What do the Lakers have to do to be loved in L.A.? And, Chris Erskine of the LA Times Fancies Beyonce and Enos Slaughters' Speed

Shocking results of an LA Times poll asking its readers, "Which is your favorite sports team?" At last check, with more than 13,000 votes in, USC came in at #1. Which is frankly lame because a college team should not be the fave of the second biggest city in the country. A city should not pin its sporting hopes and dreams on the shoulders of a bunch of unpaid kids. The Angels came in at #2, which I guess is kind of cool. The Lakers, coming off an NBA title and fully reloaded to win again, came in at #3, barely fending off the Galaxy #4, and UCLA, #5. The oddly unpopular Dodgers come in next, in a virtual tie with the Kings.

What gives with the lack of Laker love? Certainly it's not Clipper-Crazies, they came in with a strong 1% of the vote, groveling in the gutter alongside Chivas USA and the LA Sparks. Do glamorous Laker fans find Lamar's betrothal to the ugly Kardass sister unseemly? Do Randy Newman-crazed Laker loyalists hate rap music? Did the Rally Monkey fuck with the results? Do the Lakers need to grow Beckham beards?
I almost didn't see the poll, as I was wallowing in yet another chumpy column from a writer, Chris Erskine, who wrote the kind of observational drivel Andy Rooney would wipe his ass with.
Erskine writes of his love/hate relationship with baseball. "Baseball can be too much of a good thing sometimes. As if Beyonce were born twins." Can you fathom....two Beyonces!?!? Would Taylor Swift ever win an award in such a sexy world?
Baseball is too long for the man, "Hey, here's an idea: 100 games, seven innings each. I never said it was a good idea. Just an idea." You just know he thinks its a brilliant idea, but he cuts off the reader's initial negative reaction through Sophist self-effacement. Savvy.

The column should have ended there, on a high note, but with a clear lack of an editor's guidance, the musings meander on.

"I'm missing baseball already, this awful, splendid game--more fickle than life itself." Oh, I didn't realize that RANDOM DEATH was a daily part of baseball. But you know what? You just never know if a hard-hit ball will find the gap or a glove. Fickle-pickle.

"Baseball isn't a sport, it's a fetish." Like wanting to tickle Beyonce's inner thighs with your sandy mustache as your glasses fog up.

"New York is where the wild things really are. Fans there ought to have rabies shots." I didn't thinkc sheep with cell phones ould transmit rabies.

"Yep, 30 teams started the season and one (or two) are still alive. What other activity suffers casualties like this?" Oh, I don't know, hmmmm......MAYBE EVERY OTHER SPORT ON THE FACE OF THE FUCKING EARTH.

"If baseball were a song, Willie Nelson would sing it. If baseball were a country, it'd be invaded by Lichtenstein." If baseball were cereal, it'd be Grape Nuts. If baseball were tits, it'd be Marcy D'arcy's.
"Sure, baseball can be pure poetry: ivy on brick; mustard in your fingernails; Enos Slaughter sprinting back to the dugout just because." Enos Slaughter played his last game in 1959.

He rambles on to his insane childhood. "Suburbs were tougher then. The things we did with firecrackers would make a modern mother retch." And Beyonce cream. What a rebel. And Ersky, kids today are into sexting, sniffing glue and skateboards, oh, and not reading the paper.

Is there an end in sight? "So fret not, Dodger fans. Life goes on. These days, there dusts mites in my mustache and hints of winter in my knees...Pitchers and catchers report in about 100 days." Which is how long the season should be! What a great/awful idea!

Remember, the LA Times costs 75 cents a day and is shedding readers faster than Enos Slaughter sprinting back to the dugout. It's so easy for newspapers to blame their problems on the internet instead of ignoring the timeless rule; "content is king." People read sites like Deadspin partly because its free, true, but also because its content is funny and entertaining. Which is what a sports section should be.

Freddy & the Sports Guy

Understandably, Bill was running out of gas -I wonder if he occasionally has lapses on the blackjack table during late night runs- by the time I got him to write Sheed's tenet -that I take to heart everyday- but he should get credit for catching 'sobe' before correcting it. Major hat tip to coach for reminding me of one of my favorite quotes: I was prepared to have Bill churn out a Rocky quote, but the bar staff wisely instituted a five word limit to save Bill's wrist and sanity.

When told his spat with Mike was tearing me apart, he replied, "well he started it." Et tu, Francesa?

Taking All the Fun Away

Your pal Coachie here. Those who know me know that I hate the Yankees. Yet, the Yankee fans that I know, the MZA, NedStarr, Seamus and Don Bigdoodo amongst others, are all rational, even-tempered, unoffensive and genuine baseball fans. Their fandom is not in your face, in short they are the exact opposite of the kind of fan the song "Yan-kees, How Ya Doin?" was written for and appeals to. Deep down, I know most longtime Yankee fans are not assholes. Moreover, the young fans who do indeed ask, How Ya Doin?, I mean, can you blame them? Those yougsters cannot remember a time when the Yankees were not a World Series contender. In short, I still hate the Yankees. But here is the Big Dood to shed some light on what the "quiet majority," as Nixon would put it, feel at this time of year.
---------------
Any World Series featuring the Bronx Bombers presents a fantastic opportunity for run of the mill Yankee fans to crawl out the Teaneck woodwork, beat their barrel chests unrepentantly and thumb their collective noses at their Queens and Boston rivals. But for the more analytic, self conscious members of the old breed, the World Series is less a path to coronation and more a troubling reminder that we are closer to being damned for what we’ve done than damned for what we did not do.

This is the plight of the Yankee fan with a conscience. If we win, it was handed to us. If we lose, we dropped it.

Really Yankee fans, where’s the fun? We are all Edward the Longshanks. We command a mercenary force, remaking our one-time foes into temporary loyalists for a pittance of cold hard sterling – sending the likes of C.C. Sabathia, Johnny Damon, Alex Rodriguez, A.J. Burnett and Mark Texeira off to glory or death at the whims of our fleeting interest. I’ve probably hated half the members of the team at one point or another.

To be sure, the occasional rebel uprising gets the better of the advances of our empire, but what’s the difference? Ultimately the pin-striped tide laps all shores. We celebrate in bunches where other would be ascendants clamor for dew drops of glory a generation at a time.

By any rational measure, I would not ever root for this club. But reason has no business where baseball allegiance is concerned. As Yankee fans we have all inherited the throne of an empire that has spun far beyond our ability to comprehend it’s necessity, utility or appeal. Getting to think too much of it makes the head spin and when the pitches start flying and the bats start twirling we can only ignore the spectacle or join in cheer along with the great unwashed. Ultimately we are pushed to a decision. Shit or get off the pot. Pick a new team, quit enjoying baseball, or root for the team we’ve inherited.

I enjoy baseball and I can’t root for anyone but the Yankees. So what’s a fan with a conscience to do? I try to remember the dark days, when I lived in California in the early 90’s. I think back to my poor parents who would reluctantly drive me down to Anaheim stadium, where my heart would be broken by the likes of Dave Righetti, Don Slaught, Mike Pagliarulo, Elvaro Espinoza, Roberto Kelly, Andy Hawkins etc. When I cared most, my team was the worst, I tell myself. But I followed them like a religion anyway. There was no YES network then. No satellite TV. Just box scores in the morning paper. And every summer morning I would wake up early and wait to hear that paper hit the pavement in the driveway before running out to see if Yankees were possibly turning it around – perhaps chipping a game or two away at the lead held by the Red Sox or Blue Jays or whomever else was embarrassing them that particular year. When I think about those dark days, about being laughed at by kids my age wearing Dante Bichette jerseys, I don’t feel all that guilty… am not embarrassed by the riches.

PREDICTION

If the Yankees take all the fun out of baseball for the rest of the league, I’m afraid you’ve got bad news coming.

The Phils are not winning this series. Their pitching is just not good enough. Chan Ho Park is not shutting down this lineup. Cole Hamels and Pedro are in trouble. Joe Blanton is as good as dead. Brad Lidge is another Joe Nathan waiting to be exposed.

Philly has a nice lineup – an ‘american league lineup’ as the media chorus would have it. But it’s not as deep as New York’s. The Yankees, 1-9, are a mechanized pitch drain. They don’t chase, they get into bullpens, and they abuse them.

It was bound to happen eventually – it was just a matter of time before the Yankees were actually able to buy the best team available and have all that talent show up at the same time. They are not swallowing expensive mistakes this year. No Jason Giambis, Randy Johnsons or Carl Pavanos. Just top flight players earning their checks for a change. It’s amazing it took 9 years for this simple-minded strategy to pay off, but here it is.

I think the series will be exciting but not as exiting as people hope. I see it going six games and being similar in tone to the ALCS.

Phillies will probably take one of the first two, maybe even the first, startling everyone and gearing us up for a seven game barn burner, but the Yankees will come back and take the first two games in Philly. The Phillies will send it back to NY but will unceremoniously crap out in game six and that will be it.

And something a little less acute than joy will wash over me. Maybe beer.
---------------

Vindicated

Sometimes, it's good to know that other people think the same way we do.

The legendary Peter Vecsey writing about how Donnie Walsh really, truly hasn't done much of any real rebuilding.

And the underrated George Willis, talking about Leon Washington, seconding the thoughts Freddie Coups had on Sunday.

Clash of the Titans

One October afternoon, Mike Francesa brought up the subject of ESPN's ballyhooed "30 for 30" documentary series, and gleefully took the opportunity to jab both Bill "The Sports Guy" Simmons and the Worldwide Leader:

"Bill, the more the chances he gets to speak for ESPN comes off like a stooge... he's gone from being a guy you get a kick out of to a guy who's fronting for ESPN... No one wants to hear from Simmons anymore."

Which first stunned Simmons:

"Wait a second, Mike Francesa thinks that I'm the one who's a "stooge" and a "fraud"?"

And was followed by a counter, directed by his trainer:

"In all seriousness: I remain a big Francesa fan & wish I could have called in + argued with him today. ESPN house rules prevailed. Too bad."

"Of course, if Mike Francesa would like to appear on the BS report, we can definitely arrange it. Would love to have him."

Mike deftly evaded the blow before dropping this vicious left hook:

“If they would like to invite me to chat with Bill on his whatever-it-is… his website? [Simmons] doesn’t even have a show. [A podcast] is not a show… THIS is a show. Here’s what I’d say to Bill: Bill, get a show, and then you can invite me on your show. That’s not a program you’ve got… what do you want to call it, some kind of a little electronic get-together? Please. We want somebody to be able to hear you, to see you. If we do it at your place, nobody’s gonna know it’s happened. We want there to actually be record of it. We want somebody to actually hear it. It’s called an audience.”

Easy call for the judges there: Francesa 10, Simmons 8.

That was the end of the fight, until Mike was given a DVD of the Jimmy "the Greek" piece today, which Mike used to remind the audience of his upbringing at CBS in the 80's during both the Greek's and The NFL Today's heyday. Mike considers himself one of the authorities on the Greek, no doubt one of his gambling mentors -wouldn't you love to see a dramatization of a wide-eyed apprentice Mike scooping up all the valuable tips from the venerable master Greek?- and has to make it clear to listeners that somehow his blessing would validate the documentary.

Of course, the big picture here is ESPN's moratorium on their employees from appearing on WFAN, presumably enforced to give its hideous, god-awful 1050 station a puncher's chance against 660 -who the hell listens to Michael Kay, the Shame of my Bronx Science? Mike used to enjoy having Jeff Van Gundy, Mike Breen and other personalities on his show, but now takes his revenge on the WWL by taking shots at them whenever possible, including Kenny Mayne's "Mayne Street" bit with Bill, prompting another SG tweet:

"Francesa's Mayne Street digs sounded hilarious. Can we have a group intervention with him? Even Jurassic Park didn't have bigger dinosaurs."

and this not-so-subtle-uppercut:
"Mike, you're too young to play the "I don't understand podcasts or web series" card. Still 8 yrs away. We can't lose you to Geezerville yet."

Nice little dig in the end there, but while Mike may not be ancient, he's ruled his roost long before Bill became "The Sports Guy" and deserves a bout on his terms. Give us the Fight of the Century, ESPN. After all, If I can change...

Thanks to TheFantasy555Podcast for the transcripts.

Sigh...

Yankees fans have a message for the Phillies and their hometown: This ain't Rocky, and the underdog won't win!

"The Yankees are going to make Philly cream cheese out of them," a confident Tommy Bayiokos, 44, predicted yesterday in Midtown.

"Philly fans are a bunch of whiners and should learn how to dress. They should try reading GQ."


Yup, just another reason I don't even touch the local rags anymore.


Though I would like to meet Mr. Bayiokos. I could use some fashion tips.

I Wanna Dip My Balls In It!

This here is a portrait of no one's main man Trent "I'll Shoot You In Your Mutherfuckin' Face" Tucker.* The walking, stalking definition of "quiet as kept." He'd chill, cop not quite a mill, then, when you least expect, he'd drop a gem on you If Chuck Person was the "Rifleman," then Trent was the "M.F.'n-Mack-10-Man," str8 spraying your shizzy up. The NBA had to change its rules because of the man, and, in keeping with David "Peep the Union I'll Burn, Strokin my beard while my dredyl steady turns" Stern's M.O., no trace of Trent Tucker video highlights may be found.

This season starts in Trent Tucker's spirit. It has come out of nowhere, with no fanfare save a Sports Guy preview not up to his usual caliber, tho he can be forgiven due to his mammoth and eagerly anticipated basketball bible coming out. Much like its sister, the NHL, the baskets campaign is far too long. And by sisters, I mean like the difference between Kim and Khloe Kardashian.
The 1999 50-game season is much-maligned, particularly by the aforementioned Sports Guy. But it was perfect. This time around, the season starts a little sooner than its traditional Halloween start, and for once, I'm glad. Half-speed who-cares October hoops will provide a welcome distraction from the inevitable Yankee onslaught. Plus, no more dreary eastern conference hoops for my tanned ass, strictly exotic west-coast-is-the-best-coast action. I will miss the free 'za and random Smadbeck bros. sightings at Standings during hoops season. In my memories its always pouring buckets outside and I always stop at one slice.

In closing, may we all face life's challenges as hungrily as Rick "The Need for Feed" Mahorn.
*Nickname coined by NedStarr

Terry Francona Once Had Hair on His Head.

"No, no, Terry......it's cool........Weaver's not looking.....just...just move your hand a little to the left. Yeah, that's it. No, no, why are you hesitating? Stop smiling like that you goofball, you're killing the mood. C'mon.....just a little to your left...."

photo throo Uniwatchblog.com

What Price, Victory?

Training camp contract disputes are almost always treated with the same response by the media and fans that Player X is a 'spoiled athlete' and should be 'thankful' they're compensated in the first place. But you have to feel for tail back Leon Washington, who showed up everyday -to be fair, he couldn't afford the fines he'd incur based on his meager rookie contract salary- and received some sympathy from the media, though not enough attention was paid to Jets' general manager Mike Tannenbaum's practice of deceiving and low-balling players -including guard Pete Kendall. But now Leon has a broken leg -after being sandwiched by four Raiders- and can only hope the front office appreciates his contributions to the team, no matter what Shonn Greene -refreshing change of pace from the crappy Shawn and Sean Greens the Mets have trotted out- contributes the rest of the way.

On a happier note, handing the hapless Oakland Raiders their worst home loss in franchise history still feels good, especially coming off the outrageous claim by defensive end Richard Seymour that they were a playoff contender. Giants' linebacker Antonio Pierce was still correct in referring to the Giants 44-7 pasting over Oakland two weeks ago as a 'scrimmage,' and the Raiders merely caught the Philadelphia Eagles in their annual 'throw 50 times when it is wholly unnecessary and have the fans throw Donovan McNabb and Andy Reid under the bus' game. Coach Poppers and Donovan will adjust and do just fine Monday night against the Washington Redskins -former star John Riggins' bashing of the organization was cute at first, but now he's just an attention whore that likes the sound of his own voice. So while the Jets can't strut and beat out their chests after their conquest in Oakland, they can go into the Miami Dolphin rematch with some confidence in both their running game and the emergence of wideout David Clowney -someone's gotta benefit from the attention Braylon Edwards draws. Maybe linebacker Calvin Pace can even make some tackles.

P.S. As much as this perpetuates Rex Ryan's reputation as a loosey-goosey leader more interested in making his players happy than competitive, how great was his assist in the Gatorade shower for assistant head coach/offensive line coach/ex-Raiders head coach Bill Callahan? Total eff you to a brooding Al Davis -what was the towel draped over his lap for?

Et Tu, Magique?

Now Your Name is Just 'Toine.

LEAVE ISIAH ALONE! Jeezo-Peezo I feel like that he-she who defended Britney. Magic "How The Fuck Was A.C. "Never Mean" Green His Roommate?" Johnson is the latest to shit on Isiah, in a new book he sez Isiah questioned his sexuality, the whole world did at the time. Has Magic called Karl Malone out? Charles Barkley? Magic goes on to say that he, along with the rest of the Dream Team, did not want Isiah to play in the Olympics. Truly fucked. I have a hard time believing that Scottie "Oh, the Knicks? Same Shit, Different Season*" Pippen gave two shits. Let's not forget, in some racist-ass nonsense, that Christian Laettner was on that team

Aint it a bitch, to kick a man when he's down. And why the fuck is Magic dropppping a book? He already has a book, a great one, called "My Life." I read it concurrently as Larry Bird's "Drive." Magic's book is far better. Although Larry Bird gets proppps for not fronting by admitting that he is a competitive asshole on every page.

Is dissing Isiah the shit Magic has been waiting 20 years to get off his chest? In a book about the golden age of hoops?

Meanwhile, Isiah's old squidad, the Knicks, begin the season with what Sports Illustrated appropriately calls "an expansion roster." This is not necessarily a bad thing. The team's best three players are Isiah's, Wilson "Chilllll" Chandler, David "Dubbs" Lee and Nate "My resemblance to Tricky is Uncanny" Robinson. All came from Isiah. He did a better job that Scott Layden. And yes, he fucked up, but it's not as if Donnie Walsh and Mike D'Antoni have built anything.

Magic has never been able to find success in basketball since he retired, despite trying several roles. He briefly, disastrously, coached an excellent Lakers team in 1994. It had Sam "I'll Cut You" Bowie, Elden "I'm Big" Campbell, Doug "Yes, Dear" Christie, Vlade "The Sweet Stench of Feta and Marlboros" Divac, Anthony "Sir" Peeler, Danny "Hairy Gams" Schayes, Sedale Threatt "2 Ya Whole Set," Nick "It Aint Hard 2 Tell" Van Exel, and James "Underrated" Worthy.

Stick to lattes and matinees, Magique.

*That is one of Papa Coachie's favorite quotes. And further proof that Pippen, like Worthy, remains supremely underrated.

NL for Naught?

Big-picture, interleague record, statistically speaking, the National League may be worse than the American League. But the NL is 4-9 this decade where it counts, in the World Series. And really, when it comes down to it, there are only three dope teams in the AL, the navy-blue-Devils, the Sawx, and the Halos. no other team impresses.

Certainly, a significant part of the Yanks' postseason success has been beating up on the likes of the Rangers and Twins in the ALDS. While I'm here, let me just say that the baseball rule preventing division winners from playing the wild card if the wild card is from within the same division is asinine. No other sport has this rule. It's a topic/tangent for another time, but baseball once had the most meritorious playoff system in all sport, now it has the most arbitrary and asinine.

Well, a shitty NLCS gives us the Phils. Tough for the boys in blue because there's nowhere for them to go. The team as presently constituted is fine, there are no clear areas for marked improvement. It's just that the Phils are better. And seeing how shook the Blue Crew played, we are better off for it, at least we know the Phils won't be intimidated by the sight of bro'd out brokers, Challenger the Eagle, Kate Hudson (Goldie Hawn is hotter. Now.), pinstripes (they have their own awful version that makes the whole shirt look pink), and Rudy G.

Pheel Our Pain

Bad times to be a member of A.M.F.S.B.T.M.F.Y. Nation these days. That Kazmir-Zambrano trade don't look so bad anymore, eh?

Well, we turn our eyes to the Phightins. They played the Yanks tuff earlier this summer, having taken two of three at New Yankee Stadium. Their lineup can hurt you in many different ways. Ryan Howard is feasting. Citizen Bank Park blasts the rousing theme from The Blues Brothers after big wins. They've been there. They've got, as Tha Uuuuuuuuuuuuu's Jacory Harris' hair would say, 'Swag.'

Then again, Brad Lidge is their closer. And Rudy G's got home field. And the Yanks' pitching is the deepest and thickest (yeah!) it's been since the late 90's. And fucking Mark "Big Fundamentals" Texiera is covering 2nd base.

Anybody got anything, anything, that can cheer up Any Mother Fuckin Squadron But The Mother Fuckin Yanks Nation? I've never wanted Frownie to lose money more.

George Steinbrenner image courtesy of Coachie's personal collection of classic NY Post covers.

Keep Your Eye on the Ball

Got a piece up at EPLtalk.

Do It!!!! Eat Me Now!!! I'm Right He-UHHHH!!! EAT ME!

As L.A.'s baseball squadrons struggle to stay alive (do the Phightins represent the best threat based on their strong series at new Yankee Stadium earlier this summer and the fact that they play the Blues Brothers theme after wins?) it's worth remembering that California is facing an even bigger loss, yes, Governor Arnold Schwarzanegger will soon be leaving office.

Many will boo him as he leaves, blaming him for the state's woes in lieu of the 'girly-men' who doze in the state legislature. Far more importantly, many tabloids have attempted to capture unflattering pictures of Arnold aging ungracefully and looking fat. Fuck that noise. Look at the man! He's 62! He looks fantastic!
And peep this picture of a breakfast he was recently served. Healthy....and hilarious!!!
Thankfully, we have Arnold's cameo in T.M.F.A.A.O.A.T.G.M.F.F.I.A.R.C.H.A.T.E. to look forward to. Oh? What is T.M.F.A.A.O.A.T.G.M.F.F.I.A.R.C.H.A.T.E.? The Mother Fuckin Alpha and Omega Aka The Greatest Mother Fuckin Film In All Recorded Cinematic History Aka The Expendables. Or, put another way, The Cannonball Run of action movies. Sadly, it appears this film will now not be coming out until August 2010.
With T4, The Expendables, and the stewardship of the biggest state in the land under his belt, maybe Arnold can get to work on the one movie that could top T.M.F.A.A.O.A.T.G.M.F.F.I.A.R.C.H.A.T.E.............Conan.........the King.

Trim the Fat.

FACT: Fat NFL coaches never win. Ever.

Rex Ryan can keep shoving twinkies down his throat (and stick them where the sun-don't-shine) and watch his defense get gashed on the ground.

And if Woody Johnson has half a brain, he opts out of the new Meadowlands Stadium and builds a retractable roof stadium in Flushing Meadows for his reckless and weak quarterback. Who knew throwing spirals was such a rare skill?

Let It Be

On a blustery January afternoon in Savile Row, the Beatles performed live on top of their Apple Studious building for the first time in four years. Today, on an equally nasty October day, Mike Francesa and Chris 'Mad Dog' Russo will hit the airwaves -the ones people actually listen to- together at 1 PM live from Yankee Stadium.

Only 4 Teams Play in New York City.

New Jerz, so close....yet so far. I aint crossing that river unless there's a damn good reason.

The New York Post's Mike Vaccaro's highlighted the Sporting News' list of the best American sports cities this past Sunday. NYC placed 6th, behind Titsburgh, Ill-Will-y (R.I.P.), Beantown, the Shy, and the City of Compton (it's where it takes place). L.A. should only outrank such sports towns as Hotlanta or the M.I.A. No doubt, this town loves its Lake Show, but when the "low point" over the past 50 years of the Lakers were the highly-entertaining Nick Van Exel-Eddie "Butter"Jones-Cedric "Ball-O" Ceballos-Vlade "Feta+Marlboros" Divac years, well then, they are an easy bunch to love. (I highly recommend peeping the video linked in the previous sentence. Moreover, hard to say which NBA Live 95 team was more G, the Lakers, or the G-State Warriors of Chris 'T.O." Webber, Chris "Oh You Got A" Gatling, Latrell "It Aint Hard to Tell" Sprewell, Chris "Derek Jeter Stole My Haircut" Mullin, Billy "Oh No" Owens, and Tim "Sold My Soul to Pat Riley" Hardaway. Man, you know what, PLEASE WATCH THIS VIDEO. MORE IMPORTANTLY WATCH THIS ONE.)

So, other than L.A., I can't see much justification for placing New York much higher. Vaccaro deads the Shy and the Detroit (#10 on the list) for including outlying areas like Evanston and Ypsilanti, yet only four of New York's 9 (10 if you include the Red Bulls) play within the city limits. Moreover, Vaccaro contradicts his anti-suburb-inclusive-point when he states that, since 1996, New York teams have won 8 titles versus Boston's 6. First, his math seems off by one. Second, if you subtract the two Cups won by the Jersey Devils and the one Bowl won by the Jersey Giants, we are left with the four titles won by the Yankees.

Nitpicking aside, New York will always suffer on these kind of lists because New Yorkers cannot unite behind any one team in any sport. No team, not even the Yankees, especially the Yankees, can speak for New York. The only team that can come close is the Knicks. They haven't been relevant since 2000. Plus, the Bucktown Nets now seem that much closer to reality.

I suppose a more important question is why we can't support a united New York, as in, why shouldn't we support any New York team when it faces a team from another city? I know my answer, it's because Hov rocks Yankee fitteds aka the Yankees suck. Your answers?

Thanks to sportslogos.net for the source logos.

LazyNDaLaz Dayz

This could be a portrait of any newsprint sports columnist in America. It is Bill Dwyre.

One of the hardest parts of leaving New York is losing access to the New York Post. Now, the LA Times is a perfectly fine newspaper, perhaps even underrated when considering the generally weak state of big city dailies today. The paper does hard news well. But a man cannot exist on trouble in Tehran and investigations into water-main breaks alone. A man needs a lively and light-hearted sports section. Internet sites/blogs cannot compete against the big newspapers in hard news, but it's easy for them to outshine a daily's sports and entertainment sections which are mostly based on opinion and conjecture. As youngster Freddy Coups points out, sports blogs have made sports sections near-irrelevant, and he has since dropped his daily newsprint habit.

Sports Guy has highlighted the reasons why the big papers can't compete, what with their union rules and ties to longstanding writers. Hence, we get the cavalcade of chumps that hog the columnist pages of our nation's dailes. A typical example is Bill Dwyre of the LA Times. This past Friday, in the wake of the Angels' 2nd win against the BoSox he wrote of how the Angels were erasing their hex against Boston's cop-looking corps. Already we have the overdone chump angle of "curses." Not content with this chump point he exhumes poor Donnie Moore to make his belabored point.

"Now, so sadly, figuratively and sordidly, every Red Sox victory since [1986] had seemed like another nail in Moore's coffin."

Figuratively? Thanks, Dwyre, I thought that after Game 1 of last year's ALDS, Yooooouuuuuuullllllk held the flashlight while Tacoby Ellsbury dug up Moore's grave while Terry Francs held the nails betwixt his teeth.

Sordidly? I guess if the above scenario were true then yes, but, well, now I'm just confused. Let's just leave it at that this column is FUCKED, and shows just how awful a sportswriter can be when he tries to get grandiose in illustrating a stupid point.

We can get lazy opinions on any sports blog. What we need is investigative writing, or writers who actually leave their seats to write a story, like Jerry Crowe's column today on Wilt Chamberlain's super-sexy house.

Our sports pages need to change quick. they need to heed the advice of 3-6 Mafia and get "CrazyNDaLazDayz."

That Whiskey Wind......

Our pal, and lover of Gang Green, Al K. Mza checks in with another recipe sure to make your Sunday more sultry:

As the weather gets colder, is there any drink better than a dram of fine whiskey to warm the soul? Only when combined with the greatest of all instant desserts...the poundcake.

Ingredients:
One package Poundcake
Scotch, 2-3 shots to taste
Ice Cream optional
The best scotch to use here would be one with heavy fruit flavors and very little smokiness for a toffee like finish on top of the cake.

Slice and warm the poundcake, splash scotch shots over the top. Let soak. Finish with a scoop of ice cream.
Enjoy the game with the rest of the bottle.

Lessons

You're never too old- or too washed-up- to stop learning. I'm gonna pass on his book, thanks, I'll stick to the wisdom of the Wu-Tang Manual.

Wait, he has another book?!?!

*pic credit to upnorthtrips, a fantastic site best experienced via rss feed.

Robbbbbed

Actual O.G. Tigers Logo

Zoinks!

The Official Rules of Major League Baseball, Rule 5.09(a):
----
The ball becomes dead and runners advance one base, or return to their bases, without liability to be put out, when --
(a) A pitched ball touches a batter, or his clothing, while in his legal batting position; runners, if forced, advance;
----
Would it have been a cheap hit by pitch? Yes. Was Inge's jersey as billowy as the undulating rolls of fat that make up Oprah's thighs? Yes. But without the rule of law then it's all just gussied up "Running Bases" isn't it?

Why am I so worked up about le tigres? Well, as a fervent citizen of the A.M.F.S.B.T.M.F.Y. Nation (Any Motherfuckin Squadron But The Motherfuckin Yanks), I felt that the Tigers represented the bigger threat in the first round than the perennial-pinstripe-punching-bag- Twinkies. Fuck. Yanks-Rocks. Yanks in two. Fuck.

Props to Chris Creamer's Sportslogos.net for the source logos and to the MLB Network for the highlight.

The Annals of ill Design

'Twas peeping the video for Kool G. Rap's "On the Run," as is my wont, when my wig got split by the image of Kool "ridin around with ten kilos inside my trunk G" in an ill pre-radical-mid-1990's-grill-makeover Beamer (possibly an M5) with even iller early 1990's New York State license plates.

Simple. Stark. Iconic. The opposite of the muddled, dull-colored current plates with its cheap attempt to pander to all corners of the state. The kind of plate perfectly appropriate to the anonymous Toyota and Ford sedans of today that makes us all feel like we're traveling businessmen renting from Hertz' economy class.
Both plates, of course, must bow down to the true orange and blue plates of the late 70s/early 80s. The kind of instantly recognizable yet understated plate that suited the era's boss-ass cars.
Have you ever thought that G. Rap is one of the most influential and skilled MCs of all time and a pioneer and master of Mafioso rap/street/hardcore content? Not only does DJ Polo know so (when I die bury me in the 'lo!) but you can cold lamp comfortably knowing that such an assertion is backed by 15 Wikipedia citations.

Good Sports All Around

Ushers and fans alike giggled at the poster I brought to yesterday's season finale -a Titanic deck chair victory over the putrid Houston Astros. Of course, a few Daniel Murphy diehards objected to his inclusion, but I expected them. One usher warned me "they (the Coupons) would go crazy if you went behind home plate," but Astros batters were flailing at Nelson Figueroa so quickly the game ended in a blur. The biggest surprise had to be a stadium photographer willing to capture the poster, but I can't imagine the Coupons command much respect or loyalty from even the lowest-level employee.

Further Proof

Further proof that the 1960s Mets uniforms were not cream-colored as sported by Al Jackson. It's like George Costanza's failed scheme with the Yankees, you can't go home again. The only way to truly recreate the old-timey look would be with flannel unis, felt lettering and knee-high knickers.

How to Look Good While Losing.

According to the New York Daily News, the New York Post, and most importantly, Uniwatch, the Mets will adopt a cream tone for their rarely used home pinstriped jerseys. Their uniforms were already scheduled to undergo a major upgrade next year with the removal of the D.O.Z. ads/"Inaugural Season!!!" patch from their sleeves.

Now, while I may be old enough to remember SportsChannel, the bullseye subway token, A&S Plaza, and Abe Hirschfeld's bizarre Post takeover, I'm not old enough to have seen the 1960's uniforms in the flesh. However, a dollop of photo research implies that those uniforms were not cream, but the same stark white the team rocks today.





















What is obvious to us uni-fiends is that no color change can recreate the look of yesteryear, owing both the vast difference in jersey material and photographic technology. We look back on baseball's past through pictures taken on film, which radiate warmth and color's vitality more vividly than digital cameras, as evidenced in Sports Illustrated's vault and excellent sites such as That's My Boy. Coincidentally, Mariano Rivera looks like a robot on this week's SI cover.

Anyhoo, here's my attempt at what next year's unis may look like in cream, using a Pantone shade similar to that used by the San Francisco Giants for their cream home uniforms.
















My two cents is that cream may be better suited to the pinstripe-less jersey. On the broader canvas the cream color would be far more noticeable.





















But what do I know? I think the 1970's era Chicago White Sox shirt-and-shorts look was absolutely brilliant. Well, not necessarily the shorts, but mos def on the shirts. Can't understand for the life of me how pros play everyday in the summer heat in such heavy jerseys.
Thanks to Chris Creamer's Sportslogos.net and Si.com for the source photos.