Prior to this, I was a nasty pitcher

Featured Comment on ESPN.com at 10:50 EST on December 26th:

"Steal of the modern era… Prior will bounce back this season"
~Rhymeister

Let’s settle down a little, sound like a plan? When "the next Tom Seaver" signs a one year deal at the age of 27 with his hometown team for a base salary of one million dollars, it’s time to reevaluate just how great this individual is. Trust me, I understand how all the elements of this equation seem to add up for optimistic Padres fans. Pitchers park, native son, redemption possibilities, bad Cubbies karma, etc, etc, etc… I also understand how breathtakingly amazing his 2003 campaign was for all the right reasons. He could locate pitches inside and out while changing speeds with ease. He had good velocity as well as tremendous late action on his breaking balls. He could throw basically any pitch in any count for a strike. These are all prime reasons why we (as Cubs fans) held onto this Mark Prior ideal, we felt like the injuries were merely a stop-over before monumental greatness. However (the freak broken arm from a comebacker to the mound notwithstanding) the injuries are a part the Prior package. He’s had the exploratory surgeries with no bonafide results, which raises suspicions that his physical troubles reside more between his ears than anything else. The phrase “genetic looseness” has been used to describe his elbow, which is either insane or idiotic as a wide-ranging cause for his reoccurring IR stints. He missed all of last season rehabbing from shoulder surgery which is historically the most damning affliction possible for starting pitchers. Am I saying that Mark Prior is soft? Not really. I do, however, think he’s not only injury prone, but prone to mental self-sabotage. I think his desire to overcome and understand his physical roadblocks don’t keep him up at night. I think he lacks the fortitude to be a consistent All-Star on a competitive team. I swear I’m not just being bitter here, I honestly believe this.

So why does Kerry Wood get a pass? Well, he’s expressed his frustrations with his injury history through the media and in his actions. He renegotiated his existing contract to take a hometown discount which he was under no obligation to do. He accepted his role as a set-up man with an eager willingness to rejoin the Cubs and help them win. Prior has been on the shelf for the majority of the last two years with a puss on, collecting fat checks and moaning about the training staff. Perhaps there is some validity to those claims, or perhaps the redonkulous strain placed on him in 2003 by Dusty Baker (Go Reds!) really did majorly effect his health. That’s neither here nor there. I’ve followed him with rapt attention since his breakout year and he’s nothing but an excuse machine with a looming upside that never materializes. Plugging the name Mark Prior into your 2004 fantasy baseball roster before the season started probably gave you a big rubbery one (Benny can attest to that), but holding on to that one season is a futile affair.

Will he have a decent year with San Diego? It’s entirely possible. I could see him pitching somewhere in the range of 120 innings with a 4+ ERA and a whiff of 10 wins. But unless Rhymeister has fashioned some sort of portal back to an era when Hey Ya! and The O.C. were at the height of their popularity, the steal of the modern era will continue to remain Big Papi.

I’m just sayin…

The Bowler and Benny Greatest Hits: 2007 Edition

It's been six weeks since Ben or I have posted something. The two of us have been fairly busy over the past month, but to be strictly honest our (already woefully inaccurate) NBA preview took it out of us. We just needed a respite in the grand scheme of things. For some, the absence of a B&B original has lasted far too long. For others, this hiatus has served as a great opportunity to waste time on other websites such as cracked.com or this gameboy emulator site. However, for many, the fact that we haven't written anything in weeks has had completely no effect whatsoever. To be fair, we don't much mind that last demographic because we started this blog almost a year ago as a platform for two college buddies to entertain each other... and using that standard, I think it's been a resounding success. Before the advent of this site we'd toil away on our fantasy sports message board churning out the only impassioned and witty smacktalk in the league. On the phone, we'd do our best to fit all the current sports minutia into fifteen minute calls at (the proverbial) halftime during our weekend. While these tactics still exist in a largely reduced role, this blog has served as a wonderful outlet for our collective need to experience sports with equal parts humor and awe.

With that being said, I'd like to thank Ben for agreeing to indulge me in this venture. It's worthwhile because you're on board and I owe you for all the belly laughs you have provided with your roundly appealing and enigmatic banter. You truly are the Alan Arkin to my Peter Falk (I could have gone with Dennis Miller and Norm McDonald, but I thought that would piss you off).

I'd also like to thank TK (my brother) for being such a supportive reader and our most consistent and thoughtful "Comment Hawk". In accordance with that designation I just made up, Ben and I owe you a Andre Dawson-style Salami greeting next time we see you... and even if he's a Cubs fan - and TK is most certainly that. Quite possibly the biggest Cubs fan in all of San Francisco County, which would place him high in the runnin' for biggest Cub's fan worldwide. Sometimes there's a man, sometimes, there's a man....


Speaking of which, Kosuke Fukudome is a Chicago Cub!!! He's basically all I've heard about for the last month and I'm so completely excited about this signing because of the unknown factor. He’s a cross between Ichiro and Hideki Matsui!!! Wait, he's a cross between Ichiro and Eric Brynes!!! Holy crap!!! I'm much too much of a pragmatist to fall for any of this, but he does stack up quite well to other Japanese exports who’ve come to the Majors. UmpBump did an excellent job breaking his game down, so I'll let them handle the details. However, I will say this. Some people are already questioning the amount spent (4 year, $48 million) on a corner outfielder who has never played in MLB, recently had elbow surgery and turns 31 next year. These points all presuppose that the Cubs scouting staff hasn't kicked his tires and done the appropriate leg work. I find that highly unlikely. Cubs fans know that they've been coveting Fukudome for a couple years now, all the while keeping close tabs on him until his contract with the Chunichi Dragons was up. Also, he fits PERFECTLY into this Cubs team. I'm not saying he's the final puzzle piece, but having a versatile left-handed bat with a gaudy OBP that can field AND throw is exactly what we missed. Our corner outfielders will be throwing frozen ropes all around Wrigley for the next handful of years and our centerfielder (Felix Pie) has tremendous speed and an affinity for making sensational catches appear routine. D Lee plays a gold glove caliber first base while Ramirez is much improved at the hot corner. Giovanni Soto showed some tremendous ability (both swinging from and catching behind the plate) towards the end of last year in big games. Theriot, DeRosa and (knock on wood) Brian Roberts would make this not only one of the best fielding teams in the National League, but also one of the premier hitting lineups top-to-bottom. I just reread that last paragraph and it becomes painfully obvious that the Bears are 5-8 and the Bulls are 7-13 right now.


Alright, with the year winding down to a close, I’m going to provide my Top Five favorite posts from Bowler and Benny over the past year:

Honorable Mention
Ben’s reaction to ESPN’s coverage of the Home Run Derby

I liked this piece because it reminded me of simpler times. I recall waking up every morning at 6:45am during grade school because Sportscenter started at 7am. What makes this all the more impressive is that classes didn't start until 8:55am and I lived a ten minute walk from school. People sometimes forget just how wonderfully addicting ESPN was during the "glory days". I'd attentively watch as Keith Olbermann and Dan Patrick wove magic with those highlights while I ate my Life cereal. Now I'm forced to suffer through Trey Wingo and Linda Cohn (sometimes in hi-def *yikes*) attempting to work Hannah Montana jokes into WNBA clips. Kill yourself.

5) My farewell to Mr. Thomas Jones

If you're asking me if I ever get tired of being right, the answer is... Absolutely I do.

4) Ben’s trip to the Packers/Giants game this year

As bad as this sounds coming from a Bears fan, I'm a huge Brett Favre guy. I've been converted because whenever Ben speaks about him, I understand that it's bigger than team affiliations or rivalries. I can hear a little of myself extolling the virtues of Michael Jeffery Jordan in his wildly glowing soliloquies. I still remember that day in January 2002 when the Bears and Packers both fell in the conference semis. Favre threw six interceptions and they lost to the (then great) Rams. We watched our games separately and then reconvened at our apartment and traded solemn, yet knowing nods of mutual defeat. I'll never forget it because Ben wasn't mad, he was just disappointed because he knew the greatness was there. Everyone has that ONE GUY from their childhood that will always be the truest of sports heroes. My dad had Brooks Robinson, my brother has Ryne Sandberg and Benny... has Brett Favre.

3) My brush with Greatness (personified by Tiger Woods)

I'll always remember the '89 Cubs season. I'll always remember those Knicks vs. Bulls playoff series in the early 90's. I'll always remember the 2006 Bears and what they did for the city of Chicago. Congruently, I'll always remember seeing Tiger Woods in person, methodically calibrating his game and staring down a golf course that he would destroy over the next four days. These are things that never leave you.

2) A Cubbie afternoon in late June

I've done running diaries of both Bears and Bulls games, but never at a Cubbies game. This was my first run at it and I was extremely pleased with the way things turned out. I can still recall how ominous the sky was that day and how, now in the middle of winter, just how wonderful those long days felt. The sun is setting at 4:13pm today and Wrigley Field is just a big building that I have to walk around to get to Clark street. March can't come soon enough.

1) TIE

Athletes and Hip-Hop: Why Just Because You Can, Doesn't Mean You Should

and

When doing what I want goes wrong

Easily the funniest thing we've done all year. I understand that making fun of athletes "performing" hip-hop is like shooting fish in a barrel, but that doesn't make it any less amusing. If you have yet to peruse these "10 worst" videos, please do so right now and thank us later...

In the quiet words of the Virgin Mary...come again?

In a desperate search for material, AK and I are going to the well again. Without further ado, our NBA preview a la Snatch.*


“I know a lot of tits, guv-nah. But I don’t know any quite as fucking stupid as these two.”

New York Knicks 22-60

Sol and Vinny's aborted robbery of the bookies is allegory for the Knicks. I can't even look at their roster because I treasure the continued use of my eyes.

Fellas, I've shown more respect to a woman with my left nut. Pearl necklaces rule.

Oh, and Cablevision blows. Doucehbag.


“What’s wrong with this one?”
[Turkish pulls the caravan door off its hinges]
“Oh nothing, Tommy. It’s tip-top. It’s just I’m not sure about the color.”

Indiana Pacers: 33-49

This team was once a brand-spanking new caravan. It looked like one and smelled like one. It had working air conditioning, power windows, and enough space to run an illegal boxing operation. Now? It's siding has been stained by the smoke from sausages cooking over a barbecue, the floor is askew because one of its tires has deflated, its doors are falling off, and pinups of lewd women have destroyed any semblance of décor.

Jermaine O'Neal is playing with one arm and the rest of their roster looks worse than the Cleveland Cavaliers minus Lebron. I think we can all thank Ron Artest for single-handedly authoring this nightmare. It's time to start over when there are 8 white dudes on the roster (including, the younger Mike Dunleavy).


“I fail to see the correlation between losing 10k, hospitalizing Gorgeous, and a ‘good deal’.”

Philadelphia 76ers: 37-45
Losing the sole prizefighter you manage and buying a broken caravan in the same outing is somewhat less humiliating than trading Allen Iverson for Andre Miller and a jaunty vaudeville song and dance. The inept personnel management for the past 5 years (at least) is harrowing.

Regardless, it couldn't happen to a better city. Cheers, Philadelphia. You deserve to have Shavlik Randolph and Kevin Ollie on your team. I hope you enjoy watching Andre Iguodala try to complete a 720-degree dunk in a game the Sixers are losing by 40 points.

Oh, and if I'm going to wait on a 35-minute line for a cheesesteak, it shouldn't be fair to average and taste like its been microwaved. You suck.


“It turns out that the sweet-talkin’, tattoo-sportin’ pikey was gypsy bare-knuckle boxing champion. Which makes him ‘arder than a coffin nail.”

San Antonio Spurs: 60-22

I like Tim Duncan. He says all the right things and he's one of the best players in the league…ever. And I really appreciated the incident with Joey Crawford and that the NBA suspended their own official as a way of apologizing to him for the ejection. They can't beat the Suns though. Tony Parker has better chance of going platinum in Belgium. Also, I think the rest of the league is starting to get tired of Manu and Bowen. It's only a matter of time before they both get sucker-punched. I strongly believe that Mike Dunleavy, Jr. is the man for the job.

[Tyrone backs into Franky Four Fingers’ van]
“I didn’t see it there.”
“It’s a four-ton truck Tyrone. It’s not as if it’s a packet of peanuts, is it?”
“It was a funny angle.”
“It’s behind you, Tyrone. Whenever you reverse, things come from behind you.”
“Look, you ‘assle me, you see what happens.”

Milwaukee Bucks: 43-41

When I saw that the Chinese government would only let Yi Jianlian play for 1 of 6 teams that they had hand-picked, I was ecstatic. I knew the Bucks were interested in drafting him and I was concerned about them blowing the 6th pick in the draft on a mediocre player. After this press release, I thought there would be no way that they would be stupid enough to draft him. Wrong. I applaud management for taking a stand against the Reds, but I think the way to do so is to nurture domestic industry and provide incentives to our manufacturers to keep their plants here. Instead, Milwaukee drafted Yi and I was forced to read about the Bucks management getting on their hands and knees to bribe the Chinese government to allow him to play for us. If you don't think there was graft involved in that agreement then you don't know a lot about Communism.

That said, I do like this team on paper and they may even make the playoffs. Bobby Simmons will be the Comeback Player of the Year and Williams, Redd, and Villanueva give them some teeth, but talent-wise, this is a team that's built to plateau around above-average.

“Why do they call him the ‘Bullet-Dodger’?”
“Because he dodges bullets, Avi.”

Denver Nuggets 52-30

And this is why Allen Iverson is the Answer. 28-6-4-2 and 165 of pounds of perpetual motion. A delight to watch, even during the 58% of the shots that he misses. He and 'Melo lead the darkhorse through the West if Kenyon Martin and Marcus Canby can stay healthy.


If they get hot, they can surpass Dallas or San Antonio and make it to the Conference Finals.

“So, you are obviously the big dick. The men on the side of ya are your balls. There are two types of balls. Big brave balls, and mincy faggot balls….Now dicks have drive and clarity of vision, but they are not clever. They smell pussy and they want a piece of the action. And you thought you smelled some good ol’ pussy and have brought your two mincy faggot balls along for a good ol’ time. But you’ve got your parties mangled up. There’s no pussy here, just a dose that’ll make you wish you were born a woman. Like a prick, you’re having second thoughts. You are shrinking, and your two little balls are shrinking with you. And the fact that you’ve got “REPLICA” written down the side of your gun, and the fact that I’ve got “DESERT EAGLE POINT FIVE OH” written down the side of mine, should precipitate your balls into shrinking, along with your presence. Now, FUCK OFF!”

Boston Celtics: 46-36

The hands-down best monologue in movie history.

Pundits have anointed another famous troika in the East, while seeming to forget that the game played on the no-longer-parquet floors of Boston is still a team game. Be prepared to witness the redefinition of over-hyped. I'm tired of the bullshit and I refuse to be force-fed the Celtics return to eminence. You can't throw 3 thirtysomething All-Stars into the hopper and expect to hang a Conference Champions banner in the Fleet Center next fall. If that happened, everything we know about basketball is wrong. There are a lot of people that are going to have second-thoughts about this line up come May.


“Could you tell me why you’ve got a dead man with an arm missing in your boot? And look, is that a tea cozy on ‘is ‘ead?”

Washington Wizards: 50-32

Much has been made of Agent Zero's "bizarre" musings. The dude can ball and so can his team. The success that has eluded the Wizards on the court vanishes this year.

Antwan Jamison, Caron Butler, and yes, DeShawn Stevenson, complement our friend nicely. Book 'em for the Eastern Conference Finals. You won't want to miss the ride or the commentary.

“You’re not goin’ anywhere ya tick-womp. Ya stay ‘til the job is done.”

Cleveland Cavaliers: 43-39

Whatever the speculation about Bron-Bron's career after Cleveland (and there will be one), much of his legacy, for better or worse will be defined by our perception of him during his seminal years. We see no ceiling except for the one he constructs with his body language and his attitude and his failures. There is no such thing as unfair expectations in his case (and the fact that is unfair in itself is not relevant). He must drag this crew of NBDL players to a championship, or else he will be perceived as another Charles Barkley or a pre-Duncan David Robinson.

“You can keep the 10 grand, along wit' the body, but if I see you again…you MOTHERFUCKERS…well…look at him.”[Gestures at Franky Four Fingers, shot in the face, with a tea cozy covering his head and his right-arm hacked off at the elbow]


Utah Jazz: 41-41

The video is a beautiful characterization of Andrei's game the past couple years. And if you look closely you can see that his wife is in firm possession of his testicles.

Boris the Blade the Uzbekistanian and Andrei Kirilenko the Russian are mirrors of the societies of which they are a product. And like the Soviet Union and post-Yeltsin Russia, the only similarities between the two are that they were begat in the same misbegotten corner of the world. Kirilenko possesses the resources to become a dominant player. His tears during the playoffs and his willingness to leave $63 million of his contract on the table betray a frustrating inability to efficiently utilize them and the ultimate demise of his game. Psychologically, he gets in his own way, the perpetual black cloud overhead. The future always appears as bleak as the present. The Jazz, like Sol and Vinny, are stuck with a decaying corpse and in Russia, the road forks you.

Outside of Deron Williams and Carlos Boozer, there isn't much about this team to like. Mehmet Okur must prove that last year wasn't a fluke. They're not good enough to make the playoffs this year.


“Want me to get ‘im fer ya?”
“That’s a good lad.”
[Pikey lad doesn’t move]
“Well are you goin’ ta get him for me?”
“Yeah.”
“Well what’re ya waiting for?’
“The five quid you’re goin’ ta pay me.”
“Fuck off, I’ll find him me-self.”
“You’re a real tight fucker aren’t ya.”

Seattle Supersonics: 29-53

I don't care of it’s the worst lease in the NBA or if the Key Arena is the smallest venue. I am unmoved that you have to give a comparatively high amount of the team's revenue to the city of Seattle. It is irrelevant that you're hemorrhaging cash. The fans own the team and the team owns them. A billionaire that holds a franchise hostage is a harbinger of the guillotine and bloodied powdered wigs. Kevin Durant, bitches.

“What should I call you? ‘Bullet’? ‘Tooth’?”
“You can call me Susan if it makes you happy.”

New Orleans Hornets: 36-46

The odyssey from Charlotte to New Orleans to Oklahoma City to New Orleans has erased their identity from our minds. We know Grand-ma-ma, Zo, Mugsy, Kendall Gill, and Dell Curry played once, but the team they played for is extinct. Most of us confuse the new guys with the Bobcats. Wasn't Desmond Mason an All-Star for them?

Regardless of what we may think, NBA teams beware. Don't sleep on the Hornets. They're feisty. They'd be a playoff team in the East. Mo' Pete will have a career year. I don't watch basketball until the playoffs, but I'd watch Chris Paul play any day of the week. And they have enough veteran has-beens to make things interesting. Well, until the end of March, anyway.


“I will do you a favor, Mullet. I’ll not bash the livin’ fuck out of you in front of all your girlfriends ‘ere.”
[Bullet-Tooth Tony grabs Mullet’s tie, pulls his head into his car window, rolls up the window to trap Mullet's head in the car, and proceeds to drive down the road]
“Comfortable, Mullet? It seems it sadly ironic that it’s that tie that’s got you in this pickle.”

New Jersey Nets: 41-41

Vince Carter was signed by the Nets for the sole purpose of delivering an NBA championship. He was supposed to save basketball in the Meadowlands. They'll never win with Vince in town. He puts up some numbers, sure.

Maybe it's the Toronto debacle that poisoned my perception of him. Maybe it's because it seems that he disappears in big games. And I have no proof of this, but I hold him personally responsible for stunting the evolution of Richard Jefferson's potential into real game. His contract has left the Nets with an aging roster that is a J-Kidd broken wrist away from looking like the New York Knicks. Good thing we're used to trash on this side of the Hudson, too.


“Hare coursin’ is when they set two lurchers – they’re dogs before you ask – on a hare. And the hare has to outrun the dogs.”
“So what if it doesn’t?”
“Well the big rabbit gets fucked, doesn’t it?”
“Proper fucked?”
“Yeah, Tommy, before zee Germans get there.”

Phoenix Suns: 66-16

And the big rabbit will get proper fucked because nobody can run with these lurchers. It'll be easier than we think and it'll be nice to see Grant Hill win a championship. Anyone that thinks the Spurs or the Mavs can beat these guys spends a lot of time fellating the Dooze and playing grab-ass with his friends, J-Bug and JackO.

You have to go through 7 players before you hit their real bench. They will beat teams inside and outside and everything in between. The defense hasn't been created that can stop Amare Stoudemire, Steve Nash, Shawn Marion, and Boris Diaw at the same time. This is a potential top-10 team historically.

*I look forward to hearing how inaccurate and erroneous this preview will be in April.

Bowlerside: NBA Preview according to "Snatch"

Miami Heat (42-40)

BORIS - Heavy is good. Heavy is reliable. If it doesn't work, you can always hit him with it.

Here's all I'm saying... Shaquille O'Neal is entering his 16th NBA season. That's 16 Shaq years - getting hacked in the lane, playing late into the playoffs, doing his own stunts in Kazaam. Those years will wear on you and, over time, it will start to show. Kareem Abdul-Jabbar had a well-documented decline from dominance after his 15th season. Russell and Chamberlin never made it to a 15th season. It's a given that Shaq is going to miss at least 20 games and the fact remains - this is a very defensible team without him on the floor. Alonzo Mourning was born in 1970 and has a transplanted kidney. That leaves Mark Blount and Udonis Haslem in the frontcourt. It looks like a fantasy hoops team from waiver wire hell. I like Haslem though. He's a throwback Horace Grant, so... you know... RESPECT.

Dwyane Wade is the man. He is still easily a Top 5 NBA player despite losing in the first round of the playoffs last year (he was playing through injuries and it was all too apparent). What concerns me is Smush Parker, Jason Williams, Ricky Davis and Dorell Wright being considered your "glue guys". I mean, those guys are ALL-right. I'm just having a hard time seeing any of them making the jump which is what this team needs. The funny thing is on paper, this lineup actually looks halfway compelling (hell, Penny Hardaway is even making a cameo appearance) but things just don't look right. It's like a sitcom that should have wrapped it up a couple of years ago and now the writers are killing it with convoluted storylines, hackneyed gimmicks and a shameless procession of new guest stars. In this example, Pat Riley will play the role of Mr. Belding.



Portland Trailblazers (32-50)


MICKY - Ya bought it as you saw it.
TOMMY - Sorry Mickey, just give us our money back and you can keep the caravan.
MICKY - Why would I wanna caravan with no fuckin wheels?

I think the Trailblazers are going to be very good... just not this season. Portland, with the first overall pick of this summer's draft, selected a little known center from Ohio State named Greg Oden. I believe that his recently reported season ending knee surgery, while a major roadblock for the franchise, will pay off handsomely for "Greg Oden: The Man". He'll have a year to contemplate the NBA and grow as a student of the game. The expectations and direct comparisons to fellow draft standout Kevin Durant have greatly evaporated into a forgotten pub argument. I believe, with Oden's extra year, Portland will be a better team in the long run as strange as that seems. They have an talented young core consisting of Brandon Roy, Jarrett Jack, Channing Frye and LaMarcus Aldridge which I think should keep them in the playoff picture for the next couple of years (even in a loaded Western Conference). I think the major question here concerns Nate McMillan, who hasn't really distinguished himself yet as an NBA coach. The promise on the roster is also accompanied with fairly large question marks which McMillan must address... Will Martell Webster's ceiling be as high as his preternatural athleticism might dictate? Can Steve Blake and James Jones be relevant... like, ACTUALLY relevant? Does Josh McRoberts really have ladyparts? Basically, there's a lot up in there air.

:::Snatch Aside::: My favorite part of this scene is the way Mickey jumps up from his seat as Gorgeous George approaches when the first trace of hostility arrives regarding the "cavavan with no fuckin wheels". It's so naturalistic, believable and utterly perfect for the character. After that moment, I believed everything Mickey did. It was like Pitt let you know early in this movie, "You're about to see something else."


Atlanta Hawks (35-47)

BOXING PATRON - Thanks for the tip, Bricktop!
BRICKTOP - Listen you fuckin fringe, if I throw a dog a bone I don’t wanna know if it tastes good or not. You stop me again whilst I’m walking and I’ll cut your fuckin jacobs off. [slices boxing patron and walks out]

It's been eight lonely seasons since Atlanta has been in the postseason (longest in the NBA), so I'm pretty comfortable calling them "fringe". In the past ten years, they have dutifully become the Eastern Conference's version of the LA Clippers with a glut of lottery picks and conspicuous lack of success. Here are their last four lottery picks: Al Horford (2007 - 3rd), Shelden Williams (2006 - 5th), Marvin Williams (2005 - 2nd), Josh Childress (2004 - 6th). I know that hindsight is 20/20, but with those very same picks they could have nabbed Brandon Roy, Chris Paul and Loul Deng. They swooped up Acie Law IV who is going to be the truth, but that's the problem... They have too many young swing guys playing the same position. They look like a better pick-up basketball team than an NBA squad. However, I do think Horford will be a very solid NBA player with the skills he has for his size, but there are just too many question marks. Joe Johnson and Josh Smith are the faces of this organization, which means that 98% of the country can't pick your biggest stars out of a lineup. That's not to say that they can't ball, which they can, especially Johnson (25 ppg, 4.4 apg, 4.2 rpg). What I am saying is that it's hard to see them bringing it all together. What's different about this year than the seven previous? How are you going to compete when Zaza Pachulia, Speedy Claxton and Tyronn Lue are averaging more than 25 minutes per game? Who is Mike Woodson? Did anyone know that Woodson has been coaching the Hawks for the past three years? My head hurts.

Here's the bottom line, with every passing year it's getting more and more difficult to watch Dominique Wilkins on Spud Webb on ESPN Classic. My cognitive dissonance won't allow me to associate "Atlanta Hawks" with "Playoff Team" and I start jumping to outlandish conclusions... There has been a rift in the space/time continuum, black is white, up is down and my television is broadcasting "classic" Atlanta Hawks basketball!!!! This is usually the point when I draw all the shades, crawl into the corner and wait for something normal to happen... it rarely does.



Houston Rockets (51-31)

VINNY - I thought you said he was a getaway driver? What the fuck can he get away from, eh?!?

I think the Yao Ming story is a fascinating one. In the past five years, Yao has transformed himself into an absolute box score monster. Last year he averaged 25 ppg (.516 FG%), 9.4 rpg, 2bpg while missing 34 games. The year before that he was good for 22.3 ppg (.519 FG%), 10.2 rpg, 1.6 bpg while missing 25 games. Those are All-Star numbers, but what those numbers don't say about Yao is that he's a nice, unassuming man who enjoys playing basketball, relaxing with a marginal amount of PS3, starting a family with his extremely tall wife and eating homemade Chinese cuisine. His numbers have been respectable in the playoffs, but he's not the Alpha Dog that Houston so desperately needs. Someone who can flip a switch and elevate his game, be ruthless if need be, and lead an emotionally charged surge of momentum into a hard-fought road game against a bitter foe. Now, some of this blame rests on Tracy McGrady if we're going to be completely accurate. He's been trying to getaway from the 1st round his entire career while putting up Kobe numbers. That's a pretty big matzah ball right there. They've had two 50 win seasons together and forced two first round Game 7's in both those years (Dallas in 2005 and Utah in 2007). So the big question is... has anything changed? The answer is plenty.

They've got an upgrade at coach (Rick Adelman), a two-time Spanish League MVP (Luis Scola), three scoring point guards to spread the floor (Mike James, a renewed Steve Francis and rookie Aaron Brooks), a back-from-injury Bonzi Wells, And1 baller Skip-To-My-Lou (Rafer Alston) coming off a down year... Add that to Yao, McGrady and Shane Battier (Dukies love taking charges) and you've got another 50 win team. Will they make it past the first round this year? If it means Dikembe "Who wants to sex" Mutombo will have one last chance to dance, then I'm all for it.



Sacramento Kings (35-47)

BRICKTOP - Is he fucking stoned?
TURKISH - He’s like that before a fight.


Ron Artest is an all time favorite of mine. He was on my fantasy team (along with Jermaine O'Neal) the year "The Malice at the Palace" went down. There really is no comparison to the sensations you have when the small forward you drafted in the 4th round jumps into the stands and starts swinging at fans. Moments later, your 1st overall pick knocks out a blitzing Pistons fan. It's a truly special fantasy sports moment. Amazingly enough, I somehow managed to win that league (and by "somehow" I mean LeBron James).

Let's have a look-see at this lineup: Artest, Mike Bibby, Brad Miller, Shareef Abdur-Rahim... My mind keeps thinking, "this would have been a helluva team in 2003" and that's really the crux of the case. Kevin Martin is just a smaller version of Rashard Lewis, which isn't damning as long as Martin can learn to start filling up other columns on the box score besides points. Mikki Moore jumps into the fray after cashing in on his career year. Seriously, where did this guy come from? Has anyone ever made the jump after their 9th season? It seems like lottery pick Spencer Hawes could go either way... Kenny Thomas and Francisco Garcia are a serviceable backup frontcourt... I just don't know. As of right now, factoring in 3.5 Artest meltdowns, I'm going with 35 wins. On a related note, the Maloof Brothers just bought property behind the Great Wall. On the good side! Eh, you're all right!



LA Clippers (32-50)

SOL - No, it's a moissanite.
BAD BOY LINCOLN - A what-a-nite?
SOL - A moissanite is an artificial diamond, Lincoln. It's Mickey Mouse, man. Spurious. Not genuine. And it's worth... Fuck-all.

Remember the 2006 playoffs when the Lakers got up 3-1 against the Suns in the first round and everyone was buzzing about a possible LA Lakers/LA Clippers Conference Semis? That might have been the high point for Clippers basketball in our lifetime. If the Suns hadn't comeback to win that series, the Clippers would have beaten the Lakers soundly in the much anticipated Angeles matchup. I'm convinced of that much. However, reality set in, the Suns took their place in the Western Conference Finals and the Clippers have been in a nosedive ever since. Since 1976, they've made the playoffs a total of four times, only making it out of the first round once (2006). Read that sentence again. I dare you.

I think God (or whatever sports watching higher being exists) was just fucking with us when he bestowed upon the Clippers a 47 win season. Luckly for us, that hallucination is over and it's business as usual. Elton Brand is out for the season. They locked up Chris Kaman to a $55 million/5year contract (whew, I thought he might walk). Tim Thomas somehow wrangled a $24 million/4 year deal even though he's never technically had a prime. Shaun Livingston is returning from that made-for-youtube injury and it's becoming painfully obvious that the "he sees the court like Magic Johnson" talk needs to stop. Sam Cassell is starting to show his age. Corey Maggette and Cuttino Mobley are nice players, but not world beaters able to carry a team. My prediction... irrelevant by Groundhogs Day.



Orlando Magic (44-38)

BRICKTOP - I don’t care if he’s Mohammed Imad Bruce Lee. You can’t change fighters.
TURKISH - Look, you've still got your fight.
BRICKTOP - No, I lose all bets to the bookies, you can't change fighters at the last minute so no, I don't have my fight do I? You fucking prat!

My favorite sports related saga of the summer? That's easy, Billy Donovan's unnecessary crisis of the heart. Once the media started covering this story, part of me was sympathetic to his difficult decision while another part of me was thinking, "What a grand-standing blowhard". I know this doesn't really have anything to do with the Orlando Magic as it stands right now, but what the hell was that all about? It had never previously occurred to me that life changing choices could be mulled over, slept on, decided upon, signed on the dotted line and later rescinded because you had a darling story about how you woke up the next morning and thought, "What have I done!?" Hey Bill, you signed a contract for millions of dollars to coach the Orlando Magic yesterday, now get up and make some coffee.

That being said, I think the Orlando Magic are ready to crawl out of that 3rd place in the Southeast Division rut they've been in for the last three years. I think they'll finish... 2nd in the Southeast Division behind the Wizards. Interesting team though, maybe a year away.



Detroit Pistons (48-34)

SOL - We have GOT to get rid of these bodies. That one over there with the tea cosy on his head is starting to stink.


The Detroit Pistons are old and getting older. Chauncey Billups is entering his 11th season. Antonio McDyess is entering his 12th season. Rasheed Wallace is entering his 13th season. They only have one true center on their roster (Nazr Mohammed) who lost his job to Chris Webber late last season and hardly logged any time in the playoffs. Last year, the closest thing they had to a deadeye long distance shooter was Tayshaun Prince (.386 3P%) which is respectable but hardly a game planning nightmare. Richard Hamilton, who is still lingering in his prime, is their best offensive player even though he's most effective off the ball, rolling off screens and spotting up. I like Flip Murray, but at this point he's almost exclusively a complimentary player.

They shocked the world (and the Lakers) in 2004 to win the championship. They raced out of the gates in 04-05 and achieved a stellar record, but wore out their starters during the season and fizzled against the Heat in the conference semis. The 05-06 campaign was efficient, injury-free and once again built on seasoned team defense... but the playoffs really marked the sign of the times. It took them three series-clinching games to finally finish off the precocious Bulls and then got bounced by LeBron and the Cavaliers in the first "changing of the guard" moment in the Eastern Conference since MJ hung up his red jersey in 1998. Bottomline, the Pistons look like they are getting 7% worse every year (a totally accurate statistic) while the Cavs and Bulls are gaining momentum. Jason Maxiell and Amir Johnson are a testament to GM Joe Dumars ability to identify buried talent in a NBA draft landscape filled with ritzy names that often disappoint, but I have a feeling the last hurrah for this edition of the Bad Boys is closer than previously thought.



LA Lakers (41-41)

TURKISH - You show me how to control a wild fuckin’ gypsy and I’ll show you how to control an unhinged, pig feeding gangster!

Kobe Bryant and Phil Jackson have more needless and idiotically dramatic soundbites than an Oprah Winfrey Summit on Hip Hop (sexist and misogynistic lyrics! says who!?!). Instead of a room full of white women shaking their heads at Damon Dash and Russell Simmons and nodding with Oprah, we're privy to the most tiresome sports melodrama since... well, Shaq and Kobe. Don't get me wrong, Kobe is nothing short of the greatest player in the game right now. "Half-man, half-amazing," as Nas would say. Also, I will always hold a special place in my heart for Phil Jackson and the tremendous job he did with the Bulls in the 1990's. But Jeeeeeeeeeeeesus, we need to get this reoccurring headline out of the papers. Kobe isn't happy, Jerry Buss isn't happy, Phil isn't happy... That's it. It's tiresome and actually distracts people from the real issue which is that this team is AWFUL. Let's break'em down:

Lamar Odom is a good NBA player. There's one. Luke Walton plays hard, passes the ball well and has improved every year since joining the league. Derek Fisher will steady the backcourt with Bryant and knock down some shots along the way. After that, things pick up some serious downhill momentum. Kwame Brown, Chris Mihm and Andrew Bynum patrol the paint. Vladimir Radmanovic and Sasha Vujacic are the token Euros who are really just warm bodies who fill 15 minutes per game. Brian Cook and Ronny Turiaf look like career benchwarmers and, if you put a gun to my head, I'd probably rather have The King and Duck on my team. And let's be honest, it's never a good sign when fictional basketball players who sell out on every ball fake are starting to look like serviceable alternatives.



Charlotte Bobcats (40-42)

VINNY - What the fuck do you mean Replicas?
SOL - They look the shit, don't they? And nobody is going to argue. And I've got some extra loud blanks just incase.
VINNY - Oh, incase we have to deafen them to death!

The Bobcats have been in existence for 4 years and are stealthily ascending the NBA ranks. They won 18 games their first season, 26 in their second and 33 in their third. It's entirely feasible, with the offseason acquisitions they've made, that this will be the year they win 40 games and sneak into the Eastern Conference playoffs. Gerald Wallace and Jason Richardson make up the most underrated scoring combo in the league. Wallace is slasher while Richardson is a better perimeter shooter, both can rebound and play defense. If Emeka Okafor can stay healthy and Raymond Felton can become the undisputed floor general, then this young core of players could vie for the Southeast Division with the Magic for years to come. The injuries to Sean May and Adam Morrison will hurt, well, May missing significant time will hurt. Sharp shooters like Matt Carroll and Walter Herrmann will stretch the floor for Primoz Brezec and ACC Player of the Year Jared Dudley. But let's be completely honest, the only reason I'm so unabashedly optimistic is because I know MJ, as a minority owner, has veto powers and I will always - ALWAYS - follow that man.


Dallas Mavs (59-23)

TURKISH - There's a gun in your trousers. What is a gun doing in your trousers?
TOMMY - It’s for protection.
TURKISH - Protection from what? Ze Germans?

Calm down everyone. Dirk Nowitzki is still the reigning MVP. The Mavericks are still fresh off a 67 win season and one season removed from a Finals appearance. When there is a colossal upset in the playoffs, people immediately jump to the conclusion that the favorite choked. While I understand that the playoffs is where you stake your claim to basketball immortality, I think it’s a little melodramatic to start wringing our hands and talking about blowing this team up. Josh Howard was a beast in the ACC and he’s a beast now. Why wasn't he a lottery pick? I don’t think I’ll ever know. Any team with those two guys in the frontcourt should be in just about any game. Jason Terry, Jerry Stackhouse and Devin Harris comprise a worthy backcourt that plays well within the system Avery Johnson uses. DeSagana Diop and Erick Dampier aren't your first choice for beefy bodies to clog the lane, but they go a good job of filling minor roles and miraculously don't spike themselves with regular frequency. The Mavericks have a deep bench filled with intriguing young pups, many of who have familiar names that make you think, "Oh yeah, that guy". Maurice Ager (MSU), Brandon Bass (LSU), Nick Fazekas (Nevada) and Pops Mensah-Bonsu (George Washington) are some names I'll be intently watching as the season moves along. All in all, I expect them to rebound from last years playoff snafu... which reminds me...



Golden State Warriors (46-36)

BRICKTOP - Do you know what Nemesis means? [Vinny, Sol and Lincoln are silent] A righteous infliction of retribution manifested by an appropriate agent. Personified in this case by a horrible cunt.... Me.

Don Nelson sent the double-barrel middle fingers to Dallas this past spring with that historic Cinderella win against his old team. The David and Goliath plotline played out nicely, but what's even more significant is that the Warriors have had a mini-renaissance over the past two years. Baron Davis, when healthy, is about the best there is at point guard. Monta Ellis took the first steps to NBA star status, now he just has to grow on it (he's still only 22 years old). Al Harrington and Stephen Jackson remain light-years ahead of Mike Dunleavy and Troy Murphy. Mickael Pietrus, Matt Barnes and Andris Biedrins are solid hustle guys, still young, still hungry, still fighting for minutes. Rookie Brandon Wright looks to contribute immediately in a wide open system that rewards pressing and atheism. All told, this year could prove to be Nelly's biggest middle finger ever. Stay Tuned.


Minnesota Timberwolves (29-53)

BRICKTOP - What do you think, Errol?
ERROL - I think we should drip-dry'em, gov'nah... While we've got the chance.
BRICKTOP - It was a rectorial question, Errol. What have I told you about thinking?

It's official, GM Kevin McHale's gangly self has slammed his head into one too many door frames. Not long after the All-Star break last year, the T'Wolves started marketing season tickets for the upcoming year with the tagline, "Blueprint for the Future". That's even worse than the 2002 Bulls pitch "Through Thick and Thin". Management is basically telling the fans that the present is going to be painful, but buy some season ticket packages... who knows? Well, I do. Minnesota is going to suck for a good long time. Garnett should have been traded after the 2005 season when demand was at its absolute highest and the cap room could have been helped the most. That opinion notwithstanding... let's do some math:

2007/08 Timberwolves = Crappy 2006/07 Celtics - Paul Pierce - Delonte West - Wally Szczerbiak - Mark Blount +Antoine Walker + Michael Doleac + Randy Foye

Blueprint for the Future!


Toronto Raptors (44-38)

COUSIN AVI - I don't like leaving my own country, Doug, and I especially don't like leaving it for anything less than warm sandy beaches and cocktails with little straw hats.
DOUG THE HEAD - We've got sandy beaches...
AVI - So? Who the fuck wants to see 'em?

I think the Raptors are a refreshing team. Great balance. Great European talent. I like the quiet, humble superstar surrounded by capable (even exceptional) role players. It all adds up. Chris Bosh is a special player, unique for his team first virtues. I forsee a decade of memorable matchups between Dwight Howard and Bosh in the playoffs. ESPN Classic-style. I remember when the Bulls drafted Hinrich ahead of TJ Ford, I was visibly shaken. Captain Kirk ended up working out nicely, but the gap between the two isn't as great as you'd think. TJ Ford can play this game.

---time gap---

It's funny because I just had my fantasy draft between that paragraph and this one. I took Bosh, Ford, Bargnani and Garbajosa. Talk about the power of suggestion.


Chicago Bulls (50-32)

TURKISH -You take sugar?
BRICKTOP - No thanks, Turkish. I'm sweet enough.

I'll keep it short and sweet with my Bulls. There are a lot of pundits out there in SportsWorld that see the Chicago Bulls rising up and overcoming this year. I don't want to go there yet, but what I am willing to say is that I have faith in the front office to make us better each and every year. GM John Paxton has earned my trust. So too has coach Scott Skiles. If we make the mid-season deal for Pau Gasol or even if we don't, I'm completely optimistic that smart basketball men are behind those moves (or non-moves). These Bulls are a fun ticket almost every night - they play the passing lanes, they shoot the ball, they play stifling defense. I'm not quick to anoint them nor am I quick to exalt them, but I'm ready to see what they can do. This seed was planted during the 2004-05 season and I have watched it bloom ever since. It's my hope that come May, I’ll have a reason to stomp my feet again... And that's good enough for me.

The Boo Bird Sniper

True devotion to a baseball team lies in the subtle tally of hundreds of smaller questions one must face on a daily basis.

Is the biggest fan necessarily the best fan? Does the ability to stay until the very last out while simultaneously chiding fellow patrons who are somberly filing out make you a more noble supporter? Is the suffering which accompanies heartbreaking loss a social mechanism which contributes to the experience, the bonding, the ritual of supporting a team...or are the depths of private disappointment and harrowing defeat what draws you closer to the game? And speaking of the game - what do you love more about the game itself? Gifted writers like George Will and Studs Turkel waxing poetic about the symmetry of the playing field and the contrasting complexities of the events taking place between those lines? Or is it the crack of the bat and the thrill of the crowd? Perhaps it's the beer cups collecting at your feet while arms hook over shoulders after a satisfying win?

While the endless questions mount, one type of "fan" has most recently caught my attention. They are the people who buy a ticket, get to the park, spend money on concessions... and then boo the players. They boo their guy, an All-Star, in the postseason. These are probably the same people who call AM Sports Talk radio shows and exclaim, "I was there!". They write off these players on the grand stage of baseball in the United States in twelve “life altering” at-bats. These are the fans that come to represent a fanbase. They feel a duty to vigilantly dole out vociferous disparages towards players who have, by not reaching base, explicitly wronged them. So, they boo. They boo people who are overpaid and over appreciated. They boo them because these athletes can handle it. After all, they make millions of dollars and still they can't lay off high heat. What else are we to do? They whiff and cost us glory. They are separate from us fans in the stands, therefore they must not understand the stakes of this game like we do.

England and the USA tend to differ in everyday diction and vocabulary. Sometimes the change is amusing, while other times it's confusing. Occasionally, it's actually quite telling...


Fan (short for fanatic) n. (US)- A person marked or motivated by an extreme, unreasoning enthusiasm, as for a cause (or team in this case).

Supporter n. (England)- An adherent, follower, backer, or advocate.

Those don’t seem that different, do they? After all, we use the word "fan" casually. It's not like we are fundamentalists who seem to derive power based on some disjointed baseball neurosis. I understand that this point I'm trying to make is a minor one, I do. But just look at those two words for a second - wouldn't you say one of those seems more unconditional than the other? I'm of the thought that the words we choose as a society to represent aspects of our lives are not unimportant. Here's another one:

Team n. (US)- A number of persons forming one of the sides in a game or contest.

Club n. (England)- A group of persons organized for an athletic purpose.

I always like the dichotomy of this one. The idea of a team seems to denote an "otherness" about the proceedings whereas the word club invites the supporters to feel joined with the men on the pitch. In a completely word-based reality, the Team/Fanatic relationship would appear far more contentious than the Club/Supporter dynamic, what with them swapping secret handshakes and chanting ancient songs.

Some of you may be shaking your heads right now and thinking to yourself... Is AK trying to argue that they don't boo at soccer matches in England? The fact is, I don't really know the degree to which they boo or don't boo. I haven't witnessed it, but I know they do some outlandish shit when faced with the combination of alcohol and losing. I'm only trying to muse on where exactly booing lands on the spectrum of being "in support" of a team. For myself, I really wish we didn't have the booing of a home team during postseason games (i.e. fans booing the Cubs towards the end of Saturday night's Game 3). It seems needless and shortsighted. I understand the frustration, but you can't hide behind the "I paid money for my ticket, and if I don't get exactly what I want, I'm going to piss and moan like a petulant child when they don't hoist the championship trophy this year" rap. Get over yourself. You cheer when good things happen and boo when bad things happen, you’re a forgone conclusion and you lack the ability to see the forest through the trees.

Sorry folks, I just had to get that out of my system.


So the Cubs got swept out of the NLDS after a thrilling, cardiac season where they overcame in-fighting and handled wild expectations. I enjoyed the season immensely because, for one, we snatched back the title of "Best Baseball Team in Chicago" from the White Sox. Always a good thing. Which is why I can't accept the assertion that simply because this six month rollercoaster season ended in early October instead of early November, it became a zero sum event. I'm not onboard with that. I had a great time and I can't wait for the Hot Stove trade talks in December.

Moving ahead, that leaves us with Colorado and Arizona. An NL West showdown spanning deserts and lofty mountain ranges. Don't get me wrong, they are both great stories in the sense that both teams were largely marginalized at the All-Star break and are now on the doorstep of greatness. They define a spectacular year, something separate and unique. But do people look back with an awed hush at the 2002 Angels or the 2003 Marlins? No, they were nice teams with lax fans who heated up at the right time. Where are the epic storylines that span generations? The Yankees and Red Sox are mildly annoying when they pair up in the regular season, but when it happens in the playoffs it becomes required viewing. I think any NLCS combination of the Cubs, Mets, Phillies, Dodgers or Brewers could had some substantial appeal to the greater baseball world because of the solid fans, cities and (quite frankly) teams. I recognize that this might make me an obnoxious Cubs fan who only likes historically significant teams in the World Series, but I'm comfortable with that. As of right now, I'm rooting for the Indians because they are an immensely likable team. Also, Major League quotes come pouring out of my mouth uncontrolably.

As far as discussing Game 3, I have no desire to do so. TK came into town and we had a good weekend. Our Sunday plans fizzled in a haze of double plays and runners left onbase, so we spent the day with our heads on a swivel at Hi Tops watching NFL games and drinking light beer from pitchers. We swapped oddball movie lines and ate nachos to sustain life. Once in a while, we'd clink glasses together and cheers with mock glee, "It's Gunna Happen!" and "Next Year, Bro!" just to crack ourselves up. And so it went, from the beginning to end, another year in the books.

(photos courtesy of TK)

Baseball Hats Everywhere

Before I write anything, I want to convey my most sincere and heartfelt condolences towards Ben and his 2007 Milwaukee Brewers. I remember a distinct moment this past April that made me wary of this team and justifiably so. I was listening to backloaded ESPN baseball podcasts on my I-Pod enroute to Spring Training in Mesa. It was early morning on the Blue Line heading up to O'Hare for a 7am flight and (the usually prophetic) Peter Gammon’s was running down his MLB standings predictions. The sun was just rising over the lake and I had made up my mind that if the Cubs were going to win, it would have to be this year. Gammons reached the NL Central and without any question or doubt, he fingered the Brewers to finish the year in first. He was met with incredulity and cynicism by the rest of the panel, but he categorically rebuffed them and restated his original assertion adding, "It's all there to make a run. Pitching, young power hitting, speed..."

Ever since that moment, I've been worried about them although I would never actually admit that to Ben (and for the record, this doesn't qualify as an omission of said worry for any organization named the Brewers, seeing as minor aspects of these posts are fictionalized to add density and richness to the characters being portrayed, thank you very much). There is no reason why a team should spend over 3/4 of the season in first place only to lose it in the last month, on the last weekend. It's unfair to the fans and their psyches. I've been around Brewers fans for years and the only thing that tied them together (besides hating the Cubs and Robin Yount jerseys) was that they weren't overly optimistic. Brewers fans were always pragmatists while the Cubs fans tended to be more fatalistic.

This year though? The Brewers fans kicked down the door in the first two months of the season. They provided a loud (rowdy even) presence at Wrigley and left early with wins (an inordinate amount of wins even). The growing feeling was that of all the Milwaukee surges of recent years, this looked the least flukey. To make a long story short, I feel for the kid. You have to. Such good fans don't deserve to witness something that excruciating over a 4 month span. It's bad ju-ju no matter how you cut it. Go Packers.

Ok, now I'm gunna zig back this-ah way...


September 28, 2003 - The Chicago Cubs clinch the NL Central. It happens during the second quarter of a Virginia football game during my 4th year. My Dad and I meet at halftime and do that awkward, giddy embrace reserved for the genuinely ecstatic or mental deranged. I leave the game in the third quarter to read internet reactions and muse over potential foes. For the next three weeks, my Cubs hat only leaves my head for showers and sleep. Mark Prior is arguably the best pitcher still playing. I'm running on pure emotion, malt liquor and the intoxication that is October baseball. Classes are an interesting diversion from my true purpose... hanging on every pitch.

:::In between, some stuff happens:::

September 28, 2007- The Chicago Cubs clinch the NL Central a little after 10PM CST. Here's how I remember it...

There were three fanbases at Cincy's Great American Ballpark: Cubs, Reds and Brewers fans.... I'm switching between Cubs/Reds and Brewers/Padres.... Bronson Arroyo's leg kick is why I can't take him seriously as a solid #2 starting pitcher.... This time of year really lets you appreciate how delicate the dance is between the "standings flags" above the Wrigley scoreboard....


I love the old school uni's that the Brewers dusted off for this "Throwback Night" in Milwaukee. A very solid move in my opinion. However, I wasn't too sure what to make of the towel waving in the stands (this goes for you too Philly). I'm down with towel waving at NBA playoff games and college football games for some reason, but not at MLB pennant implicating regular season games. I can't explain it really. I think the Homer Hankies for the Minnesota Twins playoff run in 1991 were fine because they "looked cool". Because they were hankies being waved, it was more like pulsing cloth rather than 40,000 people mindlessly twirling bar rags. But really, I was just a ten year old boy then, so what do I know. Moving on.

This is a time of year when strange things happen. I love it because scoreboard watching is immensely enjoyable, magic numbers are constantly in your mind and things can swing wildly in a matter of days (see The Mets).... Why are people still running on Alfonso Soriano's arm? He just notched his 20th outfield assist with ease and I can't remember where I put my beer. I love baseball.... The concept of A-Rod on the Northside next year is distracting. I don't want to be thinking about such things right now. It's like the 20 minutes that Kobe was talking about coming to Chicago this summer. I'm going to go blind thinking about stuff like that.... The Cubbies are up 4-0 during the 7th inning stretch. It looks to be 50/50 Cubs/Reds fans. "Root, root-root for the CUBBIES," is plainly heard and you feel good as a fan, like maybe some of this worry and joy and fanaticism in some way contributes to your team's success. Meanwhile, Milwaukee is tied with San Diego in the 5th inning. It's white knuckle time.

Jacomo Jones doubled to deep left, plating Ramirez and DeRosa in the 8th. The Cubs now lead by six runs in the 9th and the Padres just took the lead 4-3 in the 6th inning. At this point, I walked outside in the humid Friday night air and headed to the store for a sixpack of Old Style. I took it to my roof with my radio and listened to the rest of it under the pale of night and the dim flickering of television screens across the neighborhood. Immediately after Trevor Hoffman's three strikeout 9th inning save, hollers erupted throughout Wrigleyville. Cubs hats hovered on distant balconies smoking cigarettes and toasting beers, cars honked and people swayed. A bottle rocket flared out somewhere near Southport. It was only 10pm on a Friday night in Wrigleyville. The earth was moving and things were happening. The people were out and the Cubs were going to represent the NL Central in October.

I unpluged my radio, collected my empties and sauntered down the stairs in complete gratification. I turned off my phone, cranked the A/C, curled myself into bed and slept like a baby for the first time in weeks. I'm home.

September 16th, 2007

This past Sunday, my dad, Karen, Amy, Kim, and I (and thousands of other Packer fans) invaded Giants Stadium. The chronicle of the day follows below:

My dad and my sisters show up at around 8:30 a.m. in Hoboken after getting an early start from Long Island. The excited early morning banter consists of picks for the day, last minute fantasy football adjustments, and determining just how much bean dip is enough bean dip (a baked casserole consisting of layered refried beans, salsa, sour cream, and shredded mozzarella, it holds a place of honor in Carthew family lore and has been present in triumph and in failure.)

Karen, still in bed, announces that she refuses to get up until her snowsuit is brought to her. For two consecutive years Karen's bio-rhythms have successfully coincided with the arrival of football season.

We begin to get together lawn chairs, pots and pans, liquor and beer, and various other accoutrements and undertake the 15 minute journey to East Rutherford. Soon after entering the lot on the east side of the stadium at 10:25, we pull into the center of 3 vacant spots knowing that the neighboring locations will not be filled until shortly before gametime. Everyone is about their business setting up propane stoves, cracking beers, and mixing drinks as Giants Stadium hovers in the background. My dad has brought several items of Green Bay Packers paraphenalia which precariously perch on the hatchback of the Volkswagen. These pieces of "flair" are brought out of their showcase for every game that the Packers play back in the house in Merrick and consist of a beanbag football that has three different versions of the "Go, Pack, Go" chant, a Russian babushka doll (inside are Favre, Reggie White, Antonio Freeman, LeRoy Butler, and Mark "I thought she was 27" Chmura), and a horrid metal and wood work of art spelling "PACKERS" in stenciled lettering.

The bratwursts soak in 12 fluid ounces of Budweiser as the cigars are lit and the conversation meanders from recent terrifying experiences with marijuana to at what point has one eaten too much bean dip to why the fuck do so many Giants fans willfully elect to wear Eli Manning jerseys. Seriously, if you're a Giants fan, and if you own a Manning or Brandon Jacobs jersey, please kill yourself, because you're the reason why the Meadowlands was half empty with 8 minutes left in the game and the Giants down merely 2 scores. Kudos, however, is deserved by the people who had Banks, Carson, Simms, Hampton, Bavaro, McConkey, and Way (yes, THE Charles Way) sewn or ironed between the shoulders.


The time seems to pass quicker as the root beer and vodkas are downed and the sweet smell of brat and beer steam from the pan. Coupled with a pristine end-of-summer day that carries just enough of a hint of autumn to qualify for football weather, few things in life are so simple yet so perfect.

At 12:30 we trek to take our seats via the port-o-potties that stand within a brisk walk from the south entrance of the stadium. I will eschew any description of the stall that had "tiki barber is gay" scribbled on the wall because I don't want you to despair and lose all hope in humanity as I have. We split up with Amy and Kim and leave them to their own devices. I expect them at least a half dozen stories of sexual harrassment from 45 to 55 year old men. It's not funny guys, it's creepy.

As we take our own seats we are immediately greeted with "Now you know what Custer felt like," from the male couple in front of us. As I explain the historical reference to Karen, she loudly comments on how that is probably one of the lamest things one could say in that situation. We realize we're surrounded by douchebag Giants fans (my favorite kind). In spite of this, we receive very little heckling, even during the first 3 quarters (while the game was, you know, still in doubt) because (i) Giants fans prefer to complain about perfectly solid officiating; and (ii) they would prefer to heckle their own team.

The pace of the game is slow during 1st quarter, each team sparring and content to battle for field position and each missing a field goal. Then, "startling, like lightning out of a clear sky," as C.S. Lewis once described the Lord of the Rings trilogy, Brett Favre made a throw (one of several) that subconciously makes you rise out of your seat and gape, the only noise capable of describing what it was like to witness that moment is a guttural yell and the only gesture an irrational point at the man who authored it. This toss, a 46 yard bomb caught James Jones streaking down the sidelines in stride and surrounded by 3 defenders with 11 minutes left in the half. The Pack light up the board shortly thereafter on a run by Wynn.

The Giants would answer right back on a 2 play drive culminating in a nice throw-and-catch from Manning to Plaxico. Save for Giants field goal to take the lead into the half, the rest of the 2nd quarter continued to pass uneventfully. Beer time.

As the 2nd half started, the Packers special teams showed an example of an all-around performance that contributed substantially the victory by returning the kickoff to around midfield. In addition to this return and in spite of the missed field goal, the special teams forced and recovered a fumble and consistently provided the Giants offense with subpar field position. The short drive that resulted in a touchdown pass to Bubba Franks (his 587th from inside the 5 yard line) would put the Packers in the lead for good.

Following another Tynes field goal, the subsequent drive bridged the 3rd and 4th quarters and was finished by another beautiful toss, this time to Donald Lee in the corner of the end zone. This drive was the critical point of the game as there appeared to be a clear change in momentum and the Packers began to impose their will on offense by altering the tempo and going to a quick huddle. We would also find out later that Brett completed his first 14 passes of the final half, simply a surreal performance to watch. His next touchdown pass, following the aforementioned fumble was thrown as hard as I've seen him throw the ball and left a vapor trail through 3 levels of the Giants defense to find Donald Driver in the back of the end zone.

The remainder of the game put an exclamation point on the victory as Eli threw a pass that only can be described as effeminate and frightened to a rushing defensive lineman and Mr. Wynn (I'm still learning his first name) sprinted for a long rushing touchdown. If it weren't for that rush, the Packers would've finished with under 50 yards rushing. If we entertain any hope of winning this division, the rushing performance will need to improve to something a little better than less than mediocre. I never thought I would be so fervently hoping for the return of Vernand Morency.

The game ended 35-13 and we ventured down to the end zone where the players exit into the tunnels to the locker room. On this day, Brett broke the career record for victories by a quarterback and we and the other remaining Packers fans wanted to give him a send off for this accomplishment. This time, unlike a few others involving Brett, I was able to hold back tears. Barely. I hope that wasn't the last time that I will get to see him play in person because there has been nothing that I have seen that can compare to it.


As we exited the stadium, we decided to celebrate the victory with a post-game tailgate, some now-cooled bean dip, a couple more beers, and throwing the football around. Sometimes, life is just so good and so easy.


(pictures, courtesy of Karen)