MIAMI, FL – As The Matts so graciously pointed out last week, it takes a real man of courage and conviction to report for duty on Holy Hangover Monday… and while I’m neither, The Matts would beat me something terrible if I didn’t cobble together something here for you.
By now you’ve seen multiple highlight packages, heard the punditry pontificate, read the recaps, and flipped through the various sites looking for some way to put the Big Game in perspective. So, with a photo-shopped movie poster and a catchy title, I’m going to add my bit of noise to the din. Get out your Craig’s Anatomy Textbook, and let’s review:
One Foot: The distance that the Colts were short of a first down with 46 seconds left in the first half… Or the distance that represents all it takes for momentum to completely halt and start rolling the other way.
The Ankle: Connected to the foot by ligaments, and when you tear them it really hurts. Dwight Freeney cares not about a little debilitating pain, though, especially when he has some Freeney’s little helpers to get him in the game (and make the only sack for either side).
The Leg: Must belong to Garrett Hartley, the 23-year old Saints kicker. These 2010 playoffs seem to have had more shanks than a Folsom Prison riot, yet this kid keeps stepping up and drilling them straight through the uprights. Three forty-plus yard field goals yesterday… While across the field old man Matt Stover hooked his long shot, failing to increase the Colts’ lead at a crucial moment, and adding yet another kicker-related anger line to Peyton Manning’s forehead.
The Groin: Unlike Hans Moleman’s classic film, there was unfortunately no Football In The Groin in this game. Instead, there was an inordinate amount of Super Bowl commercials involving men in their underwear?
Guts & Groin of a Great Saint [Dane]
The Guts:Sean Payton gets the call here, for calling that on-sides kick to open the second half. How often do you see a game like this, where a team goes into desperation mode so early (going for it on fourth and goal, then calling a surprise on-side kick) and they may bloody the nose of their opponent but almost always they get buried in the end? Don’t you get the feeling that if these two teams played ten times the Colts would win eight or nine? Payton did everything he could to make sure this was that tenth version.
The Arms: A lesser anatomist would point to the pass-happy offenses and the record number of throws this Super Bowl, but not me. Instead, I want to point out that arm tackles, in a Super Bowl, are a terrible thing… and it always happens like this, a lot of rust accumulates in those two weeks every year, and suddenly nobody knows how to wrap anyone up.
The Throat: The bespectacled Roger Daltry has to save himself for the big scream these days, lest his vocal chords explode.
Head: This, the last word, has to belong to Tracy Porter, who not only made the quickest thinking, smartest play of the night by jumping that slant, he suddenly turned into a field general, pointing his blockers in front of him, directing them to completely clip Peyton Manning and smash him to the turf as he sprinted past. That was all well and good, but the real reason he represents the Head is because he shaved a Lombardi Trophy into his before the game. If they lost, he’d have had to shave the whole thing… Though that could lead to a Matts’ correspondent role.
A good, weird game, eh? Not many penalties, only one sack, four punts, the clock kept running despite the eighty-four passes thrown, and despite the eternity of TV timeouts and that halftime, it was still over in three and a half hours. Congratulations, New Orleans… You’re all hard at work today, right?
MIAMI, FL – One of my favorite aspects of The Super Bowl is the prop bet. People with way too much free time and disposable income betting on the most inane of possibilities and providing your reporter with material. Is this a great country or what?
I’ve taken actual prop bets from today’s game and paired them with equally ridiculous and totally made-up prop bets from the rest of the sports world. Enjoy.
The Citi Field Blind Spot Special – (56.5) the over/under or the total combined 2010 home runs for Carlos Beltran, Jose Reyes, David Wright, and the pitching staff. Although The Mutt Hut may not be as cavernous as last year, take the under.
THE LOVELY ELIN NORDEGREN
The Tiger Woods Ground Hog Day Procrastinator. (5.5) Total turnovers or the number of weeks before The Sexinator appears on Oprah. Both teams and Tiger’s paramours are adept at ball-handling. Take the under.
The Mr. Irrelevant. (28.5) Total yards gained by Jeremy Shockey or the number of laps Danica Patrick will race on the Red Neck circuit before some good ole boy puts her in the wall. I’d go with the over although it’ll be close. Shockey will leave after three receptions with an injured everything.
The Kardashian Kaper – (12-1) Odds that Reggie Bush scores the first touchdown or odds that the NFL has a lockout in 2011. Roger Goodell and Demaurice Smith will make it interesting just to keep pro football in the news, but there is no way in H-E-Double Hockey Sticks they’ll let a work stoppage occur on their watch. Stay away from this one.
The Butterfinger (1.5) The total number of fumbles lost or the total number of times in a typical interview Mike Francesa lets a sports figure finish a sentence. Ya can’t get a word in edgewise with this blowhard. Take the under.
The Rocker – (0.5) The number of guitars Pete Townshend smashes at the halftime show or the number of hips he breaks. This is a lead pipe lock (remember those?). Take the over and call Dr. James Andrews.
The Vomit Comet – (2.5) The number of times that Bourbon Street is shown live during the broadcast or the number of verbal reach-arounds Phil Simms and Jim Nantz give each other during the broadcast. Over, way over.
NEW YORK, NY - February is the WORST month of the year for sports, especially New York sports, and it makes me grouchy. Here’s my breakdown on the difference between Rocktober and The Short Month in the 4 majors and some of the niche sports:
NATTIONAL FOOTBALL LEAGUE OCTOBER: You’re heading into week 4 or 5 of the season and there is a chance your team can still make the playoffs. You’re giddy. You’re delusional. You hate all the Tony Romo talk. FEBRUARY: Time to prep for the draft because in all likelihood your season ended weeks ago. My Jets gave me a much longer season that I could have imagined but I still feel that Rex came up short. A little bit. He did. A little bit. Time Warp Tony will tell you - the Jets don’t get that far much.
I guess Ryan disagrees with me.
MAJOR LEAGUE BASEBALL OCTOBER: Playoffs are going on and my Mets have written yet another chapter in the Astoria Greek Tragedy, 1,000 Ways To Break A Met Fan’s Heart. Cookie, Rex O’Rourke, West Coast Craig and Yankee Joe interpret this work in a different way - as a comedy of epic proportions. They like the Stanks. FEBRUARY: It is like 3 weeks ’til pitchers and catchers report and my Mets have done absolutely nothing aside from swimming with sharks in the Bay of Nothing. I’m also reminded that the Yankees are reigning champs and that the Mark McGwire’s of the world continue to tarnish our pastime.
NATIONAL BASEKEBALL ASSOCIATION: OCTOBER: The season is in it’s early stages and the Knicks have not hit 10 losses, so there is hope of finishing in the playoff-bound 8… FEBRUARY: It is official - the season is over for the Knicks and they are playing it out for pride. HA!! You have the lame all-star game and you are still waiting for playoffs and the games to count.
NATIONAL HOCKEY LEAGUE OCTOBER: See above, just replace the Knickerbockers with Blue Shirts and think Dave Maloney instead of Clyde Frazier. FEBRUARY: See above, except the Rangers make playoffs - but then fail to score more than 4 goals in 6 games and are ousted without a whimper and much disappointment. Oh, and their Captain Courageous is the biggest bust on Broadway since Kenny “Sky” Walker.
Chris Drury wouldn’t know a goal-scoring streak if it punched him in the face.
OTHER SPORTS: Soccer - Futbol actually wins here - not that any of you care. In fact, you probably don’t know if soccer is played in February or not - and are happy about that. OCTOBER: Season just kicked off in Europe, the MLS is finishing but the Red Bulls suck, so NOBODY - and I mean NOBODY - cares. FEBRUARY: The European season is in the business end, The African Cup of Nations is wrapping up every two years and the MLS is not a worry for another bunch of months
SNOW SPORTS: OCTOBER: still to warm so no one gives a damn FEBRUARY: You got the winter X-Games and the Winter Olympics… Humph, I guess Feb is better here too…
The one thing that saves February from sucking and helps keep me happy till summer is:
The Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue!!!
Yes, there is much more scandalous stuff on the net these days, but i get the issue to remind me of a simple time in my life. Like when I was 14 and this was close as I was gonna get to the real thing.
Rex O’Rourke tomorrow… And the The Matts have never been more accurate than they were ABOUT THIS.
MT. SINAI, EGYPT - Sick of the weather and in need of some sun, I took the MeetTheMatts.com assignment to high tail it to Egypt and check out why this whole Peace in the Middle East thing is taking so long. Even Menachem Begin himself, is getting restless in his grave waiting for the ground to stop rumbling with all the bombing going on in the region. Luckily, I got the last seat on an El Al flight, which was vacated by a one, Rahm Emanuel. Seems that the people in neighboring Israel don’t want him back for claiming something - NOT someone - was retarded. Good thing the whistle-blower of that conversation hasn’t been on MTM lately.
There’s been plenty of STUPID going on in the world of sports lately. As Angry Wardattested to, the entire Met organization is taking stupid to a whole new level - a level which will now be known as ASS CLOWNS. Actually, Bozo The Clown read Angruu Wardinnen’s masterpieceon Wednesday and was offended we called the Wilpons & Co., clowns… An insult to clowns. Alas, my trip here has been for the sole purpose of getting up to Mount Sinai and bringing down some long overdue and sorely needed, mostly sports commandments.
1) TIGER WOODS’ Tail Commandment: Thou shalt not sleep with too many floozies so as not to jeopardize your hundreds of millions of dollars. And thou shalt not sleep with fugly waitresses from horrid chain restaurants either. (However, if you do, see the Kobe Bryant Gigantic Purple Diamond Appeasement clause.)
2) STEVE MCNAIR Crazy To There Commandment:Thou shalt not pen thyself up in a tiny, condo apartment with a crazy girlfriend (just out of her TEENS) without frisking her first.
3) PETE ROSE By A Nose Commandment:Thou shalt not bet on the sport you are managing, thus jeopardizing any shot that you will ever get into the Baseball Hall of Fame. Dumb. We do give Rose a point for always betting on the team he was then managing, the Cincinnati Reds.
4) MAGIC JOHNSON Raincoat Your Johnson Commandment: Thou shalt not have sex without proper protection. Sure, you’re famous and chicks are throwing themselves at your feet. But would it kill ya to wear a raincoat?!? More likely, it would kill you NOT to in the age of AIDS and HIV. Perhaps Magc was in rush because he had a job to do. To quote Magic: “I confess . . . I did my best to accommodate as many women as I could — most of them through unprotected sex.” YES…he actually said that. Now read it again to fully appreciate the richness of that quote.
5) Dirty Needle Dumb-Ass Commandment: Thou shalt not inject steroids and claim you didn’t, especially if people saved the dirty needles. Thou also shalt not let your “cousin” inject anything into your buttocks without first knowing what it is. We don’t have to explain this one… And seriously, when you say someone injected you in the buttocks, you sound stupider than Forrest Gump.
6) For Whom The Eight Belles Toll Commandment: Thou shalt not continue running once bone has protruded through the flesh of your leg. Joe Theismann gets extra points here for abiding.
7) Rip Torn/Gary Coleman Commandment:Thou shalt not break the law if you are famous and not able to disguise yourself. Rip Torn and Gary Coleman cannot disguise themselves, yet The Ripper tries to rob a bank and not be recognized?!? Come on. Torn is just funny at this point… as always. (Selfishly wanted to work in Rip Torn media here).
#8 Goldfinger In Mouth Commandment: Thou shalt not flip the bird to anyone - no matter how much they are heckling you.Rex Ryan’s FAT middle finger is now worth $50,000. As a sub-heading to this commandment, we have the Sean Avery Sloppy Seconds Side Note:
Sean Avery’s “Sloppy Seconds”
9) BRETT FAVRE Cried-Wolf Retirement Commandment: Thou shalt not retire, sobbing like a sap, more than once. Brett Favre has retired so many times, The Boy Who Cried Wolf is being renamed The Favre Who Cried Wolf. A lesson should have been learned by Brett, now perhaps ending his career with one of the most ego-maniacal, backfiring and DUMB moves in NFL history. We still haven’t gotten his retirement edition this year - but we will. Hopefully he’ll take a page out of Kurt Warner’s retirement speech. No tears included.
10) Gilbert Arenas Artillery Commandment: Thou shalt not pack heat in your locker. Furthermore, thou shalt not make gun gestures with your fingers beforehand, thereby leading to overblown coverage after you get busted for the pistol altercation to follow later. This Commandment has sub-Commandment Plaxico Pistol Promise: Thou shalt not carry a loaded pistol in yo’ pants.
And in case you’re curious, there could have been fifteen commandments…TWENTY even. I pulled a Mel Brooks in History of the World: Part I and dropped a tablet, so feel free to chime in with your additional commandments.
COMMON SENSE, USA - Is there anything worse than going to work on Monday morning with a hangover - aside from going to work with a hangover on Tuesday and Wednesday as well? No. Well, maybe… How about starting your dreaded work week hungover because you were obligated as red-blooded, dyed-in-the-wool Americans, to drink and feign enjoying a football game that you had a 1 in 32 chance of being interested in? We say there isn’t. We say that just stinks like poo finger. What’s poo finger, you ask? Find the nearest toddler and you’ll find out. Tall Matt will be glad to help those who don’t have a toddler handy.
Anyway, 99% of you reading this have been hungover the day after the Super Bowl. And we’d bet a tooney that at least 80% of you have been hungover more than once on Holy Hangover Monday. In fact, our MTM Stat Guru, Philly Phanatic, has helped gather more detailed data re the negative impact Sunday Super Bowls have:
Domestic Violence spikes (not football spikes) 56% between midnight and 3AM EST. This of course, is during the Super Bowl’s immediate aftermath. 87% of these incidents start as work-related squabbles.
Since 1986, response times by firefighters and police are down 94% the day following the Super Bowl. Studies indicate that responders simply can’t find the keys to their respective vehicles.
Brett Favre rumors are mentioned 61% more than any other day of the year. Dry-heaving, coincidentally, is also up 61%. Curious.
The Nation’s GDP dips by 9% as per the Debt Ratio Quotient because of inordinate numbers of Sick Day workforce absentees. It doesn’t take Al Einstein to figure out why.
Job Recruits are 41% more likely to fail drug screenings. Statistics reveal that pot brownies served at Super Bowl parties key factors in 96% of the failures.
The underclass of America misses 2.5 man hours of Productivity in the nation’s manufacturing sector do to trembling hands or Delirium Tremens. This results in Housing declines of 37%.
Bars and Restaurants earn 73% less profit on the Saturday before the Super Bowl. Patrons stay home, knowing they’ll be partying on Sunday night - and can’t afford to be hungover two days in a row.
Operating Rooms report a 29% increase in Erroneous Surgeries (e.g. cutting off wrong foot) the day after the big game. Bleary-eyed surgeons are being considered in a current analytical study.
The numbers don’t lie. And it doesn’t take Thomas Paine to see what the NFL and NBC clearly don’t; that Sunday night IS NOT more suitable than Saturday night for things like Shotguns, Beer Pong and Chugging. That’s just silly. But if you’re still not sold on our statistical analysis - and we didn’t even bring up the Philly Phanatic’s increased DWWM - Drunk While Working Monday breakdown - here’s our actual Field Test of the aforementioned activities:
NOT FOR THE FEINT OF HEART
Without question, even the most grizzled veterans need at least a day to recover from these extreme leisure time staples, especially when the Budvar Brewery in České Budějovice is on the itinerary.
That’s all for today, we’re having a liquid lunch. Cookie’s Corner tomorrow.
NEW YORK, NY - For those of you non-Mets fans out there, I’m sorry for this departure from sports-in-general to focus on our own personal Flushing-based nightmare, but this was long overdue. Besides, it’s February and my other options were a predictable rant about the pointless hype in the week leading up to the Super Bowl or the usual hodge-podge of sports and popular culture, like the striking similarities between Drew Brees and John-Boy Walton. But, for now, let’s get to the business at hand.
Dear Fred and Jeff Wilpondscum:
I think I speak for all Met fans when I say “thanks for doing such a bang up job.” You guys are amazing owners with a real feel for the game of baseball as well as your fans.
I was reminded, once again, of what great guys you are by your complete lack of recognition of former Mets organist Jane Jarvis’s passing. Would it have killed you to release a statement? Nothing from either of you or Jay Horwitz? I guess we shouldn’t be surprised. It was also super classy when you guys failed to honor her in any small way during Shea’s final season. She only worked for the Mets from the day Shea first opened its doors in 1964 through 1979. In fact, in 2008 interview Ms. Jarvis was quoted as saying: “The current management group doesn’t have any special feeling toward me, but I would love [to be a part of that countdown] celebration. She added, “That would make me the happiest person on earth.” And where did these words appear? Why, on your very own SNY website.
But that particular slight is only the tip of the iceberg with you clowns. Your entire organization is a mess. Never have two guys rewarded stupidity so richly while simultaneously being oblivious to even the most glaring deficiencies. Just look at your last two (longterm) General Managers? Steve Phillips was (and still is) more concerned with getting his hands on an intern (any intern will do) than a decent player, and Omar Minaya thinks the best thing for the Mets is turning the team into his own personal Buena Vista Social Club (as I believe someone here previously put it). God knows who’s next in line to run the show. Isiah Thomas?
Sports Illustrated should so a reshoot this
spring with the headline: Mess Master.
How about that new stadium of yours? It’s an architectural abomination aptly named after a failure of a bank. Seriously, who designed this thing, Mr. Magoo?
I’ve seen better sightlines in a funhouse. Let’s forget about the oft-discussed main entrance shrine to the Dodgers for a moment and focus on all the other issues. The Mets’ colors are orange and royal blue so of course you made all of the seats green. Even though you are supposedly fixing the horrendous bullpen configuration, their location right next to one another in center-field is terrible. One could walk to California faster than it takes to exit the stadium via the ramps. The sound system still stinks. You finally got the food right but last year’s team made everyone so nauseous that they were refunding their Shake Shack and Blue Smoke orders in your environment-friendly lavatories.
Speaking of the team, um, do you chuckleheads have any reason to believe the 2010 club will significantly out-perform the injury-plagued, poorly-coached, 92-loss, 2009 version? Let’s start with the starting pitching. No one is questioning Johan Santana, though he is coming off of elbow surgery. Behind him you have Maine, Pelfrey, Perez, and a steel cage death match between, Nieve, Niese, and Omar’s latest used car purchase, Josh Fogg, for the fifth slot. Even assuming Santana is healthy, the only people scared by this rotation are Mets fans. And it looks as though the guy who will be the primary receiver for this staff is Omir Santos, a decent #2 but still a guy with just over a 100 games MLB experience. Still, this isn’t as bad as some other spots. Who’s on first? The answer is Fernando Tatis and Daniel Murphy. How’s that for a punchline Abbott & Costello?
It looks like Luis Castillo has a lock on second base as well as Omar’s heart. With Carlos Beltran out indefinitely (which should be his status default setting) you guys are clearly counting on newly acquired LF Jason Bay to put this club on his back and take them to the playoffs. Good luck with that. And steering this ramshackle mess once again is Jerry Manuel. Is it any wonder that so many of your season ticket holders aren’t renewing their plans? If folks want to see a car wreck there’s always NASCAR or the Cross Bronx Expressway.
So, there you have it. You morons should donate your brains to a chick pea salad. Please sell the team at your earliest possible convenience. Failing that, here are a few simple suggestions. Start thinking about Jerry Manuel’s possible successor now, do not wait until the last minute. Ditto for Omar, you guys don’t know squat about baseball and need someone working for you that does. On a similar note, all of this sloppy play starts in the minors. You need to revamp your scouting system and get instructors in place who can teach the fundamentals. For the last time, go back to one home and one road uniform in the original colors. Make a point of consistently inviting back and celebrating former MetS players and coaches. Finally, stop begging fans back with minuscule ticket discounts and, for once, take some responsibility for your actions. Hearing at least one of you admit “I screwed up.” even one time would be a most refreshing change.
Enjoy the remainder of the offseason, which for you guys runs 365 days a year.
MY KIND OF TOWN, IL - Despite our growing disdain for analysts and post-game shows, we found ourselves watching MSG’s Hockey Night Live with Al Trautwig and former players Butch Goring, Ken Daneyko and Ron Duguay the other night. And boy, was Butch Goring ticked. He was nostrils-flaring ticked. In fact, his well-directed anger impacted us so significantly that we decided to beef up today’s post about Hockey Players Gone Wild (Patrick Kane, Kris Versteeg, John Madden) with the following video/column/blog/thing. The MSG footage was taken directly off our television, with artistic camera angles as per our new favorite visitor to MeetTheMatts, butch goring’s nostrils.
Before you comment, here are some quotes from the bad boy ‘Hawks:
KANE: “It’s not the way we want to represent the team, but it’s been discussed internally [with the team]. It’s been figured out inside this locker room. We’ve had the support of most of the team, and like I said, it’s been handled inside that locker room. That’s all we really care about in here, and we are focused on the game tonight. I’ve had a couple of incidents, obviously. I’m 21 years old. It’s probably time to grow up a little bit.”
MADDEN: At 36, Madden is a veteran. “I don’t think it will be a distraction at all. This team is a tight bunch of guys. We’ve dealt with this already. We’ve dealt with it internally, and we’re moving on.”
Okay, now you can weigh in on these Hockey Players Gone Wild. And while you’re at it, just imagine what interesting bits an iPhone or Flip Camera would have picked up from our three panelists when they were playing.
Eat your hearts out, Girls Gone Wild… Angry Ward, tomorrow.
ONEONTA, NY – I figure it’s a good time to talk a little baseball. Let’s start with the in-the-news Johnny Damon.
You think when Jumpin’ Johnny popped up at 2nd in Game 4 and then raced to 3rd he was thinking “Hey that worked out pretty well, I bet that’s at least a $20 million a year move right there.” Probably not, but it did cross Scott Boras’ mind. The uber-agent had the worst misreading of a market since New Coke. Now, less than three weeks from pitchers & catchers, Johnny and his formidable forehead still don’t have a team. When he does, it won’t be for much more than the $6 mil the Yanks offered. Last I read, even after his foot-in-mouth comments about being willing to sign with somebody else and then get traded back to the Yankees, Tampa Bay is a leading contender because he’d like to stay close to his Orlando home. Maybe Boras can finagle him a long enough contract so he can use the bullet train they plan on building between the two cities. Regardless, there’ll be a boatload of money involved, even with the big pay-cut he’ll swallow. You’ve all read about it ad nauseum.
Johnny Damon racing out of town.
What you probably haven’t read about is that the Oneonta Tigers are leaving town as well. Oneonta, a stone’s throw from Cooperstown and the Baseball Hall of Fame, is where I grew up…
A little college town in upstate New York where back in the days of basic cable, you got for Yankee games, Channel 9 for Mets, and channel 38 for the Red Sox. That meant a split in the fan base but the Yankees got the lion’s share because of the Single A Oneonta Yankees, who played at rickety old Damaschke Field, across the train tracks in Neawha Park. A dog pound was between the tracks and the right field bleachers, so when trains went by the dogs would start barking and howling louder than the fans at the game. Sometimes you’d get trapped by a long line of D&H boxcars on the way out. Tickets were cheap; if they weren’t being given away in some local department store or bank sponsoring a free night. It’s a no-frills park. The box seats are just folding chairs and even stranger, they never sold beer - wanting a family atmosphere. As I recall, people just got lit at the row of bars that was just a short stroll away and after the game, some of the players would head over that way as well, surely with fake IDs since most of them weren’t 21 yet.
The players that came through included a number of big names. Don Mattingly played there. Bernie Williams did, too. Whenever I watch an Angel game now, and hear the over-exuberant voice of Rex Hudler, I think of the ball I got with signatures of everyone on the 1978 O-Yanks. I later noticed he had signed twice, meaning I went up to him a second time without realizing it. I wonder if he noticed my gaffe and was just being polite to a ten-year-old kid (though, as a later-admitted marijuana user, maybe he was stoned and didn’t notice - it wasn’t called Stoneonta for nothing). John Elway played there in 1983, when he was drafted by both the Yankees and the Baltimore Colts. He didn’t want to play for the Colts and used the Yankees to get traded to Cookie’s Broncos. Some of my earliest baseball memories are from Damaschke Field, including some horrible ones I’d rather forget: Like when I was playing in high school and a can-of-corn fly-ball in LF skipped off the top of my glove, caromed off my head and ended up in center. I didn’t appreciate it when my coach had a batting helmet brought to me out there the next day at practice.
The Oneonta Yanks moved to Staten Island in 1999, and the Detroit Tigers took up the reigns of a franchise that had been affiliated with the New York-Penn League since 1967. The original owner and local legend Sam Nader sold the team two years ago and the group that bought it made some nice improvements but didn’t hold any real promotions last year - not even those sponsored free nights - and they never got the beer license, so attendance plummeted. The fact the team stunk may have had something to do with it. Maybe they saw this scenario unfolding and were pulling a Major League move, trying to fail and thus pave the way for relocation. But the O-Tigers couldn’t come up with a Wild Thing or a Willie Mays Hayes to save the day. The team is now in Norwich, CT.
So, Johnny Damondoesn’t have a team and neither does Oneonta. With the 2010 season just around the corner, can we work out a deal here? What do you say, Johnny? How about you and Boras give a little something back this year and bring a new team to Damaschke Field? And when you do, perhaps you ought to get a beer license.
MELBOURNE, AUSTRALIA - Tennis’ Australian Open just concluded down here with and while it’s a great sport with good-looking athletes sinking or swimming on their own, it does make my list of PET PEEVES, today.
PET PEEVE #1: OK, I get that you’re trying to hit the ball hard, but do tennis players have to grunt when they hit the ball. Golfers don’t (except in bed hey Tiger?), ballplayers don’t. I’ve played sports, some rough ones at that, and I just don’t get the concept. Rafael Nadal actually doesn’t grunt, he whines. Several of the Russian women scream at the top of their lungs, including Maria Sharapova, who must have a vocal coach at this point.
The practice is somewhat contagious, as well. Riddle me this Batman; Serena Williams grunted like a ruptured power lifter when she beat an annoyingly vocal Victoria Azarenka in the quarter finals yet made no more noise than a sleeping baby in the final against an equally silent Justine Henin. Is it a competitive thing? I have to out grunt you as well as out point you? Other than weight lifting and the trenches of a football game courtesy of NFL Films, do we really need to grunt that much? Roger Federer is gruntless and he just added to his record with a 16th Grand Slam victory. Therefore, grunting isn’t necessary. If you grunt, I want you to lose.
PET PEEVE #2: Is Scott Boras trying to ruin Johnny Damon’s life? Damon came out Thursday and said he’d welcome a mid season trade from whomever he isn’t even playing for yet, in order to return to the Yankees. Obviously, the gamer loves pinstripes.
In the meantime, the Yankees got younger by signing 35 year old Randy Winn, who if I’m not mistaken, was once traded for a box of baseballs. The Yankees are bringing in so many outfielders I hear Claudell Washington, Steve Kemp, Shane Spencer, and Gerald Williams are on Brian Cashman’s radar. I knew that either Matsui or Damon or both would be jettisoned, and I’m OK with that. If you’re getting younger, heads have to roll. If Granderson hits better against lefties and cuts down on his strike outs, it’s a good move, but when a guy who has helped you win make’s a statement like Damon’s it makes you wonder if he’d take the hometown discount (a la Paul O’Neill). Scott Boras has to lighten up. To quote Bud Fox, “How many yachts can you water ski behind?”
PET PEEVE #3: When did we, as a people, get so soft? Was it the Gloom Rock of The Cure, The Smiths, and Tears For Fears? Was it Heroin Sheik? E-mail? Play dates? Happy Meals? Five-dollar coffee? A woman was leaving work the other day just ahead of me and said if I’d give her my keys, she’d warm up my car for me. Now, it was a nice gesture and I appreciate it, but have we gotten that soft that we can’t get in a cold car anymore? Walking twelve feet to the car is now Sir Edmund Hillary summiting Everest! Our ancestors hunted for their dinner for Pete’s sake! Toughen up folks!
SOUTH DILDO, CANADA - In keeping with this week’s themes of alcohol-fueled articles, I’m taking a crack at my own alcohol-inspired, Olympic-themed piece. We’ll see how it goes…
We’re now less than two weeks away from the Winter Olympics in Vancouver. And while Bob Costas and NBC will try to convince you that ice dancing, short circuit speed skating, and curling are worth watching the two weeks between the Super Bowl and Pitchers & Catchers, the only important sport in the winter games is ice hockey.
The winner is determined through direct competition between teams, not by judges as it is in figure skating and College Football.The competition starts with a preliminary round of 12 teams divided into three groups. Each team plays the others in the group in a single round-robin with the results of the round-robin determining the seeding for the rest of the tournament. The top four teams automatically enter the quarterfinals. The remaining 8 teams battle in a Thunderdome-ian competition of “Two teams enter, one team leaves” to determine the remaining quarterfinal places. It’s a knockout competition from then on until the medals are decided. I’ll break down the Master-Blastersand Pretenders for you.
GROUP A:
Canada: The host nation will be looking to impress in the early going. They’ll have home ice advantage and for the first time ever, Olympic ice hockey will be played on the narrow NHL ice. The small ice suits the physical nature of Canadian hockey and with NJ Devils’ Marty Brodeur in net, and Sid the Kid leading the attack, the Canadians should breeze into the quarterfinals. They’ve also got Don Cherry on their side which is always a plus. “America’s Hat” are my pick to win the gold.
USA: The good ol’ U-S of A went with a somewhat youngish team this go-round. Team America will have the Bruins’ Tim Thomas in net. And there will be some familiar faces in the lineup for folks in this area. Zach Parise and Jamie Langenbrunner of the Devils were selected, as were Ryan Callahan and Chris Drury of the Rangers. Wait… Chris Drury?!? How did he make the team? Hasn’t Team USA head coach Ron Wilson been watching hockey? I though we were supposed to put the best team out there. We might as well have The Matts on the team. To make matters worse, Rangers’ manager John Tortorella is one of the assistant coaches for Team USA. The US will be lucky to secure a by into the quarters, but they’ll make it eventually. We could make the semi finals, but I just don’t think the team is good enough to win a medal. I’ve been very wrong before though, so take my predictions with a grain of salt.
Switzerland: The Swiss are definitely the minnows of Group A. They aren’t the most talented team, nor are they the most physical. They’ve got a decent shot at making the quarterfinals, but won’t advance beyond there.Norway: Like Sweden, but totally different. They might make the quarterfinals, but probably not.
GROUP B:
Russia: Holy Tile! This team is frogging stacked. With a first line of Pavel Datsyuk centering Ovechkin and Malkin, and a second line of Federov, Semin, and Kovalchuk, this team will score plenty of goals. The team has tons of talent, but it remains to be seen how Russia will play on the small ice. Despite the latent toughness of Russian culture outside of hockey, they rely more on skill rather than physicality to win. On the small Vancouver ice, this may make it tough for the Ruskies to get past more physical teams like Finland and Canada. They will have an easy time in the Preliminary Round and I think they’ll take the Silver Medal. If you don’t believe me about the Russian lack of physicality, listen to Don Cherry.
Czech Republic: Less talented than the Russians, but play a similar style of hockey. Led by the skinniest fat guy on earth, Jaromir Jagr, they could be in contention for a medal at the end, but the small ice is definitely a disadvantage to the Czechs.
Slovakia and Latvia – Also rans.
GROUP C:
Sweden: The Swede’s know bikinis, meatballs, and hockey. New York Ranger, Hendrik Lundqvist will tend goal for this team with plenty of familiar faces, Led by the Sedin brothers (not the Hanson brothers) Zetteberg, Oduya and Peter Forsberg, the Swedes will make plenty of noise in this competition and will be in contention for the bronze.
Finland: The Finns are more familiar with the physical side of hockey than the rest of Europe, save for the Swedes. They’ll have Nicklas Backstrom in net. Agitator Jarkko Ruutu, and his marginally less annoying brother, Tuomo Ruutu also made the team. Teamu Selane and the Flames’ Olli Jokinen round out the well known’s on this team. The Finns are a very solid, and very physical team. They Should adapt well to the narrow Vancouver Ice. They are my pick to win the Bronze Medal.
Germany & Belarus: bit part players. Half of all Belarusians couldn’t point out Belarus on a map. They did well to qualify, but both teams wont see much action past the preliminary round. Germany is probably the better of these two teams and have a shot to make the quarters, but they’ll need some luck.
There you have it. The bar is calling me, wondering why I’m not there. They are demanding proof of life and the Budweiser is telling me to wrap this up. I predict Canada will take the gold on home ice, Russia and Finland are my picks to win the silver and bronze medals. Team America will make a lot of noise, but will need to get lucky if they are to stand on the awkward over-sized podium at the end of the competition. We’ll know more in a couple of weeks.
