Detroit Red Wings vs. Nashville Predators
Fuck me running, I hate Detroit. I hate Zetterberg (I don't care if that's spelled correctly) and I hate Mike Babcock. But I also fucking despise all things from Tennessee, including the Preds. Here's hoping HockeyTown collapses on both teams. Detroit in 5.
"A Cinderella Story..."
We begin with my favorite weekend in sports. I love the Masters, as noted yesterday, more than any other golf tournament and I love the whole dog and pony show of Augusta National in mid-April. Granted, I'm a big fan of the NCAA tournament, CFB bowl season, the World Series and all the other biggies in sports, but Masters weekend is really like nothing else.
For one, there are very few commercials on Saturday and Sunday; usually about 2-5 minutes per hour. That's incredible. And not just because I'm lazy and really don't need an excuse not to move for just under an hour. Augusta National is so freakin' rich that they can just up and tell a major network that they don't need no stinkin' commercials. The pretension is so thick you could cut it with a knife. And as we know, I'm all about that.
But it's really the pageantry that surrounds the tournament that gets me. Sure, the British is played overseas in wind, rain, hail, flying cows and makes the best in the world look like your everyday hack at the local Muni (read: me) and the United States Open is our Open.
But the Masters is Arnie walking across the bridge one last time with Tiger right behind him. It's Sarazen and the Shot Heard Round the World in 1935. Jack winning in 1986 when local media said his career was over. It's about 156 Tiger Woods moments including the chip that wouldn't fall... that did on 16 in 2005. There's nothing like that in any other tournament, golf or otherwise.
I'm in a fantasy golf league with JTBI and assorted others so I'll try to publish my picks sooner than day 2 of the tournament. But this one was picked before the season started. Tiger Woods will win. He has to. Listen to the interview he gave Stuart Scott Van Pelt last week. The guy knows every blade of grass to the centimeter at Augusta. It's sickening. Not to mention his last nine world events go as follows: W, W, W, W, W, W, W, 2, 5. It's an easy pick and it should be.
By now it's common knowledge that the SEC tournament was interrupted by severe weather, to the extent that the game was delayed for and hour or so. Thankfully, no one was hurt and the game continued. Loser with Socks has the video of the game and what happened in real time. Having been to the Georgia Dome for a big tournament (the one where Ohio State beat Florida to win the NCAA Championship*) there probably isn't a worse place to be trapped where the sky is falling. So, yeah, the whole ordeal is pretty fucking scary, far as I'm concerned.
And I'm sick of seeing that fucking picture of LSU on the top of the page. Let's change that up, shall we?
Hey there elitists. It's me, The Ghost. I'm here at wonderful WKRC in Cincinnati on Christmas Eve bidding all you out there in inter-highway land a happy Christmas. I get cable and the Interweb in my new apartment (and it's about time, I think I've watched the same 5 episodes of previously DVR-ed "Scrubs", "Good Eats" and "Family Guy" about 12 times by now) so I'll be able to make this more of a regular thing. Maybe even a TMA post. It would be a Christmas MIRACLE!
Oh, ESPN Motion, sometimes I think you're worse for the internet than pop-up ads and Rosie O'Donnell's blog combined.
And that's when I am being generous.
Seriously... I just can't stand ESPN.com's ESPN Motion feature. I think this is something we can all agree on.
"I bolted awake at exactly 3 a.m. I had checked ESPN.com for the Blackhawks' score right before I went to sleep [at 10 p.m.]. Motion apparently just decided to kick on some five hours later. I thought they'd gotten rid of it!"See, that's what they want you to think! It's all a part of Norby's diabolical scheme to enslave us with ESPN propaganda while we sleep! (It's worth pointing out that my roommate's computer is a laptop he bought earlier this year, it's not like a Gateway 2000 laptop from the 90's or anything)
Over Thanksgiving weekend, a few friends and I undertook a roadtrip to some college football landmarks in the deep south to take in some high-quality pigskin action, both inside and outside the stadiums. Though it's two weeks later, I did want to share my experience there and rate it for you folks out there considering seeing a game at any of these stadiums. I plan to share similar accounts for other sporting events I attend over the course of time. I will rate the experience on a number of different levels: city, exterior atmosphere, stadium, in-game atmosphere and ticket value.
"I felt like we played our hearts out tonight and got some bogus calls, but it is what it is... Pass interference, the holding on [Jamaine] Winborne. There was a lot. I can't even remember them all."
--Baltimore RB Willis McGahee
"I didn't hear a timeout. That was very convenient."
--Baltimore LB Bart Scott
Maybe it's the fact that I had to work for 12 hours yesterday. Maybe it's the cold General Tso's I had when I got back from said 12-hour shift. Maybe it's the fact that my TiVo is filled with old episodes of Scrubs and Family Guy, all of which I've seen about 700 times each.
Some random musings from the world of sports after a momentous weekend, including the enormous 4:05 ET Sunday NFL game with gargantuan playoff implications...
I told you on Sunday night that I was boycotting the World Series Game 1, so I decided to share with the public both my reasons why and my methods for boycotting Red Sox v. Rockies in the Fall Classic. First off:
THE REASONS
1- 8:23 start times. These games just start way too late for someone whose alarm clock kicks on at 4:55 am. Seriously, Allan, couldn't your league start their games at a time that makes it possible for folks in Eastern Daylight Time to go to bed at a reasonable hour? Even the frigging NHL starts their playoff games at 7:00 ET. For shame, Allan, your playoff scheduling has been bested by Gary freaking Bettman. Think about that.
2- Too painful. I just can't look at this series without thinking about what might have been, especially granted the NL's Quad-A status in 2007. I stand by my sentiment that the Indians would've romped over Colorado, even if they'd won in seven over Boston.
3- Not very compelling. I think Boston pretty much 100% outclassses the Rockies here. My official pick is Red Sox in 4, by the way, because after Beckett annihilates the Rockies tonight, Colorado is gonna fold like the WUSA. I don't expect it to be highly riveting baseball.
THE LIVE BLOG:
7:45 PM -- I clicked over to the XBox 360 in hopes that my download of the Guitar Hero III demo that I started at 4:30 would be done. Guess again; 49%. Looks like I won't be practicing up on Even Flow to pass the time tonight.
8:05 PM -- I can hear the pregame in the other room. You see, my roommate is a big baseball fan with no cheering interest in these playoffs (he's a White Sox fan from Chicago) so he just wants to enjoy October baseball. I can't in good conscience deny him this very reasonable request so I have relocated base camp to my bedroom, which is sans cable.
8:10 PM -- My dad calls me. I answer the phone by berating him for letting me be born a Cleveland fan. "Why couldn't you and mom have moved to Chicago or Miami or somewhere that has teams that wins championships? Jesus!" (NB: JTBI made that joke first with his dad on Sunday, I just couldn't resist tonight.)
8:23 PM -- And we're underway. I think. I'm only guessing right now because I can't hear the game. Due to my burning hatred of Joe Buck and Tim McCarver that was born many years ago, I don't even want to listen to their copyright protected accounts and descriptions of Game 1, so I put on Forty Licks and turn up Street Fighting Man to a reasonable volume and continue to troll teh intarwebs.
8:40 PM -- This is immensely boring. I can sorta hear Fenway rocking from in here and I kinda want to go see what's going on, but I won't. I need to stick to my guns on this one. I boycotted the entire 2000 World Series and it's pretty much worked out-- no New York team has won a World Series (or any other world title) since. By this train of thought, this could put a nice little jinx on Boston and Denver, which would please me greatly.
8:52 PM -- Phone call from one of the other commissioners in my fantasy football league. He tells me it's 3-1 Boston, I tell him I could give a shit. The big league controversy this week is over rent-a-player trades. In our league two owners want to swap Jason Elam and Keith Bulluck for week 8 then return the players to their original squads in week 9. I am strongly opposed to this because I think rent-a-player deals are bullshit and should be against the rules. I am apparently the only member of our tri-commissioner panel who feels this way so the rent-a-player deals are all going to get league approval. Because my esteemed-yet-misguided compatriots have made this decision, I will soon show them the error of their ways by renting Tom Brady to a team one of them is playing a few weeks down the line when I'm playing a league also-ran. Rent-a-player... what hogwash.
9:15 PM -- I'm thirsty and need a drink, so I head to the kitchen for a pop. On my way there I see my roommate (inexplicably) laying on the floor and watching Nick GaS, which is currently airing a block of GUTS. I ask him if Game 1 is at commercial, his response is, "I don't know, it's really brutal to watch, Colorado is totally outgunned." Side note -- Nick GaS is BY FAR the best channel to have on digital cable when you're drinking; there is nothing quite like watching Legends of the Hidden Temple when you're wasted. A close second in this category is VH1 Classic, because it's like you're playing russian roulette with your beer; you never know when Whitney Houston's "I Wanna Dance With Somebody" video is gonna come on and make you burst out laughing mid-sip, causing a genuine spit-take.
9:30 PM -- I am to understand that it's now 4-1 Boston. I am not surprised to hear this. I'm getting a little bored with "How I Met Your Mother" trivia on Facebook, so I head over to Wikipedia to check out the finalized track listing for Guitar Hero III and it looks absolutely epic. I may have peed my pants a little when I saw that the encore on level 7 is "Pride and Joy." I had a similar reaction seeing Metallica's "One" in the final tier of regular songs, as well. You can be damn sure I put in a pre-order for that sumbitch already.
9:55 PM -- My roommate is once again watching GUTS on Nick GaS when he calls me in to witness the GUTS equivalent to armageddon: three girl participants. Now I don't mean to be sexist here--okay maybe I do--but girls just could never hang on GUTS with the guys their own age. Very rarely you might see a gender-based upset when a puffy little nerdy guy (these kids were always, without fail, on the blue team) would lose to an enormous girl you were positive became a lacrosse goalie with a size-50 ass who listened to Indigo Girls in high school, but the girl still only finished in second place behind the average-sized dude who was the red player. Occasionally I've seen two girls and one dude on GUTS and the guy mops up 100% of the time... but three girls? Christ, I'd almost rather watch the Rockies flail around against the BoSox' Racist Ace-est. Almost.
10:01 PM -- My roommate is going to bed, he's seen enough of the Rockies getting dominated by Beckett, so I'm relocating back to the living room so I can watch some DVR'ed shows.
10:02 PM -- The GH3 demo I started at 4:30 is now 62% done. At this rate I'm going to be able to play the full version when UPS delivers it next week before this goddamn demo downloads. I digress, time for Curb Your Enthusiasm on the DVR.
10:15 PM -- Not ironic: anything Tim McCarver has referred to as ironic tonight; almost ironic: my DVR acted like it was about to crap out in the middle of this week's Curb; completely ironic: every time Bob Davie criticizes a coach for mis-managing the clock on national TV.
10:27 PM -- HO. LY. SHIT. Possibly the funniest Curb to date. It's already right up there with my personal favorite, "The Doll" from season 2, where Larry is pitching the Julia Louis-Dreyfus show to ABC. "You got long-ass balls!" Larry David is a freaking genius. Also, Lucy Lawless got way hot.
10:30 PM -- Phone call from my other fantasy football co-commissioner on this rent-a-player nonsense. I concede, knowing that the other two commishes won't revisit the idea of banning player rentals until the offseason. Whatever.
10:55 PM -- While ironing out the details on fairly regulating player rentals, the other commish informs me that it is now 12-1 Boston in the 5th. Two thoughts on this: 1- I had a feeling that would happen; 2- it's only the fifth inning at 11 PM EDT?!?
11:00 PM -- GH3 demo download at 75%. I am officially becoming slightly obsessed with this game.
11:17 PM -- My phone pretty much has died, and I've gotten so bored that I've resorted to re-reading SeanBaby's NES Page for the 13,000th time. Seven years after first finding this site, I am still laughing at it like I was Dane Cook and I just told a joke that I thought was really funny.
11:20 PM -- Okay, I've had enough. I'm gonna take some NyQuil and go pass out. I can only hope this written transcript of my boycott will influence you, too, to ignore this year's Fall Classic in favor of something--ANYTHING--better. Good night, friends.
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OK, I'm gonna vent here... and I just don't care.
Boston: you do not fucking deserve this. Your team is full of assholes. Your ace is an asshole. Your cleanup hitter is an asshole. Your rookie of the year is an asshole. Every member of your $100 million dollar overseas investment's media entourage is an asshole. Your bought-and-paid-for Media Relations wing in Bristol, CT, is a campus full of assholes. Assholes the whole lot.
Your fans certainly do not fucking deserve this. With absolutely no due respect to The Ghost, who is somehow a Red Sox fan despite living in Ohio his entire life, your fans are the biggest assholes upon the landscape of Major League Baseball--and yes, I am counting Yankees fans. At least Yankees fans understand who and what they are. They are the jerks who outspend everyone and expect to win the World Series every year. They make no secrets about this. Boston fans, however, act like they are the little scrappy underdog team with a shoestring budget that everyone always writes off. It's always Red Sox vs. the world in Boston. To hell with that shit. This year you outspent everyone but the Yankees in order to create a hulking pulsating lineup that was quite frankly one blown call from a second-base umpire from a long fucking night on Sunday.
I take that back, actually. It is Red Sox vs. the world, now. Why? Because everybody hates you smug douchelickers. We all hope you get hit by a bus full of AIDS.
I'm sure if any Red Sox fans stumble across this, they'll do exactly what they used to get so worked up about Yankees fans doing and talk shit about the fanbase of a tortured team venting after a heart-wrenching loss in a series where every break humanly possible went against them and yet they still deserved to go to the World Series more than their beloved fucking Red Sox. So today, right now, I am sending a sterling silver FUCK YOU to "Red Sox Nation."
Red Sox Nation, by the way, thanks a whole fucking lot. Thanks to you douchebags, every single goddamn fanbase in the galaxy calls themselves [Insert Team] Nation. Denver Bronco Nation, Orlando Magic Nation, Montana Grizzly Nation. Are you kidding me? Seriously? These are not nations; they do not have political borders. If they did, god help us all. Can you imagine a nation of fucking Red Sox fans? They would be axis, equator and globe of evil. We couldn't bomb them fast enough.
And getting back to a point I made earlier... holy shit, who hired these goddamn umpires? They were a disgrace from pillar to post. Dana Demuth's strike zone in Game 6 looked like a World War II era fighter jet trying to acquire a target lock on an F-15. Honest to god, I wasn't sure the man had ever heard of an outside strike when Fausto Carmona was pitching and then all of the sudden Demuth looked like Eric fucking Gregg with Curt "Livan Hernandez" Schilling on the mound. Holy inconsistent strike zone, Batman!
Then in Game 7, after I didn't think the umpiring could get any worse, Brian Gorman stares right at Kenny Lofton sliding in under Julio Lugo's tag in a critically important inning against a quickly folding Daisuke Matsuzaka and doesn't even think twice before shitting his pants and calling Lofton out. I would like to remind Mr. Gorman that this is not kickball, the ball doesn't need to merely beat the runner to the bag; he must be tagged out in this situation before safely reaching the bag. I don't think I need to pull out a MLB rulebook to make sure I'm right in this case. If the correct call were made in this situation, the Indians tie the ball game in the 5th and everything changes. If Bud Selig had any common sense (sadly we know he does not) he would take the umpiring roster from the 2007 American League Championship Series and promptly fire each and every one of them and dock them their entire season's pay. That's right-- the umpires were so bad and so genuinely affected the outcome of a critical series that they deserve to lose an entire year of their livelihoods. You heard me.
Everyone always loves to talk about karma; about The Baseball Gods. I am here to tell you that The Baseball Gods are dead. Karma does not exist in baseball. If it did, a team with the Boston fanbase and showboats like Manny Ramirez wouldn't even make the playoffs, much less advance to the World Series. But here we are, the Red Sox are playing the Rockies for the world title. I, for one, will not be watching. Baseball is dead to me for the remainder of 2007. There is no joy in America, the fucking assholes from Boston are going to the World Series. Go Rockies.
I am bitter. These are sour grapes. Y'know what? I don't care. I hate Boston.
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Come on now, fellow Indians fans, you didn't think it would be that easy, did you?
You didn't think our guys could just reel off four straight against the team they tied for the best record in the whole damn league, did you? Did you?!?
Listen, nothing is ever that easy for the Indians in October. In 1995, the year the Tribe lapped the frigging field in the A.L., the Mariners (the Mariners!!) even stretched the Wahoos to six games. Our boys just don't wrap up best-of-seven series in 5 games or less. That's just not how it works for us.
This is Cleveland. Nothing comes easy for us.
That said... if you're panicking now, get the hell off the bus. The bad news is that the Indians have faced a buzzsaw twice in Josh Beckett and that stuff happens. The good news is that if they can replicate their batting efforts from Games 2-4 and chase either Schilling or Matsuzaka before 5 innings everything will be fine.
Did you hear that, Cleveland? Everything will be fine.
Now breathe.
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