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.

Beating, Throttling, Pummeling and Eviscerating a Dead Horse

In support of Cleveland Frowns' quixotic crusade to rid the world of Chief Wahoo I offer this proposal for a new cap logo, which in my mind would be a compromise by retaining Wahoo's distinctive feather while chucking his ugly mug. It also suggests an interlocking 'C' and 'I' for the Cleveland Indians. It also represents history by evoking the Tribe's pre-Wahoo wishbone "C" cap logo without causing confusion with Cincinnati.

Midsummer (World Baseball) Classic

That's Big Mo. He's as bald as our nation's tearful eagles that soar free for freedom.



Tonight! Live! From that steep-tiered 31-year old "cathedral" in the Bronx, it's the All-Star Game! Corey "Allegory" Hart digging in against Cliff "Curse of Chief Wahoo" Lee! Chase "Boo?Fuck You!" Utley against Joakim "You'll be" Soria!!!!! WHEEEEEE!!!

Yeah, not really feeling the All-Star game. Judging by the flat ratings not many of you are either. There was a time in this country when people genuinely enjoyed watching the game of baseball. People, children and adults, played the game. In the days when the two leagues were almost-independent fiefdoms fans were eager to see stars face off against each other.

These days, factors such as interleague play, a fading in rivalry between players of each league, the same umps for all games, fantasy baseball, and highlight saturation have robbed the midbummer classic game of much of its appeal.

Most importantly, and this is just a hunch, despite record attendance figures, people do not enjoy watching the game itself. Oh sure, people will watch their own team play, but I think the main reason that national regular season broadcasts, such as Espn's Sunday Night Baseball, don't do very well is because people's tolerance for the sport does not extend beyond their own teams, no matter how marquee the Sunday night matchup may be. As an aside, and this is a topic for the future, I think the main reason for record attendance figures in recent years is the rash of new ballparks and their 'beer garden' atmospheres.

Anyhoo, the All-Star game is outdated and lacks any juice to make it must-watch TV. My only memory in recent years is Larry Walker batting right-handed against Randy Johnson. Zany!!

The All-Star highlight of the past 10 years?

What follows is not my original idea, but is an idea worthy of consideration, why not stage the Final Four of the World Baseball Classic in lieu of the All-Star game? The lesser countries, such as China, Italy, Canada, and the United States, could battle it out over the winter in qualifiers, while the top four, Japan, Cuba, D.R. and South Korea, could receive byes until the last eight perhaps. The last eight could be narrowed down to four in two days during the first week of spring training, and then the semifinals could be played during the current All-star break.

It's quite likely that the U.S. wouldn't make it to the final four, but I'd still rather see Japan taking on the D.R. tonight than the A.L. take on the N.L. in a glorified exhibition. Judging by the large crowds and healthy ratings for the inaugural WBC final four in 2006, which the U.S. did not partake in because they were terrible, I think many would agree.

Of course, owners and players would howl about playing these games in the middle of the season. It's a fair argument, but it would only be two games and the pitchers would be on pitch counts. For comparison's sake, World Cup qualifiers are played during the club footy season, as are all manner of friendlies. If anything, it's healthier to play such games in the middle of a season than at the very beginning of spring training, when their bodies are not warmed up to the daily grind of baseball.

And if the U.S. were to somehow make it into the final four, why, there'd be more juice than the Kool-Aid Man taking a wicked pissah. "U.S.A.! U.S.A.! U.S.A.!" is a far catchier chant than "Jun-ior Cir-cuit! clap! clap! clapclapclap!" And besides why should we fight amongst ourselves on A.L.-N.L. fault lines when we can fight the rest of the world? We're used it in real life anyways.

Not Your Father's Yankee Stadium

The upcoming Major League Baseball All Star Stadium being held at Yankee Stadium celebrates the final season of the facility, and like clockwork, baseball writers over 40 flood the print media and airwaves with memories of the Mick, Joe D and sometimes reaching back for the Iron Horse and the Babe. That's fine and dandy, but let's recall those legends played on a field that was seven feet higher than the existing one, was enclosed by fences in left and center field far deeper than the dimensions we know today -including Monument Park being part of an even more intimidating Death Valley, covered by a roof trimmed with the iconic brass frieze, not aluminum paneling over the remade upper deck shell and recorded by a far more informative scoreboard. Much of the original structure is intact, but to say the the two incarnations of the ballpark are the same ignores the two years spent to reconfigure the park: this is no seat replacement and paint job a la the tweaks the Mets made to Shea Stadium made in the early 80s. Some sources, such as the ESPN Sports Almanac, refer to the pre-1974 park as 'Yankee Stadium I' while other publications keep the continuity.

It is this tie to the past that allows writers like Mike Vaccaro to glorify the park with gems such as "the chance to come see Yankee Stadium, one last time, in all its resplendent splendor." Resplendent Splendor? In those cramped concourses? Embarassingly understaffed vending pool? Two inning lines for hot dogs or restrooms? OK, so their elevators are in better shape, not that the average fan would know. Maybe they have better pregame dessert carts for members of the press. If Mike Francesa, one of the biggest Yankee fans and historians around today, literally and figuratively, could get worked up about the need for a new venue, no nostalgic rose-colored glasses of the park are needed anymore -it is worth noting that debate between Francesa and Chris 'Mad Dog' Russo was one of their most fiery of the year, though that discussion included the issue of public funds for a stadium, which can be addressed here another time.

EDIT: Another nostalgic sportswriter who has no idea what he's talking about.

Yankee Stadium information provided by Wikipedia.
Yankee Stadium images provided by Baseball Fever.

Frownie Faithful's Worst Nightmare?

Is this a vision of Cleveland's worst nightmare? (Well, up there with Byner) How appropriate that The Chosen One stand in Upper New York Harbor, betwixt Money-Makin, Bucktwon and Dirty Jerz?
-Ring-Ring-
"Hovie on line one, Donnie Walsh on line two, baby...."
"Oh word?........"

Tapas'an Out

Four years ago, Greece stuffed a thick, sloppy souvlaki down the footy world's throat with its 1-0 European final victory over the high-flying Portuguese. While yesterday's 1-0 victory for Spain over Germany was far-less shocking, the two sides achieved their glory through flawlessly executed tactics. Otto Rehhagel's Greek side held their opponents scoreless through the 2004 knockout stages by playing numbing, impenetrable, defense. Spain held their opponents scoreless through the 2008 knockout stages by completely dominating the shit out of the ball with their endless one-touch passing through the midfield.

Oftentimes, as they would pass and pass and pass in the midfield, like concertgoers at an Allman Brothers concert, it seemed as if they had no intent to penetrate, like President Slick Willie carefully avoiding "it" during his intern liaisons. But then just as suddenly, after alternately lulling their opponents to sleep or driving them bonkers with frustration, one of their midfielders, invariably named Xavi, would thread a perfect through-ball for one of their speedy strikers, either El Nino (spanish for Dolphin-Boy) or David "Getting More Illa Than The Thrilla in" Villa.

Torres' match-winner, scored in this fashion, was one for the ages. Philipp Lahm was exposed as a tits-up defender in the Turkey game, and it was his poor play in cutting off Torres' access to the ball that cost David Hasselhoff and his countryman a chance to exult in an 8th major championship (three World Cups, three Euros, One hell of a good-looking man). Torres' raw reacharound on Lahm will be the subject of study in saunas from Christopher Street to the Castro for years to come.

The end, inevitable when a game is not back-and-forth, was anticlimactic; unless, of course, you're eating paella as we speak. For me, the tournament peaked with the Holland-Russia quarterfinal, a game worthy of any final of any tournament in any year. That game encapsulated every trait that made this tournament so entertaining, two surprising teams with more speed than lower east side cocaine playing aggressive footy and exchanging the lead twice.