was no Lines. This one, a weekend diary, and a special column that I’ve been meaning to write for years but now finally have the hook for.

• More observations on NYC and this weekend’s games later this week with the additional columns, but I don’t want to steal any thunder from them so that’s all for now.

“I have… James Woods!”