The J-Borhood

JBorhood Kentucky Derby Extravaganza 2011

noreply@blogger.com (The Dole) — Thu, 05 May 2011 23:34:00 +0000

We have a problem.

Two of our nation's most sacred drinking-related holidays, Cinco de Mayo and the Kentucky Derby, follow each other in rapid succession. There is an overabundance of quality-alcohol-fueled-bacchanalia in such a very short window. And, I don't know why I never realized this before; in 2007 the Kentucky Derby actually took place on Cinco De Mayo. What are we supposed to do when that happens? Tequila juleps? (Author's Note: I actually found this recipe on Twitter the day after posting this article. As usual, the universe is messing with me.)

We have only one sensible recourse: move Cinco de Mayo to June.

We can't move the Kentucky Derby. The entire horse racing calendar is built around the Derby taking place on the first Saturday in May. Shifting the dates of every horse race in the world is a logistical nightmare.

No, we have to move Cinco de Mayo.

We can't move it March, which already has White-People-Do-Stupid-Things Day (or St. Patrick's Day as it's referred to colloquially), so we need to push it back a month to give party goers the appropriate amount of time to plan, celebrate, and recover between holidays.

Sure, some people will yammer on about the 5th of May having some significance to Cinco de Mayo, but that's just sentimentalism. Others will make similarly trite arguments about the events of Cinco de Mayo taking place in 1862, thirteen years before the first Kentucky Derby (1875), but it's only a thirteen year difference and can we really trust pre-turn of the Century Mexican record keeping?

It makes the most sense to push back Cinco de Mayo a month and celebrate it on June 5th. Call it Junio de Mayo if you want to get all technical.

Tequila tastes better in the Summer anyway.

Now that we've cleared up that little snafu, let's move on to the most important item of business: the Annual JBorhood Kentucky Derby Rankings.

As always, my rankings involve a complex formula that accounts for odds, post position, whether or not the horse is pretty and, most importantly, the quality of the horse's name.

20. Derby Kitten (Odds: 30-1, Post Position: 9)

Derby Kitten only qualified for the field when another horse withdrew at the last minute and lost it's only other race on dirt by 27 lengths. Even worse, it's owners, Ken and Sarah Ramsey, force the jockey and horse to wear staggeringly ugly matching red hats with Giant "R"s (for Ramsey) in an ego glorifying display of stupidity.

On the bright side, it'll be that much easier for them to spot Derby Kitten in the back of the back.

19. Watch Me Go (Odds: 50-1, Post Position: 20)

This horse's one claim to fame is an upset victory in the Tampa Derby, which is akin to winning the automatic NCAA Tournament qualifying berth from the Big Sky.

Watch Me Go would be much more appropriately named Watch Me Go Home.

18. Decisive Moment (Odds: 30-1, Post Position: 18)

A horse with no endurance in a long race, ridden by a 52 year old dude named Kerwin. Excuse me for not getting excited.

The only decisive moment will occur with 1/2 mile to go when this horse falls to the back of the back.

17. Master of Hounds (Odds: 30-1, Post Position: 11)

An ugly horse with strange markings. A vaguely pretentious monarchical nickname. A trainer who never entered the horse in a dirt track race before the most important dirt track race in its life.

Do I even need to tell you Master of Hounds is European?

15. Comma To The Top (Odds: 30-1, Post Position: 6)

A month ago, trainer Peter Miller said he wouldn't enter Comma to the Top in the Derby because Comma lacked the endurance to run such a long race.

Last time I checked, the length of the derby hasn't changed.

16. Santiva (Odds: 30-1, Post Position: 12)

Santiva is short, struggles in traffic, finished a disappointing 9th in his last race and, most importantly, his name sounds more like an exotic strain of marijuana than a racehorse. Not good.

14. Mucho Macho Man (Odds: 12-1, Post Position: 13)

Does anyone else find it ironic that trainer Kathy Ritvo is trying to become the first female trainer to win a Kentucky Derby with a horse named Mucho Macho Man? I suppose it rolls off the tongue better than than Wander Wonder Woman.

13. Archarcharch (Odds: 10-1, Post Position: 1)

Archarcharch is going to loseloselose.

12. Soldat (Odds: 12-1, Post Position: 17)

For the record, SolDat is the fourth most interesting permutation of the letters a, d, l, o, s, and t closing following LostAd, DoLast, DaLost, and LaSold.

11. Brilliant Speed (Odds: 30-1, Post Position: 2)

Brilliant Speed is equal parts fantastic name and embarrassingly presumptuous. Anything less than an outright victory or comically ironic last place finish would be disappointing, which, of course, is why it will finish in the middle of the pack.

10. Pants On Fire (Odds: 20-1, Post Position: 7)

Similar to trainer Kathy Ritvo, jockey Rosie Napravnik is attempting to become the first female jockey to win the Kentucky Derby, plus, she's sneaky hot. Well, she's female jockey hot, which, for the record, is somewhere between WNBA hot and female body builder hot.

9. Stay Thirsty (Odds: 20-1, Post Position: 4)

Normally I wouldn't get excited about a horse that finished 7th in the Florida Derby by 20 lengths, but this is the most interesting horse in the world.

Stay thirsty, my friends.

8. Midnight Interlude (Odds: 10-1, Post Position: 15)

Mightnight Interlude is fast, has good endurance, is trained by one of the best in the business (Bob Baffert, who has trained three previous Derby winners), sounds like a suave way of describing a late night romantic soiree, and is the only horse entering the Derby with two consecutive victories. Unfortunately, his jockey will be wearing this.

7. Twinspired (Odds: 30-1, Post Position: 10)

Forget the silly name - a pun only a horse racing aficionado could appreciate - and focus on the fact this this Twinspired might be the first horse to ever scare his way to victory. He has speckled dark-gray skin, tattered gray hair, and cold, jet black eyes that look like they could suck your soul out of your body. I'm 75% sure the jockey is going to carry a scythe instead of a riding crop.

6. Shackelford (Odds: 12-1, Post Position: 14)

I was going to research interesting facts about Shackelford, but got distracted by this incredible recipe for Mint Julep Pannacotta, which, when you get right down to it, is much more interesting than a horse named Shackelford.

5. Uncle Mo (Odds: 9-2, Post Position: 18)

Uncle Mo is a beast. No, really. Look at this him. He's a monster. He has more muscle definition than mid-80's Schwarzenegger. If all things were equal, Uncle Mo would pick his year's derby field out of his hoofs.

Sadly, all things are not equal. Uncle Mo suffered his first defeat in his pre-derby tune up at the Wood Memorial and was diagnosed with a gastrointestinal infection after the race. He's been on a steady diet of antibiotics for the past month and it is still a race day decision as to whether or not he will run in the Derby.

But, if he does and if he's sufficiently healed from infection look out.

You have been warned.

4. Animal Kingdom (Odds: 30-1, Post Position: 16)

Animal Kingdom has great speed.

Animal Kingdom has great endurance.

Animal Kingdom beat two Derby entrants Decisive Moment and Twinspired to qualify for the Derby.

Animal Kingdom has a sufficiently bizarre, yet memorable name that would befit a Derby champion.

There's just one tiny problem...

Animal Kingdom has never run on dirt.

Normally, this type of glaring flaw would bother me, but Animal Kingdom is also the name of the Disney World Park that has my 3 year old daughter's heart racing.

Let's get it on.

3. Twice the Appeal (Odds: 20-1, Post Position: 3)

I said it last year and I'll say it again.

Two words: Calvin Borel.

Borel has won three of the last four Kentucky Derby's - finishing an impressive third the only year he failed to win - including a 2009 victory on 50-1 long shot Mine That Bird. In a year of uncertainty, with no clear favorites and only one horse (Midnight Interlude) coming in with a streak of more than one victory, I see no reason why Calvin Borel wouldn't ride another long shot to an improbable victory.

If anyone can deliver, it's Calvin Borel.

(On a side note: If Borel brings home his unprecedented third derby victory in a row, they'll have to change Twice The Appeal's name to Thrice The Appeal. Either that or Calvin-Mother F'ing-Borel.)

2. Dialed In (Odds: 4-1, Post Position: 8)

He's a little ugly, has a great trainer - Hall of Famer Nick Zito, world class speed, an ability to kick into high gear at the end of races, a great post position, and a fabulous name for a race horse. He came from the back of the pack to beat Shackelford by a nose in the Florida derby.

Historically, a horse with four or less stars hasn't won the derby since 1918, but Dialed In has the size, speed, training staff, and pedigree to buck 93 years of history.

Dare I say, he's dialed in.

1. Nehro (Odds: 6-1, Post Position: 19)

Nehro came from behind and almost won the Arkansas Derby... losing by a nose to Archarcharch.

Nehro came from behind and almost won the Louisiana Derby... losing by a nose to Pants on Fire.

So why am I so confident that a horse coming off two consecutive losses to horses in this Derby field is going to trot away with the roses? The Kentucky Derby is 1/8 of a mile longer than both the Arkansas and Louisiana Derbys, giving Nehro just the time he needs to use his incredible closing speed.

This Saturday, look for Nehro to be the Hero.

Farewell to Jimmy - 2011

noreply@blogger.com (The Dole) — Wed, 30 Mar 2011 07:03:00 +0000

Another year, another crushing defeat for the not so Almighty J.

For the third time in six years, I picked the most correct games, yet for the sixth time in six years I failed to win. I thought the stars were aligned heading in to the Sweet 16. I thought this year would be different. Then my bracket went to hell and didn't even have time to pick out a sweet hand basket.

In seven soul crushing minutes of basketball, UConn ended San Diego State's comeback attempt and Florida held off a surging Jimmer (I have to be honest, that was really just an excuse to say 'surging Jimmer') to beat BYU in overtime, ending any chance I had of beating my Dad in the Jimmy and crushing my title dreams before they got off the ground. Then Duke, who I picked to win it all, got run off the court against Arizona in second half. A final swift kick to the nuts.

Thanks for coming. Remember to wear a cup next time.

But, I suppose I deserve it this year. I have only myself to blame.

You see, last year, I wrote that the trend that picking all #1 seeds to make it to the Final Four was the trend that needs to die. A quarter of last year's entrants picked the unforgivably boring possible Final Four scenario and I openly taunted them when Kansas was eliminated in the second round. Furthermore, I promised identical treatment to anyone else who followed suit, saying "I will similarly mock any future participants who show such limited courage and imagination into their Final Four. Consider yourself warned".

Can you guess who I picked in the Final Four?

#1 Ohio State, #1 Duke, #1 Kansas, #1 Pittsburgh.

So, to kick off the Jimmy award ceremony, I award myself the Hypocrisy Award.

Hypocrisy Award: Almighty J (Justin)

I mocked the basketball gods and the sanctity of the Jimmy and deserve to pay the price. If I ever pick four #1 seeds to make the Final Four again, I'll kick my own ass.

The ~~Mitch D'Olier~~ Jordan D'Olier Memorial Award for the contestant that enters the tournament, but forgets to fill out their entire bracket: Adam Sthay (Adam)

In 2008 my Dad submitted his bracket with one tiny oversight: he forgot to enter his Final Four and Championship picks. To honor his comical misstep, I created the Mitch D'Olier Memorial Award for future participants that submit incomplete brackets. Sadly, no one won the award in 2009 but, in 2010, my brother Jordan raised the bar by submitting a bracket with no picks at all and became the new namesake for the incomplete bracket award.

Jordan's record low zero points will stand the test of time as the lowest scoring bracket in Jimmy history, but his time as standard bearer for the partially filled entry award has passed thanks to Adam Sthay and his incomplete self-titled entry Adam Sthay. Maybe it was a computer error. Maybe it was an oversight. Maybe it was karma for naming his bracket after himself. Or maybe Adam was smarter than all of us and realized that no one would correct pick either team in the national championship game (let alone a national champion) and saved himself the trouble of having his picks eliminated. Whatever the reason, his name will live on, emblazoned upon the ceremonial Adam Sthay Memorial Award.

Congratulations, Adam.

Rebecca Black's Friday Award for the most awful new thing I wish I didn't know about but can't stop watching: Who stole kyle singler's eyebrows (Eric)

If you haven't seen the music video for Friday by Rebecca Black, do it now. The immensity of its failure cannot adequately be described. It is a perfect storm of awful, the ultimate in unintentional comedy. At one point, she actually sings "Tomorrow is Saturday and Sunday comes afterwarrrrrrrrrds".

And yet, I can't stop watching. It gets funnier with each viewing as I discover small hilarious nuances, like "why is she walking to the bus stop if her friends are picking her up?", "how does a group of 14 year-olds have their drivers' licenses?", or "what is the creepy limo driver doing following her school bus and why is he rapping?". It's incredible.

Similarly, now that Eric Lau's team name clued me in to Kyle Singler's lack of browage, it's the only thing I can see when I watch Duke play. Technically he has eyebrows, you just wouldn't know it by looking at him. They're so blonde, they're virtually translucent. He's the only person in the world with camouflage eyebrows.

DVD Rewinder Award for most spectacular failure: Uri (Rick Kane Owns Hawaii)

Undeterred by last year's under-the-radar title pick gone wrong (Really, Uri? Baylor?), Uri went out on a limb again this year and picked the 6th seeded St. John's Red Storm to upset the Pittsburgh Panthers and make it to the Final Four out of the Southeast Region.

I'd like to give Uri some credit for recognizing the chaos that would engulf the Southeast region (Butler knocking off Pitt and Florida en route to a second consecutive Final Four), however, that would force me to overlook the fact that his Final Four pick, St. John's, lost in the first round. By 15 points. To a Gonzaga team that would lose their next game by 22. To a BYU team that would lose their next game by 9. To a Florida team that would lose their next game by 3. (By my count, that makes St. John's a scant 49 points worse than Southeast region winner Butler.)

I suppose it's only fitting that a bracket that called out the athletic prowess of Hawaii suffered a crushing defeat in a year when the winner of the Maui Invitational (UConn) and the Diamond Classic (Butler) faced off for the National Championship.

(As a small consolation, Uri's beloved Oregon Ducks basketball team won the 4th most prestigious post-season college basketball tournament, the CBI, which I believe stands for Couldn't Be Interesting. Do they hang CBI banners from the rafters, Uri?)

Nostradamus Award: I Beat Dawn! Unicorn Smasha! (Sean)

After losing to his girlfriend Dawn in somewhat unceremonious fashion last year, Sean proclaimed his goal for the 2011 Jimmy load and clear in his team name: Beat Dawn. And he did, in a big way. Dawn picked Louisville in the National Title game and about four hours after the first game tipped off, Morehead State knocked off Louisville, virtually handing the 2011 relationship crown to Sean.

Congratulations, Sean. I hope this award can provide some solace as you sleep on the couch.

Fodder for Future Relationship Arguments Award: Unicorn's Exist (Dawn)

Dawn may have lost the tournament challenge to her boyfriend Sean and given Uri a run for his money for the DVD Rewinder Award with her National Title game prediction of Louisville (lost in the first round to Morehead State) vs. Syracuse (lost in the second round to Marquette), however, she was also one of only five Jimmy contestants to correctly select any of the Final Four teams and the only to predict Butler's return to the Final Four.

So, whenever Sean boats about his triumphant 2011 tournament victory, Dawn can always claim that she picked infinity percent more teams to make it to the Final Four.

Delayed Epiphany Award: L.A. Leycos (Brett)

I spent 30 minutes trying to figure out the significance of Brett's name. I had no idea what a leyco was, let alone a congregation of leycos. The word sounded spanish, so I plugged it into Google translate. It told me the Spanish word "leyco" meant "leyco" in English. Thanks a lot, Google (http://translate.google.com/#es|en|Leyco%0A).

Finally, I tried sounding it out phonetically.

LA LAY-Kos?

LA Lay-kahs?

LA Lake-ehs?

LA Lake-ers.

You've got to be kidding me.

I spent 30 minutes of my life trying to figure out that Brett named his team the LA Lakers and that is worthy of an award.

What if? Award: Kolskorium (Matt)

Kolsky picked Arizona to make it to the Final Four. Not because he thought they'd make it, but because he views picking Duke the same way most people view getting a colonoscopy. Rationale aside, after #1 seeds started dropping like teenage panties at a Justin Bieber concert, Kolsky found himself, miraculously, one win away from his first ever Jimmy Title.

It was simple: If Arizona beat UConn, Kolsky won the Jimmy.

Arizona was down by two, but had the ball with 20 seconds to go in the game. After grinding down the clock, Arizona's dominant scorer and potential #1 NBA draft pick Derrick Williams - who is shooting over 60% from behind the arc, a number almost too high to believe - launched a three pointer with only 5 seconds left. The ball hung in the air an excruciatingly long time before hitting the side of the rim. But, with almost no time remaining, the ball miraculously landed right in the hands of Arizona Forward Jamelle Horne for a wide open last second three pointer.

Horne launched the shot, the ball again hung in the air for an uncomfortable amount of time, but, sadly, the ball and Kolsky's dreams of a Jimmy Title clanged off the side of the rim, leaving both the Arizona and Kolsky with What Ifs?

I Beg to Differ Award: Colorado-VictimBig12Conspiracy (Shaun)

Shaun entered the Jimmy under the contentious pretense that his beloved Alma Mater, the Colorado Buffaloes, were left out of the NCAA Tournament due to a Big 12 conspiracy to exact retribution on the University for leaving the Big 12 for the greener pastures of the Pac-10. At face value, Shaun's claim had merit. Colorado had an impressive season, including three wins over #21 Kansas State, and their exclusion from the tourney at the hands of a scrappy upstart mid-major program from Richmond, Virginia nearly led to ESPN college basketball analyst Jay Bilas turning into the Incredible Hulk on live TV in an apoplectic fit for the ages.

Of course, that scrappy upstart turned out to be VCU, who beat USC, Georgetown, Purdue, Florida State, and Kansas (for those of you scoring at home, that's one team from each of the Pac-10, Big East, Big 10, ACC, and Big 12) in dominant fashion on their way to one of the most unlikely Final Four appearances of all time.

I appreciate Shaun's attempts to fight for the honor and understand his line of thinking, but when it comes to the subject of the Colorado Buffaloes deserving inclusion in the NCAA tournament at the expense of the VCU Rams, I beg to differ.

Best Bruin Award: GoBruins! (Trenton)

It was not the strongest year for UCLA in this year's Jimmy.

Trenton's 20th place narrowly edged fellow UCLA grad Brett's 21st place entry to secure him top billing among Bruins.The two UCLA graduates managed to beat only two other contestants, one of whom named their bracket Screaming Pteradon Jackfruit (the other works for Oregon, which sucks at basketball anyway). That said, beating two people in the tournament has to be considered a success for UCLA these days.

Be True to Your School Award: Purple Hayes (Hayes)

On the subject of UCLA, Bruin Business school alum Hayes finished an encouraging ninth place, keeping alive some hope for the pride an honor of those connected to UCLA's fine institution of learning. Of course, in a true display of Bruin pride, Hayes picked the Bruins to get upset in the first round by Michigan State.

Now that, my friends, is business school pride.

Best Subtle Team Name that No One Understood but Me: Luke's sister (Jason)

Jason is neither a girl, nor does he have a brother named Luke. He does, on other hand, have a beautiful daughter named Leah.

Star Wars + Shout out to your infant daughter = Instant JBorhood recognition every time

Mr. Upset Award: Gremlins (Charles)

Following his 2010 Jimmy title, Charles took a somewhat conservative approach in this year's Jimmy, picking only ten upsets in the entire tournament. Unfortunately, those picks were somewhat less successful this year. OK, they were way less successful. Actually, it would be difficult for them to any less successful. Of his ten upset picks, Charles managed to correctly pick... one upset. That's right. Charles correctly tabbed #3 UConn to beat #2 San Diego State in the Elite Eight. Other than that he whiffed on...

Opening round

#9 Villanova over #8 George Mason
#12 Clemson over #5 West Virginia
#13 Oakland over #4 Texas
#10 Michigan State over #7 UCLA

Second round

#6 Georgetown over #3 Purdue
#5 Kansas State over #4 Wisconsin
#11 Gonzaga 11 over #3 BYU

Sweet 16

#3 Syracuse over #2 North Carolina

Elite 8

#2 Notre Dame over #1 Kansas

That's not bad, that's impressive. It's the March Madness equivalent of eating a whole wheel of cheese and pooping in the refrigerator. In fact, I don't think anyone in Jimmy history has ever, nor will ever, pick less than 10% of their upsets correctly.

So take a bow, Charles. You've reached the zenith and nadir of the Jimmy in just two years. I can only image what the future holds for you.

Not as Good as Justin Award: The Fly (Jason)

No matter how old you get, you're never too mature to tease your older brother.

The Shaun Holaday Memorial Award for bracket with the best chance to win that has no business winning: tie, Boner Jams '03 (Jake), Bootleg (Chris)

In 2008, Shaun won the tournament despite picking the least number of games correctly, because he was the only contestant who correctly picked Kansas to win it all and the weighted scoring system gives an overwhelmingly unfair number of points for picking the National Champion. (On a related note, no, I'm not still bitter that I finished third that year despite picking the most number of correct games. Moving on...)

This year, Jake was tied for 15th (out of 23) and Chris was in 18th after the first two rounds of tournament play, however, remarkably both remained in contention for the Jimmy title because they were the only participants to pick North Carolina and Florida (respectively) to win the NCAA Title. Jake's and Chris's path to victory was simple, if North Carolina or Flordia won, they won.

Then the Sweet 16 happened. Duke losing to Arizona happened. Ohio State losing to Kentucky happened. Kansas losing to VCU happened. Every team that someone in the Jimmy picked to win the NCAA tournament lost... except Carolina and Florida.

Jake and Chris no longer needed UNC or Flordia to win it all. They didn't even need them to make the championship game. All they needed was for the Tar Heels or Gators to get to the Final Four to hand them the most absurd, undeserved Jimmy title in recent memory (For the record, no, I'm not still bitter that I finished 10th this year despite picking the most correct games for the third time in Jimmy history).

Mercifully, the basketball gods intervened. The boners were jammed, boot couldn't leg it out, and Kentucky and Butler won, felling the title aspirations of UNC, Florida, Jake and Chris, and saving me the trouble of writing a profanity laced tirade about the absurdities of the weighted scoring system.

At least for one more year.

Best Bracket Name Award: Screaming Pteradon Jackfruit (Tori)

Screaming Pteradon Jackfruit sounds like the result of a random 70's rock and roll band name generator. It is equal parts random, hilarious, and awesome, which, perhaps not ironically, accurately describe Tori's picks this year. Even if you doubled Tori's score, her bracket would finish tied for 11th place. But, even if they did exist, I'm sure Screaming Pteradon Jackfruit would be partying too hard to care.

Honorable Mention to Jake for his entry, Boner Jams '03. I'm not quite sure what songs would qualify as boner jams (athletic themed porn music?), but I would definitely buy that album.

Most Aptly Named Bracket Award: Field of Dreams (Alex)

Alex finished in second place by one point. One tiny, minuscule, seemingly insignificant point. One first round match-up that went the other way. One bounce of the ball, one rebound, or one errant pass between him and immortality. Alex would have won the Jimmy had any of the following first round games gone the other way:

Xavier vs. Marquette
Utah State vs. Kansas State
Tennessee vs. Michigan
Memphis vs. Arizona
Missouri vs. Cincinnati

Instead, he's left with a second place finish and a field of dreams.

Money Where Your Mouth is Award: Bucket O' Awesome (Nick)

If you're going to call your bracket Bucket O' Awesome, you better deliver. Nick finished a respectable third place - two points behind the leader - and only a BYU victory over Florida away from his first ever Jimmy championship. Perhaps that falls a step short of awesome, but at the least, Nick's entry was a Bucket O' Really Good.

For Lack of a Better Award: Big3JDaddy (Dad)

Dad played it safe with no double digit upset picks, astutely tabbed Arizona to beat Texas and UConn to make it to the Elite Eight, didn't make any big mistakes, would have won the tournament if Duke won, and finished a respectable fifth.

I got nothing.

Karma Award: Another No-Upset Bracket (Aaron)

For the second year in a row Aaron picked no upsets. That's right. No upsets. Not one. No #12 over a #5. No #3 over a #2 in the Elite Eight. Not even a #9 over a #8 in the first round. None.

Thankfully, for the second year in a row, the basketball gods displayed their disapproval with his blatant disrespect for the Mandess of March by smiting his bracket, leading to his unspectacular 7th place finish. I realize this might sound like me throwing stones from my glass house after selecting all the #1 seeds to make the Final Four, but I made a proper offering to the basketball gods by felling sacrificial lamb Louisville at the altar of Morehead.

(I'd like to assume the basketball gods are big fans of Morehead.)

Chicago Cubs Award for the most obvious preordained failure: - pitt is it no really I mean it (Mike)

Mike should know better. He's been though this before. Every year Pitt emerges from a stacked Big East Conference schedule looking like one of the best teams in the country. They play blue collar basketball. They hustle for loose balls, rebound well, don't commit fouls, and play tough team oriented defense. They're the kind of team every fan loves to root for and, by the end of the season, convince all of their supporters that they have what it takes to win a National Championship.

"This year is different!"

"Next year is here!"

"Pitt is it! No really, I mean it!"

Then, just like every year, Pitt finds a way to rip out the hearts of their fans in a new, completely unforeseen, unimaginably painful way. Losing a game in which you're tied and going to the line to shoot a free throw with only 1.7 seconds left without going to overtime is hard to do and, yet, total vintage Pittsburgh.

So, while I shed a tear for my favorite crest fallen Pittsburgh fan, there's only so much sympathy you can give to someone who puts their faith in the Chicago Cubs of college basketball.

D'Olier Family Champion Award: DZaster (Deanna)

Since the Jimmy started in 2006, I haven't just failed to bring home the overall title, I have never even won the family title.

In 2006, I finished second in the family to Jason when Adam Morrison and Gonzaga choked away a 9-point lead with 3:13 to play.

IN 2007, I finished second in the family to Jason when Texas A&M lost a heart breaker to Ohio State in the Sweet 16.

In 2008, I finished second in the family to Deanna when Tennessee lost a stunner to Louisville, who lost a nail biter to North Carolina, when a different outcome in either game would have given me the victory.

In 2009, well... let's not talk about 2009 (16th out of 20?????).

In 2010, I finished second in the family to Jason after Ohio State choked in the Sweet 16 against a hide-the-women-and-children-awful Tennessee squad, handing Jason the victory by one point.

This year was supposed to be different.

I jumped out to a commanding lead after the first two rounds and, without any notable upsets left in my bracket, the only thing I needed to wrap up my first ever D'OFCHA (not to mention, potential first Jimmy championship) was Duke, San Diego State or BYU to win their Sweet 16 game.

I didn't need an upset.

I didn't need a long shot.

I just needed one win in three games.

Then UConn over San Diego State happened. Florida over BYU in overtime happened. Arizona over Duke happened. (Arizona? Really? I lost because of Ari-freaking-zona?)

Another year, another bitter defeat. I wrap up my fourth second place family finish, cementing my legacy as the Pittsburgh Panthers of NCAA Bracket Challenges.

Personal grievances aside, congratulations to Deanna on her second D'OFCHA and first ever Jimmy Championship. Heading in to the final day of the Elite Eight, a victory by North Carolina, Florida or BYU would have knocked her out of the top spot, but she survived by the narrowest of margins - a one point victory over runner-up Field of Dreams - to cut down the nets and walk off into history in her own personal One Shining Moment montage.

As a reward for winning, Deanna receives a JBorhood article on the topic of her choice. (May I suggest the Top 10 reasons a weighted NCAA tournament pool scoring system sucks?)

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Thanks for playing everyone, see you next year!

The Jimmy 2011

noreply@blogger.com (The Dole) — Thu, 17 Mar 2011 01:24:00 +0000

Aloha friends and JBors,

March has begun, which, of course, means the return of everyone's favorite NCAA tournament pool and article series started and managed by a Chicago centric, Hawaii themed online sports periodical: The JBorhood March Madness Extravaganza! (or the Jimmy, as all the cool kids call it).

As always, the winner gets to choose the topic of a future JBorhood article (be still your beating hearts).

You don't need to know anything about basketball to join. In fact, given the unpredictability of March Madness, it's usually a good thing. And, in the Jimmy, everybody wins. I will write articles throughout the tournament and hand out awards to every participant. That's right, if you join, I will write something about you. A little snippet of awesome, all about you. Can you really pass that up? No. No you can't. So sign up now and tell all your friends.

Sign-up here (Yahoo ID required. If you have any problems signing up let me know and I'll snap to it like a hyper-active pterodactyl on Red Bull.):
http://tournament.fantasysports.yahoo.com/t1/group/130017/invitation?key=0086a87e77d39761

Good luck and happy bracketing!

What Jersey Shore taught me about UH Hoops

noreply@blogger.com (The Dole) — Wed, 09 Mar 2011 03:21:00 +0000

I watched my first episode of MTV's Jersey Shore on Monday.

Oh. My. Lord.

I'd often heard the show discussed. I had a vague familiarity with the various characters. I thought I knew what to expect.

I did not.

I was under the mistaken impression that Jersey Shore was a TV show when, in actuality, it is a human science experiment, like Bio Sphere sans the Sphere. It answers the question, "What happens when you take eight self-absorbed, image obsessed, testosterone fueled (that includes the women) alcoholics with liberal attitudes towards performance enhancing drugs, drop them in a house together in the epicenter of misogynist hedonism and provide them unlimited access to alcohol?"

The significance of the results is lost in translation. You have to actually sit down and experience Jersey Shore to understand the unbelievable amount of bizarre humanity packed into one sixty minute dumpster fire of hyper-reality.

Every episode delivers a staggering number of cultural insights that have to be seen to be believed.

...like the importance of the fist pump and how, when properly executed, it can take a party to new heights.

...or that you can buy hair gel by the pallet.

...that with a hot tub, charisma, nice abs and enough alcohol, you can achieve anything.

...that sausage and peppers is correctly pronounced "sah-sedge and peh-pas".

...that performance enhancing drugs aren't exclusively for men anymore.

...what a Snooki is and its incredible ability to create chaos in the midst of calm.

...that my clothes need approximately 247 percent more glitter

...and that the eventual downfall of civilization is less eventual than I thought.

If your level of pop culture naivety has sufficiently shielded you from this reality television show / cultural phenomenon, I cannot adequately describe the magnitude of exaggerated humanity on display in Jersey Shore. You probably wouldn't believe me if I told you and you certainly wouldn't understand the subtle beauty of it. Which is the exact same thought I had at last Saturday's University of Hawaii men's basketball game.

The current collection of UH men's basketball player's aren't just a team, they're a phenomenon. You have to see them in person to understand how good they are and, more importantly, how good they will be. UH has had many better teams, but they haven't had a collection of young exciting talent like this since Bruce O'Neil and Rick Patino were paying players in the 70's.

They're still raw, figuring out how to play together. But in the harmonious moments - which are becoming more and more frequent - when everything clicks...

Oh. My. Lord.

They're not just good, they're scary. Despite their solid, if unspectacular 18-10 record, and current fourth place standing in the Western Athletic Conference, the Rainbows are the team no one wants a piece of in the WAC Tournament time. They have more upside than anyone outside of the 24-3 marvelous Mormons from Utah State whom, might I add, want nothing to do with a UH team that had them on the ropes in a double overtime thriller.

The UH team is more than the sum of their parts but, because of the youth of both players and coaching staff, much like Jersey Shore, the significance of the results is lost in translation. You have to actually sit down and experience this UH Hoops team to understand the unbelievable amount of talent packed into two twenty minute halves of salivating potential.

Every game delivers a staggering number of magnificent moments that have to be seen to be believed.

... Miah's blazing speed and his uncanny ability to walk the line between high intensity and out of control.

... Bill Amis's truly sneaky athleticism. He is the quickest, slow guy ever.

... Zane's ability to rain points from the sky (and his startling resemblance to the love child of my little brother and Gumby).

... the silky smoothness of Bo Barnes stroke. It's the Jiffy Peanut Butter of three point shots.

... Jostin Thomas's incredible ability to create chaos in the midst of calm. (He is, without a doubt, Snooki in this extended Jersey Shore metaphor.)

... that the eventual first NCAA tournament victory is closer than I thought.

Sadly, unless UH can secure another home game in one of the random post-season tournaments (The CBI? The CIT? Really? Are these real tournaments or is everyone just messing with me?) UH fans won't have another opportunity to watch the team in person until next season. And that's a shame. This team is a few pieces and a couple years away from making the leap from sports team to local cultural phenomenon. Colt Brennan in high tops.

Many have started to catch on. The Saturday Stan Sherrif crowd was rocking more than they have since Carl English laced up his shoes. When Zane Johnson hit a no-he-didn't NBA three from the top of the key in the second half, the decibal level in the gym was about as loud as the sum total of the noise from the Bob Nash era. The line for Dippin' Dots was over 50 people deep at half time. (Normally, I'm not a big Dippin' Dots guy. If Dippin' Dots really is the ice cream of the future I shudder to think about the dystopian hell hole we've let the world become. That said, when your two year-old daughter likes Dippin' Dots, you like Dippin' Dots. Luckily, I used my highly tuned Daddy-jedi skills to convince her Dora the Explorer prefers Hagen-Daaz to the Dots. If the line for ice cream bars is long at the next game I might be screwed.)

But it's not enough. It's not the 10,000+ sell out crowds that packed the Stan for AC and Alika. It's not the level of excitement deserved by the most exciting UH team in recent history, and maybe ever.

Make no mistake, much like MTV did with Jersey Shore, Gib Arnold is creating a phenomenon. So this Tuesday, when the Rainbows take the floor for what could be the last time this season, cancel all your plans and get down to the Stan Sheriff Center to watch, nay, experience Gib Arnold and the new UH hoops phenomenon. Because, unlike Jersey Shore, you can't watch old episodes on Hulu.

I am unable to hate Aaron Rodgers (and I hate that)

noreply@blogger.com (The Dole) — Wed, 09 Feb 2011 09:02:00 +0000

I had a hangover on Monday, physically and mentally. Strangely, neither stemmed from frustration about the Green Bay Packers Super Bowl victory.

The physical hangover resulted from an ill-conceived science experiment. A couple friends brought over a soda making kit - a gas injection device that carbonates anything - and we collectively decided that 9 p.m. was the best time to test a recipe for sparkling long island iced-teas, in the interest science, of course. Because you know what a 12 ounce cup of gin, vodka, tequila, and rum needs? Increased drinkability. The plan was either a rousing success or an epic failure depending on whether you asked us last Sunday night or Monday morning.

The mental hangover was harder to wrap my hands around.

A Packers Super Bowl victory is as close as you can come to a sports apocalypse for me. I hate Green Bay. I hate everything about them. I hate the Lambeau Leap. I hate the green and yellow uniforms. I'd hate the stupid cheese hats even more if they didn't help me so easily identify people with whom I will never be friends. Green Bay practically ruined my entire football watching childhood and, consequently, I enjoy watching the Packers lose almost as much as I enjoy watching the Bears win. (Hey, when you're a Chicago sports fan, sometimes schadenfreude is all you got.)

Yet, in the aftermath of the Packers victory and Aaron Roders coronation as Super Bowl MVP and the-next-great-quarterback I felt strangely ambivalent. I even tried to cry, but it turns out poking yourself in the palm with a dinner fork doesn't bring up tears, just searing pain in your hand. Try as I might, I could not get the faintest bit upset over what should have been one of the more vomit inducing championship celebrations of my life.

Because, frankly, I respect this team.

I feel like Vince Vaughn at the end of Anchorman, "I hate you Green Bay Packers. I hate you. But [gosh darn it], do I respect you."

I respect Aaron Rodgers. I respect Charles Woodsen. I respect the way BJ Raji is a dead ringer for the lady who played Precious. I respect Green Bay's cadre of wide receivers. I respect the way they can dominate on offense without any semblance of a running game. I respect the 2010 Green Bay Packers.

I never respected Brett Favre during his heyday. Not ever. Not even a little. I grew a grudging respect for him - a quasi-Stockholm syndrome - at the tail end of his career, but only after he started handing out interceptions to Bears defensive backs like glazed doughnuts at a Krispy Kreme. But during his prime? Pure, unadulterated hatred.

Brett Favre was the embodiment of pure evil. I hated the way announcers euphemized his interceptions as "gunslinging". I even hated the way he pronounces his name. THE R COMES AFTER THE V, BRETT. YOUR NAME IS FAHV-REH. WHY DOESN'T ANYONE ELSE REALIZE THIS? I FEEL LIKE I'M TAKING CRAZY PILLS.

Aaron Rodgers is different. He has played so well and displayed such dignity, grace, and leadership in the process, that I'm forced to admit not only a completely un-begrudged respect, but also a bit of admiration. Aaron Rodgers is everything you want in an NFL quarterback and, even though I tried as I hard as I could to get upset, I was happy to see him revel in the much deserved post-Super Bowl celebration.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to whip up an extra large batch of sparkling long island iced teas and throw my laptop through a window.

The Annual Super Bowl Prognostication Extravaganza 2011

noreply@blogger.com (The Dole) — Sat, 05 Feb 2011 04:04:00 +0000

I am the World's foremost authority on Yo Gabba Gabba. Over the past two and a half years, I've spent more time with Muno, Foofa, Brobee, Toodee, Plex, and DJ Lance than anyone outside of my daughter and the Editor-in-Chief. If the fate of the free world hinges on an extensive knowledge of brightly colored furries teaching kids life lessons through indie music, President Obama is calling me.

In the grand scheme of children's television programming, Yo Gabba Gabba is quite tolerable (which I suppose is like saying in the grand scheme of Taco Bell food, Mexican Pizza is the least likely to cause diarrhea). Still, there's only so many times you can hear the catchy and informative song "Don't Bite Your Friends" before it starts to have the reverse effect. At a certain point - somewhere around the 4,700 hours mark - you start dreaming up inventive ways to postpone the slow creep of insanity resulting from the almost unbearable repetition of chirpy educational fluff.

My favorite tactic is to create alternate story lines and ponder the background and relationships of the characters. Yo Gabba Gabba supposedly chronicles the educational interactions between DJ Lance Rock and his collection of magical toys. But, when I watch, I see a much more intricate and mature and storyline.

Muno, the giant one-eyed bumpy orange phallus, is coming to grips with his homosexuality; Foofa, the pink "flower" creature, never received proper attention from her parents and desperately seeks affirmation, which drives her blatant promiscuity. Toodee, the blue female arctic cat-dragon, is tormented by her unrequited love of Foofa. Brobee, the green striped square with arms, suffers from learning disabilities and anger management issues, a sad result of his parents drug abuse. And Plex, the magic androgynous robot, struggles with the paradox of assisting the development of his friends while lacking the capability to feel. These complex emotional and psychological undercurrents provide sufficient depth to help me stave off the desire to set myself on fire during the 379th rendition of the song "I Like Bugs".

This Sunday, I'm going to have to use similar tactics to help keep me from banging my head against the wall during five hours of Packers and Steelers bacchanalia.

There are few teams or players in sports that I actually hate, but the Packers are one of them. While Chicago trotted out a different hide-the-women-and-children embarrassment to the very idea of quarterback play every year, the Packers had Brett Favre. From 1992 to the present, Rex Grossman led Bears Quarterbacks with 20 wins. During that same period, Brett Favre had 22 wins against the Bears. Now that Favre is no long around to torture Bears fans, the Packers new quarterback, Aaron Rodgers, might be even better. Shoot. Me. Now.

While I lack a similar personal connection to fuel my distaste for the Steelers, it's hard to root for a team that has won six Super Bowls and is poised to win their third in that past six years. Compound that with a quarterback who should probably be in prison for sexual assault charges - and yet, strangely, is more beloved and accepted than a guy who got pulled out of an NFC title game with a knee injury. Stallworth drove drunk and killed a pedestrian, Roethelesburger sexually assaulted a girl, Michael Vick viciously slaughtered dogs, but we hate Jay Cutler. Go figure. - and you see why I have trouble getting excited for Steeler Nation.

Worse of all, the game will end with either the coronation of Aaron Rodgers as the best quarterback alive (which would likely result with me vomiting in my hands), or fuel the patently absurd notion that Ben Roethlesburger is the greatest quarterback of all time (In his seven year career he's had a Top 3 defense five times, the #1 defense three times and led a Top 10 offense only twice - #9 both times. People who suggest Big Ben is better than Peyton Manning deserve an elbow to the crotch).

I can't remember a year when I've been less invested in a Super Bowl, which is strange considering it should be a great game. The Packers and Steelers are two of the NFL's oldest and most storied franchises. They both have incredible defenses and explosive offenses. By all accounts they are evenly matched and Sunday's game should be one of the most competitive ever. But, no matter what I try, I can't get excited for this Super Bowl.

I've spent the entire week trying to think of alternate story lines, unrelated to the game, to help stomach a 300 minute tug job of the franchise that ruined my formative football years and the team that wins championships like I make Rex Grossman jokes. Maybe I'll just go watch Yo Gabba Gabba with Haley. At least the music won't be as bad as the Black Eyed Peas at halftime.

In 2006, it was The Ex-Girlfriends Bowl.
In 2007, it was The "It's about more then just the Quarterback" Bowl.
In 2008, it was The Destiny Bowl.
In 2009, it was The "And Pornography Will Save Us All" Bowl.
In 2010, it was The "It's actually just about the Quarterback" Bowl.

This year, I'm proud to present the One Too Many Injuries Bowl.

I can't seem to wrap my head around the idea of the Pittsburgh Steelers as underdogs in the Super Bowl. They've won more Lombardi Trophies than any team in history, two titles in the past six years, and always seem to come up big when it matters most (Roethlesburger to Santonio Holmes anyone?). But there's only so many injuries a team can sustain at key positions before you have to start wondering how they can patch the holes.

With Maurkice Pouncey officially out of Sunday's contest, the Steelers offensive line is playing without their starting center and both starting tackles. Ben Roethlesburger thrives at evading pressure in the pocket, extending the play, and making plays down field, but can a patch work offensive line reasonably contain a defense with BJ Raji, Clay Matthews, and Darren Woodsen that likes to disguise blitzes and bring pressure from all angles? How much smoke and how many mirrors do the Steelers have left? The battle at the line of scrimmage - on both sides of the ball - will define this contest, and I don't know if Pittsburgh has the man power to hold Green Bay at, well, bay.

When Pittsburgh has the ball, watch the middle of the line to see whether back up lineman Doug Legursky, making his first career start at center, can hold the point of attack against Green Bay's rotund nose tackle, Gabourey Sidibe look-alike BJ Raji. Between Roethlesburger's ability to escape pressure and Rashard Mendenhall's tough running, the Steelers are almost uniquely capable of overcoming offensive line deficiencies, but the line needs to, at least, give the playmakers a chance to get down field. Also, the Packers main weakness on defense is slowing down the tight end. Look for Pittsburgh TE Heath Miller to have a big day gashing Pittsburgh up the seam (For the gambling addicts out there, Miller has 25 to 1 odds to win Super Bowl MVP. I'm just saying.).

When Green Bay is on offense, keep a close eye on how close Pittsburgh lines up their defensive backs. Typically, they play one in tight press coverage and the other about 10 yards off the line of scrimmage. If Pittsburgh sticks with this alignment, Green Bay will rely heavily on quick slant patters - their bread and butter - and, as we saw on the Packers opening drive against the Bears in the NFC Title Game, are capable of getting down the field in a hurry. (For the gambling addicts out there, slant route runner extraordinaire also has 25 to 1 odds to win Super Bowl MVP. I'm just saying.) The battle between the Packers offense and Pittsburgh defense to make the other get out of their standard alignment could swing the outcome of the game.

At the end of the day, the Packers ability to spread out the Steelers defense on fast Dallas turf and apply pressure to an embattled Pittsburgh offensive line should result in a convincing, if not overwhelming Packers victory, except... Green Bay has this nagging tendency to let teams hang around and the Steelers thrive in ripping the heart out of opposing teams in close games and no one is better than Ben Roethlesburger at converting big third downs and leading game winning drives. If the Packers don't step on the Steelers' throat and keep them in the ball game, look for the Men of Steel to win their unprecedented seventh Lombardi Trophy.

But.... I don't think it will be close at end. I think the Packers jump out to a fast start and never look back. 31-21 Packers. Let the Aaron Rodgers coronation begin. I will now curl up in the fetal position, donning my Jay Cutler jersey.

Wooden Sharks and Lombardi Trophies

noreply@blogger.com (The Dole) — Wed, 26 Jan 2011 06:41:00 +0000

In 2001 my family and I traveled to Micronesia for a scuba diving vacation. To get from Hawaii to Micronesia you need to fly to Guam then take a short flight from Guam to your desired island. Pretty simple, except there are two vastly different ways to travel from Hawaii to Guam: a 7-hour direct flight to Guam International Airport or a 14-hour island hopping sojourn that stops at every borderline significant atoll large enough to warrant a 7-11 between Hawaii and the land of the brown tree snakes. (You can probably guess which flight we took.)

In our defense, we chose the island-hopper in large part because of my older brother's hyperbolic description of the Continental Airlines flying experience following his recent trip to New York:

Each seat has it's own TV with on demand movies and video games!!!

The lunch service makes Wolfgang Puck look like a hobo!!!

The flight attendants give out free pillows... and hand jobs!!!

The middle seats on the plane fold down, turning the cabin into a giant dance club with free champagne and a complimentary Puff Daddy performance!!!

None of us were huge Puff Daddy fans and free pillows are standard fare on airlines, but the allure of great food and non-stop on-demand movies and video games combined with the intrigue of stopping at various islands outweighed the additional seven hours of travel time and numerous take-offs and landings. Unfortunately, we were not aware that the island hopper used a smaller plane, which does not have individual TVs on each seat, and the constant take off and landings eliminate the need for substantive food service. Instead of a high-class non-stop dance party in the sky, we had 14 hours of Lifetime made for TV movies, cardboard flavored sandwiches befitting a vending machine, and small bags of Frito-Lays potato chips dating back to the mid-70s whose packages were mostly likely colored with lead-based paint. If the trip didn't kill us, the liver damage and kidney failure would. Awesome.

On the bright side, stopping at the individual islands provided an interesting glimpse into local culture and a great sense of the size and topography of the islands in the Western Pacific. I suppose that's like saying that the bright side to catching the flu is that you get to stay home and watch "The Price is Right" reruns in between bouts of vomiting and diarrhea; but after 14-hours on an airplane with only a few bits of cardboard, freeze dried turkey, potato chips and lead-based paint in your stomach, you start clinging to any ray of hope to delay cannibalism and outright anarchy.

After 12 hours of the Micronesian death march, when all hope seemed lost and we started openly debating the merits of eating my little brother, one stop made the entire trip worthwhile: Kosrae.

Kosrae is the final stop before Guam, a tiny, borderline insignificant island that wouldn't make anyone's list of Top 500 places to visit before you die. Tourists traveling to Micronesia go to Chuuk or Yap. No one visits Kosrae. There is nothing notable or interesting about the island except for one exceedingly cool local craft available for purchase in the airport: hand-carved wooden sharks. They range from one to three feet long, have exceptional detail, and real shark teeth, expertly affixed in the life-like jaw. They are the single coolest hand crafted item I have ever encountered in my travels and would look amazing sitting majestically atop my coffee table, boldly announcing to any that enter your home that you are a man who doesn't take any guff. You are an apex predator, a cold, icy killer with testicles anywhere from 25 to 200 percent larger than the average non-shark possessing male. Even better, the sharks weren't that expensive. They ranged in price from $20 for the smaller ones to $40 for the larger, more intricate carvings.

So, of course, we didn't buy one. We talked ourselves out of the purchase using contrived logic.

We don't want to carry it around in our luggage the entire trip

Only stupid tourists buy things in an airport

Clearly, they'll be available on the other islands

So, instead of plopping down $40 for a three foot long, gorgeous, hand-detailed Hammerhead shark, I kept my wallet in my pocket and got back on the plane. Worst. Decision. Ever. As we later learned, the wooden carvings are Kosrae's signature item and only available for purchase on the island.

I walked away from, hands-down, the most awesome, staggeringly bad-ass souvenir of my life because I didn't want to potentially regret spending an extra Hamilton. That is the reason why, ten years later, my coffee table lays bare instead of adorned by a fearsome virile totem to my masculinity. It is also why I am still so upset over the Chicago Bears losing the NFC Conference Championship game to the Packers this past Sunday.

Don't get me wrong. The Packers were a better, more talented football team and deserved to win the game. The Bears skirted through the season on luck, pluck, and verve, avoiding significant injury and seemingly catching every opponent at the best possible time. They played Detroit without their starting quarterback. Twice. They beat Green Bay by a field goal after the Packers committed 18,000 penalties. They beat a Dolphins team starting their third string quarterback, one so bad he was cut the previous year by Kansas City. They played Minnesota without Brett Favre. They clinched a first round bye after Green Bay lost to Detroit and Philadelphia lost to a Minnesota team led by Joe Webb (whose name I had to Google). In the first round of the playoffs, they got to play a 7-9, hide-the-women-and-children dumpster fire Seahawks team after Seattle miraculously upset the heavily favored Saints and Green Bay beat Philadelphia on the road. They caught every break all season long and their luck finally ran out at the worst possible time.

At the beginning of the season, I thought the Bears would be lucky to finish 7-9. They had no offensive line, no wide receivers, a secondary with more holes than a Michael Bay script, and a quarterback with a specialized ability to target perfectly thrown passes to the other team. After their miraculous 4-1 start, my Dad and I agreed that we would consider getting to the playoffs a wildly successful season. After they improbably clinched the division and an 11-5 record, we concurred that a single playoff victory would make the entire season worthwhile. We had no delusions of grandeur with this team. But, that's not how I feel today.

An NFL team only gets a few chances to win a Super Bowl. Just ask Peyton Manning, who's been to the playoffs eleven times and only has one Super Bowl to show for it. Or ask Tom Brady, who won three Super Bowls in first five seasons, but fell short the following six years. In fact, neither Manning's nor Brady's best team ('05 Colts, '07 Patriots) won the Lombardi Trophy.

Football is a bizarre game of chance and circumstance. A contest played by twenty-somethings with a ball that doesn't bounce straight. Crazy things happen and the best team doesn't always win. When you have a chance to win it all you need to capitalize and, despite their numerous flaws, the Bears had a fantastic opportunity to win the Super Bowl this year. They won in an unorthodox fashion - incredible special teams, opportunistic defense, and an offense that did just enough to keep Bears fans from vomiting in their mouths - but with a rock solid defense, a coaching staff that boasted four members with previous NFL head coaching experience, and only two games between them and immortality, the time was now.

Yes, Jay Cutler got injured. Yes, the defense gave up early momentum to the Packers. Yes, Todd Collins played so poorly as Cutler's replacement that they pulled him with 37 seconds remaining in the third quarter, even though it meant that if emergency back-up Caleb Hanie left the game the Bears would have to start Devin Hester at quarterback. Yes, the Bears probably didn't even deserve to be in the game in the first place. The fact remains, the Bears squandered a golden opportunity to win a Super Bowl and who knows when they'll have another chance to win it all. Dan Marino led the Dolphins to the Super Bowl his rookie year and, through the course of his Hall-of-Fame career, never made it back.

It doesn't matter whether you're the best team or the most deserving. It doesn't matter whether the breaks go your way. It doesn't matter whether you should be happy just to get as far you do. It doesn't matter whether some of your starting offensive linemen couldn't crack the starting line up for the local high school teams. It doesn't matter whether your back-up quarterback is appropriately named after an alcoholic beverage since he drives you to drink. At the end of the day, when you find yourself in the Kosrae Airport of football games, you better damn well buy the shark. Otherwise, a decade later, you could be left with an empty coffee table and an ocean of regret.

I'm pretty sure this Bears team will retool the offensive line, add some weapons to the receiving core, and return better than ever, primed for a Super Bowl run. But, I was pretty sure I could get a hand-carved wooden shark in Chuuk and my coffee table is still noticeably bare.

Why the NFL changed forever last weekend

noreply@blogger.com (The Dole) — Thu, 20 Jan 2011 05:20:00 +0000

My generation is different. Way different. Not march-to-the-beat-of-our-own-drum different, but march-to-the-beat-of-some-new-cool-instrument-you've-probably-never-heard-of-before-that-we-invented-so-we-didn't-have-to-be-pigeonholed-into-marching-to-a-drum different.

For instance, I met some high school friends at the beach the other day and discussed what everyone is doing with their respective lives. One is working a standard 9 to 5 job. Of the other four, one is starting a local organic baby food company, one launched an online alcohol venture, one created their own line of handbags, and the other started making and selling handmade stationary. As I said, different.

We Millennials - the stupidest name ever, only marginally preferably to the original moniker, Generation Y, though I suppose it's telling and a positive sign that our collective independence warranted a name other than "The Generation after Generation X" - are incredibly skeptical, independent, impatient, romantic and determined, a result of constant bombardment from advertisements and growing up with the Internet, which provided us an unprecedented amount of information and made it possible to do anything from anywhere at any time. We question everything. We refuse to do something solely because "that's how it's always been done". We require sufficient motivation and rationale to accomplish a task but, once provided justification - no matter how small - we're doggedly determined and fiercely loyal to our convictions. We are a bizarre hotbed of emotional angst and entrepreneurial inspiration. As I said, different.

Until now, society could ignore our quirks and hope that we would normalize once we began graduating from college and entering the "real world". But, that never happened. We never lost our sense of myopic independence. We kept doing things our own way and the impact of this notion is appearing all over society, including sports. In fact, this weekend's NFL Divisional Playoff games were a microcosm for our generations quirks and a changing of the guard that ceded control of the NFL to our generation. We planted our flag in the league and we're not giving it up any time soon.

The past decade was ruled by stoic, calculated, brilliant tacticians. Tom Coughlin. Tony Dungy. Andy Reid. Bill Belichick. They dominated by implementing systems that forced individuals to submit their personalities to that of the team and won with execution, not emotion. They never boasted about their success. They were too busy winning.

But now, everything has changed.

Dungy is retired. Coughlin didn't make the playoffs. Reid lost in the Wild Card round. Even Belichick, almost unquestionably the NFL's best game day tactician, is 0-3 in the his last three playoff games, each of which involved heavily favored Tom Brady led teams. Meanwhile, Rex Ryan is 3-1 in the playoffs the past two years, each game played as a road underdog; Mike Tomlin is 4-0 in the playoffs with a Super Bowl win in 2009; Lovie Smith has a Bears team many called the worst in the NFC North at the beginning of the season a win away from the Super Bowl; and Pete Carroll somehow pulled off one of the most stunning playoff upsets in recent memory with an utterly crapulous Seahawks team playing without a single Pro Bowl player.

What secret do these four coaches share that differentiate them from the previous generation of coaches? They value the love of their players as much as their respect.

Belicheck's players respect him, but Ryan's players love him. They'd crawl a mile through a sewer pipe, like Andy Dufresne breaking out of Shashank, for him. Lovie Smith couldn't coach his way out of a three sided paper bag, but his players would bear his children. Today's young people are more emotionally fragile and independent than the previous generation. They don't just follow orders. They need to be invested in the cause. Giants cornerback Antrel Rolle says he wishes Giants head coach Tom Coughlin was more like Rex Ryan. A modern NFL head coach needs to connect to his players emotionally as much as professionally.

This skill doesn't manifest as much during the 16-game NFL regular season where grueling schedules negate the effects of emotion. Similarly, long playoff series of the NBA and Major League Baseball generally lead to a triumph of talent and strategy over emotional solidarity. But, in one game - winner take all - the ability of a team to rally around a common goal and impose their will on their opponent is vastly magnified and a coach who can successfully wield this emotional hammer has a powerful weapon at his disposal.

After their stunning upset of the Patriots, Jets linebacker Bart Scott gave one of the best post-game interviews in sports history. He channeled his inner pro wrestler and launched into a minute long vitriolic tirade about the Jets frustration with the pre-game praise lauded on to the Patriots wherein he rips the New England defense to shreds saying, "they couldn't stop a nosebleed". If that sounds familiar, it's because it's the exact same thing Jets Head Coach Rex Ryan said about the Jets defense after their week 16 loss to the Bears. Only three weeks later, minutes after an intensely emotional victory, the Jets defensive emotional leader angrily parroted the words of his head coach.

Rex Ryan didn't just provide his team an excellent game plan, he provided them the inspiration they needed to execute it. When Rex wages war in the media, he does not do it to intimidate the opponent. He does it to incite his own team and deflect any pre-game criticism onto himself, instead of his players. That, my friends, is the brilliance of Rex Ryan and exactly what makes him a successful football coach in the modern NFL.

Our generation is a weird bunch, prone to insufferable bouts of narcissism and intense individuality and we'd be the first to admit it. But, it's time to start getting used to it.

Expect more of us wanting to work from home. Expect more of us starting our own businesses. Expect more melodramatic television shows starting vapid, emotionally challenged protagonists. Expect more tattoos, more weird hair-dos, and more jeggings, lots and lots of jeggings. Also, expect more NFL teams succeeding on emotion instead of execution.

That's just how we roll. As I said, different.

What a trip to McDonald's can teach you about Bears football

noreply@blogger.com (The Dole) — Wed, 12 Jan 2011 04:54:00 +0000

I took my two year-old daughter, Haley, to McDonald's this weekend. Not because I wanted to go or because I somehow enjoy feeding my daughter deep friend assemblages of hoof, beak, cartilage, and cardboard, but because she learned that a magical establishment exists that rewards her with a toy for eating delicious finger "food", dipped in brightly colored high fructose corn syrup that she can request by name. "Daddy, can we go to McDonald's, pleeeeeeeeeeeease?". As a parent, I am extremely invested in the healthy development of my child and take immense pride in her burgeoning language skills. But, let me tell you, nothing takes your parental pride down a notch quite like the realization that you've taught your child how to ask for McDonald's. (Example #3,487,247 that parenting is impossibly difficult.)

Yet, as much as I disapprove of providing my daughter access to consumable items - I refuse to call it food - that cause childhood obesity and ass cancer (Yes, I know it's called colon cancer. I just think ass cancer better encapsulates how much it sucks.), I do not want to unnecessarily elevate the status of junk food by turning it into some sort of forbidden fruit. A quarterly fast food foray is better than a twelve year-old with sexual fantasies about clowns, french fries, and chicken nuggets.

Generally, during our trips to the Golden Arches, I only buy food for Haley, but it had been three years since my last tryst with Ronald McDonald so I ordered a six-piece chicken nugget Happy Meal instead of the usual four piece meal, two extra shame nuggets for Dad.

Holy wave of nostalgia, Batman.

The nuggets tasted exactly like I remembered from my high school days, when I had the metabolism of a horny bull moose - for the record, that's approximately 47% greater than a regular bull moose - and could polish off a twenty-piece nuggets, large fries and a chocolate shake in a single sitting. A lightly crisped, toasty crust, surrounding a homogeneous, succulent, vaguely chicken-flavored chewy interior. A simple, guilty pleasure that satisfies both your hunger and inner child, provided you don't think about what actually constitutes a "McNugget".

As I watched Haley smile, play with her soon-to-be-forgotten fuzzy bear toy, and snack on french fries and nugs, I developed a grudging respect for the stalwart consistency of McDonald's. Haley doesn't know the food is bad for her. She just knows that it tastes good, she can eat it with her fingers, and she gets a cool toy. McDonald's may not be the apex of culinary arts, but they serve cheap, satisfying, reliable food, an experience that has not changed in any significant way in the past 50 years. You can malign the quality of the goods, but not the effectiveness of the product, much like the Chicago Bears.

The Chicago Bears are the McDonald's of the NFL: Never pretty and tough to swallow, but undeniably effective and staggeringly consistent. For the past 91 years, the Bears have won with a combination of defense, toughness, special teams, and rugged masculinity (I'm looking at you, Jim McMahon) that is effective, but both gut-wrenching and difficult to watch. Even the '85 Bears, the paragon of Chicago football and perhaps the greatest team of all-time, wouldn't crack any one's list of Top 25 most beautiful or exciting NFL teams.

Beauty is Montana to Rice. Beauty is Manning to Harrison. Beauty is Tom Brady to whoever-the-scrappy-white-guy-is-who-happens-to-be-catching-the-ball-today. Beauty is not running the ball 40 times a game, generating 5 turnovers, and winning 13-3. But, that's how they do it in Chicago. They win ugly.

This creates a problem of perspective, because winning ugly doesn't score you any bonus points with fans. When people think of great teams they reminisce about crisp passing offenses, flashy running plays, and high-flying wide receivers. They don't take into account the fact that a team with Devin Hester running back kicks will consistently start drives at their own 40 instead of their own 20 (or sometimes they won't even have to start drives at all when he runs the ball back for a touchdown). They don't factor in the ability of Charles Tillman to routinely punch the ball out of opposing wide receivers hands when he tackles them. But, whether we like to admit it or not, winning ugly is still winning.

Take, for example, Peyton Manning. Manning is the Whole Foods of the NFL, his offensive arsenal a buffet of delicious and nutritious local and organic options. Yet, despite his offensive wizardry, he has a 9-10 lifetime record in the post season and more home playoff losses (4) than any quarterback in NFL History. I love Peyton Manning and think he's more the victim of sub par coaching and defense than poor play, but fans and media consistently overrate Manning-led teams due to their aesthetically pleasing style of play. But, beautiful football can't compensate for sub par defense any more than offering organically grown, sustainably harvested broccoli can compensate for charging 17.95 for a floret.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not advocating for Bears football any more than I'd advocate for McDonald's. I'd far rather cheer for a team that put on a glorious, dominant display of offensive football than a team that squeaks out ridiculous, cover-your-eyes, hide-the-women-and-children wins with punt returns, tipped balls, and fumble recoveries. But I respect both for what they do and think neither gets the credit they deserve for consistently excelling because they do so in unorthodox fashion. It's time we gave the Bears and McDonald's their proper due, even if they do end in painful trips to the bathroom.

Hamburgers, handjobs and the BCS

noreply@blogger.com (The Dole) — Fri, 17 Dec 2010 07:58:00 +0000

Welcome back to barguments, a series of short posts designed to help you sound like a genius while discussing sports around the water cooler or win an argument at a bar, a bar argument, or bargument, if you will.

Don't get me wrong. You don't need the help. The mere fact that you're reading the JBorhood suggests you possess a mighty intellect and staggering good looks, however, I'm going to kick it up a notch (the intellect, not the looks; not that you need any help, you sexy beast). That way, you can devote more of your free time to your true pleasures, like go-cart racing, monkey jousting, and iambic pentameter poetry writing.

Today's bargument is about hand jobs, hamburgers, and swift kicks in the nuts.

A hamburger is better than a swift kick in the nuts. Not exactly groundbreaking news.

A hand job is better than a hamburger in almost all cases. However, if made correctly, a burger can approach, though not exceed, a poorly executed digital pleasuring.

By the transitive property, a hand job is better than a swift kick in the nuts, not that it was up for debate.

The relative merits of the items in question shouldn't raise too many eyebrows, however, they're important for establishing our baseline.

Hand Job > Hamburger > Swift Kick in the Nuts

You'd think this was straight forward, but that's because you're a devastatingly beautiful, astute reader of the JBorhood and not a BCS apologist.

One of the most common arguments levied in favor of the BCS is, "It's better than the old system!" Yes, that's true. Any system that matches the two (arguably) best teams in the country is better than one that does not. Nearly everyone agrees that Oregon and Auburn are the best two teams in the country, in some order, and are excited to watch them play for the National Title on January 10th. But then, nearly everyone agrees that a hamburger is better than a swift kick in the nuts.

That doesn't make a hamburger better than a hand job.

A playoff system (4 team; 8 team; 128 team; whatever) is better than the current BCS system. There is no single convincing argument supporting a bizarre, black-box ranking system that concludes that the #10 team in the Country is better than the #11 team because Appalachian State beat Western Illinois unconvincingly -- No, really -- over a playoff, the method employed by every single other sport on the planet. None. So people need to stop trumpeting the mind-numbingly trite fact that a BCS system is better than the original Bowl system as evidence against the need for a playoff.

Yes, the BCS is better than the nothing, but that doesn't make it better than a playoff (or a hand job, for that matter).

So, the next time a smug, ironic college football hipster tries to pass off the superiority of the BCS over the Bowl system as a pseudo-intellectual argument against a playoff, ask them how they feel about hamburgers and hand jobs. Better yet, just give them a swift kick in the nuts.

What safe sex can teach us about the NFL

noreply@blogger.com (The Dole) — Fri, 17 Dec 2010 07:40:00 +0000

I'm going to start a new running feature on the JBorhood called Barguments. It will consist of a series of short posts, each highlighting a snippet of information designed to help you sound like a genius while discussing sports around the water cooler or win an argument at a bar, a bar argument, or bargument, if you will.

Don't get me wrong. You don't need the help. The mere fact that you're reading the JBorhood suggests you possess a mighty intellect and staggering good looks, however, I'm going to kick it up a notch (the intellect, not the looks; not that you need any help, you sexy beast). That way, you can devote more of your free time to your true pleasures, like go-cart racing, monkey jousting, and dispensing spirit tasting information while drinking vodka in the shower.

You can thank me later.

Today's topic: Does running the football more increase a team's likelyhood of winning?

The short answer? No.

The mere act of handing the ball to the running back again and again does nothing to help a team's chance of winning. In fact, the frequency of almost any event, except for scoring and turning over the ball, has virtually no effect on the probability of winning or losing. The effectiveness of each action, not the action itself, is the determinant of success in football.

The New England Patriots are streamrolling the entire NFL with an offense that views running the football the way I view getting a colonoscopy. Meanwhile, the Kansas City Chiefs are improbably leading the AFC West with an offense that passes the ball for the sole purpose of giving their running backs a breather. These offenses succeed through superior execution, not a devotion to a specific type of play.

This should be clear. But it's not.

Week after week, football commentators regurgitate the same misguided idea that struggling teams need to run the football more because, on average, winning teams average more rushing attempts than losing teams. And that's a legitimate truth. This year's top four teams in rushing attempts -- Kansas City, New York Jets, Jacksonville, and Atlanta -- are a combined 37-15. The bottom four -- Denver, Seattle, Washington and Arizona -- are a combined 18-34. And it's the same story every year. Winning teams rush the football more than losing teams. So it's understandable why people jump to the conclusion that teams should rush the ball more often if they want to win.

But this brings us to the idea of correlation vs. causation. Correlation is a relationship between two variables. When one changes, we see a corresponding change in the other. Causation goes a step further. It says that one of the variables is responsible for the change in the other.

For example, when I was in college, a strong correlation existed between my prophylactic use and the frequency with which I got laid. Clearly, my Trojan application was a direct result of getting lucky. When I got laid, I used protection. When I didn't, I wasn't strutting around my dorm room ready for action (as far as you know, anyway). But, if I'd been friends with an NFL announcer in college, they would have no doubt suggested that I start each day by putting on a Durex Pleasuremax (for the record, I had to Google that) before my boxers, since every day I used a condom I ended up with a lady in bed.

Now, think of NFL Teams winning as getting laid and running the football as the application of a prophylactic. Teams don't win the game because they wear protection, err... run the football. They run the football because they win games.

When a team is winning, it wants to take care of the football and run out the clock. The safest way to do that is to run the football. Running reduces the chance of turnovers and keeps the clock moving on every play. The more a team is ahead, the more they'll run. It's that simple.

Granted, there are certainly situations where teams need to run the ball more. Mike Martz tried to turn this year's Chicago Bears into the 1999 St. Louis Rams before realizing they had the offensive line of the 1999 St. Louis Crusaders (In fairness to the Crusaders, they had a better O-line). When he eventually called more running plays, it gave the offense more balance, slowed down the pass rush of the defense and gave Jay Cutler (some) time to throw the football.

But that's the exception, not the rule.

The next time someone tells you that their favorite team needs to run the ball more to win, tell them about correlation, tell them about causation, and tell them about how using more condoms won't help them get laid. On second though, maybe you should just stick to the statistics.

It Has Begun

noreply@blogger.com (The Dole) — Wed, 17 Nov 2010 07:41:00 +0000

Embarrassing disclosure time: Last night was only the third UH Men's Basketball game I've attended since 2008. The unfortunate confluence of fatherhood and the borderline unwatchable Bob Nash era teams caused UH hoops to fall off my radar. I still paid attention - looked at box scores, tuned into K5 from time to time, openly wondered why Rod Flemings drove to the basket with the enthusiasm of a colonoscopy patient - but I never fully embraced the team after Riley Wallace left, or, more accurately, since Julian Senseley graduated.

But, new UH Men's basketball coach Gib Arnold has me excited. Very excited. Exact-opposite-of-Rod-Flemings-on-game-day excited. Seemingly every day, The Star-Advertiser or Warrior Insider (the must-read UH men's basketball blog) run a story about another incredibly tall, athletically gifted, would-never-possibly-consider-playing-basketball-in-Hawaii player committing to the Rainbow Warriors. Riley Wallace was allergic to athletically talented freshman. Gib Arnold attracts more college freshman than dollar night at Pipeline Cafe. So, when I heard that the undefeated Rainbows were playing a nationally televised game as part of ESPN's College Hoops Tip-Off Marathon at 11pm, I was in like Flynn. (Random note: I love outdated colloquialisms that endure past the point of relevancy. I have no idea who Flynn is or why he always seems to be in, but dammit, it sounds awesome.)

Undefeated Rainbow basketball team?

Talented group of exciting freshman playing up-tempo basketball?

11 pm start time (i.e. a loud, drunk, rowdy student-heavy crowd capable of influencing the outcome or, as other colleges like to call it, a normal college basketball atmosphere)?

32 ounce beers and garlic fries?

Check, check, check, and, surprisingly, check.

That's right. The University finally listened to the JBorhood. After I famously called out the school for the glaring lack of malted, hoppy liquid refreshment and garlic laced fried carbohydrates at the 11pm ESPN game in 2008 (Since we all agree that my fame is assured, I safely assume that everything I write is famous), someone in the UH athletic department got the memo and opened the requisite concession stands for last night's game. Judging from the intensity of the crowd, the gesture did not go unappreciated. And make no mistake about it, that crowd was intense.

The crowd was loud, positive, and had a big impact on the game.

Every time the game got close, every time the Rainbows needed a defensive stop, every time the opponents took a big free throw, the crowd took the noise to another level. 3,000 sounded like 30,000. You could see the impact on the faces of the UH players. When they made a big play, and they made a lot of big plays -- this team gets up and down the court in a hurry and probably threw more alley-oops last night than the sum total thrown in the Bob Nash era -- they'd look to the crowd for a reaction, throw their arms up, and encourage the crowd to kick it up a notch. It was the perfect symbiotic relationship: Fans begging their team for a reason to scream and a team only too happy to oblige. It was the most fun I've had at a UH Basketball game since AC Carter was throwing no-look outlet passes to Alika Smith.

But, ultimately, this game was not about the crowd, it was about the team. This team can flat out play. Gib Arnold deserves our respect, congratulations, and support for the job he did overhauling the roster and culture of the Hawaii basketball program. This is not your father's UH team. This team is athletic, deep, and young. Really young. UH trots out a cavalcade of freshman that deserve minutes at the Division I level and I can't remember the last time I could say that about any incoming first year player.

Bo Barnes and Zane Johnson can shoot the lights out. They don't dim the lights, these kids are CFL. When they get open looks... Lights. Go. Off. The Stan Sheriff Center is going to have to start buying bulbs from Costco.

I don't know what to say about Jostin Thomas. He renders me speechless. If he manages to harness his freakish athleticism, soft shooting touch, interior strength, and incredible ferocity, he will go down as the best basketball player in UH history. He is unlike anyone I can remember. Guys that fast, strong, talented and young don't come to UH. Ever. He takes too many bad shots, turns the ball over too frequently, and does not consistently dominate the boards the way you'd like a player with his size and leaping ability to do, but he has staggering natural talent, coupled with incredible drive and attitude -- something noticeably absent in recent supposed "stars" (Sensely, Flemings, et al). He is Neo. If he figures it out, he will be the one.

This team still has a lot of work to do. They need to take better care of the ball. They need to remain focused. They need to keep the foot on the accelerator. They need to be more disciplined in their defensive rotations. But, unlike any team in recent memory, this team has the time to make those adjustments. Barring injury, transfer, or ineligibility, these kids have four years to learn, grow, and improve. That's downright terrifying.

If the rest of the WAC isn't worried yet, they will be soon.

If you're like me and you let UH Basketball fall by the wayside in the past few years, it's time to start paying attention again. Come for the basketball. Come for the breathless displays of athleticism. Come for the 32 ounce beers and garlic fries. Just come.

That way, when the University of Hawaii wins their first ever NCAA tournament game in two years, you'll be able to say you were there from the beginning.

Make no mistake about it, it has begun.

World Cupocalypse

noreply@blogger.com (The Dole) — Wed, 21 Jul 2010 07:51:00 +0000

It happened.

The apocalypse.

The end times.

The scorched Earth scenario.

No, not the release of Justin Bieber's new album.

No, not LeBron announcing he wants to be the Toni Kukoc to Wade and Bosh's Jordan and Pippen in Miami.

Worse.

Tori, my wife and long standing Editor-in-Chief of the JBorhood, whose soccer knowledge consists of the fact that "some hot Portuguese dude" (Cristiano Ronaldo) has a set of abdominal muscles off of which she'd like to enjoy a picnic dinner, won the 2010 JBorhood World Cup Extravaganza.

This means, of course, that Tori won a JBorhood pick-off contest before I did.

(The horror! The horror!)

To be fair, the expressed purpose of JBorhood contests is "to prove, once and for all, that pluck, verve, and luck, will triumph over knowledge, experience, an understanding of the basic rules of sports, extraordinary good looks, and an amazing set of dimples every time." Yet, I find very little comfort in my prophetic wisdom (or my extraordinary good looks and amazing set of dimples, for that matter). I'm upset and embarrassed.

I've become the LeBron James of JBorhood competitions.

I do the most research. I have the most inside knowledge. Heck, I based my March Madness predictions on advanced computer simulations this year. I routinely fare well in the opening rounds and have led the pack numerous times. But, I can't seem to get over the hump. I can't come through in the clutch. Every year, tournament after tournament, I watch someone else win while I sit at home, deserving, but unrewarded.

And now Tori won.

The same Tori that spent less time filling out her entire bracket than I did figuring out who would win the first round match-up between Italy and Cameroon (neither of whom advanced past the group stage, I might add).

The same Tori that picked Chile to knock off Brazil in the first round.

The same Tori that picked the United States to make it to the World Cup Finals.

(Of course, also the same Tori that picked the Netherlands, Germany, and Spain to make it to the semi-finals.)

Now, I'm faced with my own mortality. My legacy is at stake. With every tournament, the group of participants grows larger and larger, making it harder and harder to win. I'm dealing with the very real possibility that I may never win a JBorhood competition.

So, what do I do? It is time for me to make "The Decision". Should I leave the JBorhood behind and join a more successful blog, one with expert prognosticators and championship pedigree? Should I string you along, waffle back and forth and turn my thought process into an overblown media circus? Should I leak tidbits to the Honolulu Star-Advertiser and the Honolulu Weekly? Should I take my proverbial talents to the proverbial South Beach?

Of course not.

Only a coward and a sissy would do that.

Win or lose, I'm with the JBorhood for life, the Charles Barkley of the JBorhood instead of the LeBron James. I may be a narcissistic, self-obsessed megalomaniac, but I'm not an douche.

Now let's hand out some awards!

Triple Crown Award: WonderGeek3000 (Tori)

Tori had the best team name (WonderGeek3000), the best pick in the tournament (she was the only person that had Netherlands in the semi-finals), and scored the most points.

A clean sweep of the major awards. A Perfect 10.

This comes on the heels of Tori picking East Tennessee State to upset #1 seed Kentucky in the first round of the 2010 NCAA tournament and Morehead State to win the NCAA Tournament in 2009. It would be less of an upset if Stephen Baldwin won the Oscars for Best Picture, Best Actor, and Best Director in 2011 for reprising his role as Doyle Johnson in a sequel to Bio-Dome. (I don't know what's worse, the shame of losing to Tori or the fact that I'm Pauly Shore in that comparison.)

I liked it better when she picked Morehead.

Horseshoes, Hand Gernades, and American Off-Sides Penalties Award: fuBballer beth calls it! (Beth)

Beth was close to winning the JBorhood World Cup Extravaganza. Really close.

In fact, the entire tournament hinged on the game between Germany and Spain. If Germany won, Beth won. If Spain won, Tori won. It was that simple.

Germany entered the match-up as the hottest team in the tournament, fresh off a 4-1 shellacking of England and a 4-0 pasting of Argentina. Spain, on the other hand, narrowly snuck by Portugal and Paraguay to make it to the semi-finals. Germany had won 3 World Cups. Spain had won 0. Germany looked like the best team in the tournament. Spain, well… didn't.

The game was scoreless throughout and looking like it might go into extra time, but in the 73rd minute, Spanish defender Carlos Puyol, the ugliest man in the World Cup, headed a corner kick in to the back of the German net, securing the win for Spain and Tori.

Beth's consolation prize? An 11th place finish due to the weighted scoring system that gave an absurd amount of points to people who picked Spain in the semi-finals.

Nice work, Beth. Sadly, close enough only counts in horseshoes, hand grenades, and American soccer players getting called for off-sides.

Ignorance is Bliss Award: Die Stunde ist ausgefalen (Nick)

Die Stunde ist ausgefalen sounds like a really cool, bad-ass foreign team name, the perfect intimidating worldly moniker for a World Cup pool.

Of course, when I put the name in Google it spit out the translation: "The class was canceled."

I liked it better when I didn't know.

Drunken Bridesmaid Award: ESPANA DOS MIL DIEZ (Mike Opp)

I don't know why or how Mike became a fan of Spain.

Maybe it's his unadulterated love of Sangria. Maybe it's his borderline creepy crush on Selma Hayek. Maybe it's the fact that watching Vicky Cristina Barcelona was, in his words, "the most sublime two hours of my life". (He didn't actually say this, but I'm pretty sure he would.)

Regardless, he threw his heart and soul behind the Spanish soccer team. When Holland's Nigel de Jong karate kicked Spain's Xabi Alonso in the World Cup final, Mike texted me "I hope Holland blows up." When Spain scored to take the lead, Mike texted me "Um…tsjei@ieuxj". (It's hard to text when you're jumping around your apartment, screaming like a seven year old girl.)

So, normally, Mike would been upset that he was only a Brazil victory over Holland away from winning the title, except it's tough to be mad when you're on a week long sangria bender.

Viva Espana, indeed.

My other pool is a Ferrari Award: AlmightyJ (Justin)

Yes, I finished fourteenth out of seventeen. Yes, I scored barely a third of Tori's winning score. Yes, I failed to win, again.

But..

I also entered a friend's World Cup pool (fellow participant Jake aka C'mon Luxembourg!) with different picks, including Spain winning it all and I did better. Much better.

In fact, I did better than anyone else in the pool.

That's right; I won.

I won a completely different and unrelated pool with no prize and no way to validate my claim of winning other than a link to a congratulatory tweet from the league organizer (http://twitter.com/jwolman/status/18317354336), but I still won.

Take that, Tori.

(Now let's move along before any of you ask whether my other bracket actually scored more points than Tori.)

My Other Pool is a more expensive Ferrari Award: Fly (Jason)

Rumor has it there was some other World Cup pool in which a few family members participated.

Rumor also has it that Jason won.

But then, you can't believe everything you read.

My Respect Award: Da Goatt (Jordan)

Jordan loves Spain (for reasons similar to Mike, I presume) and he loves his country. As a man of principal, Jordan picked both those teams to win all their games, with the United States bowing out to Spain in the semis and the Spaniards winning it all.

In another family pool (the one I will neither confirm, nor deny whether Jason won), which allowed participants to update their picks up until game time, Jordan again picked the United States and Spain to win all their games. Heading into the finals Jordan trailed only one person (whom I will neither confirm, nor deny was Jason), but a correct pick in the final match, coupled with an incorrect pick by said unsubstantiated tournament leader would give Jordan the title. Spain was the clear favorite. It was a virtual certainty that the person whom I will neither… ok, this is getting stupid. It was Jason. He won. I said it. Are you happy? It was a virtual certainty that Jason would pick Spain. Even then, knowing the Netherlands were his only chance to win, Jordan picked Spain.

If Jordan were LeBron James he would have stayed in Cleveland, told the general manager to fire all the players and played 1 v 5 for the 2010-2011 season.

He wouldn't win, but damn it, you'd respect him.

Congratulations, Jordan. You have my respect (award).

Failed Irony Award: C'mon Luxembourg! (Jake)

When Jake created his quippy nickname, he most likely intended it to be ironic. A feigned show of support for a small country that failed to make the World Cup would make his eventual triumph seem that much more glorious in contrast.

Of course, then the games started and Jake watched as his four semi-finalist picks -- England, Brazil, Argentina, and Portugal -- won a combined two games in the knockout rounds of the tournament.

But, Jake's efforts were not completely in vain. If he hadn't chosen his tragically non-ironic nickname, I wouldn't have learned that the official name of Luxembourg is the Grand Duchy of Luxembourg.

Now we're all winners.

Lunch Is On Me Award: CaptainHwnPete (Peter)

I will neither confirm, nor deny whether Peter actually made the picks that gave him a third place finish. I will, however, suggest that he take my Mom out to lunch.

Fuel for Marital Discord Award: HMDS0CCER (Dad)

I will neither confirm, nor deny whether my Dad actually made the picks that made him finish in last place, with only 11.5 games correct and a grand total of 29 points. I will, however, suggest that my Mom give him a nice long back massage and an apology.

No, really, I made Peter's picks Award: 120Bambi (Mom)

Sure you did, Mom. Sure you did.

;)

God Bless Weighted Scoring Award: Forza Azzuri, (Hayes)

Hayes only picked 13.5 games right. (Fourth from the bottom in total correct picks)

Hayes picked France, Denmark, Italy, and the United States to make it to the quarter-finals.

Hayes picked England, Brazil, and Argentina to make it to the semi-finals.

Of course, Hayes also picked Spain to win it all, meaning he finished fifth overall due to the weighted scoring system, which gives as many points for picking the eventual winner as it does for picking every single team that advanced out of the group stage.

If the scoring system ever comes up for a vote, I think I know what Hayes would choose.

President of the Anti-Weighted Scoring Fan Club Award: BOOTLEG (Chris)

Chris picked 17.5 games right. (Second only to Tori.)

Chris picked the Netherlands, Spain, Germany and Argentina to make it to the quarter-finals.

Chris picked Germany and Spain to make it to the semi-finals.

Of course, Chris also picked England to make it to the semis and Portugal to win it all, meaning he finished an uninspiring seventh in the final rankings (behind Hayes, I might add) due to the weighted scoring system, which gives as many points for picking the eventual winner as it does for picking every single team that advanced out of the group stage.

If the scoring system ever comes up for a vote, I think I know what Chris would choose.

Truth in Advertising Award: Mercurlz (Shane)

When I asked Shane to enter the tournament, he said "Dude, I don't know anything about soccer." I told him not to worry and assured him that a lack of soccer knowledge would not preclude him from enjoying a modicum of success in the pool.

Shane finished in a tie for fifteenth (out of 17).

Sorry, Shane. You were right. I was wrong.

For Lack of a Better Award: tiffers (Tiff)

Tiff picked 16 games correctly, astutely tabbed Germany and Spain in the semi-finals, and finished a respectable eighth place.

I got nothing.

Maltesian Historical Society Award: qormi (R. Ericson)

Up until now, I have personally known every person who participated in a JBorhood pickoff extravaganza. But, in what can only be characterized as a sure indication that the popularity of the JBorhood is growing at a staggering, exponential rate, a mysterious "R. Ericson" joined the World Cup Extravaganza.

I don't know any Ericsons, let alone any R. Ericsons, and certainly not one who refers to themself as "qormi". For that matter, what the deuce is qormi, or is it a qormi? Wikipedia suggests that "Qormi (also known as Citta Pino) is a city Malta with a population of 16,576, which makes it the third largest locality in Malta." Also, and perhaps more to the point, Wikipedia tells me that the city has a soccer team, Qormi F.C. that participates in the Malta Football Association and is arch rivals with the Zebbug Rangers. Even better, Qormi F.C. employs players named "Chucks Nwoko" (or as I've taken to calling him just this second, the Nigerian Chuck Norris) and "Chima Dozie" (which I believe is a prominent strain of Northern California cannabis).

I don't know what any of that means, nor am I any closer to solving the mystery of R. Ericson, but I learned more about Malta in the last 15 minutes than I knew in my entire life and if that's not award worthy, I don't know what is.

Nothing Beats Making Fun of the English Award: holensdale20 (Shaun)

Shaun correctly picked fifteen games, including picking Spain to make the finals for a total of 60 points and a respectable ninth place finish.

Nothing to write home about, but nothing to lampoon either.

However, Shaun doesn't need a fancy JBorhood award. Shaun received a far greater gift during the tournament: Shaun got to enjoy the United States's opening round 1-1 "win" over the British in a bar full of Englishmen.

No one does self-loathing like the English. Berating themselves is a national pastime. They embrace it with a religious fervor. They simultaneously latch on to an attitude of smug national superiority and assured fatalism better than anyone in the world. Each heart wrenching defeat makes them more confident in their manifest destiny and equally sure that the next eventual loss will occur in a more tragic manner than before, a self-fulling prophecy that always fulfills.

When England gave up an opening match goal to the United States on a goalie error that would embarrass a twelve year-old, no one was more upset or less surprised than the English.

And Shaun got to see it all.

Thanks again for a great tournament. After handing out all the awards, I almost feel better about losing to someone who won the tournament based almost solely on her love of tapas. Almost.

See you in four years.

What LeBron James and my college application process have in common

noreply@blogger.com (The Dole) — Fri, 02 Jul 2010 09:00:00 +0000

I applied early decision to Stanford my senior year in high school. No other school matched it's unique blend of academics, athletics, warm weather, and proximity to Hawaii. It was my holy grail of higher education.

I had initially dismissed applying because my GPA was solid, but not immaculate. I secured a recommendation from a trustee, scored well on the SAT and SAT 2s, and -- the trump card -- I had a positive meeting with the Cardinal Crew Coach, who was impressed with my US Junior National Team kayaking background, and agreed to talk to the Admissions department on my behalf. By the time the letter arrived from Stanford a month later, I was convinced it would announce my acceptance.

It did not.

I calmly expressed my frustrations by punching a hole in my bedroom wall and went into a two month depressive funk, convinced my life was officially ruined.

It was not.

I iced my knuckles, swallowed my pride, and put the stunning rebuke behind me. I sent out applications to a number of schools, got accepted to a few, and eventually selected Pomona College.

Pomona was the polar opposite of Stanford. Stanford had over 18,000 students. Pomona had 1,500. Stanford played in the Pac-10. Pomona played in the SCIAC (I still don't know what that stands for and, frankly, don't think anyone does). Stanford was located in the heart of Silicon Valley. Pomona was located in the heart of the Inland Empire. In fact, Pomona was completely different than the type of school I envisioned when I started the college search.

It was also the perfect school for me.

I needed a school where I could make mistakes and still wind up on my feet. A school that helped me figure out who I was and what I wanted to do. I would have been lost in the shuffle at Stanford. Drowning in the deep end of the pool. Pomona's small size and tight knit student body provided the ideal setting for me to develop emotionally and intellectually. If I had it to do over again, I wouldn't change a thing, rejection and all. Suck it, Stanford. (As you can see, I'm still very mature about the ordeal.)

Now, twelve years later, my favorite basketball team, the Chicago Bulls, is on the precipice of a similar life altering decision. They spent the last three years dismantling a failed playoff contender, cutting ties with productive players in preparation for the summer of 2010 and the unprecedented free agent class. Now, it's senior year. Time for the Bulls to submit their applications, and, much like me back in High School, the Bulls have a clear favorite.

The Bulls are applying early decision to LeBron James University, the Stanford of the NBA. No other player can match his unique blend of athleticism, size, speed, strength, scoring, shooting, passing, rebounding, and defense. He is the holy grail of professional basketball.

Two months ago, I never considered LeBron a possibility for Chicago. All sources confirmed that he wanted to stay in Cleveland, his hometown. But that was before the playoffs. Before his unceremonious second round exit, the meeting with the Stanford Crew Coach of LeBron's decision making process, if you will.

Then rumors started swirling. Sources close to LeBron said he would consider leaving. Now, it's a different story every day. On Monday, the New York Times quoted an Eastern Conference General Manager saying that LeBron James to the Bulls was a done deal. On Tuesday, Stephen A. Smith reported that LeBron would join Dwayne Wade and Chris Bosh in Miami. Today, the Cleveland Plain Dealer announced that the Cavaliers still have the edge to sign LeBron. (Plain Dealer? Really? If your primary newspaper is the Plain Dealer I think it's safe to say you're not a major metropolitan area. Thanks for playing, Cleveland.)

The only thing anyone can confirm is that no one has any idea where LeBron is going, possibly including LeBron himself.

But here's what I do know: The Chicago Bulls offer LeBron the best chance to win, both now and in the future. They have the necessary cap space to sign him and another premiere free agent to maximum deals (NBA regulations set the maximum dollar amount and contract length to which a player can sign). They have a budding superstar in Derek Rose, a top-5 rebounder and defensive center in Joakim Noah, an underrated swingman in Luol Deng, and a great hustle player and rebounder in Taj Gibson. No other NBA franchise can offer LeBron James the same combination of cap space and talent. If LeBron wants to win, the choice is clear.

Unfortunately, that leaves me in the same unsettling position I found myself in twelve years ago: I have utterly unrealistic expectations about a complete uncertainty. In 1999, Stanford's admission rate was approximately 12%. I'm only kidding myself if I think LeBron's chances of signing in Chicago are any higher. Yet, I am both confident and excited that LeBron James will join the Chicago Bulls. Anything less will be a complete letdown.

Two months ago, I would have been ecstatic with Chris Bosh or Joe Johnson. Even Carlos Boozer in a Bulls uniform would have given me a momentary erection (look, it's been a long time since we had a low post scorer and, no, that is not a euphemism). Now, it's LeBron or bust.

But what does bust mean? And is it really the worse option in the long run?

Without question, LeBron James gives the Bulls the best chance to win a championship. But he's not really our basketball player. He belongs to Cleveland. He grew up in Cleveland. He was drafted by Cleveland. He's played his entire career in Cleveland. If he became a Bull, we'd be leasing him from the state of Ohio. It might be a lease with an eventual option to buy, but it's not a guarantee. He may never truly belong to Chicago.

Michael Jordan played his entire career for the Chicago Bulls. (The years with Wizards never happened. You got that? NEVER HAPPENED.) As Bulls fans, we watched him grow and develop into the greatest of all time. We watched him learn. We watched him work. We watched him struggle. We watched him lose to the Pistons in the playoffs again and again and again. Finally, we watched him dismantle the Pistons and the Lakers to assume what we always knew was his rightful place atop the NBA.

Would that first title and the subsequent decade long run of dominance mean as much to me if Michael Jordan was drafted by the Trail Blazers instead of Sam Bowie and spent the first six years of his career in Portland before signing a free agent contract to play with the Bulls in the summer of 1990?

I honestly don't know.

Put a different way, if LeBron decides to join the Bulls and leads the team to it's first post-Jordan Championship, will it be as satisfying as the first six?

Again, I honestly don't know.

Maybe, in the long run, it would be better, from a fan's perspective, to sign a lower tier free agent like David Lee and let Derrick Rose continue to develop into a superstar and team leader. They wouldn't win a championship right away, and they might never win one, but if they did, it'd be because Derrick Rose developed into a transcendent superstar and we'd get to experience the joy of watching that championship grow and develop. The destination made that much sweeter because of the journey.

Right now, I don't believe that. I want LeBron and I want him badly. I want the opportunity to watch the best player in the world, once again, play for the Chicago Bulls.

But twelve years ago, I thought I wanted to go to Stanford.

So, in one week, when LeBron announces he is staying in Cleveland, I'll think of twelve years ago and hope the Bulls find their Pomona. I'll also try not to punch a hole in my wall. Because that really hurts.

The definitive JBorhood guide to the World Cup 2010

noreply@blogger.com (The Dole) — Fri, 11 Jun 2010 09:06:00 +0000

When we last left the World Cup, Zinedine Zidane, the greatest player in French history was headbutting Italian fullback Marco Materazzi for calling his mom and sister terrorists.

(And you thought you soccer was boring.)

For the 95% of you who follow soccer as often you vote in a Presidential election, here's a quick JBorhood refresher course in World Cup history and etiquette:

Yes, Goalie jerseys are intentionally ugly. I think it's a source of pride.
The buzzing sound you hear during games is a cacophony of vuvuzelas: cheap, plastic horns that South African's use to display national pride and remind the world what a bad idea it was to host a World Cup in South Africa.
In case you want to recreate the authentic vuvuzela appeal while reading this article, use the following link: JBorhood World Cup Extravaganza! - Vuvuzela Style
You can call a soccer team a "team", a "squad", or a "side" (if you have your heart set on sounding like a wanker).
Do not call the field a "pitch" unless you're British.
You have my permission to smack anyone who says the word "nil" when telling you the score of a game.
Brazil or Germany have played in 11 of the last 13 World Cup Finals. Keep this in mind when you pick Netherlands and Spain to play for the title.
No Northern Hemisphere team has ever won a World Cup played in the Southern Hemisphere and vice versa (except for Brazil). South Africa is in the Southern Hemisphere. Keep this in mind when you pick Spain to win the World Cup.
The host country has always advanced out of the Group Stage. Remember this when you pick Uruguay and France to advance from Group A.
Be incredibly specific when you say a player has great "ball skills"
The United States is the only international soccer team without a nickname.
Ladies, in case you need a reason to care about the World Cup, you're welcome: http://blog.zap2it.com/thedishrag/vanity-fair-world-cup.jpg
Finding out that the World Cup trophy is called the Jules Rimet trophy was the most disappointing part of my research. I hereby demand that FIFA renames the trophy the Jules Rimet Trophy of Epic Wonderness. I'd be much more excited to win that trophy.
You are well withing your rights to describe a soccer player as shifty, nifty, shambolic and blatantly homosexual (What can I say? Soccer is gay. Kudos to JBor "The Balls" for passing along the link.)
It's more fun when you say GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOL!!!!!!

JBorhood World Cup Power Rankings

*** Just here for the free safari Division ***

32. New Zealand [All Whites]: New Zealand sucks. Not a regular, normal type of suck -- say, your Chicago Cubs brand of putridity -- the Kiwis take World Cup suckage to new heights.

Let's start with their nickname. I know the name is a reference to the hue of their uniform and a juxtaposition of the New Zealand national rugby team's nickname, the "All Blacks" (a reference to their intimidating black jerseys), but I don't think I'm going out on a limb when I suggest that the "All Whites" is probably not the best choice of nickname for a team playing in the birthplace of apartheid.

The Kiwis brand of soccer is called "ordinary" at best -- their best player is a defender named "Ryan Nelson", you can't get more ordinary than that -- and "among the poorest World Cup teams of all time" at worst.

Ireland, ranked #37 in the world, failed to qualify for the World Cup when French striker Thierry Henry blatantly hit the ball with his hand to set up the winning goal for France. Meanwhile, New Zealand lost to Fiji, Tanzania, and Thailand and still wound up in South Africa.

If you enjoy watching other teams score goals, you'll enjoy watching New Zealand.

31. North Korea [Choilima]: Don't believe in karma? On the way to South Africa, the North Korean squad was stuck in an earthquake, suffered team-wide food poisoning, and lost a roster spot when Coach Kim Jong-hun tried to add an extra position player to the roster by declaring him as a goalie.

Oh, and they also wound up in the same Group with Brazil (#2 in the World), Portugal (#7 in the World) and Ivory Coast (#13 in the World).

This should be fun.

30. Algeria [Les Fennecs]: Algeria last qualified for the World Cup in 1982 when they shocked the World by beating West Germany 1-0 in their opening match. But the Germans made a back room deal with Austria heading in to the final game of the Group stage and Austria let the Germans win 1-0, allowing both Germany and Austria to advance to the next round via tiebreaker over Algeria.

Twenty eight years later, the Algerians are out for revenge. Sadly, they aren't any good.

They managed to sneak into the tournament by beating Egypt, the supposed best team in Africa, in a three game series, but other than that the Algerians have few notable victories, are ranked #70 in the World, and the best selling book about Algeria on Amazon.com is "The Wretched of the Earth", which can't be a good thing.

Random Note: Is it weird to anyone else that Algeria and Egypt are "African" teams (aside from the obvious fact that the countries are located in the African continent and all) or do I just suck at geography? Don't answer that.

29. Japan [Nippon Daihyo]: You might find this hard to believe, but the Japanese are considered technically proficient and lacking in imagination. For the record, I'm talking about their soccer team.

Comic cultural reflections aside, the Japanese have never won a World Cup match overseas, a trend that threatens to continue as they face the dominant Dutch, a quality Cameroonian (I have to be honest, that was really just an excuse to write Cameroonian) team playing close to home, and a solid Denmark squad.

On the bright side, the Japanese feature two future stars in 23 year-old Keisuke "Don't call me K-sucky" Honda and 22 year-old Atsudo Uchida. Those two must make their presence felt if the Japanese hope to get anything done in South Africa.

28. South Korea [Taegeuk Jeonsa]: Similar to Japan, South Korea has never made it out of the Group Stage of the World Cup except for 2002, when they were the host country. On the bright side, the Koreans play an exciting, up-tempo, attacking style of soccer led by Lee Keun-Ho, Yung Suek-Pak, and Park Ji-Song (one of whom I just made up).

*** Not entirely embarrassing Division ***

27. Greece [To Piratiko]: The Greeks have never scored a World Cup Goal, won the 2004 European Championship, and two of their top players are named different variations of George: Giorgos (Karagounis) and Georgios (Samaras).

That's the kind of in-depth insight you won't find anywhere else.

26. Slovakia [The Fighting Jondas]: Best described as "plucky", the Slovakians have an intricate attacking game, a porous defense, a forward (Marek Hamsik) dubbed "The Phantom", and a really stupid nickname. (According to my research, "The Fighting Jondas" originates from the large number of Slovak immigrants who took the surname Jonda. No, really.)

Once again, that's the kind of in-depth insight you won't find anywhere else.

25. Honduras [Los Catrachos]: South Americans Take Soccer Seriously (Part 1).

After star midfielder Wilson Palacios transferred from his hometown Honduran club Olimpia to Birmingham City of the English Premier League, a group of armed men kidnapped Palacio's younger brother and held him for ransom. Palacio paid the ransom of 125,000 GBP, but the men never released his brother and he was eventually found dead in a remote rural area. The suspects were tried and convicted of kidnapping and murder and sent to jail. The group escaped from prison, but also turned up dead in a remote rural area two days later.

Lesson #1: Don't f*%# with Honduran soccer stars.

Lesson #2: In a country with 62% of the population below the poverty line, national sporting events carry a smidge more weight.

As I was saying, South Americans take their soccer seriously.

*** The tragic plucky underdog Division ***

24. South Africa [Bafana Bafana]: Never underestimate the host country in the World Cup. The United States improbably advanced out of the Group stage when they hosted the World Cup in '94, before losing a hard fought match to eventual champion Brazil; France won the World when they played host in '98; Japan and South Korea won their only World Cup games in history and advanced to the quarter and semi-finals respectively when the two nations jointly hosted the Cup in '02; and Germany made it to the semi-finals as the hosts in '06, even though they had an incredibly young and inexperience squad.

South Africa hasn't done anything to suggest they will follow this trend, but their Group -- France, Uruguay, Mexico -- does not feature a truly dominant team and their coach, Carlos Alberto Parreira, led Brazil to the World Cup title in 1994. Watch out for dreadlocked striker Steven Pienaar and top goal scorer Kagisho Dikgacoi (an instant favorite for my Dad's All-Name Team) to lead Bafana Bafana on an improbable World Cup run.

23. Australia [Socceroos]: I can't decide whether the Socceroos is a great nickname or the greatest nickname ever. The Australian side is supposedly dangerous and entering the tournament mad after getting eliminated on a phantom penalty kick awarded to Italy when the two teams met in the First Round of the 2006 World Cup. (Can a team really hold a grudge for four years?)

That said, the side has few signature wins and enters the tournament almost completely untested. (Qualifying from the same region that put New Zealand in the World Cup is the soccer equivalent of the Kansas City Royals winning the College World Series.)

22. Denmark [Danish Dynamite]: The Danes have only qualified for the World Cup on three occasions ('86, '98, '02), but they advanced out of the group stages each time. They aren't a terribly talented or exciting squad, but only lost once during qualifying (6 wins, 3 ties, 1 loss), shut out the opposition in seven out of their ten games, and beat Portugal 3-2, in a game that likely knocked Portugal out of the top group of teams and into the same group as Brazil.

If you believe that defense wins championships, Denmark is the dark horse for you.

Fact that likely interests only me: Denmark has the youngest player in the tournament, 19 year-old Christian Erikson.

21. Ghana [Black Stars]: You want drama? Look no further.

Ghana's all-everything midfielder Kevin Prince Boateng injured Germany's star player, Michael Ballack, on a reckless tackle during the Finals of the English Premier League's FA Cup.

But, wait, it gets better: German fans were so upset by the play, they started harassing Boateng and his family.

But, wait, it gets better: Germany and Ghana are in the same Group in the first round of the World Cup.

But, wait, it gets better: Germany and Ghana square-off in the final game of the group stage.

But, wait, it gets, better: After both teams won their opening games, the Germany, Ghana game will likely be for first place in the group.

But, wait, it gets better: Boateng's half brother plays for Germany.

(I'll give you a minute to pick up the pieces of your mind, which I've just blown.)

Suffice to say, you know what I'll be watching on Wednesday, June 22nd at 8:30 am Hawaii time.

20. Slovenia [Zmajceki]: I can't keep the nations that made up the former Yugoslavia straight. Slovenia. Slovakia (technically, not a part of the former Yugoslavia, but it sounds like it should have been). Serbia. Croatia. Bosnia-Hard-to-spell-govina. My geographical prowess is truly on display.

What I do know is that Slovenia won five of their last six games and only allowed four goals in all ten qualifying matches. There's nothing confusing about that. Slovenia plays great defense.

*** Anyone want to trade groups? Division ***

19. France [Les Bleus]: Looking at the glass half full, France is one of the most talented and consistent teams in the world. They won the World Cup in 1998 and were a Zidane headbutt away from a second victory in 2006. They have the right combination of coaching, talent, and chemistry to make a deep run in the World Cup.

On the other hand, Les Bleus have the full force of karma working against them due to striker Thierry Henry's infamous "Hand of Gaul" (a handball that illegally set up the winning goal in their qualifier against Ireland) and prominent winger Franck Ribery's alleged involvement with a child prostitution ring.

Never a dull moment with the French.

18. Chile [La Roja]: Led by "plump" striker Humberto Suazo (He's actually not fat, but he's built like a brick you-know-what house) the Chileans score goals. Lots and lots of goals. The most goals of any team in South American qualifying region. They also won more games than any other South American team during qualifying -- including Brazil -- and defeated Argentina for the first time ever (yes, ever) in a World Cup qualifier.

Of course, they're locked in the same group with current-best-team-in-the-world-that-has-only-lost-one-game-in-four-years Spain and, even if they made it out of the group stage, the Chileans would almost assuredly face possibly-better-than-the-current-best-team-in-the-world Brazil.

Better luck next time, Chile

17. Ivory Coast [The Elephants]: Coming out of their strong showing in African qualifying, Ivory Coast was everyone's trendy African dark horse.

And then the World Cup draw happened.

Landing in the same group as Brazil and Portugal happened. (To put that in perspective, that would be like the NCAA seeding Duke #16 and matching them up with the Boston Celtics in the first round of the NCAA tournament.).

All-world striker Didier Drogba breaking his arm happened.

The Elephants are talented enough to pull off a shocker, but they didn't get any favors.

Note that may interest only me: Ivory Coast features two players by the name of Didier (pronounced Dee-dee-eh): Didier Drogba and Didier Zokora.

*** Could talk yourself into believing if you were drunk Division ***

16. Switzerland [Schweizer Nati]: For those of you who detest goal scoring and embrace ball possession, tackling, and watching wallpaper peel, have I got a team for you. Switzerland soccer is defensive soccer. They view scoring goals like June Jones views running the football. They are the only team in World Cup history to be eliminated without conceding a single goal (In 2006, they lost in the second round to Ukraine on penalty kicks).

It isn't always pretty, but it's effective.

On the rare occasion the Swiss actually score, 35 year-old forward Blaise N'kufo, who coach Ottmar Hitzfeld convinced to come out of retirement during the qualifying stages, and the ironically named Tranquillo Barnetta will likely be in the thick of things.

But, don't hold your breath.

15. Serbia [Beli Orlovi]: Who needs Montenegro anyway?

Four years after an auspicious 0-3 performance in the 2006 World Cup as Serbia and Montenegro, the Serbians return sans Montenegro, ready prove who wears the pants in that relationship. They lack the polish and pedigree of other European sides, but they have an excellent defense led by two ex-United States Under-20 stars Nemanja Vidic and Neven Subotic (Can you blame a great foreign-born player for not wanting to suit up for the Stars and Stripes?) and have a powerful, talented squad capable of making a deep run in the tournament.

14. Mexico [El Tri]: Easy to overlook, but impossible to ignore. Mexico is the Atlanta Braves of international soccer. They don't do anything spectacular, but they do everything well. They've advanced from the Group stage to the Round of 16 the past four World Cups, but only advanced past that round in the two years they hosted the cup (1970 & 1986).

Don't expect them to go far, but they're as close to a second round lock as you can find outside of the World elite.

Notable Mexico facts: They went through three coaches during the qualifying rounds and are led by a 37 year-old forward named Cuauhtémoc. For the record, that is one more time than I ever imagined writing Cuauhtémoc in the JBorhood.

13. Paraguay [La Albirroja]: South Americans Take Soccer Seriously (Part 2).

Most teams lose players to ankle or knee injuries. Not South American teams. No, South American teams lose players to gun shot wounds.

Paraguay's star striker Salvador Cabanas was shot in the head during an altercation in a bar in Mexico City this January. In true South American fashion, the incident is rumored to have occurred because Cabanas either attempted to come to the aid of a woman getting robbed or because he started a brawl in the club's bathroom. Due to the risk of further trauma, the bullet was never extracted.

Against all doctor's recommendations, Cabanas attempted to recover in time to participate in the World Cup even though he still had short term memory loss and a bullet lodged in his brain. (Sadly, Cabanas did not make the team).

As I was saying, South Americans take their soccer seriously.

Fact that likely interests only me: Paraguayan striker Oscar Cardozo is nicknamed "The Bamboo Tree". My first thought: Really? They have bamboo in Paraguay?

A compelling reason to root for Paraguay: This lady roots for Paraguay.

12. United States [None]: Every four years, soccer fans and the sports media force feed the public on the notion that the United States soccer team has finally arrived. I detest this narrative, because it fosters a sense of distrust and a smug dismissal of soccer by the casual American Sports fan. At this point, people don't even wait for the World Cup hype to get underway before proudly announcing that the U.S. Team sucks and that the United States will never seriously contend in soccer. There's just one little problem with this line of thinking: It's simply not true. The 2010 United States soccer team is actually, finally, astonishingly... decent, not to mention mildly entertaining.

For years, the knock on the United States was simple: they couldn't score goals. U.S. teams would pack everyone back on defense, try to prevent the other team from scoring, and capitalize on a few counter attacks. (This strategy was viewed in reverential terms by baseball fans because it actually made their sport seem exciting in comparison.)

That is no longer the case.

The United States now has multiple players capable of beating defenders off the dribble, making dangerous entry passes, and finishing at the net. Put another way, the United States now has multiple players capable of playing soccer. Jozy Altidore is the most athletic player to ever wear the Stars and Stripes; Clint Dempsey has world class ball skills and creativity; and Landon Donovan is the best all around player in United States history. All three are capable of creating scoring chances individually and they also work together better than any former U.S. squad. On the defensive end, Oguchi Onyewu is an intimidating presence in the backfield and Tim Howard is one of the best goalies in the world.

This team can compete with any team in the world on a given day.

But (and this is a Kardashian sized but), that is also the biggest problem with the United States: They're good enough to compete, but not good enough to dominate, not good enough to sweep through the World Cup and capture the hearts and minds of Joe Football America, the casual American sports fan. Joe Football America will watch the United States lose 2-1 to Germany in the second round and conclude that the U.S. sucks (just like he thought) and relegate soccer to the same status as the WNBA in his sports watching schedule: watchable when drunk, alone, and the The Replacements isn't showing on TNT, but not worth missing reruns of Two and a Half Men.

The United States soccer team is Rocco Mediate. We can consistently make the cut and, if everything goes our way, maybe even hang with the leaders heading into the back nine on the final day of the U.S. Open. But, in the end, we'll still lose to Tiger Woods, even if he has a broken leg.

So whether or not you should watch the United States depends on what you're looking for. If you love sports and can handle some ups and downs, by all means, tune in and enjoy the show.

Just don't be surprised when the U.S. four putts the eighteenth green.

*** The legitimately dangerous Division ***

11. Italy [Azzuri]: Allow me to be blunt. I hate Italian soccer. In fact, hate is almost not a strong enough word. I hate Italian soccer the way I hated Iolani soccer when I played for Punahou. I hate Italian soccer like I hate the St. Louis Cardinals. I hate Italian soccer the way I hate the last sip of saliva soaked swill at the bottom of a warm Budweiser.

I hate their overly defensive style of play.

I hate the way they cry like Rasheed Wallace getting a technical after every foul.

I hate the way they dive anytime someone gets near them and writhe on the ground as if they were just shot in the leg while getting trampled by a rhinoceros .

I hate their uniforms.

I hate their greasy hair.

I hate their stupid names (except for Gianluigi Buffon. That's an awesome name).

I hate everything about them.

I am utterly incapable of discussing Italian soccer objectively. I hope they lose every game 15-0 and that the entire team contracts syphilis from South African prostitutes. Ok, that's a bit harsh. I hope they lose every game 14-0 before they catch syphilis.

Personal feelings aside, the Italians are undeniably good and always a threat to win the World Cup. They play skilled, disciplined soccer and erect a virtual brick wall on defense.

So hate them, loathe them, wish any sort of ill will on them, but make sure you respect them.

10. Uruguay [La Celeste]: Uruguay is the forgotten name among the list of eight countries that have won the World Cup. La Celeste won the inaugural World Cup in 1930 and again in 1950, but since then, they have only advanced to the second round in '86 and '90, and done little else.

The Uruguayans have occasional lapses on defense and lack a dominant player who can carry the team on his shoulders, but they have solid overall talent, numerous players with goal scoring ability, and, frankly, I really like their flag and think they have a cool national anthem.

Once again, that's the kind of in-depth insight you won't find anywhere else.

9. Portugal [Seleccao das Quinas]: Portugal is a South American squad trapped in a European country. They're extremely skilled, play a beautiful, creative style of soccer, and, most importantly, feature a number of players who go by only one name (Deco; Pepe; Nani; Simao). But, the one thing that clearly identifies them as European is their proclivity for diving. No bump, nudge or love tap is too small to keep the Portuguese from flying to the ground, clutching a body part (generally, but not necessarily, the one that was hit) and screaming bloody murder.

Their leader, in spirit, talent, and diving is Cristiano Ronaldo, whose game is as sexy as his abs. Ronaldo was the FIFA Player of the Year in 2008 and capable of taking over a game. Portugal will go as far as he can take them.

Plus, if things go poorly in the World Cup, the 2012 London Games are only two years away and he'd be the odds on favorite to win the Gold in Men's Diving. (*rim shot*)

8. Cameroon [Indomitable Lions]: First of all, their nickname is the Indomitable Lions. Secondly, their nickname is the Indomitable Lions.

Cameroon is a fast and talented African side with a young stud in midfield, Nicholas N'koulou, and one of the World's top goal scorers, Samuel Eto'o. They got a relatively easy draw with Japan and Denmark and should capitalize on a friendly African crowd.

Oh, and did I mention their nickname is the Indomitable Lions?

7. England [The Three Lions]: England is the pre-2004 Red Sox of World Soccer. They have a long title drought (44 years and counting), an incredibly rabid (and drunken) fan base with unreasonable expectations, immense amounts of talent, and always come up short in the most painful way possible. This year is no different.England is ranked fourth in the World, have an impossibly talented group that includes English Premier League superstars Ashley Cole, Frank Lampard, James I-have-no-idea-who-the-hell-this-is-but-his-name-popped-up-in-my-research Milner and a contender for Best Player in World Whose Name Isn't Lionel Messi in Wayne Rooney.

But all that talent comes with outrageous expectations. Anything short of a semi-final appearance will be viewed as an outright failure and a loss to the United States is simply out of the question. (England losing to the United States would be like the Lakers losing Game 7 of the NBA Finals to the Celtics at home followed by post game celebration where the Celtics tore down the Staples Center and erected a 70 foot-tall statue of Larry Bird taking a dump. Maybe worse.)

Exciting. Talented. Tragic. The English are many things, but never boring.

Humorous Note: My favorite English player of all-time, Michael Owen, was called the baby-faced assassin because of his lightning quick speed, incredible scoring ability and his childish looks. In contrast, the English press have nicknamed Wayne Rooney the assassin-faced baby, because he's similarly baby-faced but, well, not the best looking chap in the world.

6. Germany [Die Mannschaft]: The Germans have reached the Quarterfinals in every tournament since 1982. Yes, they're that good.

They lost star-player and Captain Michael Ballack during qualifying, but still managed to rack up eight wins, two ties, and no loses in their ten qualifying games. They have two long, rangy attackers, Lukas Podolski and Miroslav Klose, who are capable of scoring in bunches and a team full of big, strong, fast, well... a team full of Germans.

As always, look out for the Mannschaft.

5. Netherlands [Oranje]: There is no historical parallel for the Dutch. They're like the English, except without the title or the perennial success. They invented the concept of "Total Football"-- a pre-dominant style of play where players switch positions throughout the game, making it incredibly difficult for the opposing team to keep track of your players -- only to watch the Brazilians steal and perfect the concept and use it dominate world soccer for the better part of the century. When the Dutch finally had the best team and player in the world (the 1974 squad, led by top-five player ever Johan Cruyff), they got so hammered the night before the World Cup Finals that they lost 2-1 to a clearly inferior West German squad.

But, every World Cup they manage to convince their fans that this year will be different. This is the year they'll finally break through.

Count on a dominant performance in the group stages and collapse that would the English proud during the knockout stage.

Note that may interest only me: The Dutch feature five players named "Van Something" (Van Brockenhorst, Van Der Weil, etc...).

4. Nigeria [Super Eagles]: This pick is 99.9% heart (I'll explain the 0.01 in a second).

Nigeria kick started my love of international soccer during their magical run in the 1994 World Cup. The Super Eagles, led by Jay-Jay Okocha, Daniel Amokachi, and Rashidi Yekini (my all-time favorite World Cup name), beat Bulgaria and Greece and held their own in a 2-1 loss to Argentina to win their Group and advanced to face Italy in the second round. Nigeria scored an early goal and held a 1-0 the entire game until a Roberto Baggio goal tied the game with two minutes to go and sent the game into overtime, where the Italians won on (what else) a questionable penalty kick. (Again, I hate the Italians.)

This isn't the most deep or talented Nigerian squad, but -- and here's where the 0.01% of strategy comes in -- they got a favorable draw with an uninspiring Greece team, a South Korean squad that hasn't won a World Cup game outside of Korea, and the mercurial Argentinians, and if they finish second in their group (as I expect them to), they avoid facing any of the top teams in the world (Spain, Brazil, Germany, Netherlands, Argentina) before the semifinals. With a strong attack led by Ikechukwu Uche and a boost from the loud pro-African crowd and their army of vuvuzelas, the Super Eagles could become the first African team to make it to World Cup's Final Four.

Watch out world, here come the Super Eagles.

*** Anything short of a World Cup Title is a failure Division ***

3. Spain [La Furia Roja]: Prior to 2008, the list of incredibly talented, yet consistently disappointing teams read England, Netherlands, Spain.

You can confidently scratch Spain from that list.

The Spanish soccer team has only lost one of their past 45 games (to the United States of all teams. See, I told you we didn't suck.), a streak that spans the past four years. During that time, Spain notched victories against every major soccer power and won the 2008 European Championship -- the second most prestigious soccer tournament, after the World Cup -- in dominating fashion.

They defend well.

They pass well.

They score well.

They truly do it all.

Strikers David Villa and Fernando Torres get most of the attention, but Spain's game truly runs through Xavi, the best passing midfielder alive. He's Steve Nash in cleats.

The only milestone left for the Spaniards is to win the country's first World Cup. I pity the team that tries to stop them.

2. Brazil [A Selecao]: "Joga Bonito" (Play Beautifully) has always been the motto of Brazilian soccer.

Not anymore.

New coach Dunga decided to forgo the hallmark Brazilian offensive flair in exchange for defensive intensity. Replacing individual brilliance with a team-oriented ball possession attack. Former two-time FIFA Player of the year (2004, 2005) Ronaldinho was cut from the team because Dunga felt his offensive skills were detrimental to Brazil's new defensive minded approach. (For the record, this is like the Showtime Lakers cutting Magic Johnson because his no-look passes weren't fundamentally sound.) Needless to say, Dunga is not the most popular man in Brazil.

Yet, it's tough to argue with his results. The Brazilians finished first in South American qualifying, won the Confederation Cup -- the biggest non-World Cup international soccer tournament -- and lost only two games in the past two years.

But, this is Brazil. Winning isn't expected. It's required. And when you've won five of the eighteen World Cups, it's not just that you win, it's how you win.

Nothing short of a World Cup title will convince the people of Brazil that Dunga's new defensive approach is truly beautiful.

1. Argentina [La Albiceleste]: Soccer is a team sport. No matter how talented the individual, a truly cohesive team triumphs over individual brilliance every time.

Well, every time except two.

In the history of the World Cup, only two players have ever led their teams to victory through sheer individual brilliance: Pele and Diego Maradona.

Now, Diego Maradona is the coach of Argentina, who once again has the best player in the world: Lionel Messi. Messi isn't just good. He's brilliant. He's capable of utterly dominating a game and breaking down any defense with his incredible speed, ball control, passing, and destructive shooting ability. Messi is the once-in-a-generation type player that can take over a World Cup.

If Argentina wins the World Cup, Maradona promised to run naked through the center of Buenos Aires. So, I am not exaggerating when I say that the fate of the World Cup and Diego Maradona's genitalia, rest in Lionel Messi's capable hands (er, feet).

No matter what happens, things are about to get Messi.

Join the JBorhood World Cup Extravaganza today

noreply@blogger.com (The Dole) — Thu, 10 Jun 2010 09:53:00 +0000

So, you didn't win the Jimmy. It's OK. I didn't either. But here's your shot at redemption: The JBorhood World Cup Extravaganza!

Select who you think will advance in each round of the World Cup and watch as glory, fame, and snarky commentary flow your way in abundance. (Hey, one out of three aint bad, right?)

The winner receives a JBorhood article on the topic of their choosing or a spot on the Tri-Coast Sports Melee (the official podcast of the JBorhood). Try to contain your excitement.

The World Cup starts on Friday so you need to sign up TODAY.

To join the pool:

1. Mix an icy, refreshing mojito
2. Log-on to ESPN.com's World Cup Bracket Predictor page: http://games.espn.go.com/bpredictor/en-us/frontpage
3. Log-in to your ESPN.com account or click the big red "Sign up for an ESPN.com account" button to create a new account.
4. Click the big red "Create your entry" button to create a bracket.
5. Enter a team name and select whether you want email reminders then click the "Save settings" button
6. Enter your picks and the tiebreaker (# of goals scored by the eventual winning team) and click the "Submit" button.
7. Select "Create or Join a Group" from the "My Groups" menu item
8. Search for "JBorhood"
9. Select the "JBorhood WC Extravaganza"
10. Enter the password "jborhood" and click "Enter"
11. Sit back, take a long sip of your mojito, and prepare yourself for the madness

Good luck!

The Tri-Coast Sports Melee Rides Again

noreply@blogger.com (The Dole) — Tue, 08 Jun 2010 08:40:00 +0000

This week, I explain why the Lakers are still in command of the NBA Finals; Kolsky professes his love for the WNBA; LeBron James upstages our NBA Finals discussion; Mike compares Stephen Strasburg to Jack Cust; and we all make our predictions for Strasburg's debut.

Sit back, relax, pour a nearly frozen domestic ale into a frosty pint glass, and enjoy the show.

LET'S GET IT ON: Tri-Coast Sports Melee - 6/7/2010

Game. Set. Match.

noreply@blogger.com (The Dole) — Sat, 05 Jun 2010 04:30:00 +0000

This series is over. Done. Finished. Put it in the books. Lakers in 5 (and that's being generous).

The Lakers dictated every facet of Game 1. They got easy baskets whenever they wanted, completely controlled the glass, and turned the Celtics into a completely one-dimensional jump shooting team on offense. The Lakers dominated so thoroughly that Phil Jackson switched to Belichick-mode in the fourth quarter and went to a completely vanilla game plan. It tells you everything you need to know about this game that the Celtics never made a run. You have to play defense to make a run.

In 2008, the Celtics exploited three distinct advantages:

1. They dominated the boards (255-223).
2. They dominated from behind the arc (43%-34%)
3. They never gave up easy baskets

In 2010, none of those advantages apply. Bolstered by a healthy Andrew Bynum, the Lakers controlled the offensive (12-8) and defensive (30-23) glass; The Celtics sorely miss sharp shooters James Posey and Eddie House, leaving Ray Allen and Paul Pierce as the only long distance threats; And, finally, and perhaps most importantly, whether it's because Phil Jackon, Kobe Bryant and the Lakers figured out a way to dissect the Celtics defense with a quick interior passing game or because the Celtics miss the defensive presence of PJ Brown, Leon Powe, and a Kevin Garnett with healthy knees, the Lakers ran a layup drill on the Celtics.

Now, maybe Kevin Garnett's knees will feel better after the three day layoff. Maybe Ray Allen can avoid foul trouble and lock down Kobe. Maybe Rajon Rondo can find a hole in the impenetrable wall of Gasol, Odom, and Bynum. Maybe Paul Pierce will figure out a way to shake Ron Artest and get to the free throw line.

But that's a lot of maybes. Plus, Phil Jackson teams are 47-0 after winning the first game in a series. That doesn't leave a lot of room for maybes.

Random Game 1 musings:

I'm a big fan of Pau Gasol's either-I-strongly-disagree-with-that-foul-call-or-I-just-smelled-a-bad-fart face.

Derek Fisher has a really sweet beard. That is all.

Jeff Van Gundy is usually a fantastic commentator. Witty. Insightful. Entertaining. But, I think he was hanging out with Snoop Dogg (in attendance. I'm just saying...) before the start of Game 1. Jeff started things off by suggesting the big difference between the 2008 and 2010 Celtics was that Tony Allen (2010 sixth man) is a slasher, not a shooter like James Posey (2008 sixth man), which, while true, ranks somewhere between the size of Kendrick Perkins chin beard and the color of Paul Pierce's headband on the list of important differences between the '08 and '10 Celtics. He followed that nugget of wisdom with these three gems:

* "You need enough quickness on the floor to guard Shannon Brown". (Because, as we all know, the key to stopping the Lakers is containing Shannon Brown...)
* "I'm taking Nate Robinson on this jump ball [vs. Pau Gasol]". (I'll let you guess whether the 7-foot Gasol beat the 5-11 Robinson.)
* "USA is beating England [in the World Cup]". (There go our chances...)

Of course, just when I was trying to catch Van Gundy taking sips from a flask between plays, he came on at half time and said, "The Lakers had 28 points in the paint in the first half. That never happened in '08". Happy to have you back, Jeff.

At the start of halftime, Stuart Scott asked the commentators, "What did we learn from the first half"? Magic Johnson jumped in and said, "This will be long, great series". Either he was watching a replay of the '85 Lakers/Celtics series or he was hanging out with Snoop and Van Gundy before the game.

Jordan Farmar and Shannon Brown had back to back layups in the first half. I'm not saying that wouldn't have happened against the '08 Celtics, well, actually, that's exactly what I'm saying.

Kendrick Perkins stole the ball from Kobe Bryant to start a fast break and, rather than exploit a three on one situation, Nate Robinson jacked up an ill-advised three. I'm not saying that the '08 Celtics would have never taken such a horrible shot, well, actually, that's exactly what I'm saying.

I still don't understand how a player of Rajon Rondo's height (6 foot 1 in heels) can rebound so well. He led a fast break attempt where he got two rebounds on the same play (rebounded an initial miss then rebounded his own miss before getting fouled). When he learns how to knock down a three pointer and hit his free throws, look out NBA.

On the subject of Rondo, have you seen the size of his hands? They deserve their own area code. Maybe that's why he rebounds so well...

When ABC panned the crowd to show the celebrities at the game they listed all their names: Adam Sandler. Chris Rock. Will Ferrell. Leonardo DiCaprio. Steven Spielberg. Jack. Not Jack Nicholson. Just "Jack". Yet again proving that Jack Nicholson is the coolest man alive.

I thought about this again at halftime when Stuart Scott said of Kobe Bryant, "He goes by one name: Kobe". The ability to be referenced by a single moniker is a true sign of greatness. Kobe. Shaq. LeBron. Magic. Bird. Even in non-sports related arenas: Washington. Lincoln. Kennedy. You haven't truly arrived until you can pass the one name test. (Maybe the Brazilians are smarter than we give them credit for.)

Taking that a step further, the true pantheon of name recognition is when you can be singularly recognized by either your first or last name. I could only come up with two people who fit this criterion: Jack Nicholson, equally recognizable as "Jack" or "Nicholson", and Michael Jordan, who is instantly identifiable by "Michael" or "Jordan".

Any measure of greatness that comes up with Jack Nicholson and Michael Jordan sounds like a keeper to me.

Chris Rock doesn't look a day over 21. I need to know what moisturizer he's using.

I'm only half joking when I say that the Lakers had more easy baskets in the first half than they did in the entire 2008 NBA Finals.

The Lakers pianist played Bad Romance by Lady Gaga coming out of a timeout. I don't know if this is a good or bad thing, I just thought you needed to know.

My favorite moment of the game was when Kobe was walking into the locker room at halftime and broke into a big goofy grin as soon he saw his two baby girls. It was a total Daddy smile.

My second favorite moment of the game was when Kobe nailed the "Taco Shot" at the end of the game. In case you didn't know, when the Lakers win, score at least 100 points and hold their opponents under 100, everyone at the Staples Center gets a coupon for two free tacos from Jack in the Box. On the game's final possession, the Lakers led 99-89 and needed one more basket to secure crispy deliciousness for the crowd. The shot clock and game clock were nearly identical so LA didn't really need to take a final shot, but you could see Kobe realize the magnitude of the situation, convince Fisher to give up the ball, and calmly drain a three to put the icing on the Lakers dominant victory.

That, my friends, is the game behind the game. (Not to mention, the type of stunning insight found only at the JBorhood: your source for fast-food related sports humor.)

Have a great weekend, everyone.

Return of the Tri-Coast Sports Melee

noreply@blogger.com (The Dole) — Wed, 02 Jun 2010 20:26:00 +0000

You didn't ask for it, but you get it anyway: the unlikely second edition of the Tri-Coast Sports Melee.

This week, we break down the NBA Finals match-up between the Lakers and the Celtics, attempt to identify Ron Artest's specific brand of crazy, highlight the first two months of the Major League Baseball season, Matt and Mike square off in the first ever TCSM Obscure Sports Spelling Bee: NHL Playoffs edition, and, finally, we explore the phenomenon of Bros Icing Bros.

Sit back, relax, pour a slightly chilled Belgian Trappist Ale into an appropriate goblet-style mug, and enjoy the show.

LET'S GET IT ON: Tri-Coast Sports Melee - 6/1/2010

Innaugural Tri-Coast Sports Melee

noreply@blogger.com (The Dole) — Tue, 25 May 2010 07:43:00 +0000

After a few months of convincing my podcast partners in crime to go by the somewhat narcissistic moniker "The JBorhood Podcast", I can no longer control their burgeoning egos and have agreed to change the name of the show to one that suggests a slightly more equitable share of responsibility (regardless of whether or not it exists). Loyal readers will still know who does the heavy lifting (*ahem*), but the new name will satisfy the prima donnas. (In case you can't see it, my tongue is planted firmly in my cheek. Frankly, I can't believe I convinced the two more talented individuals to name the podcast after me for as long as I did.)

With that said, I am proud to present the first ever Tri-Coast Sports Melee. The only Chicago-centric, Bay Area-slanted amateur sports podcast recorded from the shores of Lake Michigan to the sands of Waikiki Beach, an esteemed distinction, to be sure.

On this week's episode, we touch on why the Lakers are still in control of the Suns, the glaring weakness of Dwight Howard (and maybe LeBron James), and, of course, the Great Dirk Nowitzki Debate of twenty-ten.

Sit back, relax, crack open a frosty tall can of Pabst Blue Ribbon and enjoy the show.

LET'S GET IT ON: Tri-Coast Sports Melee - 5/24/2010

Jew and a half talking sports

noreply@blogger.com (The Dole) — Tue, 25 May 2010 07:31:00 +0000

Occasionally, my "real" job interferes with my ability to record inane sports blather. Undeterred by my absence, podcast stalwarts Matt Kolsky and Mike Oppenheim put together a special segment they call "A Jew and a Half Talking Sports".

While it lacks the smooth baritone of your truly, it's chock full of the razzle-dazzle you've come to expect here in the JBorhood. The fellahs extol the virtues of Rajon Rondo, call-out Dwight Howard, give an insiders take on the NHL playoff, and contemplate the reasons Jennifer Aniston can't find a man.

Enjoy: A Jew and a Half Talking Sports

2010 NBA Playoffs Second Round Wrap-Up Podcast

noreply@blogger.com (The Dole) — Tue, 18 May 2010 07:10:00 +0000

It's been a busy week for the Almighty J. (For the record, yes, I did just refer to myself in the third person by a self given nickname. If I could shave three seconds off my 40 time, learn to catch, and not cry like a sissy girl when someone tackled me, I'd make one hell of an NFL wide receiver.)

But, because of fervent demand, errr.... some demand, errr... because one person asked, errr... because we felt like it, Matt Kolsky, Mike Oppenheim and I sat down to follow-up on our award winning (I believe it took home the coveted most-likely-to-put-you-to-sleep award) 2010 NBA Playoff Preview Podcast and break down what's happened in the first two rounds of the playoffs.

Why is the world finally catching on to the fact that Rajon Rondo is the best point guard in the known universe, just like I've said for the past year?

What do the Duke Blue Devils and the Orlando Magic have in common?

And did Mike really just say that LeBron James's idols are Matt Leinart and Paris Hilton? (Yes. Yes, he did.)

It's all right here. Sit back, relax, and enjoy the show.

2010 NBA Second Round Wrap-Up Podcast

What the NFL can learn from my Mom

noreply@blogger.com (The Dole) — Fri, 07 May 2010 09:30:00 +0000

After the first round of the NFL draft, my Mom asked me a seemingly simple question: Why did so many teams pass on Tim Tebow?

I started to fire off a knee jerk response, listing the official Tim Tebow bullet points ESPN pummeled into my skull the past three months -- no experience in a pro style offense, not a polished passer, needs to overhaul his throwing motion -- when I realized the answer was far more complex and begged a far more interesting and fundamental question:

Should so many teams have passed on Tim Tebow?

Tim Tebow is arguably the greatest college football player of all-time. In his four years at the University of Florida, he won two National Championships; won the Heisman Trophy and finished second in the Heisman voting the following year; led the Gators to a 35-6 record as a starter; broke the SEC record for rushing touchdowns and total touchdowns in a season; completed over 67 percent of his passes, including a mind boggling 70.1 percent his senior year; and threw 88 touchdowns and only 15 interceptions. All this, while performing countless circumcisions as a missionary in the Phillipines during the off-season. By all accounts he's a gentleman, a scholar, and as hard a worker and as nice a guy as you'll ever meet. In short he's everything you'd want in your best friend, let alone your NFL Quarterback.

But, you already know that. And, even if you don't, you know the one stat about Tim Tebow that actually counts: He wins football games, lots and lots of football games.

So, what changed? What's so different about the NFL? Why do the supposed smartest minds in the game agree that Tim Tebow's overwhelming success playing football (in college) won't translate to playing football (in the NFL)?

In short, nothing, nothing, and because they're huffing glue.

(I have no evidence that NFL decision makers are actually huffing glue and their lack of confidence in Tim Tebow is more likely the result of a conservative NFL culture that stifles innovation than a consequence of prevalent inhalant abuse, but some decisions certainly make you wonder... (Tyson Alualu? Really, Jacksonville?))

In all fairness, their are a few significant differences between college and pro football. The NFL is a pass-first league, dominated by the Peyton Mannings and Tom Bradys of the world. In college, teams employ vastly different styles, ranging from the pass-wacky I'd-use-my-offensive-linemen-as-receivers-if-the-NCAA-allowed spread offense of June Jones to the run-focused every-time-I-call-a-pass-play-a-part-of-my-soul-dies triple option attack Paul Johnson employs at Georgia Tech. Also, the disparity in talent between teams is far greater in college football than in the NFL. When Tim Tebow took the field for Florida, he was protected by 6' 4", 300-pound monsters named Maurkice (no, really) who physically over-matched opponents in all but two or three games a year. In the NFL, every team team has a Maurkice, not to mention a D'Brickashaw and a Jahri.

But, those aren't reasons; Those are excuses.

Two years ago, people called the spread offense a "gimmick". Then the Patriots employed the "gimmick" to set the NFL record for points in a season and come within one act of God from winning the Super Bowl. Now all NFL teams employ a spread package (On a random note, that's probably the first time in the past three months a sports writer has used the term "employ a spread package" without referencing Tiger Woods). The same thing is happening with the Wildcat and there's no reason it (pick one) can't/won't/shouldn't happen with the Read Option offense Tebow deftly executed at Florida. With very few exceptions (and apologies to Steve Spurrier), if it works in college, it will work in the NFL.

And, yes, Tebow played with vastly superior talent in all except two or three games a year. But, you know what he did in those two or three games? He won them. In his four years at Flordia, Tebow went 14-5 against the Top 25, won two National Championships and three total BCS games. The bigger the stage, the bigger the performance.

But this happens all the time, and not just in football. Players dominate in college, create a legacy of virtuoso performances and, yet, some time between the end of the college season and the draft, general managers find obscure reasons to discount their success. They're too short (Ray Rice); They don't have a defined position (Percy Harvin); Their knees don't have any connective tissue (DeJuan Blair. Ok, at least I can understand why that might be a teeny smidge of an issue in a sport -- basketball -- that requires you to flex your knee tendons approximately 47,000 times a game, but the fact that the second most productive player in all of college basketball and someone who hucked the 7' 2" number two pick in the draft over his shoulder in a judo throw that would have made Bruce Lee weep with pride lasted until the 7th pick of the second round will forever boggle my mind. And no, I am not at all bitter that the Chicago Bulls refrained from using either of their two first round picks to select Blair. Not bitter at all. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go burn my James Johnson jersey.). These are all valid concerns, but, shouldn't we be more concerned with a player who failed to excel at the marginally important, vaguely relevant task of actually playing the game?

This mindset makes even less sense with Quarterbacks. If history has taught us anything about the NFL Draft, it's that drafting a Quarterback is a crap shoot. Despite continued advances in scouting and statistics, selecting an NFL Quarterback is a coin flip at best. Some first round picks fizzle (JaMarcus Russell, come on down!) and some late round picks turn into Hall of Famers (See Brady, Tom). So, if you're going to mortgage the future of your franchise on a single player,wouldn't you put your money on the hardest working, most accomplished player of the past decade?

If you don't know the answer at this point, you can always ask my Mom.

Kentucky Derby Extravaganza! 2010

noreply@blogger.com (The Dole) — Fri, 30 Apr 2010 08:30:00 +0000

The NHL playoffs are in full swing. (Don't laugh. The NHL playoffs are incredible. You couldn't pay me to watch a regular season hockey game, but playoff hockey games are staggeringly intense. It's like soccer, except where they actually score goals. Ok, maybe comparing a marginal sport to an even more marginal sport is not the most effective way to drive interest, but trust me on this one. Playoff hockey rocks.)

The baseball season is rounding into form.

The second round of the NBA playoffs are primed and ready to roll.

So, of course, I'm going to write about horse racing. (What can I say? I'm a sucker for two minute sporting events that require you to drink whiskey cocktails and wear funny hats.)

So put on your finest fedora, grab a handful of crushed ice, whip up a batch of mint syrup, and give yourself a liberal pour of whisky, because it's time for the annual JBorhood Kentucky Derby Extravaganza!

As always, my rankings involve a complex formula that accounts for odds, post position, whether or not the horse is pretty and, most importantly, the quality of the horse's name.

20. Homeboykris (Odds: 50-1, Post Position: 19)

This isn't a good horse name. It isn't a good dog name. Hell, it isn't even a good intramural water polo team name.

The only positive thing about Homeboykris's name is the fact that trainer Rick Dutrow didn't name him after a bowel movement like his last horse (Big Brown). I know, I know, Big Brown won the Kentucky Derby. He was still named after poop.

19. Dean's Kitten (Odds: 50-1, Post Position: 8)

Dean's Kitten? Puh-leeze. The owner couldn't have given him a less threatening name if they tried.

Don't get me wrong. There's nothing inherently bad about using the [Name]'s [Animal] nomenclature for choosing a name for a racehorse, but you have to pick a strong name and a ferocious animal, like Salvatore's Manticore.

Now that's a horse that could win the derby.

18. Paddy O'Prado (Odds: 20-1, Post Position: 10)

Putting aside the fact that Paddy O'Prado sounds more like a drunk Irishman than a racehorse, Paddy has only one quality win in her career... against Dean's Kitten.

17. Make Music For Me (Odds: 50-1, Post Position: 9)

I love the story of trainer Alexis Barba trying to become the first female trainer to win the Kentucky Derby. I'd love it more if her horse had won more than one race in eight attempts.

16. Line of David (Odds: 30-1, Post Position: 5)

Get in the back of the line, David.

15. Stately Victor (Odds: 30-1, Post Position: 6)

Stately Victor sounds like the name of a portly Saint Bernard, not a champion racehorse.

14. Mission Impazible (Odds: 20-1, Post Position: 14)

Congratulations, you either thought it would be cool/funny/fashionable to name your horse after a pun that only makes sense to you or you're illiterate.

Nice work, ace.

(Having said that I'm sure I'll read an article about how the horse was named by the owner's darling two-year old son, who couldn't pronounce impossible. I know if I had to enter a horse in the Kentucky Derby, I'd let my two year-old daughter Haley name it, meaning it would almost assuredly be named "Triceratops Boobies".)

13. Backtalk (Odds: 50-1, Post Position: 18)

Let's just say that descriptors like "modestly accomplished", qualifying for the field due to injuries to other horses, and losing to 30-1 Derby long shots (American Lion) by 14 lengths in qualifying tournaments are not things I generally associate with Kentucky Derby winners.

12. Discreetly Mine (Odds: 30-1, Post Position: 15)

If you were married to someone, wouldn't you be a little worried if the name of their horse conjured images of clandestine infidelity? I'm just saying...

11. Sidney's Candy (Odds: 5-1, Post Position: 20)

The irony of Jenny Craig (yes, that Jenny Craig) naming her horse after a confection is not lost on me. That said, I suppose Sidney's Candy is better than Sidney's Bran Muffin.

10. Dublin (Odds: 12-1, Post Position: 17)

Things I associate with Dublin: Scotch. Guinness. Leprechauns.

Fast horses? Not so much.

But, there's a street in Dublin named after my ancestor, Jeremiah D'Olier -- who founded the Bank of Dublin -- (no, really), so I can't be too hard on the big fellah.

9. Noble's Promise (Odds: 12-1, Post Position: 3)

So close. If the owner's had just switched the 'l' and the 'e' in Noble's Promise's name, it would have been creative, inspirational, and intellectual. Instead, they sound like pretentious wankers.

8. Jackson Bend (Odds: 15-1, Post Position: 13)

I'd like to say that the fact that Jackson Bend never finished worse than second place in nine races was the determining factor for this pick. But, really, I'm just giddy at the thought of hearing a smug Brent Musburger say "and Jackon's coming round the bend..."

7. American Lion (Odds: 30-1, Post Position: 7)

A fast horse with a wild streak, an elegant, yet simple name, and the ability to hold back and kick into high gear down the stretch. On Saturday, look for this lion to roar. (I'm sorry. That pun is terrible, even by my standards. Yes, surprisingly, even I have standards.)

6. Awesome Act (Odds: 10-1, Post Position: 16)

The owners nailed every field on the great racehorse naming checklist.

Two words. Check.

Slick alliteration. Check.

Unpretentious. Check.

Rolls off the tongue. Check.

Not named for a family member named Dean, a kitten, or a combination of the two? Check.

Also, in his last two races, Awesome Act won the Gotham Stakes -- a premier prep race for the Kentucky Derby, and finished third in the Wood Memorial -- another prestigious Derby tune up -- after stumbling coming out of the gate and throwing a shoe.

Forget Dez Bryant running a 4.5 40-yard dash at the NFL combine after forgetting his shoes. Awesome Act finished third in a race without a shoe.

Boo-yah.

5. Conveyance (Odds: 12-1, Post Position: 12)

Forget the cool name.

Forget the crazy speed.

Forget that this horse is trained by three time Derby winner, Bob Baffert.

The only thing you need to know about Conveyance is that he looks scary. Really scary. He's a dark, cloudy gray with piercing black eyes and a jet black mane. He looks like he should be ridden by one of the Nazgul from Lord of the Rings. (For the record, I'm not sure if I should be more embarrassed for making that comparison or for not having to Google "Nazgul".)

If he wins the Derby, I'm 90% sure that he'll eschew the winnings in exchange for your soul.

4. Super Saver (Odds: 15-1, Post Position: 4)

Two words: Calvin Borel.

He rode 50-1 long shot Mine That Bird to victory in last year's Derby, before pulling the ultimate shocker and choosing to ride a different horse, Rachel Alexandra, in the Preakness, which he also won.

Trainer Todd Pletcher, who's 0-24 in the Kentucky Derby and just lost his prize horse and pre-Derby favorite, Eskendereya (who I'm convinced was named as a way of punishing sports writers for ignoring horse racing for all but two minutes every year) to injury, is searching for a miracle.

If anyone can deliver, it's Calvin Borel.

3. Lookin At Lucky (Odds: 3-1, Post Position: 1)

Seven races. Five wins, a place (2nd), and a show (3rd).

By all accounts, Looking at Lucky was the fastest, most dominant horse in every race he ran and is the odds on favorite to win on Saturday. But, he has a bad habit of running into traffic and if he doesn't get a good start, could get locked into the rail.

Oh, who am I kidding? I just think anyone who names their horse "Lucky" deserves to eat it.

2. Ice Box (Odds: 10-1, Post Position: 2)

Ice Box has great top end speed and likes to hang back and make a strong late push, which often fares well in a long distance race like the Derby.

Plus, how can you not like a horse whose name makes it sound like he's owned by Samuel L. Jackson in Pulp Fiction. (How do I know which horse is yours? It's the one that says Bad Motha-F***** on it.)

1. Devil May Care (Odds: 10-1, Post Position: 11)

Here I go again.

Two years ago, I picked the unsung filly (horse jargon for a girl) Eight Belles to win the Derby in honor of the impending birth of my daughter Haley. Eight Belles preceded to run the race of her life, finishing a narrow second behind Big Brown, before tragically breaking two ankles at the finish line and being euthanized on the race track minutes later.

The experience ranks as one of the most tragic, heartbreaking moments of my entire sporting life and I've watched horse racing a little differently ever since.

I'm worried about throwing my heart and soul behind another little girl, but, as they say, to Hell with it. Devil May Care.

Go get em, girl.

Farewell to Jimmy - 2010

noreply@blogger.com (The Dole) — Fri, 23 Apr 2010 09:39:00 +0000

What a tournament. What a Jimmy.

Jimmy virgin, Brit (Gremlins) took home the vaunted Jimmy championship in dominant fashion -- 6 more correct picks and 28 more points than his closest competitors -- and as such, wins the grand prize of a JBorhood article on the topic of his choosing or a spot on an upcoming JBorhood podcast.

While I don't have anything nearly as pants-wettingly exciting for the rest of you, I certainly didn't forget you...

Thank God for Georgetown and Kansas Award: RDub (Ryan)

Lost in the hullaballoo of Georgetown's and Kansas's early exits from the tournament and the corresponding collateral damage suffered by most brackets was the second round decimation of New Mexico, the East Region's #3 seed. Most Jimmy entrants had West Virginia and Kentucky in the Elite Eight of the East (say that ten times fast), so no one noticed the catastrophic effect that had on Ryan's bracket.

Until now.

You see, Ryan didn't have Kentucky or West Virginia coming out of the East. That's too cliche. Likely inspired by his familiarity with Mountain West teams and (I'm speculating here) a case of Heineken, Ryan picked the New Mexico Lobos to knock off West Virginia, Kentucky, and Duke in order to not only win the East Region, but play in the National Championship. It also bares mentioning that Ryan picked the Lobos to play Kansas in the National Championship game, meaning neither of his title picks survived the second round.

I would be remiss if I let this type of misled moxie get overshadowed by the likes of the Jayhawks and the Hoyas. You're welcome, Ryan. Enjoy your moment in the sun.

Best Bracket Name Award: Spottieottiedopalicious (Brett)

It's not topical or relevant. It's not a clever pun. It's not even related to baskeball. But there's something magical about the way Brett's bracket name rolls off the tongue. It is simple, timeless, and beautiful and can only truly be described as spottieottiedopalicious.

Flattery Will Get You Everywhere Award: The Jimmy (Trenton)

Were it not for the truly transcendent Spottieottiedopalicious (the depth and meaning of which I am only now beginning to truly understand), "The Jimmy" would have won the Best Bracket Name Award running away.

Regardless of his narrow defeat in the aforementioned illustrious category, Trenton earns an award simply for stroking my ego. As a side benefit of winning, I will repay the favor to Trenton, who is truly a handsome, brilliant, and (this goes out to all you ladies out there) staggeringly well-hung individual.

Trenton, I salute you.

The Hustler Award: Wally World (Andrew)

Andrew knows nothing about college basketball, or at least that's what he told me when I asked him to join the Jimmy.

"I don't know any of the teams playing", he said.

"I'm going to finish last", he said.

"I don't even know how to fill out a bracket", he said.

Little did I know, Andrew was a smooth talking, NCAA tournament hustler. He came out of nowhere, riding his bold pick of Duke to win the NCAA tournament, to secure a third place finish. Some might call it beginner's luck. But, I know better and, apparently, so does Andrew.

All in a days work for a hustler.

Diamond in the Rough Award: Hayes (Hayes)

If you just glanced at the standings, you'd think that Hayes had a decent, if somewhat unspectacular, year in the Jimmy. 11th place finish. 35 of 63 correct picks. Failed to correctly pick either team in the National Championship game. But that's selling Hayes short. You see, Hayes was one of only five people to correctly pick two of the four Final Four teams (no one picked more than two correctly). For that alone, he deserves an award.

Of course, Hayes also picked tournament runner-up Butler to lose in the First Round, which means he also deserves our mockery. Maybe I should have called this the Topaz in the rough...

Irony Award: I Am Expert (Kolsky)

You'd think someone that named their bracket "I Am Expert" would finish better than 20th out of 24 entries. Then again, anyone who's listened to Kolsky on the JBorhood podcast would understand he's no stranger to wrong predications. For his sake, let's hope he appreciates irony a little more than the rest of us...

D'Olier Family Champion Award: Go Duke Win 2 Lose 1 (Jason)

After Northern Iowa played shotgun to my bracket's Old Yeller, knocking out Kansas -- my championship pick, I realized I had virtually no chance of winning the Jimmy and focused my attention on winning something almost as important: family bragging rights.

Since the Jimmy started in 2006, I haven't just failed to bring home the overall title, I have never even won the family title.

In 2006, I finished second in the family to Jason when Adam Morrison and Gonzaga choked away a 9-point lead with 3:13 to play.

IN 2007, I finished second in the family to Jason when Texas A&M lost a heart breaker to Ohio State in the Sweet 16.

In 2008, I finished second in the family to Deanna when Tennessee lost a stunner to Louisville, who lost a nail biter to North Carolina, when a different outcome in either game would have given me the victory.

In 2009, well… let's not talk about 2009 (16th out of 20?????).

This year, after the Sweet 16, Jason told me that only thing between me and the elusive D'Olier Family Championship Award (aka the D'OFCHA) was either a Maryland victory over Michigan State or a Purdue victory over Texas A&M. So, Jason and I made a gentleman's wager, that if either Maryland or Purdue won -- ceding the title to me -- I would buy Jason a beer and vice versa. Long story short, Purdue won a nail-biter, I owed Jason a beer, but I got to celebrate the sweet satisfaction of my first ever D'OFCHA… or so I thought.

You see, Jason made one unfortunate assumption: That Ohio State would manage not to choke against Tennessee.

But the Buckeyes choked.

I didn't get the points.

Jason beat me by a point.

And, to add insult to injury, I still owe him a beer.

I will now bitterly point out that, for the third time in the Jimmy's history, I failed to win the D'OFCHA despite picking the most correct games. Stupid weighted scoring system.

Fuel for Marital Discourse Award: DZaster (Deanna)

Even though Jason won the D'OFCHA, Deanna technically picked more correct games (39 to Jason's 37). I'm just saying…

(If you don't think this was a subtle attempt to knock the smug smile off my older brother's face than you don't know me well enough.)

Apocalypse Averted Award: Triceratops (Tori)

Tori missed the deadline to submit her picks, so technically, her bracket was unofficial. But she filled one out anyway and I kept track of it offline. While it contained Tori's usual slew of wild upset picks

(Me: "East Tennessee State over Kentucky? Really?"
Tori: "They're the Buccaneers? How can you root against Pirates?")

it also contained a surprising number of accurate selections: West Virginia in the Elite Eight; Duke in the Final Four; and the biggie, Ohio State to win it all. In fact, Tori was the only person to select the Buckeyes to cut down the nets, meaning that if Ohio State won the Championship…

…Tori would have won the Jimmy.

Now, I consider my marriage to be rock solid, but if I had to suffer the shame of watching my wife -- who, might I remind you, picked Morehead State to win it all last year for reasons as juvenile as you might think -- win the Jimmy before I did, I might have never recovered. Luckily, Ohio State stumbled against Tennessee, eliminating any chance of a potential D'Olier household apocalypse.

I liked it better when she picked Morehead.

For Lack of a Better Award: Not As Bad As It Looks? (Bari)

Bari picked 38 games correctly, astutely tabbed Duke to play in the finals, and finished a respectable sixth place.

I got nothing.

Good Boyfriend Award: BracketBusta! (Sean)

Coming into the tournament, it's safe to say that Sean was confident in his picks. He watched college basketball all season. He constantly poured over the Joe Lunardi's bracketology feature on ESPN.com. He watched the NCAA Tournament selection show. He listened to the experts break down the match-ups. He extensively researched the mid-majors. By the time the tournament tipped off, Sean knew so much about the college basketball season that he convinced local sports writer Dave Reardon to publish those picks in the Honolulu Star Bulletin.

But then the tournament happened. After the first round, Sean was in a 4-way tie for 20th, ahead of only two people, one of whom forgot to submit their picks. In the second round Sean's championship pick Kansas lost. By the time the Sweet 16 rolled around, Sean was just trying to salvage his dignity.

Or so one would think.

You see, Sean had an ulterior motive. His girlfriend, Dawn, also entered the tournament and since Sean is a smart man, he decided to sabotage his bracket to let Dawn win, losing the battle to win the war.

Sounds like a keeper, Dawn. Sounds like a keeper.

Senior Circuit Award: Pete's High Flyers (Peter)

They say that basketball is a young man's game. Sexist overtones aside, that statement held true in this year's Jimmy as none of our (how shall I phrase this without pissing off my mom?) more experienced entrants finished in the top half of the pool. Of the three elder states-people, Peter finished at the top of the heap with a 14th place finish.

As a reward for winning, Peter gets a ceremonial cane, glass of Metemucil, and a friendly reminder that he still hasn't beaten me in Fantasy Football. Maybe that's a young man's game too...

No, Really, How Did I Not Win This Tournament Award: Nannie Nannie Boo Boo! (Nick)

Three rounds into the NCAA Tournament, Nick only needed one thing to win the Jimmy: A Kentucky Wildcats National Championship. And after the first three rounds, that seemed like a foregone conclusion.

Round 1: 29 point victory.
Round 2: 30 point victory.
Round 3: 27 point victory.

At that point, the questions wasn't "Will the Wildcats win it all?", but "Will the Wildcats beat anyone by less than 20?". They had two All-Americans, a slew of NBA talent, and more front court depth than the Chicago Bulls (not that that's saying much… *sigh*).

But, for reasons known only to Nick, God intervened. The Wildcats shot an unthinkable 4 for 32 from behind the arc, 16 for 29 from the free throw line and lost to West Virginia by seven.

Think about that for a second. 4 for 32. I could have shot better than 4-32. In fact, I'd wager good money that anyone reading this far into a self-indulgent article about an obscure NCAA Tournament pool could have shot better than 4 for 32.

Nick, I don't know what you did, but I don't think it'd be a bad idea to go to church any time soon.

At Least We Beat Jordan Award: Big3JDaddy (Dad), Bambi's Champs (Mom)

Dad only picked 33 games right for a grand total of 59 points. Mom only picked 32 games right for a whopping 55. Even if you combined their scores, they'd still finish behind tournament champion Gremlins (114 to 130).

Normally, I would take this opportunity to give them a playful ribbing. But not this year.

This year was special.

This year, someone set the record for poor finishes in the Jimmy. No, they obliterated it. In fact, they set the bar so low, no one will finish the Jimmy with a lower score ever.

By failing to submit any of his picks, my brother Jordan (MEGALODON!) ended up with the all-time record for the lowest score in the Jimmy's history:

Zero.

So, Mom, Dad, consider yourselves lucky. I won't say that you'd be better off throwing darts at a bracket blindfolded than making your picks. I won't say that your picks would make Dick Vitale cry. I won't even say that a blind spider monkey could have made better picks after drinking a bottle of Jack Daniels.

I'll just say, you should give your youngest son a hug.

Thanks for playing everyone. We had the best turnout Jimmy history and as much fun as I can ever remember. I hope to see you all next year.

Until then, see you in the Hood!