Things Weren't Better Back in the Day (Except Back in Our Day)

Create Your Own Caption Contest.

Winner receives Props, Pounds and a litre of Gary Pettis' Jheri Curl Run-Off.

2nd place gets to run their hands, softly, through Fred Lynn's hair for precisely two minutes.

3rd place gets to fill Don Baylor's size 9 cap with soft-serve ice cream.

Loser must lay prone on the ground as Reggie focuses the Sun's rays through his glasses onto your face.

Kinda-Sorta # 5

Presenting Jackie Earle Haley aka Kelly Leak aka Rorschach in The Watchmen and two-time NBA MVP, the dime-dishin Steve Nash.
Eh? Kinda? Sorta?

And if you've seen the movie (ugh) doesn't he do a better Christian Bale than Christian Bale? Take heed kids, keep puffing those Kools and guzzling that Old Crow and you too can hoarsely mutter lines like "Wait till they get a load of me," or "I'm not locked in here with you....you're locked in here with me!"

For Whom The Bell Tolls

By many accounts the NBA is doing better financially. Ratings are up and the league can count on at least 5 powerhouse teams that dominate while still playing entertaining ball.

At the same time, the League continues to carry dead weight. We know the usual suspects, the games you skip watching when your team is on the road visiting them cuz it's too depressing to peep.

The Memphis "Sloe Gin" Grizz, playing in front of 4,000 fans; 3,500 of which are U.Memphis fans too confused from inhaling biscuits slathered in gravy to tell the diff-diff. The other 500 are 3-6 Mafia members.

The L.A. "Sailin Takes Me Away" Clippers, thrilling their bizarre celebrity row of Penny Marshall, Billy Crystal, Malcolm in the Middle and the Sports Guy. That foursome would make for the grossest foursome orgy outside Japan.

Then you have the New Jersey "If Only John Starks Hadn't Broken Kenny Anderson's Wrist" Nets. Is there a better indication of the health of the franchise than peeping the above prices on Stubhub.com? ZERO DOLLARS FOR A TICKET. Sure, the team currently sits 10th in the East, but they have a young, exciting team of emerging stars such as Brook Lopez and Devin Harris. Plus, Vince Carter sometimes pauses from launching jumpers to drop a nasty yam on an unsuspecting fool.

ZERO DOLLARS FOR AN NBA GAME.

The worst part is the Nets had a chance to instantly leap from the League's most moribund to Str8 Baller status by moving to Bucktown, U.S.A. Brooklyn loves its ball. A borough that would be the fourth-largest city in the country were it independent. A location near NINE subway lines, right above the Long Island Rail Road, near the BQE, near three bridges, within walking distance of downtown Brooklyn's offices and within walking distance of several upper-middle class neighborhoods.

But now, the Brooklyn deal is all but dead. Whispers abound that owner Bruce Ratner is bankrupt. Meanwhile, there are three new stadiums in the New York area that are almost done, the new Yankee Stadium, the new Mets stadium, and the new Giants Stadium. None of the three were really necessary. All those teams draw huge crowds and clock more cheese than Chuck e. The one that was necessary, in Brooklyn, is the one not getting done.

As an alternative, the Nets could go to Newark. But the Jersey market has never supported the Nets. For example, we are approaching the 20th anniversary of the McDonald's Family Pack, a package that failed to entice despite offering 4 Nets tickets, 4 McD's extra value meals and a disposable camera for $40. Still, it sure beats staying in the swamp. Driving out there in after-work traffic is more depressing than Drazen. The bus from Port Authority wasn't a bad deal, but that's gone, replaced by a two-train dance that requires a transfer in a place that sounds like a public access Sesame Street knockoff - "Secaucus Junction."

If there's one thing we've learned about the success of sports franchises, (football excluded because football is in its own class), is that teams do better located in the heart of cities rather than in the 'burbs. Same reason why bars and restaurants do better in cities. In the burbs people just want to survive the traffic and get to their nice homes to relax. In cities, at night, people will use any excuse, including attending regular season hoops, to escape the hovels they call their apartments.

ZERO DOLLARS!

Opening the Schtee Vault # 1

Only in New York could a story about ballplayers giving each other haircuts in the clubhouse ignite a firestorm worse than, well, Super-Friend Firestorm.

So, like Cam'ron, come with me back to the Mets of 2003, languishing in last place, rudderless under the leadership of the walking dead Art Howe. It was early May of that year when news broke that Harmando Boonitez, whose steely, confident gaze graces the banner of this very blog above, gave shortstop Rey Sanchez a haircut during a game.

OH MY!

Reaction was swift. Unquestioned clubhouse leader, Mo Vaughn, plumbed the depths of his dome to offer, "Rey knows the rights and wrongs, but we're not going to make a big issue of that as a team. We've got too many other things to worry about."

Like the lack of butterscotch syrup in the clubhouse to douse his post-game sundae with! HI-YO!

Potential Hall-of Fame GM Steve Phillips, in perhaps the best summation of his ruinous reign, offered, "I don't get embarrassed about anything anymore.

In hindsight, that was likely the truest thing Phillips ever said. After all, those fake ESPN press conferences were he impersonated various baseball GMs still awaited him in the future.

- - -

Peep for more classic NY Post offerings in the future as I take full advantage of developments in scanner technology.

Recession Blues

It is sometimes said that art only truly soars when mankind suffers. Has Jim Jones, P.O.M.E., borne this out? With our country sliding towards depression, Dip-Set's erstwhile consigliere has let loose a nation's frustration with his Recessionary Blues infused remix of Kid Cudi's "Day N Nite."

Preach.

Dip-Set.

Byrd Gang.

Balls in your court, Killa.

Wait, What About.....THIS????

"Hey....hey, you ever have a meatball sandwich?"
"Ummm, yeah?"
"Well, shoot, you ever have a meatball sandwich while getting your ol' hangdown tugged by the Philly Phanatic?"
"uhh..............."

THERE IS YOUR DAGGER!!!

Watch your back Marv...

Tha G Code

Is it bothersome that the New York Giants and Jets play in East Rutherford, New Jersey. A tad. Despite only a river running through us, there is a psychological barrier that makes Jersey seem impossibly far away. As way of example, I'd rather make the hour+ trek to Coney Island for the Cyclones than go out to the Meadowlands.

Does it make the Giants' "ny" logo any less awesome? No. But, for shits and giggles, here's G-Men helmet for all the Goddz of the Earf.

My Canyon of Heroes

Consume or Die

inspired by a Grrrrrrrreat game, america leaped out of bed this morning, tossed back a diet pepsi max,, took a look ahround, put on its elastic-lined pleated j.c. penny jeans one leg at a time, and skedaddled off in that guldarned-leased-Explorer to Denny's for a Grand Slamer. Abso-friggin-lutely necessary. Big fuel. For a Big Day. IHOP is for babies.

The lights of our nation's Wal-Marts flicker to life, illuminating miles of ailes of bahgans. KFC's deep fryers hum with anticipation, ready to melt those 11 secret herbs and spices into the crust enveloping that juicy all-white (alllll-right) breast meat. Millions of dull-eyed office drones in 2007's striped shirts boot up their 2006 Dells, determined to use this first fantasy-football free day to hunker-bunker down, yessir, no distractions, no procrastinating. Real work to be done, dump that data into Excel, revel in the number-crunch, eye-drop those bleary eyeballs, ergonomically adjust our wrists, Seamless Web our din-din.

Determined, like Santonio Holmes to brush all ten toes upon turf, to roll up our sleeves and lick this darned recession of ours. Why, shoot, if our F-150's can have an 1800-3050 pound maximum payload, we can sure as sam-heck change the oil and rotate the tires on the economy!

And as we settle into our beds tonite, from the lighthouses of Maine to the raging surf of San Diego to the Eurotrashed shores of South Beach, to the asshole banker yuppies 2.0 of FiDi to the churning waters of Pugent Sound to the Massive Massives of the Midway to the panty-droppin varsity blues of windswept West Texas, to the Testaverde-Pining Paisans waddling through the stripped malls betwixt the Sound and the Atlantic, bellies full of Hot Pockets and Sierra Mist Lite, let us be lullabied to sleep with the soothing words written by some who-cares from, like, a long time ago, but so lovingly hip-hopped by our generation's defining poet/troubadour, Will.i.Am;

May God bless and keep you always,
May your wishes all come true,
May you always do for others
And let others do for you.
May you build a ladder to the stars
And climb on every rung,
May you stay forever young,
Forever young, forever young,
May you stay forever young.

May you grow up to be righteous,
May you grow up to be true,
May you always know the truth
And see the lights surrounding you.
May you always be courageous,
Stand upright and be strong,
May you stay forever young,
Forever young, forever young,
May you stay forever young.

May your hands always be busy,
May your feet always be swift,
May you have a strong foundation
When the winds of changes shift.
May your heart always be joyful,
May your song always be sung,
May you stay forever young,
Forever young, forever young,
May you stay forever young.

Amen. And Spend.

From the Mississippi to the Hudson...

Kinda Sorta Returns

It's Bungles Boss Marvin Lewis and Mutts Maestro Omar Minaya.

So the Joker calls WFAN....

"I had a vision, of a world without the Brooklyn Nets. The Izod Center ground out a little debt and the league tried to shut them down, one good player at a time. And it was so... boring. I've had a change of heart. I don't want Mr. Reese, er Frank spoiling everything, but why should I have all the fun? Let's give someone else a chance. If Coleman Re-Lawrence Frank, isn't fired in sixty minutes then I blow up Derrick Coleman's Escalade."

Lawrence Frank, Head Coach, New Jersey Nets

Joshua Harto as Coleman Reese / wormy lawyer, The Dark Knight

The Transformation is Complete

Ebbets Field facsimile? Check.
Collection of no-heart bums? Check.
Wait till next year refrain from the fans? Check.

Congratulations, Fred Wilpon, you've done it. You have fully absorbed all the great traditions from the Brooklyn Dodgers and merged them with the New York Mets. Who needs the winning legacy of the New York Giants when we have dem bums all over again? If I were Willie Mays, I wouldn't have shown up yesterday knowing what lengths Mr. Wilpon has gone through to completely ignore a franchise that was New York baseball in the early 20th century.

Adding insult to injury was Mr. Met revealing the Domino's Pizza, er, CitiField logo on the Shea countdown board. Enjoy your new Disneyland digs, bums.

Midnight Massac-Miracle

After weeks of non-stop coverage and obsessing over the old gunslinger, the long national nightmare is over, Brett Favre finally compromised his original position of Packers, Vikings or bust. He will take the first snap behind Nick Mangold at steamy Shea Stadium South, er Dolphin Stadium on September 7th, and begin the most highly anticipated season since 1999 -also led by big thrower well into in his 30s. His acquisition caps off the offseason binge that included retooling the offensive and defensive lines of the team, the most vital positions in football -ask the Giants- that were the weakest links last year. With what should be very adequate protection and a very capable running game -Thomas Jones doesn't scare anyone, but knows how to get the job done, the Jet offense can now keep opposing defenses, especially safeties crowding the box, honest. Will Favre throw foolish shuttle passes and throw deep into triple coverage? You bet. But you can also be assured you will not see cornerbacks guess right and intercept at least one Chad Pennington 15-yard sideline pass a game or Kellen Clemens stumble as he works on his improving his accuracy and decision making.

The transition for Favre will not be easy. The media spotlight will be an obvious challenge. More importantly, the quarterback and coaching staff -head coach Eric Mangini and offensive coordinator Brian Schottenheimer, both younger than Favre- will have to reconcile differences in offensive systems, though I imagine adapting Favre's West Coast expertise to the Jets odd mix of a conservative run-first approach mixed with some elements of precision passing and trick plays will not be impossible. Laveranues Coles is perfectly suited for the short, over the middle plays dictated by the WCO, and Jerricho Cotchery is also becoming an increasingly reliable receiver. Neither are particularly nimble after the catch as desired by the system, though newly drafted tight end Dustin Keller could provide some good YAC -it feels good to use football acronyms after dealing with the lousy VORPs, WHIP, OPS+, etc with the mediocre Mets. That said, Favre made his name going deep, and a home run hitting speed burner would be nice to have to open up room for the Jets running back committee.

All this being said, these are still the Jets, and it's entirely possible Favre's starting streak could get broken on a flukey blindside hit by a scrub Dolphin linebacker, but it gives the team some juice -despite the best efforts of Bill Belichick killjoy disciple Mangini- entering the season, and makes ten wins and a wild card berth very possible. The Jets will have a fighting chance against the Patriots in the home opener -so much for warming up with a cupcake- but will not challenge their stranglehold on the AFC East. That said, the recent wild card runs of the Steelers and Giants makes anything possible, right?

"That's why they play the games."

That's all Folks!

An 11-16 record against the Nationals, Giants, Astros, Padres and Mariners so far. That is why the Mets will not make the postseason this year. A complete organizational mentality -from managers, coaches, scouts and players- that bad teams will lay down and die against the Mets has existed for a calendar year now. That homestand against the Giants and Rockies looks to hurt this argument, but those teams aren't even as bad the Mariners, Padres and Nationals. Time for football! Woo!

And what better way to kick off the season with Broadway Brett! Steve Serby can hardly contain himself.

No Maine, No Problem!

Pride and Shame

C.C. classily said goodbye to C-town via a full page ad in the Plain Dealer, thanking the fans, the team, and others for 10 great years. (10 years!) C.C. is clearly proud to have played in Cleveland, but he seems ashamed of Chief Wahoo. How else to explain the complete absence of Wahoo in the three shots in this picture? Note:

Upper-right hand picture: C.C. has doffed his cap so that we cannot see Wahoo, and he sports "Cleveland" on the chest.

Left side picture: C.C. wears his cap backwards, so that our eyes are spared the sight of the O.G. Redman.

Main photo: C.C. wears this year's sharp Sunday alternate throwback-style uni, complete with more baseball-appropriate than Wahoo block letter "C."

Stay classy (and gassy), C.C. And get classy Tribe.

See y'all in the AK-Rowdy this weekend. Go Aeros.

SUPERBEAST!

Choker by Committee

Sabermetricians can use line drive rates, zone ratings and a myriad of other statistics to predict a player or team's future results or explain the past performances. While the analysis between the foul lines has become more and more advanced, there is still one frontier that no expert has yet to crack: the analysis between the ears of a relief pitcher. Forget Bill James, Rob Neyer and Nate Silver: we need to call in Dr. Phil.

The concept of a closer by committee seems extremely logical. Why not use your best pitcher in the highest leverage situations? Why not match up a team's lineup with a righty or lefty specialist, even if its the ninth inning? Why have a pitcher in the bullpen who can only enter the game with a lead of three runs or fewer, and often pitches ineffectively when asked to pitch in a tie game or blowout? Newly hired Boston Red Sox general manager Theo Epstein and his advisors, including Bill James, pondered these questions prior to the 2003 season after seeing how volatile Ugueth Urbina could be, and made the infamous decision to move forward with a closer by committee comprised of Alan Embree, Ramiro Mendoza, Mike Timlin and others. After some highly publicized blown leads early in the season-ESPN and other media outlets treated this experiment with high scrutiny- Red Sox managment converted Byung-Hyun Kim, acquired from the Arizona Diamondbacks midseason, to a reasonably effective closer until his meltdown against the Oakland Athletics in Game One of the Division Series. Understandably, the Red Sox gave up on the experiement and traded for Keith Foulke the following winter, and the rest is history.

So this brings us to last night, when Duaner Sanchez, a fairly reliable set up man called upon to hold a three run lead against the fifth due to closer Billy Wagner being sidelined -eerily similar to his absence in parts of August and September last season-with shoulder spasms, sixth and seven spots of the Philadelphia Phillies admitedly potent lineup. Several flat fastballs and meatball changeups later, the bases were loaded with no one out. The opposing batters were right on top of his pitches, not swinging and missing a single time -it would be difficult for the Mets to blame sign stealing this time, as they were at home. So how do you chalk it up? Just a bad night? Perhaps Sanchez was too confident up three runs and didn't feel inclined to put as much zip on his pitches? Regardless, having any pitcher inherit the bases loaded is a recipe for trouble, and despite shortstop Jose Reyes miscalculation of a Joe Smith induced chopper, the blame for the ninth inning meltdown has to be solely placed on Sanchez, though Pedro Feliciano surrendering a deep drive to banjo-hitting outfielder So Taguchi is also inexcusable -you can't blame left fielder Endy Chavez for having it go over his head, as Taguchi's bat doesn't exactly warrant a no-doubles defense. By the time shortstop Jimmy Rollins was up, you knew the game was over, as when it rains for Feliciano, it pours-the issue of inheriting runners is also an important one, as some releivers are just awful at handling them.

Other teams have also experienced trouble patching together the latter ends of games, including the Milwaukee Brewers after they shelved Eric Gagne. It took them some time to find a suitable replacement until Salomon Torres took over the closer's role, and the Mets may have to do the same -Houston Street?- if they want to contend without Billy Wagner.

What is it about closing games? Is it getting pumped up by loud metal music? Feeding off the psychological pressure of the 'save?' Be sure to see my poorly timed post in that entry regarding saving a three-run lead. And if the ghost of Jerome Holtzman wanted to spite me, well I'll just pay you back in Hell, Jerome.