Site name

Over the past week, there definitely seem to be a couple camps forming around this weekend's Final Four. One side loves Mason and the "upstarts" and the no number ones, while the other seems to be lamenting the lack of traditional powers or a team to wear the black hat. Funny how everyone, CBS included, roots for those upsets the first weekend, but afterwards seem to prefer a more status quo tournament with the big basketball schools bashing heads. Others just seem to have tournament fatigue and with the local teams or alma matters ousted are just counting down the hours till Opening Day. Last I heard from him, Greg was sequestered in his living room with a stop watch, a ten gallon drum of seeds and Visine, anxiously waiting for those Extra Innings channels to kick on. Anyway, certainly with UConn and BC gone, I expect little more than the box scores in the Boston papers, which, alas is two inches more ink than BC will get for the Frozen Four.

I find myself with fingers in all the pies. Make no mistake, I'm a true fan, a basketball junkie, but being so close to Fairfax this week with it's wall to wall George Mason coverage has been trying. Mostly these stories seem to consist of a reporter standing in front of students and telling us who Mason beat to this point. That or shots of the melees in the Mason bookstore. All very insightful. Of course I'm happy for Mr. Mason who has been in the historical gutter for far too long, but the pandering and repetitive stories on the bookstore and pep rallies are starting to wear on my sanity. Mostly I just want to see good college basketball games before being subjected to the long slog of the NBA playoffs. If that means not being able to root against Duke (you have wonder if the administration isn't relieved the team is out as they seem to have enough publicity to handle right now) or UConn or the media's anointed number one, so be it. Just remember, win or lose, it's the end of Billy Packer for six months. Of course the other side of that coin is that it's the start of six months of Joe Morgan.

For no fathomable reason, oh right, probably this law school thing, this week's Byte Size Baseball features a trio of stories about the legal sparring behind the Great American Pasttime. It's one, two, three strikes you're out ...

This is exactly the sort of shennanigans I was hoping for when the Expos folded up their hockey gear, a couple of cases of LaBatt's Ice, and moved down to the District. I'm sure MikeD can tell us more of the inside dirt on DC sports mania, since my vision might be a bit blurred seeing this from 3 time zones away. But is there anyone less likeable in baseball than Peter Angelos? Maybe it's just me, but in a contest between Peter Angelos, Comcast, and Rep. Tom Davis, I'm honestly pulling for the cable company. Who the hell ever roots for the cable company? You've got one guy who got a chunk of profits from a new network just so he'd shut up about DC being "his market," and another one is currently the chairman of the House Gov't Reform Committee (nothing more important to worry about right now, Tom?) grandstanding about what networks a cable company should carry. Left in the middle is Comcast, looking to me like they can't really win here.

Apparently, Comcast plans to air fewer than a quarter of the Nats' games. They're already in a bitter legal fight with Angelos, who owns the Mid-Atlantic Sports Network (MASN). MASN was awarded control of the Nationals' television rights as a way to win Angelos' support for moving the Nationals to Washington. Got that? The Orioles owner owns the network that broadcasts the Nats' games, and Comcast, which currently carries Orioles games on Comcast SportsNet, has sued Angelos, contending that he improperly terminated the Orioles' contract with Comcast. Comcast blames Angelos for the impasse, and MASN points the finger at Comcast. And around and round we go. Sweet.

Sure was a great idea to give Angelos control over two different team's broadcasts like that. Maybe he could also get a piece of the concessions at Shea. I eagerly await more of this media conglomorate/spoiled baseball magnate soap opera. This might be my favorite non-sports story in baseball since I learned the Marlins are terrorists.

Next up on today's docket, the Astros can't catch a break. Or more accurately, they wish Jeff Bagwell had broken something. Their insurance company is refusing to pay them the $15.6 million they expected to recoup from injured Jeff Bagwell's $17 million contract. The insurance company is using Bags' stunted performance as a pinch-hitter in the World Series as evidence that he was "able to play" at the end of last season (despite missing 115 games and saying that he "might never play again"). I like the line from Astros attorney Wayne Fisher, "big, gigantic shock, an insurance company doesn't want to pay."

Our third and final "it's baseball but it ain't" is the story of Barry Bonds, crusader for justice. Yes, our hero Barry is now closer to Ruth's magic 714 than he is to a perjury conviction, but he's got more on his mind, like protecting the sanctity of the grand jury system. See, he's not trying to stop the authors of Game of Shadows from profiting off their book because it's false, or becuase it makes him out to be a real asshole. Nothing so petty as all that. No, he's trying to stop them becuase otherwise the California legal system will grind to a halt, and St. Barry isn't about to let that happen. Mmmm ... I love the smell of fresh bullshit in the springtime.

Now on to some actual baseball notes:

• Learn the art of hitting.

• This is gonna be a bumpy ride, Nats fans. "Maybe tomorrow I see the ball off the bat during BP."

• Carlos Pena is looking for work. I know he never really did anything, but at one point he was getting a lot of ink.

• Little League considering HGH testing? Ok, maybe not.

• Kevin Millar said he was going to "break him in a little bit." Baltimore isn't prison, so I wasn't sure what that meant. This is what it means.

• Milton Bradley: not that big a dick after all?

Greatest upset in the history of sports. On par with the 1980 US hockey team. The script for Mighty Ducks 5. The Buster Douglas of hoops. More surprising than Woody Paige regaining his dignity. One of the greatest college games ever played. The hyperbole and sensationalism are in full bloom today after George Mason's win, especially down here in DC, which is amusing because in the six months prior I've never heard the station down here mention them expect in the score flash. Perhaps I watch too much college basketball, or perhaps I watch too little, but UConn losing didn't shock me, though I was surprised they couldn't bury the Patriots in overtime. All season long UConn has looked mostly disinterested for 35 minutes of every game and it was evident in the tournament too, just as it was evident, to anyone watching, that George Mason had caught something and with their inside-outside game clicking, they would be a tough out. So okay, it was definitely a huge upset. No doubt. But does anyone feel like we've been heading this way for awhile now?

If Gonzaga was the mid-major advance raiding party the last few years, than I think George Mason certainly trumpets their arrival in full force. Will it happen every year? Of course not, but I think the talent level and the NBA are bridging the gap between the major conferences and all the second tier conferences. Even if the huge discrepancy in capital spending remains, I think we'll continue to see smaller or less traditional basketball powers bubble up and compete with the Dukes, UConns, UCLAs and Kansas's of the world. Thanks to the NBA talent drain, even these power schools have increasingly smaller windows of true dominance. Yes, George Mason beat a good team. But did they beat a great team? A truly dominant team? No. Will we ever see that happen again in college basketball? A small commuter school taking down Phi Slamma Jamma or Ewing's Hoyas or Walton's Bruins? I don't think so. Not because the small schools couldn't do it, but because the college dynasty has gone the way of the dinosaurs and condomless porn.

Other loose thoughts from the weekend:

Rudy Gay a #1 overall pick? Really? He reminds me of a classic "looks like a player." Everyone always said Gabe Kapler looked great in a uniform, but that really didn't help him hit the slider. Gay looks like he has the NBA body, but if I were a GM, I'd like to see a more consistent display of effort, skills and court sense.

On the other end of the spectrum, has anyone made more money these past two weeks than Joakim Noah?

While I can pat myself on the back for picking LSU over Duke and getting UCLA and Florida right in the Final Four, those are about the only things I picked right. Gregg Doyel, in an impressive display, including nailing 15 of the 16 sweet sixteen teams (care to guess which one he missed?), leads with 43 correct, while the National Bracket picked 38 and your humble host got 34.

Completed unrelated but worth some time: If you don't get SI, you may have missed their story on the rise of Internet sports writing in their latest issue. Sadly we were cut from the final article, but Bill Simmons is prominently featured and SI's website has a transcript of the author's full interview.

Vince Young just can't catch a break, can he? As if we didn't have enough to dissect such as his Damon-esque throwing style or his Wonderlic scores or his ability to get his hands right up near a center's ass, now comes word that he was clocked at 4.58 in a spur of the moment 40 yard dash on a "fast track" at his workout yesterday. Read that again. 4.57. Damn. I mean, if Young and Marcus Vick were robbing a bank and they parked their getaway car forty yards from the bank in a direct line from the doors, Vick would definitely get to the car a good 5 to 6 inches before Young. And if he had to throw a bag of money while running? Well, I'll leave that to your imagination.

Of course like the Wonderlic, the quoted 4.58 is in dispute with Young saying he was told he ran between 4.4 and 4.5. It seems like every April there is a story arc similar to Young. If the NBA is too easily swayed by grainy European videos and upside and wingspan, the NFL seems to go the other extreme, poking, prodding and measuring it's prospects down to the hundredth of a second. I wouldn't begrudge anyone wanting to look over and check out the merchandise before buying. I know Greg has a stringent 37 point checklist for any blow up doll he purchases. I'm no different when I'm buying a new ferret. Now certainly there is a difference between a 4.3 guy and a 4.8 guy, but when NFL guys start wringing their hands over 4.45 and 4.5, I want to scream. I'm not sure about you, but I have a hard enough time judging seconds, never mind trying to break it down even further.

I'll admit, I'm not the biggest Young supporter, like Vick, I think while his style of play leads to the occasional jaw dropping highlight, I also think the frenetic style can be defensed and will lead to amplified mistakes in the NFL. But you have to feel for the guy, he's been taken to the proverbial woodshed since winning the Rose Bowl as if the NFL couldn't have him separating from the pack. While, I won't go so far as to say he'll be a perennial Pro Bowler, I don't think he's the second coming of Akili Smith either. Maybe Aaron Brooks. Is that a compliment or a slander? Not up to me to decide.

Okay, that one hurt. Was I just distracted by the dulcimer sounds of The Best of Mel Torme CD I picked up yesterday or did no one see Vinatieri studying Kenny Chesney lyrics and practicing his Peyton Face? The Colts? C'mon, how about Arizona or any other NFC team as a retirement plan? But the Colts! Personally this one hurt more than Damon. While I enjoyed JD's exploits, his Maybellline hair and awkward arm just never clicked with me on a fan or fantasy level. Vinatieri, on the other hand, had risen to golden god status in New England. Brady and Vinateri jerseys were neck and neck for most seen on the street. Odd for a kicker, but true. Cool, confident and well spoken, he was a kicker who was a football player and seemingly had it made in the shade to go the way of Orr, Russell or Yaz and attend golf outings, charity dinners and Dunkin Donut ribbon cuttings for the rest of his life. What more could a man want?

Guaranteed money, a dome and some respect, apparently. All of which he felt were lacking in New England. And had been for a couple years. The franchise tag will do that to a guy. The fact that the bitterness was kept so undercover speaks to both Vinatieri's professionalism and why most Pats fan are walking around with a thousand mile stare this morning. Contrary to what the papers might have you believe, the Pats will field a team and will probably be competitive next year, but the In Bill We Trust mantra is being put to the test this offseason with more and more coaches and players hitting the road. Has success become the Pats worst enemy? Is their vaunted system, both on the field and financial, now stifling and driving out the players that helped the franchise rise from two dollar hooker to blue blood society madame? Is this just the modern NFL where warm and fuzzy feelings like loyalty lead the way to franchise disarray, bloated salaries and no cap space? I've of mixed mind on this as the Celtics still haven't recovered from not pulling the trigger on any deal for the Big Three till it was too late and certainly I'd rather see the money spent on locking up Seymour and remaining competitive than on securing an aging star's 401(b), but I wonder if all players and positions are as plug and play as the Patriots hope.

So, anxious days for Pats fans. Or maybe anxious days just for forgetful Pats fans. Nobody that stops and thinks for a minute should surprised that Belichick and Pioli let a number two receiver walk for 25 million or a 12 year vet go? History, nostalgia and past accomplishments just do not factor heavily, probably not all, into the Patriots personnel decisions. Still, even a hardened stoic such as myself is a bit shaken by this decision and can't help but wonder if Bill and Co. were caught off guard last night. Belichick has always shown he's only willing to pay for value and he's building a team where the system leads to a talent breadth where when one player inevitably moves on, another steps up. And his track record is hard to argue with so far, even if last season's signings put some dents in the armor. Monty Beisel and Chad Brown anyone? And I believe he truly doesn't care one iota about fan or media reaction. He is single minded in his determination to win and paying over $3M a year for a kicker didn't fit into that vision. Yet, what surprised me most is that, even given recent back and leg injuries, Belichick must realize Vinatieri gave him an edge, even if it was more psychological than physical at this point (witness the pooch punt in Jax or the shank in Denver from last year's playoffs) and Belichick is loathe to give up any edge.

Time and distance ultimately proved Belichick right on Kosar, Bledsoe, Law and others, but perspective and fiscal responsibility are hard and bitter words not often found in the fan's vocabulary. Yet it might be the price we pay in the modern game if you want your team to remain relevant and competitive year in and year out.

Can you feel it?

That nagging itch at the back your brain, like that time you got poison ivy in your anus, and you had to tell everyone that you accidentally fell down naked on your ass pinching a loaf in the woods. And then your cousin Fred had to explain that he accidentally fell down naked too, only he fell on his penis. You know that feeling, right? The itch I'm talking about is like that one, but like two feet higher. It's the itch that insists you pick up any object that's cylindrical and more than a couple feet long (cue Greg making a "my cock" joke! *high hat*) and swing it around in a poor imitation of your favorite batter's stance. The Sheffield loosey-goosey. The Nomar obsessive. You know you have your favorite. Yes, it's Baseball Fever, and I just came down with a nasty batch of it.

But it's Tourney Time, you say. March Madness! The Field of 65! Various schools I'm unfamiliar with winning games with grit, and determination, and a coach who got them all to believe in each other, despite their differences! And the video montage at the end that makes you laugh and cry and hug the strangers in the bar with you! It's Tournament Fever, Baby!

True enough. And for the last twenty years I've been a Madness Junkie like the rest of you. I know it was twenty because my first great sports year was 1986. When you're done laughing , allow me to explain. Providence College, Final Four. Celtics, NBA champs. Sox, World Series. We didn't win them all, but gimme a break I was eight, that year was awesome. I still have the scrap book I kept of the entire PC basketball season. Seriously.

But this year, I'm in law school, and my free time is limited the way that a quadriplegic has limited use of his post-up skills. I basically had to skip all of the roller coaster ride of opening weekend, in fact basically the college basketball season. Which pains me. But then Seton Hall lost by twenty on Thursday, so I would have been pained anyway.

All of that by way of segue into Byte-Size Baseball ...

• So Soriano's an ass. This bodes well for my fantasy team.

• All your base are belong to us. Congrats to Japan on their WBC title. Do they get Hasim Rahman's belt? (ed: yes, that is "We Are The World" playing in the intro to the WBC's website. Boxing's awesome)

• Arroyo for Wily Mo. Good deal, I think. Although Arroyo was the best candidate out of the Sox Pitching Hydra to have success in the pen, this is a good move. They add a 24-year-old MLBer with power, who's going to get to see some pitches in their lineup, who's locked up for a couple of years yet. The downside is that Trot will yet again be platooned, but these moves always seem to make more sense later in the season when there's injuries and players need to shift around to fill gaps. Jay Payton was actually on pace for about 250 ABs in a "spare outfielder" role last season.

• WWJD? Maybe drop-kick the ball to reach second base. Or take up lawn bowling out by the monuments, and try to roll it all the way in.

• Unreal. Doc Gooden is at it again. He failed a drug test on Friday, just after leaving rehab and while still on probation from driving away from a cop during a DUI stop last summer. Back to the slammer.

• The MLB announced during the WBC champtionship game that they're starting a new anti-steroid initiative aimed at high school athletes. As the MLB press release/news story puts it:

  "this latest initiative is intended to give high school coaches posters and other paraphernalia as teaching aids in the campaign, which hammers out the message that steroids can have a deleterious effect on the body and often leads to death."

  Ok, quick rant here. Steroids are bad for you. Plus, they screw up the e'ffing game because now fans can't trust the players to be successful the "old fashioned" way, you know, screwing around on their wives while on the road, boozing, and gambling. I'm not pro-steroid, so don't get me wrong when I say this. But when MLB is telling high school athletes that steroids "often lead to death," the hypocrisy just has to slap these kids in the face. They probably know people who use steroids, or do so themselves. Those people aren't dead. They know pro baseball players have used steroids, who are presumably not dead, either. Baseball knew players were using steroids, and did little to nothing about it for the better part of a decade, and now intends to lecture the Youth of America with a pat on the head and a scary story about how they "often lead to death." I know often is a relative term and all, but even the DEA doesn't try that kind of scaremongering in their steroid fact sheet. If you don't want these kids to tune out your message, perhaps try being honest with them? Oh, and also, don't use the word "deleterious," it sounds simultaneously pompous and ridiculous when you're talking about growing man-boobs and having your cock shrink while your testicles atrophy and your libido goes through the roof. Plus, back acne.
  

All that sitting was worth it. Six pounds, four bags of baked Cheetos (are those the greatest scientific breakthrough of this century?), two pizzas, one hardened artery and a trip to the pub on Friday later, the tourney once again proved why it's so compelling to watch. Not to mention the enormous helping of crow Jim Nantz and Billy Packer had to eat while mid and minor majors wreaked havoc on the Big Ten and others. To their credit they did call themselves on it towards the end of the Nova-Zona game. Still, between distracting my wife from the fact that I was spending all weekend with Greg Gumbel and hiding the remote when I relented to go to the bathroom, I'm exhausted and thankful I have four days to recharge before more basketball. And what do I have to write about? Hardly a thing. My brain is a foggy, homogenized mass of highlights, tats, tears and wispy moustaches that refuse to congeal into coherent thoughts. YocoHoops, however, does has some nice all around comments on the first round.

The Jekyll and Hyde act of my alma mater continued (that's why they were a four seed, Greg) and left many people scratching their heads after eeking out a 2OT game against Pacific. Of course, two days later they showed just how dangerous and explosive they can be when their outside shooting clicks with Craig Smith's inside game and how Sean Williams can drastically alter a game without scoring a point. Friday's tilt with Villanova should offer a dizzying contrast in styles.

As for my brackets, I fell victim once again to upset-itis. We're seduced by grainy highlights of Bryce Drew and NC State, but in reality you'd be served far better to pick the favorite more often than not, at least in round one. After two rounds, I'm a distant third (28 right) to both the National Bracket (33) and Greg Doyel's choices(34). Doyel is one up on the National Bracket based on his choice of West Virginia making the sweet sixteen. Do I have to capitalize that?

So with the valiant performances, even in losses, has parity come to to men's college basketball? No, but I do think the playing field is getting much deeper and broader for a few reasons. First, the committee's effort not to overlook these schools based solely on conference. Second, hand in hand with the first, larger schools are becoming more willing to take on these mid majors in pre-conference play. And third, the higher profile of pre-season tournaments and bracket buster weeks on ESPN get lower profile teams better prepared to play in March.

That's it. Gotta go earn some money to pay the hosting fees and Greg's incalcitrant fried dough habit.

Oh it's March. And there's Madness. Can you feel it? Oh, it's crazy nuts out there. Whooo! Hide the old people and the dildos. I'll tell you what the craziest part of the whole thing is ... the fact that BC got stuck with a #4 seed for this tournament, while UNC did not. What kind of communist bullshit is that? Let's break it down.

BC- 22-7, 11-5 (conference), ACC tournament finals, lost to Duke by two, beat UNC twice @ Chapel Hill.

UNC- 22-5, 12-4 (conference), lost to BC in ACC tournament, have James Worthy's jersey hanging from rafters.

Ok, so guess who got the #3 seed? That's right, UNC. But if you started from the begining of the post, you probably knew that smarty pants. But if not ... surprise! And why the favorable ranking? Who knows? The selection committee probably overlook the facts like refs look past Sheldon Williams "Alonzo Mourning-esque" elbow swings (I understand Sheldon Williams ... or SW, as the kids call him ... is on Duke. But since I'm talking about crap, might as well throw Duke into the mix). If BC lost yesterday, I'd be mad. Today, I'm just mildly annoyed leaning towards not really caring but needing something to write about. But if UNC loses tonight then, well, I'll have to look the committee in the eye, slap them on the bum and say, "Good call fellas, good call." But that won't happen. Or will it? Stay tuned.

Here's sports timely sports commentary ... Edgerrin James is on Arizona now. Wow. Kind of a shock. Almost winning is totally overrated anyway. But I do wish I watched James' press conference. Although I imagine it went something like this: "The reason joined this organization is because, well, ... I have a strong appreciation for Arizona's commitment to mediocrity ... and with my offseason signing, I was hoping to make my preseason fantasy draft assesment virtually impossible for the upcoming season. I will also enjoy reading the words "Arizona" and "possible Super Bowl contender" in various newspapers, magazines and brochures. Of course, that is complete bullshit. Please do not believe them. I couldn't help the Colts. Arizona is going nowhere. Also, my teeth cost $86,000."

So, I played XBox 360 for the first time the other day. Had a little "Fight Night Round 3" action ... ridiculous. That's all I have to say. It's a vague, boring statement, I know. And unless you can actually watch me play and get mesmerized by my handsomeness and the system' graphics, you probably don't grasp the full scope of what I am saying. I am aware of this. But here's a question for you. Are you aware that I once defeated a tiger shark with my bare fists? Didn't think so. But now probably isn't the right time to bring that up.

The most ass numbing days of the year are upon us. Ever want to know what it feels likes to be a long haul trucker? Want to increase your risk of hemorrhoids? Just plop yourself down on the couch and check out any of the top ten best days to watch sports all day long on TV.

1. NCAA Tournament Opening Weekend
Sure you have to contend with Nantz, Gumbel and Packer, and the control room geeks running wild with the split screen feature, but it's still wall to wall, do-or-die basketball for 12 straight hours.

2. NFL Divisional Weekend
More quality football than you can shake a stick at, plus, at least in New England it's colder than Ted Williams's head, the Christams shopping is done, the in-laws are gone and if you've played your cards right, there's isn't a lot of guilt to be thrown your way about watching football for nine hours on consecutive days.

3. MLB Opening Day
The real one. Not the one in Japan or the Sunday night one ESPN hijacked. That first day where there are double digit games played mostly under the sun like God intended. Let summer begin.

4. NFL Kickoff Weekend
Screw summer. There's a chill in the air, leaves are turning, and men in tight pants are hitting each other. Greg breaks out the Sweetness headband. The NFL is back.

5. Ryder Cup Sunday
They must put something in the water because it's hard to see people getting so worked up over golf, but the US and Euros really turn up the hate for these things. Recent history shows the US team will wear hideous shirts and anything can happen on Sunday.

6. AL/NL Divisional Series
Too many games for MLB to spread out, we get playoff baseball everyday for a week, with most days bringing two games. Can't beat it.

7. World Cup Pool Play
I would have put this one higher, but constantly getting up at 1 or 4 am for the Korea matches has dampened my enthusiasm a bit. American taste aside, the entire world watches these matches and makes the Super Bowl audience look like the parents that turn out for a weekday Little League game.

8. Thanksgiving NFL games
The feast isn't complete without overcooked TruDucken and nodding off to Terry Bradshaw's abrasive voice.

9. Olympics
Take your pick, Summer or Winter. Goofy or serious. Love it or hate it. There's sports on pretty much 24 hours a day for 16 days.

10. The Masters
Decorum and soothing, smooth jazz music aside, you have to love the fact that CBS is only allowed to show four minutes of commercials an hour.

I'm also partial to the Outdoor Games, nothing beats the guess whether it's a male or female lumberjack drinking game, but alas EPSN has put the ode to Skoal, woodchips and log rolling on hiatus this year.

Outside of tourney time, I'm not really sure where NCAA basketball falls on my personal sports interest ladder board. Certainly below baseball, pro football and international ping pong, but definitely somewhere north of bass fishing, the Winter Olympics and college baseball. One thing I am sure about is that I know enough about maybe ten teams to hold a conversation that last longer than what state the college is in. After Internet Christmas shopping, researching and picking NCAA brackets is probably the biggest waste of paper and productivity in American offices. Thankfully, the now widespread use of web brackets has saved more trees than Al Gore and Smokey the Bear. And all of it for what? Nada. There's more skill in playing Keno or picking a healthy Haitian prostitute than in knowingly picking a correct bracket. There's just too many teams, too many variables and too much luck involved to overcome the vagaries of the results.

Thanks to listening to Dick Vitale (I was young) rave about Syracuse in '96 I won a couple hundred in my freshman dorm NCAA pool. The upshot of the win, besides getting my intramural basketball team hit with sanctions, is that I'm convinced I've effectively used up my bracket mojo till Halley's comet comes back around. Since that win, I've tried everything: listening to "experts", listening to non-experts, listening to the alkie always reading paperbacks at my local pub, irrationally reading and researching everything I could find, only higher seeds, only upsets, only teams whose mascots have four chambered hearts. Never sniffed the money again. This year I've hit on a new strategy.

Buried amidst all the Tipping Point, Blink and general Malcolm Gladwell worship over the past couple years (not a knock, I'm a card carrying member of the fan club) was another interesting book in the same pop-culture, non-fiction, isn't that interesting vein, The Wisdom of Crowds by fellow New Yorker writer James Surowiecki. In a nutshell it's about "the aggregation of information in groups, resulting in decisions that, he argues, are often better than could have been made by any single member of the group." Surowiecki has four elements he defines as the markers for successful wise crowds:

• Diversity of opinion: Each person should have private information even if it's just an eccentric interpretation of the known facts.
• Independence: People's opinions aren't determined by the opinions of those around them.
• Decentralization: People are able to specialize and draw on local knowledge.
• Aggregation: Some mechanism exists for turning private judgments into a collective decision.

I think all of those are roughly in play for the en masse NCAA bracket picking. Sounds like a plan and more feasible than my original idea of going with the school that had the lower cummulative chearleader waist size. So in the name of boredom and post fodder, I'll conduct a little experiment this year. I'll take the picks of ESPN.com's national bracket as my crowds bracket, pit that against CBSportline.com Gregg Doyel's expert bracket and put both of those up against my own rather uninformed opinions. By the way if you're looking for the healthiest Haitian, go with the one wearing the best shoes.

• You had to know this was coming. Yes, it's TO TV. Apparently, Philly-based Banyan Productions won the "bidding war" to get Terrell Owens his own TV show. It will combine Owens' "passion for working out with his natural curiosity about other people." I can't decide what the best part is. Maybe that producer Tom Fowlers has "no concerns about working with Owens ... [he] doesn't expect any problems at all with him." Tom should get that expression tattoed backwards on his forehead, so each morning for the rest of his life he reads that asinine remark in the mirror. Maybe weirder still was the reason for his attraction to TO. Says Fowler, "it was absolutely his personality, but the wide receiver's body caught the company's eye, too." Yeah. Which brings up the obvious question: will my television allow me to reach through the screen and bunch him in the face with a roll of pennies in my fist? And if not, why would I watch?

• So I spent a few precious moments pouring over the mlblogs.com site today, moments I won't get back, ever. Sure, blogger is free, and there are mere dozens of other free blogging tools. But with mlblogs.com, you can pay baseball $4.95 a month to host your incomprehensible rambings! Gives a new meaning to blogging tools, doesn't it? But where else can you read the inspired musings of Tommy Lasorda, MLB Chief Operating Officer Bob Dupay, even the MLB Unix team (whose catch phrase, "root" for the home team, speaks for itself)? Amidst all that pagentry, I find Tony La Russa's Animal Rescue League blog something of an outlier. Dude likes pets. Is he vegan too?
  

• One hidden gem I did find there was 13-year-old Michael McHugh's blog. Michael has interviewed Roger Clemens, Barry Bonds, Yao Ming, Craig Biggio, Randy Johnson, Eric Gagne, Derek Jeter, Dirk Nowitski, Andy Pettitte, Carlos Beltran, Josh Beckett, and Greg Maddux (in his words, "to name a few"). He's also in his 4th grade journalism club and writes a column for the local paper. I'm inclined to say he's more serious about sportswriting than the Blah, but then, when's the last time you dropped a nipple joke, kid? Come back when there's hair down there.
  

• On a totally unrelated subject, the Redskins delivered another wagonfull of money to a pre-bust free agent, this time DE Andre Carter, to the tune of $30 million over 6 years. I especially liked this line from the generally optimstic Len Pasquarelli: "The consensus around the league is that Carter, who is not particularly stout versus the run ..." Just what Redskins fans want to hear about their big lineman acquisition! Does he have a gambling problem too?? I guess this means they won't be able to incredibly overpay for Randle El, which I expected given this year's lackluster FA class at wideout. Or maybe they will, I mean hey, they were only $4.9 million over the cap last week. Is Andrew Fastow running the accounting department over at FedEx Field?

• For those of you who don't know me (and I assume that includes everyone reading this whose name isn't MikeD or Greg), I'm a Boston sports fan from the East Coast who's now living in Los Angeles, a city with a less-than-vibrant sports culture. By less-than-vibrant I mean to describe something that's dimmer than that old flashlight your parents keep for when the power goes out, but marginally brighter than a black hole. I lived most of my life within reception of either WFAN or WEEI, so I know what real sports fans sound like. In LA, two of the biggest sports draws are Pete Carroll and Derek Lowe. 'Nough said. But I keep hearing that LA doesn't have a football team, which just isn't true. May I introduce to you, the LA Avengers. Why, just the other day the Venge were "unstoppable" in a key division win against San Jose, 75-61. Although opposing QB Mark Grieb threw 8 touchdowns (Take that, Tom Brady!) it wasn't enough against the Venge, who improved to 2-5. I love LA sports!
  

So, today is a pretty big day for us here at SportsBlah. See, this is our 500th post. Yes, that's right. Can you feel the excitement? I mean, I say it's a big deal not for any sentimental or poetic reasons. Really just because Mike D. and I are ridiculously lazy, and the thought of doing 500 of anything seems mathematically impossible. Ok, maybe that's not entirely true. I'm lazy. Mike D. on the other hand, runs his life with the efficiency of a Taiwanese cock ring factory. If he were running the site by himself, we would have gotten to 500 about nine months ago. But I digress. Either way, we're here. We're at 500. And I guess it's pretty cool. And how did Mike D. and I prepare for this monumentous occasion? By having this IM exchange last Friday:

IWrestledYourMom: Hey, Monday's post will be #500.
MikeD.: Cool.
IWrestledYourMom: What should we do? Anything?
MikeD.: I don't care.
IWrestledYourMom: Me neither.
MikeD.: Ok.
IWrestledYourMom: Maybe I'll post a photo of my balls.
MikeD.: Lovely.
IWrestledYourMom: I'm thinking something panoramic.
MikeD.: Yeah ... a real crowd pleaser, I'm sure.
IWrestledYourMom: Then again, maybe I'll do an "artsy zoom" sort of thing.

So, we had nothing. And while the photo of my b-bag seemed like a "fun" idea, it didn't really say "500th post" to me. So like I said, we didn't have much. Then, out of the blue, Mike D. said, "You know, Mircrosoft Word has some feature that scans your text documents and outputs a summary of your content. We could do that." I didn't understand his fancy computer talk, and honestly missed half of what he said, so I just said, "awesome dude" and let him get to work. So using what I can only believe was "magic", he imported every post we've ever done into Word and found out what our site "was all about". I thought it was going to be a nice, concise statement that said, "Mike D. writes insightful content. Greg is handsome and makes dick jokes." Not quite. This, my friends, is what Word thinks SportsBlah is all about.

"It's football time. This sucks. No baseball. 81 points. Well played, FedEx, well played. Enjoy the games. Ugh. More awesome than your team. Yankees win. Arubanian? Arubaslavian? Fantasy sports. Anyway, enjoy the games. I’m right. Fun times. Oh yes, baseball. Right guys? Right? The 21 wins. It was frustrating game to watch. Who wins? Dude. That guy. Right city, wrong team. Fun times. If not for the fans. If not for America. In the van. Seriously. Nope. Does anyone care? McSweeney's. Hockey goons. Classic literature. Time machines. Ugh. Examining pitching matchups, teams, ballparks, etc. Fun team to watch though. Wow. Tigers the most improved team in the off-season. This team is good. Opening Day. The Bears are more awesome than you. He’s quite capable of winning 15-17 games. Excellent games all around. Mike Sweeney? Dick. Fantasy baseball drafts. Interesting. Game 7, again. Derek Lowe in Game 7. Gotta love October baseball. Prediction time. Prediction: Seahawks. Two great games last night. Even if they win the series. 6-4 game. Tie game. Yanks are "America's team." That’s right . . . a bad team. Hello. Perfect timing. Where was the running game? Fun times. Interesting. Windpants. The high-scoring games? It's a team sport. Interesting read. Scott Boras likes to play games. Right. Greg: Agreed. Greg: Agreed. Greg: Crap. Take your time guys. Sweet. Yup. Noted. Ah. Yeah. Game 5. EDGE: Red Sox. Our football team kicks ass. Just one game. ALCS: Yankees over Red Sox in 7 games. I always thought the game's about winning. What a game! Mike. Big surprise. BEANO! Baseball cards. Wow. Interesting, if a bit long winded. 11 pitches. Need more time. Playoff hockey. Interesting read. Right?"

So there you have it. That's us, in a nutshell. Totally makes sense. Tell your friends. Computers certainly are brilliant. I'm actually surprised of the lack of sexual references. Perhaps Word didn't know what to do with phrases like "LaRussa gave him the Dirty Sanchez" and "The reverse shocker was certainly an unexpected birthday gift". I'm guessing the dictionary doesn't go into that much detail. But I was happy to see the random callout of "BEANO!" in all caps with an exclamation point. Only the finest sports news here. Only the finest. And speaking of which, we understand a lot happened in sports this weekend and that we're neglecting it just so we can sensually massage our own egos. But we'll be sure to return to insight and analysis tomorrow.

Anyway, this was post #500. And much like the other 499, it was a general waste of time for you the reader. I'm glad after all this time, things haven't changed. Oh and by the way, thanks for reading.

I swear to you these are real commercials for a real product. Looking to lose weight? Try "Ayds". And if you don't catch it the first time, try Ayds 2.

I defy you to watch these without giggling like a Girl Scout at a pony show.

(Opie & Anthony played these on their show a week ago. A nod in their direction is in order. And if you're not listening to their show, with Lil' Jimmy Norton, then ... well, um, you should. Strong words, I know. I'm sorry to be so forceful.)

I'm confused. Am I supposed to be shocked and indignant about this latest tell-all expose about Bonds and steroids? I'm pretty sure I made up my mind back in 2001 while re-alphabetizing my '87 Topps woody set and the sheer incongruity of Barry past versus Barry present stared back at me in bubblegum glory. Really, I think I would have been more shocked if the reporters had dug around for two years and found that yeah, Bonds really didn't do anything.

I'm confused about why MLB and the Giants aren't getting more heat. After the owners bungled their way into a work stoppage, they put their collective heads in the sand and allowed a bastardized form of the game, namely the homerun derby, to bring back fans, but proclaim ignorance and innocence in the whole affair later? Where is Selig in all of this? Oh wait, we're supposed to be watching the historic WBC. Say what you want about Giamatti, but he took some decisive action on Rose and gambling.

I'm confused about how certain still sealed grand jury documents ended up in the hands of these reporters and why if all of this is true and airtight how Bonds and others are not being brought up on perjury charges.

I'm confused about how Giambi, Sheffield, the other three major leaguers, 15 track athletes and seven NFL guys are not being named and put through the grinder.

I'm confused about all the hand wringing over the sanctity of the record books. Gimme a break, any sane and rational baseball fan already has a mental asterisk on just about any record set after 1994.

Mostly, I'm just confused about how Bonds thought he could take that whole cocktail and expect to live much past fifty.

Way back in the day, probably before you started reading SportsBlah, Mike D. and I weren't the only ones writing for this site. Oh sure, we did most of the work and got all the chicks, but once and a while we had a few guest contributors to help lessen the workload. Then, one day, they were gone. But as you can imagine, it's tough to stay away. I mean, you know, Mike D. with his inflatable barnyard collection. Me with what could be the greatest collection of Speedos in North America. We're pretty awesome. Anyway, our old friend Travis decided he wanted to come back ... once in a while. So, occasionally Travis will write a guest post. Maybe on Tuesdays. Maybe we'll eventually call his posts "Tuesdays with Travis" or even "Liquidy Monkey Shit Tuesdays". We'll see. Anyway, you'll be seeing him around. So be nice. Here is his first contribution (in a while).


I really would like to know what the hell happened to Kirby Puckett.

The 45-year-old Hall of Famer died yesterday after suffering a stroke Saturday at home in Arizona. I know that much. But I don't know what happened to him in the everyday sense. He went almost directly from beloved star player (one of my favorites since the '91 Series), known for his great attitude and leadership to a modern-day morality tale, almost overnight. He's a modern Icarus, flying too close to the sun and plummeting from the sky.

After glaucoma cut his career far too short, he careened between allegations that he had locked his wife in the basement to claims that he had cut through a door with a power saw to beat on her. Kirby also made something of a name for himself in the last couple of years for grabbing breasts and making phone calls to his longtime mistress from the house he and his (now ex-) wife shared. The AP obit story on Puck is strangely worded; circumspect about the obvious decline in his physical, and likely mental, health. Two different paragraphs use the words "the weight gain ... concerned those close to him." Tony Oliva throws in that Puckett kept getting "bigger and bigger and bigger ... we were worried about him." There's a tangential reference at the end of the piece to the strained relationship between the ex-player and the team that still plays its home games (thanks Bud Selig!) in Minneapolis at 34 Kirby Puckett Place.

What's so remarkable, and gets my morbid fascination working, is that Kirby Puckett wasn't just some athlete who turned out to have a dark side. This isn't Kenny Rogers letting the press finally cause a moment of stupid anger, or Robby Alomar swapping spit with an umpire. Hell, this isn't even like that other how-the-mighty-have-fallen moment when Roger Clemens tried to kill Mike Piazza with a piece of splintered wood and then absurdly claimed he "thought it was the ball." Kirby Puckett was widely considered the Best Guy in the Game. He won the Roberto Clemente award. He was a fan favorite in opposing stadiums. Kirby was the pudgy, scrappy, hard-nosed player who rose from being the youngest of like a dozen poor kids in a gov't project to win 2 World Series rings. In 1991 he famously told the team before Game 6 to "let him carry them on his back to victory." Which he then proceeded to do.

This was Mr. All-American Baseball. Meanwhile, back at home, he was allegedly taking after his loving wife with a Sawz-All and a half-cocked pistol? The Dr. Jeykll & Mr. Hyde quality of it is almost too striking. I guess the lesson Kirby leaves me with (besides confirming the utility of my ever-abiding cynicism) is that putting heroes on pedestals tends to be dangerous.

It's a long fall from up there, and if they reach terminal velocity they might crush you on the way down.

Written by: Travis

The other day I was standing on a crowded subway train, wearing windpants, sporting a massive erection. Anytime anyone would look over, I'd just point at my crotch and scream, "Must be baseball season". Oh sure, it was weird at first. People would avoid eye contact with me, especially when I tried to hug them. But after an hour or so, we all shared a good laugh. Why? Because it's March. And March means baseball. And everyone knows baseball = clumsy erections on the train. Baseball also = awesome. Like two ninjas fighting flying unicorns in an arena filled with potato salad and prostitutes. It also = fun. Good, old-fashioned American fun. Like 30 naked supermodels lobbing chickens at old people. That's right, baseball is here. Can you possibly keep from urinating yourself? Go ahead and try.

And of course with baseball comes fantasy baseball ... where true fans combine their abundance of free time with the power of LIMA, VORP and Eric Karabell to vie for the title of Uber Dork. And, really, that's my point. You see, what I'm getting at is, I want to start a fantasy baseball league and I want to invite you. I'm also trying to let everyone know that my testicles are abnormally large. But that may not have been so clear. Until now.

Seriously ... huge.

Anyway, a few months back, I had this "brilliant" idea. I thought, why not start a fantasy baseball league and invite a bunch of the sports "bloggers", whose sites I enjoy, to participate. So I emailed a few sites and people were all like, "Who are you?" and I was like, "SportsBlah" and they were all like, "Cool", and I was like, "Yeah" and they were like, "Totally." And in the end, I have about 5 teams/sites who are ready and willing to join. Of course, I only asked 5 people. Because I'm lazy. And shy. So, I'm doing this the easy way. I am officially opening up the rest of the spots to any sites who want to join. The only stipulations are, you must have a sports blog. And you must have an irrational fear of farm animals. So, you know, inquire within.

Here's how the league will work: 10-team (or 12-team ... depending on interest), 5x5, ML universe, roto league, online draft. It will be on ESPN. It costs $30 to get a team ($20 if you're an Insider). I've been playing on ESPN for years, and find them to be the best. Plus, if you pay to own the team, you're more likely not to quit like a nasty ass ho when I wipe the floor with you by August. Anyway, your website gets one team. If 5 of you run it, you can all share one team. We all compete, vigorously. The winner, you know, wins. Oh and the winner gets a t-shirt from ESPN. This t-shirt will be awesome and mean a lot. In fact, I guarantee you that the t-shirt will get you laid. Although I can't guarantee it will be by a woman.

Anyway, if you're interested, leave a comment (with your site url and email in the comment field) or just email me at greg@sportsblah.com and put "Fantasy League" in the subject. There are a few sites that I haven't spoken to that I love that I'd like to see join ... CubDumb? Big Picture? Mr. Gammons? Your move.

In one respect I'm fortunate to be a Red Sox fan because when the national media starts drinking the hype Kool Aid and acting like extras from Shaun of the Dead over "the Feud", it doesn't bother me that much. Yes, it can get a bit tiring and repetitive, and yes, McCarver and Buck need to be fed to dinosaurs, but still, it's your team, so it's not exactly like listening to Greg belt out Natural Woman at the karaoke bar. However, if I ever have any doubts again about how it must grate on the exposed nerve endings of the vast majority of the sports world, I just have to summon up the tasty bile treat I get at the mention of UNC/Duke and ESPN Full Circle. I thought ESPN might have learned with the ultra embarrassing Steve Phillips fake press conferences, but just this week we've gotten the Bonds reality show (more on that at a later date) and ESPN Full Circle, where the entire network is offering itself up to Tobacco Road like a hooker at 4 am, three tricks short. ESPN Desportes is even getting in on the act, translating Dick Vitale into English. I know Saturday night is probably a ratings dead zone, but you'd think they would have given us sports dorks at least one channel as refuge, even if it was only Brian Kenny and Hot List re-runs. Sure, Duke is the team everyone, but Dukies, love to hate, but this is making it too easy.

A few other college basketball notes, while I'm on a rant:

I hope that finally puts to rest any thoughts of Syracuse actually making the tournament.

Also, glad to see the fallacy of Memphis take a nice broadside last night. Though that does leave the vexing question of the fourth #1 a bit more up in the air. The conference tourneys will probably provide a clearer answer, but it sure doesn't look like anyone wants it right now. Gonzaga and George Washington play in weak sister conferences and the Zags are only squeaking by of late as it is. Texas is unpredictable and about as indecipherable as Sean Paul's lyrics. Who does that leave? Ohio State? Aren't they about a year ahead of schedule? If Memphis wins the CUSA tourney, a rather conservative bet given last night's loss and the tourney's on their home floor, I guess they get that seed, but it's precarious at best.

I know you all probably snicker at the word student-athlete in terms of big time college athletics, but did you know it was this bad? I mean, when even the prospective "student-athlete" recruits are complaining that the schools are a bit of joke, someone that handles all the byzantine NCAA regulations has to take a closer look. (via yoco)

Finally, it's been twenty years since Len Bias died. Watching the Celtics the last fifteen years has been an exercise in self-flagellation and it makes me want to tear out my eyelashes one by one thinking about the perfect, sublime bridge Bias could have been between the Big Three and the future of the franchise. Here's a great collection of highlights in case you've forgotten or never even knew how good this guy could have been.

Well, we seem to be catching some flak for our monumental Olympic disinterest and being responsible despots of this little fiefdom, we wouldn't want anyone to feel their concerns fell on deaf ears. That being said, I'm not sure I have any magic bullet answers (but I could make fresh guacamole in seven seconds), but here goes nothing.

First, I really do think the time shift is a huge mitigating factor. I can get wrapped up in logging competitions or the Purina Dog Challenge if I don't know the outcome, but if I know Trigger won the Agility Competition at noon, perhaps I'm weak, but that affects my ability to spend seven hours in front of the television to watch the faux-drama play out in NBC-time at eleven p.m. that night. I'll go out on a limb right now and say the rating spike up for Vancouver in '10.

Second, I think the every four years timing of the Olympics makes it more of a cultural event than a sports event which opens the door for the casual or non-sports fan to participate. This is not baseball, basketball or football that permeate the sports calendar. This is the dilettante's time to dip their toes in the sports pool. It's a limited time engagement. It's sixteen days of peripheral sports where the casual fan can quickly find common footing with the hardcore sports fan without feeling intimidated or worry about saying something foolish.

Third, on a more personal note, and as I've said before, not playing or participating in the winter sports really makes a difference for me. I can certainly appreciate the athleticism involved, but without personal experience, I simply cannot truly understand how hard a triple Lindy really is to pull off.

Fourth, I think the solitary nature of many of the winter sports also does not lend itself to gripping television, prior knowledge or not. You might say watching people run around an oval track ten times isn't so gripping, but at least they are running against other people and not just the clock. Sliding down a mile long ice intestine face first at 80 plus miles per hour looks like fun to try, but watching guy after guy go and finish within .03 of each other, I just don't really find enjoyable.

Finally, on a visceral, never-gonna-change-my-mind note, the crown jewel of the Winter Games is figure skating and I simply do not like figure skating on any level. Not the flesh colored skates, not the constant syncopated audience clapping, not Dick Button, not the pixies in need of a hamburger, not the bizarre and subjective judging and not the eyeliner on men.

Thus ends Sportsblah's Torino coverage.

The Olympics are over. Finally.

Listen, it's not that I don't like the Olympics, or don't appreciate them, or don't marvel at the athletecism involved. It's just that, well, they're a little boring. And really, I just want my shows on NBC back. It wouldn't have been so bad if, say, CBS hosted the Games. Their shows are crap. I know, I know, what would we have done without the non-stop hilarity that is "Two and a Half Men"? And how would we live without CSI? It's still so surprising and original. (Someone gets killed. Clues are left. Everyone is stumped. All hope is lost. Suddenly, gap-toothed woman shows black guy a hair found on a toothbrush in the glove compartment of a Kia that was completely reassembled after finding it submerged in the Pacific Ocean. Black guy frowns at hair, runs it through a fictional computer program, grins, then shows printouts to white guy. White guy makes dramatic statement to other white people. Re-enactment. A wife cries. Mystery solved. White guy takes all the credit.) And what, dare I ask, would we do without Lettermen's tummy tickling top-10 lists? Oh, those are fresh. My point is, CBS shows we can do without. But two weeks without the Office, Scrubs and Conan ... that's tough.

And look, as far as the Olympics go, they were a real hoot back in the day. But the internet and the end of the Cold War has sort of ruined it for everyone. When NBC airs the events 8 hours after the results are plastered all over ESPN, AOL, Yahoo!, Google and MidgetDonkeyPissFight.org, it's a little tough to get into them. And the fake drama doesn't really fly either. Two speed skaters fighting? They wear spandex to work. It's a little tough to take them seriously. And the whole "Who's going to win hockey gold?" Again, whatever. Look, we're friends with Russia and no one in the Middle East can skate. Let's face it, this whole thing has lost a little bit of its edge. And sure, curling is fun to watch, and I certainly appreciate the lack of clothing on the figure skaters ... but no Katarina Witt makes me sad. And sure, the snowboarding was great, but after a few weeks of bobsledding and Bode Miller hype, I think we've all had enough.

But here's a question. How did American Idol bitch slap the "Games" on a nightly basis? I don't get it. Seriously. I don't understand this American Idol nonsense. Can someone please explain this to me? How is this show so popular? That is some of the worst garbage I have ever seen. The music is awful, the jokes are awful, the host is awful and the judges are intolerable. "Oooh, look at that Simon. He tells it like it is." It's complete crap. It would be a million times better if there was nudity or if the losers had to fight their way out of an arena filled with ninjas, Storm Troopers and polar bears. Or if there was a lightning round and somehow the contestants got to drop a hot lunch in the judges open mouths. That is entertainment. But hey, whatever, if you like American Idol (or AI as the kids call it) who am I to judge? To each their own. We agree to disagree I guess. Oh, and you have awful taste in television. But I digress.

Anyway, the Olympics are over. Conan is back. I got my double episode of Scrubs last night. And there's a new Office this week. The world is right again. Although, I must say, I will miss Tanith Belbin But I guess there's always Vancouver in 2010 to look forward too. Or Playboy. Let the race begin.

Oh and with baseball about to begin, hopefully MLB learned their lesson from the Olympic games on what they need to do to attract higher ratings. Jeannie Zelasko and Kevin Kennedy, take note.