The J-Borhood

The Bear Essentials

noreply@blogger.com (The Dole) — Thu, 11 Mar 2010 20:11:00 +0000

Want to know the Super Bowl implications of the Bears signing Julius Peppers?

Want to know what the signing of Chester Taylor means for the Matt Forte era?

Are you just trying to figure out how to pronounce Manumaleuna?

Then, my friends, you've come to the right place. I sat down with JBorhood podcast regular Matt Kolsky this Wednesday to help sort through the biggest free agent signing period in Bears history. In the process, we touch on the Ben Roethelesburger (I don't know if I spelled that right and, frankly, I don't care) scandal, the state of the Arizona Cardinals, and Robert DeNiro's newest ESPN project.

So sit back, relax, and get your pod on.

JBorhood Podcast - Bears Talk - 03/08/2010

First Annual JBorhood MLB Preview Podcast Extravaganza! 2010

noreply@blogger.com (The Dole) — Sat, 06 Mar 2010 02:41:00 +0000

Do you want find out how trading for the worst pitcher in baseball can actually improve a team?

Would you like to know the over/under for times Javier Vazquez cries on the mound?

Are you curious about how to express your affection for Gordon Beckham without sounding racist?

Then sit back, relax, enjoy a hearty helping of vegan cookies, and enjoy the First Annual JBorhood MLB Playoff Podcast Extravaganza! 2010, featuring JBorhood podcast regular, Matt Kolsky.

(Note: The podcast was originally over an hour long, so I split it into two parts -- Part 1: Overall 2010 Outlook, Part 2: Predicting the division winners. Both are equally bizarre.)

JBorhood 2010 MLB Preview Podcast - Part 1

JBorhood 2010 MLB Preview Podcast - Part 2

Everything you never wanted to know about the NBA

noreply@blogger.com (The Dole) — Sat, 27 Feb 2010 01:39:00 +0000

This week, I sat down with JBorhood regular, Matt Kolsky, the new PR Director and TV color commentator for the Bakersfield Jam, the NBA D-League team you've undoubtably read about on Deadspin.com(Read more here). We discussed the NBA Trade Deadline, the outlook for the 2010 free agent class, and whether anyone can derail the impending Lakers-Cavs NBA Finals.

So sit back, relax, and crack open a frosty horchata...

JBorhood Podcast - 2/26/2010

The Annual Super Bowl Prognostication Extravaganza 2010

noreply@blogger.com (The Dole) — Sat, 06 Feb 2010 21:48:00 +0000

When I was growing up, my life revolved around Michael Jordan and the Chicago Bulls. (To be fair, I was only ten when the Bulls won their first title, so beer, breasts, and XBox Live hadn’t entered the picture yet.) I only wore Michael Jordan shoes; I let my tongue hang out when I played basketball; I memorized all the words to the “Be Like Mike” song; I literally thought I was Michael Jordan’s younger, whiter, clumsier, less athletically gifted, little brother from another mother. Basically, Michael Jordan without the height, strength, jump shot, vertical leap, lock down defensive ability or any discernible talent whatsoever. But if the NBA awarded points for recklessly traveling while flailing your limbs and haphazardly throwing your body into other players like a blind chicken with octopus arms (aside from the 2006 NBA Finals, of course), I’d be putting the finishing touches on my Hall-of-Fame career right now.

As the Bulls laid waste to the league in the 90’s – rattling off 6 straight titles (the two non-Jordan years never happened, just like MJ’s supposed comeback with the Wizards never happened) and winning an NBA record 72 games in a season – and Michael cemented his legacy as the most gifted player ever, I lived vicariously through the Bulls and enjoyed the finest period in my history as a sports fan. I watched the greatest player ever lead the greatest team ever and dominate the league so thoroughly that, by the end, even his early detractors could no longer deny their respect for him. On a nightly basis, no matter what you were doing, if Michael Jordan was playing, you canceled your plans. You never knew when he was going to do something you’d never seen before and might never see again.

Jordan didn’t make baskets.

Jordan made history.

I frequently curse my father for bestowing his hopeless love of Chicago sports on me, but truthfully, no amount of heartbreak can diminish the thrill of a decade’s worth of memories, cheering on the greatest player who ever lived. A lifetime of Eddy Currys, Rex Grossmans, Neifi Perezs, Cade McNowns, Dalibor Bagarics, Corey Pattersons, and, dare I say it, Voldermorts (a.k.a Steve “He who shall not be named” Bartman) are worth the pleasure of having watched MJ transcend greatness.

Now, history is repeating itself, and no one is talking about it.

So, lest you take it for granted, I implore you to watch every minute of tomorrow's Super Bowl and savor every second Peyton Manning has the football, because you might never see someone that good, that talented, and that driven take the field ever again. He is reinventing the position of Quarterback and making history with every dropback, every audible, and every touchdown. And whether you eat, sleep, and breathe football or the only football game you watch every year is the Super Bowl (and only for the commercials), you need to watch tomorrow's game and appreciate the display of football at its highest level.

The Colts might not win, in fact, I think the game will be a lot closer than most people are saying, but I guarantee you that Peyton Manning will put on a show for the ages. And maybe that's the crux of the issue. Football is a team sport in the truest sense. One person, no matter how special, does not make a great team. Peyton Manning doesn't play defense; he doesn't catch the football; he can't block for himself. He needs 21 other teammates on offense and defense (and that's discounting special teams and substitutes, aspects of the game the JBorhood often finds undervalued) playing at an extremely high level to win tomorrow's game. On the flip side, Michael Jordan played both ends of the court and only relied on four other teammates at a time to win. Even in baseball, one or two pitchers can single-handedly win a World Series (*cough* *cough* 2001 Diamondbacks *cough* *cough*). But in football, a quarterback can only do so much, which explains why Manning has avoided the level of attention his game deserves.

You know he's incredible. You know he's got a laser rocket arm. You know he's one of the best Quarterback's playing right now.

But you might not know that he's the greatest Quarterback to ever play the game, and I think that's a shame.

So, rather than getting up to use the bathroom during the game like you usually do to avoid missing the Super Bowl commercials, wait until the Saints have the ball or, better yet, pee in an empty beer bottle or plastic beer bottle lying around (Your friends will understand. It's Peyton Manning.). But, whatever you do, don't miss a second of Peyton Manning.

Football doesn't get any better.

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.

This year, I'm proud to present the "It's actually just about the Quarterback" Bowl.

Game Breakdown:

I'll save you a long winded breakdown, because I don't think this game needs one.

Both teams feature explosive offenses and fast, undersized defenses. The Saints rely on creativity and mis-direction and the Colts rely on execution and, well, Peyton Manning. The key to slowing down (because, really, you can't stop either one) both teams is to get pressure on the Quarterback. If you only watch one thing on Sunday, watch the offensive lines. As long as they can prevent defenders from running unbated to their Quarterback, their offenses will shine. If either team's line struggles, their team will struggle too.

But I don't think either line will struggle. I think we'll see an entertaining, back and forth game where the team with the ball at the end will win.

But in an even game, I think the advantage goes to the best player. Not just the best player in the game, or the best player this season, but maybe the best player ever.

I think this game will be won by Peyton Manning and we'll look back and remember it as the moment he became the greatest to ever play the game.

(Just remember who told you.)

[Author's Note: Take heart, Saints fans. I've incorrectly predicted the outcome of the Super Bowl for four straight years, so you can probably start celebrating now.]

The Naked Running Experiment

noreply@blogger.com (The Dole) — Wed, 03 Feb 2010 06:17:00 +0000

I'm not a runner, never been one.

I've done my fair share of running, but generally as the by product of a physical activity that didn't make me want to hurl myself into oncoming traffic out of sheer boredom. Running was for the kids in high school who weren't big enough to play football, tall enough to play basketball, or European enough to play soccer. (You could always tell who the soccer players were in High School because they spent an extra twenty minutes in the locker room quaffing their hair. To this day, I firmly believe that soccer has an unwritten rule that secretly benefits players with immaculate locks). Runners were the unusually peppy kids who wore shirts with sayings like "I Run for Fun" that they pretended were funny in an ironic way, but we knew were funny in an I-can't-believe-someone-would-want-to-broadcast-the-fact-that-they've-never-gotten-laid-so-clearly way.

So I assure you, when I woke up this morning, embarking on a month long running experiment was not on my to do list.

(In case you're wondering, this morning my to do list consisted of:

Wear sweatpants til noon (mission accomplished. God bless working from home.). Brew a cup of coffee that I could drink without gagging (close enough). Post a funny Facebook status update ("Do Apple Stores include an edgy facial hair requirement into their employment contracts?" Boo-yah!). Learn to divide by zero (sadly, this feat continues to elude me).

Hey three out of four ain't bad...)

But this morning, an article caught my eye: "Running Shoes May Cause Damage to Knees, Hips and Ankles, New Study Suggests" (http://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2010/01/100104122310.htm). According to the study, modern running shoes cause a 36% increase in knee flexion torque, a 38% increase in knee varus torque, and a whopping 54% increase in hip internal rotation torque.

My first thought: "What the hell is knee flexion torque?"

My second thought: "What the hell is knee varus torque?"

My third thought: "I really wish I had paid attention in Science class."

Specific stress effects aside, the study laid out a clear case that modern running shoes alter people's natural running motion, which leads to increased stress on ankles, knees, and hips and a higher incidence of injury.

In other words, the three hundred dollar, ultra-cushioned, kinetically-based, heavily-researched, heavily-marketed, super-shoe not only fails to provide the advertised protective benefits, it actually hurts you.
Simply put, everything we know about running is wrong.

Wow.

You might not find that interesting, but it gives me a raging geek boner. It is totally counter intuitive. My entire life, I've watched a series of commercials telling me that I wanted, nay, needed, the newest Nike Super Air Angelic Majestic Wonder of Hosts 4000 Plus to protect my helpless feet, cushion my frail knee joints, and strengthen my natural running motion. Now I find out, the best thing I could have done for said helpless feet, frail knee joints, and woeful natural running motion is to set those shoes on fire.

I'll say it again, wow.

Now, I'm a naturally skeptical person, so I typed "Barefoot Running" into Google to find out if other research, articles, or opinions backed up the findings. Bam! 438,000 results, including recent in-depth articles from Wired Magazine and the New York Times extolling the virtues of barefoot running and its role in restoring a human's natural gait.

http://www.wired.com/wiredscience/2009/07/barefoot/

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/10/27/health/27well.html?_r=2

According to the recent research, modern running shoes encourage bad running habits. Rather than the more natural motion of landing on the mid-sole or ball of your foot, which naturally absorbs the shock while the foot rotates forward, heavily padded running shoes encourage you to land squarely on your heel, sending the full force of impact directly into your ankle, knee, and hips.

Maybe it was the freedom of wearing only sweatpants (one of the many positive externalities of working from home), maybe it was the after-effects of slugging down two cups of borderline gag-inducing coffee, maybe it was the smug sense of hipster satisfaction from leaving my witty Facebook message, maybe it was frustration stemming from my continued inability to divide by zero, but for some reason, I decided that I needed to answer the barefoot running question once and for all, the only conclusive way I knew how...

By testing it on myself.

The Goal: Run ten miles barefoot, pain free.
The Subject: Me
The Stakes: The health and well being of my feet, knees, and hips.

I fully believe that this will be the precursor to an in-depth article about micro-fracture knee surgery, but at this point, it's ten miles or bust.

Wish me luck, JBorhood.

(On a related note, you can send all donations to the Future Justin D'Olier Knee Surgery Fund to 555 ThisShouldBeAsFunnyAsItIsCrazy Lane, Honolulu HI, 96800)

Day 1 (Wed, 1/5): Short loop around the block ~ 1/4 mile.

The pads of my feet are a little sore, but otherwise not too bad. The biggest issue is how strange it feels to run barefoot, like something is missing. (You mean like your shoes?!?!!? Hey, settle down.)

Day 2 (Thu, 1/6): Run around Kahala Mall ~ 1/2 mile

I can't shake the feeling that I'm running naked, or that my car broke down at the beach and I'm running to the gas station. People give me some long awkward gazes, like my fly is down or something.

The pads of my feet are still tender and I experienced some mild soreness at the top of my left shin under my knee that worried me, but it completely dissipated after a couple minutes. I think the pain is due to the increased reliance on the front leg muscles to help cushion the impact of my foot, but I'll closely monitor the situation to make sure it doesn't develop into a serious knee injury. The fact that I am a human guinea pig has begun to sink in.

Overall, I feel fantastic after the run, aside from having dirty feet and feeling like a total loser, or course...

Day 3 (Fri, 1/7): Run to the intersection of Kilauea and Hunakai and back ~ One mile.

Good Lord, this city needs to pave its roads. For the most part, running along the sidewalk or main thoroughfares of Kahala has been surprisingly easy on the soles. But the worn down, gravely asphalt on the side streets is murder on the instep. The combination of the uneven surface, occasional razor sharp patch of crumbling rocks, and random tiny rock that embeds itself into the space between your toes is almost as embarrassing as the dismissive glance from the hot girl running by who instantly assumes you're some quixotic hippie who feels that running shoes inhibit your chi from connecting to Mother Gaia. I considered making a shirt that says "I'm only running barefoot because it's been scientifically proven to cause less stress on your joints" before realizing that it would only make things worse.

As for my feet, the pain in the ball has increased a bit as the skin slowly adapts to life sans shoes, but the soreness subsided fairly quickly after the run and left only mild warmth twenty minutes after the run. The mild pain under my shin transformed into a fairly acute muscle ache during the run, but it feels less like a shin splint, and more like my left calf is cussing me out for my bizarre quarter life crisis decision to run without footwear. I think my shin has a point.

Overall, I feel great and remain surprised at the lack of soreness.

Day 4 (Wed, 1/13): Run to intersection of Kilauea and Hunakai and back ~ One mile

Today I stepped on my first rock. And my second rock. And my first thorn. Not coincidentally, today was the first day I wished I was wearing shoes.

I'm not sure if I can describe quite how jarring, landing on the sharp point of a cracked piece of concrete can be to the natural flow of a run. Imagine you woke up early and went to 24 Hour Fitness for a pre-work workout. You were tired at first, but after the flirty conversation with the cute girl in the running shorts and a sports bra on the elliptical trainer and a few laps in the pool you feel refreshed and invigorated. You head over to Starbucks and on the way help a little old lady cross the street and climb a tree to get a little girl's kitten. Upon opening the door to Starbucks, you see the hot girl from the gym in line (what are the chances?) and strike up another five minutes of witty banter while sharing a laugh that you both love grande iced coffees with a shot of hazelnut syrup (OMG!). You offer to pick up the tab for her only to discover that she's already paid for you and slips you her phone number. Your head is spinning and you feel lighter than air, trying to remember if you've ever had a better morning. You decide it's a close second to the time the Andrews twins from next door invited you to go skinny dipping by the lake, but agree that today is in the top five, no question. The barista calls your order and hands you your cool, iced beverage. You take a sip and let the calming caffeinated rush surge through your veins, when all of a sudden, the hot girl slaps you in the face, throws her coffee on you, and jams a large sharp piece of concrete directly into your heel.

It felt something like that.

But mind-numbing heel pain aside, the run was actually a fairly pleasant experience. For the first time, I had stretches where I forgot I wasn't wearing running shoes and ran relaxed, comfortable, and free. My feet felt better than they have since I started running sans footwear and aside from some minor lingering soreness on the pads of my feet, I am completely pain-free.

Also, the evidence is completely anecdotal, but judging from the smiles I got from a pair of seventeen-year-old girls, the barefoot running trend is well received by the younger generation.

In summary, foot pain bad, Lolita factor good.

For the sake of my marriage, let's diplomatically say the jury's still out.

Day 5 (Fri, 1/15): Run to park at the bottom of KCC and back ~ 2 miles

Honolulu... we have a problem.

After an initial period of pain-free running, I have developed my first physical impediment to the barefoot running experiment: blisters.

Well, not blisters per se, more like pre-blisters. Not even pre-blisters, really, since neither the physical formation of tender protrusions, nor the retention of fluid under the skin, has begun. But a latent soreness that suggests the barbarians are at the gate. Blister foreshadowing, if you will.

I noticed the soreness after my third run (the reason for the recent drawn out interludes between runs). It took me this long to write about it because I generally write each article as soon as I finish running and the soreness doesn't appear until about 30 minutes after each run. The discomfort is most prominent on the outside of my left ring toe (After a five minute mental debate about how best to describe this toe, since toes apparently lack the basic flange nomenclature ascribed to fingers, I decided to apply the finger naming system to toes. For the record, this description barely edged "the toe next to the pinky toe" and "the piggy who was denied the pleasure of enjoying his friend's roast beef". I thought you needed to know.) and the front inside and outside circumference of the balls of my feet.

The blister foreshadowing feels like a mild heat under the skin and is somewhat sensitive to the touch. It does not impede my ability to walk, nor does it particularly hurt. I don't even notice it while running. After 24 hours, the sensation completely disappears, but it reappears after every run and worsens if I run on back to back days.

I want to continue running on a regular basis, but do not, under any circumstances, want to develop blisters. I fear blisters. In fact, I am deathly afraid of blisters. I feel about blisters the way Andy Bernard feels about nipple chaffage. Which leads to my current existential crisis.

Do I wear shoes while my feet heal and potentially violate the moral integrity of my barefoot running experiment?

Do I stagger my runs, unnecessarily drawing out the experiment and potentially masking some of the stress effects of running without footwear?

Do I stop acting like a Nancy-boy about my princess feet, eat a raw steak, grow a beard, kill a deer with my bare hands (sorry, got carried away with hyperbole) and run through the pain, at risk of developing blisters?

At this point, the only thing I'm sure of is that this experiment has provided ample writing material and minimal structural fatigue or soreness.

Never a dull moment in the JBorhood.

Day 6 (Tue, 1/19): Run to park at the bottom of KCC and back ~ 2 miles

I don't like running. In fact, I hate it. It is boring, monotonous, and frivolous. If I'm going to move my legs for an hour, I'd far rather play basketball or soccer. Running is everything bad about sports, without any of the pay off. It's like prepping for a four course meal without ever cooking or eating it.

When I started this barefoot running experiment it had nothing to do a love of running. I was immensely attracted to the concept of an area of physical activity where the scientific research suggested a vastly different optimization strategy than common knowledge. Testing the effects of barefoot running on myself sounded like an engaging intellectual activity and a perfect subject for the JBorhood.

A science experiment (with jokes).

But experiments require impartiality and the more I run barefoot, the less impartial I become.

Because I like running barefoot. I like it a lot.

I like how easy it is to get ready.

Step 1: Find a pair of pants.
Step 2: Run.

I like the feeling of the pavement under my feet.

I like how I've begun to use my entire foot, each toe hitting the pavement and springing my leg forward.

At first, running barefoot felt like the first week at a nudist colony. Nervous. Self-conscious. Constantly afraid of exhibiting my excess enthusiasm. Now, I enjoy the sensation. I feel more comfortable and fully engaged with every part of my running motion.

I like being naked.

I'm no longer simply interested in whether or not barefoot running will work. I want it to work. I want barefoot running to win.

Because of that, I think I've sugar coated some of the problems so far. Barefoot running hasn't been quite as easy, simple, and problem free as I've conveyed it and I want to take the opportunity to discuss all of its pitfalls.

1. Stepping on rocks sucks and it happens a lot.

I probably step on two or three rocks every mile and each one hurts. They hurt to varying degrees, nine times out of ten times they don't even slow me down, but it always hurts and it always sucks.

2. The soreness in my shin/lower knee persists.

I still think that the soreness in my left leg is a muscle ache that occurs because of the increased reliance on the foot and leg to cushion the impact of running, but I feel some tightness in my shin every time I run. The soreness has markedly decreased and I believe it will go away, but it's only fair to report that it still exists.

3. Crossing bumpy asphalt is more than mildly unpleasant

Back roads and side streets that lack basic level upkeep rank somewhere between a nuisance and the bane of my barefoot running existence. I take the manly approach and suck it up and act like it doesn't hurt when I run over them, but it does. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go grunt, drink a beer and blow stuff up.

4. People give you funny looks

Maybe my research will help barefoot running spring into mainstream culture, but judging from the bizarre looks I get from people (which range from "silly-hippie-dismissal" to "omg-let’s-all-point-at-that-that-bizarre-new-age-Quasimodo-and-laugh"), it still has a long way to go.

Ok, now you know the rest of the story. Barefoot running has still been an overwhelmingly positive experience and I look forward to continuing my research, but it's not all a bed of roses.

Now, forget I told you all of that and get out there and run naked!

Day 7 (Wed, 1/20): 30 minutes on the elliptical trainer

Because of the threatening blisters and the rain, I did 30 minutes of interval training in shoes on the elliptical trainer at the James today (the James, in case your wondering, is what most people refer to as "the Gym", but we're not that friendly). Even though I wasn't running, working out in footwear felt a little bit like going to the strip club after getting in a fight with my girlfriend. Worse still, I jogged for five minutes back to my apartment, which felt like getting a strippers phone number at the club. Later that evening, I walked my dog in slippers, which felt like... you know, I think it's time to put this metaphor to rest.

I just hope my feet forgive me.

Day 8 (Sat, 1/23): Run to park at the bottom of KCC and back ~ 2 miles

It was bound to happen at some point.

I’m still getting used to the naked-in-church feeling of barefoot running, so up until now I’ve taken great lengths to avoid running into anyone that I know. The only person I’ve allowed to accompany me is my pit-bull Sophie; as far as she’s concerned, I could run in a giant yellow chicken suit as long as I put out a bowl of food and water for her when we got home. Actually, scratch that. Even Sophie wouldn’t run with me if I wore a giant yellow chicken suit. She has standards (unlike her master).

Anyway, as Sophie and I bounded down Kilauea Avenue, I noticed two on-coming joggers slow down, exchange a few words, and give us a somewhat lengthy stare. I’ve gotten used to strange looks at this point, but this one was even more prolonged than usual. I wasn’t wearing glasses, so the fact that these people looked incredible familiar didn’t sink in until it was too late.

My friend’s mom: Oh, hi, Justin! We were wondering who that strange guy running without shoes was.

My friend’s sister: Yeah, we didn’t recognize you without your hair (note: I recently shaved my head. The whole naked running process is starting to invade all aspects of my life)… or your shoes [cracks a half smile].

After a somewhat embarrassed, stumbling explanation about the origin and science behind my barefoot running experiment, my friend’s Mom and sister seemed vaguely impressed and interested. I actually felt pretty good about the whole encounter when they wished me good luck and told me to keep them updated.

I ran the next 10 minutes with my head held high and a little zip in my step.
Then I passed a hippie couple with waist-length dreadlocks who gave me a long, bizarre, head-tilted gaze and whispered something inaudible to each other while I passed.

That’s right. Even the hippies think I’m weird.

*sigh*

If you hate the Yankees, then the terrorists win

noreply@blogger.com (The Dole) — Fri, 30 Oct 2009 21:23:00 +0000

There are many things wrong with sports:

The lack of a playoff in college football.

The NFL overtime system that allows teams to lose games without ever touching the ball in the extra period.

The designated hitter. (Use it in both leagues, or take it away. I don't care which it is.)

The Winter Olympics reluctance to embrace naked figure skating.

The LA Clippers.

The Oakland Raiders.

Hockey, in general.

But one thing that isn't wrong with sports, yet often finds itself lumped in with the rest of the major sports issues of our time, is the New York Yankees, which is patently ridiculous. A travesty. An absurd fantasy. Because there's nothing wrong with the New York Yankees.

That's right. You heard me.

There's nothing wrong with the New York Yankees.

In fact, I'll take it one step further. The Yankees are one of the greatest examples of excellence in modern history (notice I did not say modern sports history) and deserve our praise, adulation, and respect.

You can be jealous of the Yankees. You can be bitter about their success. But you can't deny their excellence.

The goal of professional sports is simple: win. And no one wins like the Yankees. Since the advent of the World Series in 1903, the Yankees have won a staggering 26 of 105 possible World Series titles, almost once every four years. In comparison, the next team on the list, the St. Louis Cardinals (excuse me while I vomit in my mouth), have only won 10 World Series. (I say "only" like I wouldn't give my right testicle for a Cubs World Series victory...)

Even if you only count titles after the league expanded and switched to an expanded playoff format in 1961, the Yankees still lead all teams with six World Series championships, a rate of nearly one every six years.

[Friend of the Hood and die hard Oakland A's fan, Mike Oppenheim, demanded that I mention that the Oakland A's have won the second most titles (4), during this period. I honored his request, if only to provide him a momentary oasis from the sad realization that the Athletics have become a glorified minor league feeder system for the rest of Major League Baseball. You're welcome, Mike.]

If the Yankees finish off the Phillies this year and capture their 27th World Series title, they will have won more championships than the next three teams combined.

The Yankees have the best winning percentage of any team in history. Nearly twice as many division titles (40) as any other team (LA Dodgers, 22). The most home runs of any team in history, even more stunning considering the Cubs, Braves, Cardinals, Reds, Pirates, Giants, Phillies, and Dodgers have all played nearly 2,500 more games than the Yankees. In fact, despite this nearly 2,500 game disadvantage, the Yankees have actually won more games than Philadelphia (in case Phillies fans didn't have enough of an inferiority complex heading into the World Series).

Since New York changed their name from the Highlanders to the Yankees in 1913, no other team has won at least 100 games more than 8 times. The Yankees have done it on 19 separate occasions.

Of the 51 players that won five or more World Series, only 17 won a title with a team other than the Yankees, and only five won a majority of their titles for a team other than New York.

The Yankees win so much, it's news when they don't win. People assume their current eight year World Series drought must be due to a curse. (I hate to break it to everyone, but eight years isn't a curse. Hell, it isn't even a hex. The Yankees have almost twice as many postseason wins (17) during their so-called "curse", than the Cubs have had since 1945 (9). Please excuse me while I drown 101 years of Cubs related sorrow in a large glass of Jack Daniels.)

Yet, the more the Yankees win, the more people hate them, the more people call out for a salary cap, and the more people say they're ruining baseball.

Yes, the Yankees play in the biggest market in baseball (though it should be noted that they share this market with another team) and they make the most money. But it's not like other teams don't have the resources to compete. With apologies to the Marlins, Rays, Royals, Padres, and Athletics, every team in the Major Leagues plays in a big enough market to support a winning team.

But the Yankees don't just make the most money, they also spend the most money. In fact, they also spend a larger portion of their revenue on their players than any other franchise.

In 2007, the average team spent 45 percent of their budget on players. The Yankees spent 57 percent

In other words, the Yankees give more to their team and less to their owners than any other team in baseball. And isn't that what fans really want?

The real tragedies are franchises like Colorado (32 percent), Arizona (32 percent), Pittsburgh (27 percent), Washington (24 percent), Florida (23 percent) and Tampa Bay (17 percent) whose owners treat their teams like a business, rather than a potential winner. While sports fans nationwide bitch, moan, and complain about the supposed "Evil Empire", these owners laugh all the way to the bank. Meanwhile, the Steinbrenners do everything in their power to continue the Yankee tradition of winning and field a competitive team.

America was founded on the ideals of capitalism. The notion that the strong, the creative, and the hardworking should be rewarded for their talents and abilities. It is this very tenet that has allowed America to thrive, prosper, and remain a world power.

No team in baseball, let alone any other sports franchise in the United States, better represents this most American ideal better than the Yankees.

The issue here is not whether the Yankees have a monetary advantage or unfairly exploit that advantage in their favor - they do.

But you can't hold a team responsible for doing everything in their power within the given set of rules to maximize their success on the field. For if you do, then shouldn't we blame Major League Baseball for a failure to foster a more competitive set of rules? And if Major League Baseball is guilty, then isn't that an indictment of American professional sports leagues in general? I put it to you, JBorhood - isn't this an indictment of our entire capitalist-driven American society?

Well, you can say whatever you want about the Yankees, but I'm not going to sit here and listen to you badmouth the United States of America.

[Cue the Star Spangled Banner, exit stage right, and give me the Yankees in 6. Play ball!]

I am Hawaii's best kept secret in sports, but the Rainbow Wahine are a close second.

noreply@blogger.com (The Dole) — Tue, 29 Sep 2009 04:19:00 +0000

Allow me to let you in on a little secret: The Rainbow Wahine volleyball team is good. Really, really good.

But I won't launch into my usual hyperbolic stream of superlatives, because the Rainbow Wahine aren't that kind of team.

They don't have a Kim Willoughby.

They don't have a Tee Williams.

They don't leave your jaw on the floor with effortless feats of athleticism (the occasional Amber Kauffman jump notwithstanding. In fact, I think Amber might be the reason they say white men can't jump, not white people. Because that girl can fly). They just play good volleyball. Really, really good volleyball.

I watched the 2009 Rainbow Wahine play for the first time last Friday and was astounded at the way Dave Shoji's squad worked together as a team. They had a hand in front of every Pepperdine kill attempt (I say attempt because Pepperdine only converted 38 of 126 hits, which translates to a kill percentage hovering between .120 and hide-the-women-and-children awful). On the rare occasion Pepperdine managed to hit a ball past the formidable UH block, the Wahine had a player in perfect position to make a dig.

The Wahine served well.

They set well.

They passed well.

The only thing they didn't do well was extend the game long enough for me to drink a second beer.

(On that note, I don't know if it's a Wahine Volleyball thing, a general volleyball thing, a reflection of the current down state of the economy, or my complete inability to remember how much beer used to cost, but beer prices were about a dollar or two cheaper on Friday than I remembered at Stan Sherrif Center events. Whatever the reason, this made me a happy. Really, really happy. Jim Donovan, I salute you!)

The only question left in my mind about the Wahine after Friday night's utter dismissal of an incredibly talented opponent was, why haven't I heard more about this team?

Sports media tends to focus on the style over substance. Chad How-stupid-do-you-have-to-be-to-change-your-name-to-a-grammatically-incorrect-Spanish-word Ochocinco's impromptu Lambeau Leap replayed two hundred times on Sportscenter with nary a mention that the Cincinnati offensive line somehow blocked well enough for Cedric I-most-likely-gained-four-pounds-since-you-started-reading-this Benson to rush for 140 yards.

(I think it's probably in my best interest to stop using the hyphenated word jokes before I receive a slew of emails calling me Justin single-handedly-ruined-a-literary-device D'Olier.)

Because of this myopic obsession with flash and pizazz, we tend to overlook simple excellence. And that's a shame.

The primary goal of team sports is to seamlessly integrate a group of individuals into a unit whose collective talent and ability far exceeds their individual skills. And the 2009 Rainbow Wahine have a lot of individual skill.

Aneli Cubi-Otineru hits the ball so hard you think it's going to pop.

Brittany Hewitt and Amber Kauffman form an impenetrable wall up front.

Kanani Danielson has more athleticism than you would ever imagine could fit in a 5' 10" frame.

And Jayme Lee is just so cute, you want to give her a hug. (Seriously. She's looks like she could fit in your pocket. If she wore wings, you'd swear Tinkerbell was playing librero. It's awesome.)

But the way the girls work together on the court is truly something special. They achieve a level of harmony and unity not seen in a UH uniform since a certain record setting Quarterback was tossing touchdown passes to guys in dreds.

The 2009 Rainbow Wahine don't just talk about playing as a team, they truly embrace the concept. It's about time we started embracing them.

Jay Cutler Episode 1: The Phantom Menace

noreply@blogger.com (The Dole) — Sat, 19 Sep 2009 22:42:00 +0000

To this day, I have never anticipated the release of a movie more than when George Lucas released Star Wars Episode One: The Phantom Menace in May of 1999.

The movie was released on a Wednesday, but I was a senior in High School with only a few weeks left before graduation, so my buddies and I left school early to see the first showing. We waited in line for six hours. I won a pair of gold earrings in a Star Wars voice impersonation contest for my impression of Jabba the Hut. By the time we got our seats, the lights dimmed, the curtains raised, and the John Williams soundtrack came blasting through the speakers, I could have used a change of underwear.

But then the movie happened.
Little Anakin happened.
Jar Jar happened.

To put it bluntly, the movie sucked. It was a poorly acted, poorly edited, ill-contrived, turd of a film that bore little resemblance to its predecessors (or my expectations). I tried to justify and make excuses for the movie (“The pod racing sequence was mildly enjoyable.” “The five minutes of Darth Maul didn’t totally suck.” “Maybe Jar Jar gets eaten by a Rancor in the sequel.”), but I couldn’t escape the fact that it was a let down on virtually every level.

In fact, it was so bad that it completely soured me on the Star Wars Prequel Trilogy. I didn’t see Episode 2: Attack of the Clones until it came out on video. To this day, I still haven’t watched Episode 3: Last of the Bastard Children (paraphrased) despite insistence from all my friends that it is the best of the three. As far as I’m concerned, the prequels never happened (just like the second and third Matrix movies and Michael Jordan’s comeback with the Wizards).

Sadly, I’m beginning to feel that way about the 2009 Chicago Bears football season.

All summer long I had a fever, and the only prescription was more Cutler. I read every article I could get my hands on. I wrote a piece for the JBorhood that wavered between ecstatic and first-time-I-got-laid levels of excitement. I put a Google News alert on “Jay Cutler”. I even bought a new set of knives because they were Cutco. (Ok, not really, but I thought about it.) By the end of the pre-season, my obsessive devotion to all things Cutler would likely have qualified as grounds for a restraining order.

Suffice to say, I have never been more excited for a regular season Bears game than I was this past Sunday Night. First game of the season, in prime time, against the arch-rival Packers, with the Bears first legitimate starting quarterback since the Lincoln Administration, by the time the Bears kicked-off, I could have used a change of underwear.

But then the game happened.
Brian Urlacher happened.
Jay Cutler happened.

By the time Monday morning rolled around, the Bears were two games behind their main division rivals (by virtue of head to head tiebreaker), without their best defensive player for the season, and wondering if Jay Cutler is really just Rex Grossman with a diva complex. With the defending Super Bowl Champion Steelers coming to town on Sunday, Bears faithful are preparing to channel their inner Cub fan and “wait til next year”, less than two weeks into a season many thought would end in a Super Bowl.

Sigh.

I’m sure Bears fans won’t receive any sympathy from Patriots Nation, who lost Tom Brady to a season-ending knee injury in the first half of last year’s opening game.

I’m sure Lions fans would trade places with Bears fans in a heart beat as they wait for the Lions to break their current 18 game losing streak.

But, frankly, no other group of fans knows the pain that Bears fans are suffering today. Because, after 59 years of offensive ineptitude, 59 years of ignoring the most important position in all of sports, 59 years of embracing the forward pass like Kanye West embraces grace and dignity, the Bears were finally supposed to have a Quarterback.

And maybe they still do. Calling the Jay Cutler era a regrettable period after only one game is laughably premature even for me (and that’s saying something).

But Sunday was supposed to be the first day of the rest of our lives. The day we could finally sit at the big kids table. The day we could laugh at other teams’ Quarterback controversies. The day we could buy a Bears jersey for a player that didn’t play linebacker, running back, or return specialist. The day when the words “woefully inefficient” made us think of American automakers, instead of our beloved football team.

Instead, we’re left wondering whether our defense can rally around each other and overcome the loss of their physical and emotional leader and whether our franchise savior can throw the ball as effectively to our own team as he can the opposition.

For the record, I think they will.

The Bears defense is too deep and too talented to let the loss of one player, no matter how important, affect their ability to harass opposing offenses.

And, Jay Cutler only has to make mild improvements to win the hearts and minds of Bears fans. It won’t take a miracle to make us forget about Rex Grossman. The Bears Quarterback legacy isn’t exactly Star Wars. If Jay Cutler’s touchdown to interception ratio resembles the number of times I’ve sworn I’ll never drink tequila again (two, as of last week Friday) instead of the percent of last week Friday I remember, he’ll look like Citizen Kane in comparison.

So I’m going to tune in to Sunday’s game against the Steelers. And I’ll watch the next week’s trip to Seattle. Hell, I’ll even stick around for the following game against the Lions (because it’s always fun to watch the Lions get thrown to the lions).

But if the Bears haven’t turned their season around by that point and Jay Cutler hasn’t stopped his noble attempt to honor the legacy of Rex Grossman, I’ll watch Star Wars Episode 3 before I watch another Bears game this season.

JBorhood Kentucky Derby Extravaganza! 2009

noreply@blogger.com (The Dole) — Fri, 01 May 2009 10:04:00 +0000

It’s been approximately 364 days since my last Mint Julep, which is a borderline tragedy and I’m not going to take it anymore.

I hereby declare that the Mint Julep shall be associated with the following events to ensure that they are consumed on a regular basis:

The French Open – What better way to toughen up the French image than associating it with a rugged, manly beverage?
The Daytona 500 – Because the only people at the Daytona 500 not drunk on whiskey are the drivers...or so we like to hope.
Pandemic Outbreaks – All this Swine flu talk makes me want to drink.
Tuesdays – I think this speaks for itself.

I’ll write up a draft of my proposal and forward it to Mr. Obama. I can’t imagine he has more important things to worry about.

In order to tide you over until the impending Julep renaissance, allow me to present my rankings for Saturday’s Kentucky Derby. As always, my rankings involve a complex formula that accounts for odds, pole position, whether or not the horse is pretty and, most importantly, the quality of the horse's name.

20. Mine That Bird (Odds: 50-1, Pole Position: 8)
19. Summer Bird (Odds: 50-1, Pole Position: 17)

The only thing these horses will compete for on Saturday is which one of them has a worse bird themed name.

18. Join in the Dance (Odds: 50-1, Pole Position: 9)

One part hippie unity + One part ‘Lord of the Dance’ = A complete mess

17. West Side Bernie (Odds: 30-1, Pole Position: 1)

Can we all agree that no one, under any circumstances, should ever be named Bernie? I’m pretty sure “naming someone Bernie” is right next to waterboarding on the Bush Administration’s list of approved torture methods.

16. Advice (Odds: 30-1, Pole Position: 4)

You want some advice? Don’t bet on this horse.

15. Chocolate Candy (Odds: 20-1, Pole Position: 11)

I know that “Big Brown” won the Derby last year, but I still can’t get excited about a horse named after a bowel movement…

14. Nowhere to Hide (Odds: 50-1, Pole Position: 18)

I think we can all agree that it’s never good when a horse’s description begins with “the colt isn't very accomplished or fast”.

13. Hold Me Back (Odds: 15-1, Pole Position: 5)

Why would you name a race horse “Hold Me Back”? It’s like naming a boat “Crash Me in to the Reef”.

12. Mr. Hot Stuff (Odds: 30-1, Pole Position: 3)

I find it difficult to get too excited about a horse with a name that is more befitting of an over the hill male stripper.

11. Flying Private (Odds: 50-1, Pole Position: 20)

If only they’d added an ‘s’ to his name…

10. Papa Clem (Odds: 20-1, Pole Position: 7)

Papa Clem sounds like someone I want to kick back and drink Mint Juleps with on the stoop. Papa Clem does NOT sound like a horse I want to bet on.

9. Atomic Rain (Odds: 50-1, Pole Position: 14)

Atomic Rain is small.

Atomic Rain is slow.

Atomic Rain has only won one race and it was only half as long as the Derby.

But dammit, Atomic Rain is the best horse name I’ve heard in my entire life.

8. Friesan Fire (Odds: 5-1, Pole Position: 6)

Friesan Fire is the anti-Atomic Rain.

Great endurance, great speed, great pedigree, but “Friesan Fire” is an unintentionally dyslexic nightmare.

7. Desert Party (Odds: 15-1, Pole Position: 19)

I got nothing. I just like to party.

6. Musket Man (Odds: 20-1, Pole Position: 2)

He lacks the elite speed needed to consider him a favorite, but he’s won five of his last seven races and starts with a great pole position. Plus, he’s named after an old bad ass gun, man.

5. General Quarters (Odds: 20-1, Pole Position: 12)

Approximately one fourth as good as General Dollars.

4. Pioneerof the Nile (Odds: 4-1, Pole Position: 16)

No, that is not a typo. There is no space between the ‘Pioneer’ and the ‘of’ in Pioneerof’s name, and it drives me crazy.

Someone thinks they’re really clever. I think they should be punched in the face.

3. Regal Ransom (Odds: 30-1, Pole Position: 10)

A tailor made great horse name: An element of class, blended with a hint of edginess, polished off with a sexy alliteration. (Plus, he’s SO DARN CUTE!!!!)

2. Dunkirk (Odds: 4-1, Pole Position: 15)

Dunkirk has all the elements of a Derby winner and his only loss was to pre-derby favorite Quality Road, who had to pull out of the Derby with a cracked hoof. Now that Quality Road is out of the Derby field, the only thing that stands between Dunkirk and roses is a name that would be more appropriate for a luggage company.

1. I Want Revenge (Odds: 3-1, Pole Position: 13)

Incredible speed + Great Pedigree + Solid Pole Position + A name that suggests the horse will shiv anyone that tries to pass him = Automatic JBorhood Favorite

Before I sign off, I want to dedicate this year’s article to last year’s runner up, Eight Belles who was euthanized after breaking both front ankles shortly after crossing the finish line.

You might be gone, but I haven’t forgotten you. Sweet dreams, princess.

Simply Great

noreply@blogger.com (The Dole) — Fri, 24 Apr 2009 10:26:00 +0000

Greatness is not elusive. It requires no searching or work to find. When you discover greatness, you know it instantly. It may take time to comprehend the extent of the greatness, but you never doubt that it exists.

Like oral sex.

Oral sex is undoubtedly great.

Anyone lucky enough to find themselves on the receiving end of its glorious wonder does not need a moment to weigh its relative merits. They’re too busy moaning in pleasure, giving praises to their deity of choice, and thinking about how much they’d pay for a lightly toasted ham and turkey with swiss (Really? Only me?). From the moment it starts, to the moment it reaches its final, toe-curling crescendo, the experience is undeniably great.

And that’s the great thing about greatness. It’s simple. If you have to ask whether something is great, it’s not.

Yet, even in the face of this indisputable simplicity, people continue to hold out hope that non-great things will somehow magically improve, evolve, and become great. Like the woman who tells her friends that her ex-con boyfriend has a really great heart and once he gets a haircut, curbs his alcohol abuse, gets a job that doesn’t involve asking whether people want to super size their extra value meal, stops robbing armored cars to pay for his heroin addiction, and quits killing hobos and burying them in the backyard, he’ll make a really great daddy.

But I’m not one to point fingers. I’m the guy that talked himself into believing that Rex Grossman would eventually be a quality NFL starter. (In Grossman’s case, I believe “quality” could be defined as throwing the ball to his teammates more than the opposing defense. *sigh*)

Sadly, us sports fans do this all the time. We so desperately want our favorite players to be great that we ignore all signs to the contrary.

“If Tavaris Jackson would stop peeing his pants at the first hint of pressure, skipping the ball off the turf before it gets to the receiver, and completed more than one out of every ten passes, HE COULD BE GREAT!”

“If Mark Prior could only stay healthy long enough to pitch six innings before complaining of nagging pains in his vaginal wall, HE COULD BE GREAT!”

“If Corey Patterson would learn that no one’s going to take away his dinner if he doesn’t swing at the first pitch, struck out less than a fraternity guy at Lilith Fair, and laid off the neck high fastball, HE COULD BE GREAT!”

“If Tyler Graunke could only study as many lines in his playbook as he snorted off his coffee table, HE COULD BE GREAT!” (That’s right. I went there. Sorry, Tyler. If you “blow” your opportunity to capitalize on the media attention generated by Colt Brennan and make it to the NFL because you were too busy doing coke, you’re gonna get called out by the JBorhood. On that note, I have to pass along my favorite Tyler Graunke story. When Tyler was backing up Colt in 2007, he hit on my buddies girlfriend, M&M, at a bar one night.

Tyler: Hi, I’m Tyler Graunke.

M&M: Who?

Tyler: You know, the Quarterback for the University of Hawaii.

M&M: Isn’t that Colt Brennan?

Tyler: Well…uh…I play too.

M&M: How nice for you.

(M&M walks away)

Let’s just say, after I heard that story, I never expected much from the Graunke era.)

Sadly, this misplaced optimism almost never pays off. Fans keep waiting for their maddeningly gifted, yet tragically flawed idol to take the next step, but it rarely happens. Occasionally, a Brett Favre, a David Ortiz, or a Chauncey Billups will flip the switch and make the leap to greatness, but those players are few and far between. Generally, the great ones are great from day one.

Which is why I’m so excited about Derrick Rose: Because Derrick Rose is great.

From his unassuming 11 point, 9 assist debut to his 36 point, 11 assist, 4 rebound explosion in Game 1 of the Bulls/Celtics series, Derrick Rose has consistently exhibited greatness. That’s not to say he hasn’t struggled – because he has – simply, that in every game, good or bad, you know you’re watching something special. Whether it’s his lightning quick first step, uncanny court vision, or the way he drives the lane, absorbs a hard hit in mid air, and still finishes strong, his uncanny blend of hustle, basketball I.Q., and freakish athleticism are on display at all times.

As a Bulls fan, I haven’t been this excited about a player since, well, since you-know-who. And I’ve been excited about A LOT of players, because the Bulls have had A LOT of high draft picks.

I convinced myself that Elton Brand was the next great power forward (when really, he was like a vanilla ice cream cone: tasty and satisfying, yet wholly underwhelming.)

I convinced myself that Jamal Crawford would be a human highlight reel (when really, his defense made him a human lay-up drill.)

I convinced myself that Eddy Curry would score at will from the low post (when really, he couldn’t even score in the low post with his male chauffeur.)

I convinced myself that Jay Williams would make a historical impact on the NBA (when really, the only thing he made a historical impact on was a utility pole. Ooooohhh…Too soon?).

But, every time I convinced myself that the next player in the long line of disappointing draft picks would be great, I had a nagging sense of doubt. I talked myself into it, but I didn’t truly believe.

Until now.

Now, I’m all in. No doubt about it. 100%.

Derrick Rose is great. The only question left is how great.

I’d stop and think about it, but I’m too busy moaning in pleasure, praying to my deity of choice, and, of course, thinking about how much I’d pay for a lightly toasted ham and turkey with swiss.

[Author's Note: In a failing of epic proportions, I wrote a tribute article to my favorite basketball player (Derrick Rose) and misspelled his name (Derek Rose). Needless to say, I have since corrected the error (and reexamined my practice of publishing articles at 1 AM). Kudos to JBor Kolsky for setting me straight.

And here I thought losing to my wife in the JBorhood March Madness Extravaganza would be my most embarrassing April mishap.]

Playoff Preview

Sadly, I’ve been so busy with a number of outside projects that most of the opening round series will have played three games by the time I post my predictions. On the plus side, I might actually get a few predictions right this year.

First Round

Eastern Conference

Cleveland Lebrons over Detroit Pistons

Ever since MJ retired in 98 (That’s right. 98. I don’t want to hear any nonsense about Washington. That never happened. You hear me? NEVER. HAPPENED.), basketball pundits have been dying to anoint players “the-next-Michael-Jordan”. Thus far, Kobe Bryant has come the closest, but even he hasn’t had the ability to single-handedly strap a team on his back and win a championship like Jordan did in 98 when Pippen was hobbled by a sore back, Rodman was one line of coke away from stripping naked at halftime in the playoffs and pissing all over the court, Kukoc had gained approximately 75 pounds from gorging himself on Big Macs after leaving Croatia, and the Bulls starting Center was Luc “a poor man’s Bill Wennington” Longley. This year, LeBron has a chance to step out from under the shadow of MJ, strap a scrappy, but largely untalented Cleveland team to his freakishly large back and put his own stamp on the league. First stop, Detroit. Next, the world.

LeBrons in 4

Heat over Hawks

I have to be honest: I can only name four players in this entire series: Dwanye Wade, Michael Beasley, Josh Smith, and Al Horford. When in doubt, might as well hitch my wagon to the superstar.

Heat in 6

Magic over Sixers

The Magic's best player is Dwight Howard and the Sixers best player is Andre Igoudala. If your best player’s name is Igoudala, you have problems.

Magic in 7

Celtics over Bulls

Before this series started, I would have said Celtics in 4 or 5. Now, I’m not so sure. Without KG, the Celtics are vulnerable and the Bulls are young enough and dumb enough to think they have a chance. I think the Bulls put up a valiant effort and the series goes 7 games, but I just don’t see the Bulls winning Game 7 in the Boston Garden.

Celtics in 7

Western Conference

Lakers over Jazz

The most amazing development in Kobe’s game as he’s gotten older is deference. He’s finally learned to trust his teammates (frankly, I’m not sure I could blame him for not trusting his teammates before when the team’s Point Guard was named Smush, but I digress…), and the Lakers have taken their game to another level. Pau Gasol is a perfect big man for Phil Jackson’s triangle offense and when they stay focused the Lakers look unstoppable.

I’ll go out on a limb and say the Jazz win one, maybe Game 3, on a Deron Williams buzzer beater. (Before you get impressed, check the posting date of this article.)

Lakers in 5

Rockets over Trail Blazers

Remember how I said that you know greatness when you see it? Well… I hate to break this to Blazers fans, but Greg Oden isn’t great. He’s a decent rebounder and an average defender who moves awkwardly and can’t stay out of foul trouble. Meanwhile, Kevin Durant is on his way to becoming the league's most dominant scorer. Sorry Portland, but Oden is the second coming of Sam Bowie.

Maybe it’s because I’m still bitter that the Bulls drafted Tyrus Thomas over Brandon Roy, but the Trailblazers do not excite me.

Rockets in 6

Dallas over San Antonio

On the subject of bad news, I hate to break this to Spurs fans, but your run as an elite NBA franchise is over. After playing over 1000 games and solidifying himself as possibly the best power forward of all-time, wear and tear have finally caught up to Tim Duncan. If Manu and Parker were healthy, the Spurs might have battled their way to one last title this year, but after Manu went down, the Spurs decade long run atop the NBA finally came to an end.

At least Spurs fans have four championship blankets in which to cry themselves to sleep.

Dallas in 6

Denver over New Orleans

Chris Paul is incredible (dare I say, great), but he’s a one man show. Plus, the Hornets quit on coach Byron Scott about a year ago.

Denver in 5

I'll post my second round predictions next week, maybe, if we're lucky, before three games have passed in each series.

Cutlermania!

noreply@blogger.com (The Dole) — Fri, 10 Apr 2009 11:33:00 +0000

Holy shit! The Chicago Bears have a starting quarterback!

I was totally prepared to write a 2009 Major League Baseball Season Preview last Thursday, when the Bears dropped a bomb on my world. After 60 years of offensive ineptitude, the Bears finally stopped ignoring the most important position in football and traded for a twenty five year old franchise quarterback in a moment that was like my Birthday, Christmas, and the first time I got laid all rolled into one. (To be fair, the first time I got laid was a little uncomfortable and awkward for all involved, but it was still a great day.)

I tried to write a celebratory article, however, my mind was trapped in a football themed “Being John Malkovich” sequel, “Being Jay Cutler”, and the only thing I could say was “Jay Cutler”. Here’s the introduction to my first draft:

JAY CUTLER!!!!

Jay Cutler, Jay Cutlerjay Cutler. Jay Cutler! Jay cut lerJaycu tler JayCut ler, Jay!

Jay.

Cutler.

JAY CUTLERJAYCUTLERJAYCUTLER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(The article went on like this for 47 pages, culminating in seven straight pages of exclamation points. Like I said, I was fairly excited.)

When I regained my grip on reality, I got out of the ditch, washed off the blue and orange body paint, put on some clothes, apologized to Kahala Mall security, and started to come to terms with the fact that life as a Bears fan would never be the same. You see, Chicago sports fans accept a few unassailable facts:

The White Sox are irrelevant.
The Cubs always lose.
The Bears never have a quarterback.

These things are not up for debate. They just are. Ask any Bears fan to tell you the last great Bears quarterback and they’ll almost invariably say, “Sid Luckman”. (Sorry, Jim McMahon fans. McMahon was a great character, a fabulous leader, and a bad ass mofo, but not a great quarterback. Sadly, the NFL does not award points due to one’s ability to rock a headband or don a sweet pair of shades.) But who the hell is Sid Luckman? Did anyone ever see Sid Luckman play? Did he really exist? For all I know, Sid Luckman is someone a couple drunk Bears fans made up at a bar one night after getting sick of the incessant teasing from Packer fans.

Packers Fan: “The Bears suck! They’ve never had a great quarterback and they never will!”

Drunken Bears Fan #1: “Oh, yeah? What about Sid Luckman???”

Drunken Bears Fan #2: “Sid Who?”

Drunken Bears Fan #1 (under his breath): “Shut up, dude. Just play along.”

Drunken Bears Fan #2: “Oh, Yeah! Sid Luckman is the greatest quarterback who ever lived!!! He could throw the ball 200 yards, cure cancer, and blow up sheep with mind bullets. If he were alive right now, he’d beat you to death with your own hands and distill Single Malt Scotch from your liver.”

Packers Fan: “Wow. I wish I was a Bears fan.”

Drunken Bears Fan #1: “At least you’re not a Lions fan.”

(Hearty laughter is shared by all.)

According to Sid Luckman’s Wikipedia page, which features a photo that looks like someone pasted Marlon Brando’s face on a football player’s body, Luckman retired in 1950. That means the Bears played without a legitimate starter at the game’s most important position for over 50 years!
During that time, Bears fans had to endure:

Cade McNown, who was about 4 feet tall.
Jim Miller, whose best attribute was his ability to grow a really sweet beard.
Henry Burris, who, I kid you not, threw the ball with his eyes closed.
Erik Kramer, who spells his name with a ‘k’ like a sissy girl, which tells you everything you need to know.
Chad Hutchinson, who I truly believe came to Chicago because the coaching staff told him he could surf on Lake Michigan.
Rex Grossman, about whom enough has been said.
Craig Krenzel, whose GPA was approximately equal to his quarterback rating.
Mike Tomczak, whose game was, comically, worse than his name.
Peter Tom Willis, who has half as many names (three) as touchdowns thrown (six).
Jonathan Quinn, whose only discernible skill was launching the ball 15 feet over a receiver’s head.

(And that’s just who I can remember off the top of my head…)

I’d say that Bears quarterbacks set offensive football back 50 years. But, apparently 50 years ago, the Bears had someone that could actually run an offense.

The sad fact is that I’ve never cheered for a good Bears quarterback in my entire life.
Until now…

Now, everything has changed. Rather than talking myself into the Kyle Orton era and championing the subtle sexiness of the neck beard, (Editor’s note: If you doubt the chick repelling power of the neck beard just threaten to grow one the next time you’re hanging around that trick you can’t seem to get rid of…problem solved.) I get to watch Jay Cutler fire 30-yard strikes to Devin Hester with his laser rocket arm. And all the Bears had to give up were two first round draft picks (2009, 2010), a third round draft pick (2009), and a Quarterback whose deep ball pales in comparison to his neck beard (Editor’s note: ha-ha, he said deep ball). (In all fairness, most things pale in comparison to his neck beard.)

Like any trade, certain pundits (read: morons) say the Bears “paid a high price” for Culter or “gave up too much” for Cutler, but that idea is, frankly, hilarious. Jay Cutler is a 25 year old franchise quarterback, coming off of a Pro-Bowl season. Players like that aren’t traded for draft picks. Players like that aren’t traded at all. If the Bears called the Broncos and offered two first round picks and a third round pick for Cutler a month ago, they would have heard five minutes of unabated laughter. Now, the only laughter you hear is coming from Chicago.

The Bears gave up two first round picks?

So. What.

Let’s review the Bears first round selections under current General Manager, Jerry Angelo.

2001 – David Terrell, WR, Michigan (Toss up whether he was a bigger bust or asshole.)

2002 – Marc Colombo, OT, Boston College (Started ten games before suffering a season ending injury, after which he started only two games for the Bears.)

2003 – Alex Haynes, DE, Penn State & Rex Grossman, QB, Florida (Or, as I like to call it, 2Busts 1Year.)

2004 – Tommie Harris, DT, Oklahoma (A legitimate All-Pro, who is now a broken shell of his former self after suffering a knee injury in 2006.)

2005 – Cedric Benson, RB, Texas (The heir apparent to Ricky Williams in every possible way.)

2006 – No pick (Hey, if you don’t pick, you can’t screw it up.)

2007 – Greg Olsen, TE, Miami (A solid offensive contributor.)

2008 – Chris Williams, OT, Vanderbilt (Injured before playing any games in 2008.)

To recap, that’s one Pro Bowl player, one legitimate offensive starter, and six abject failures in eight years. So, thank you very much, Denver. Enjoy the draft picks.

But I’m not done. In fact, I’m just getting started.

Let’s imagine, for argument’s sake, that Denver’s rookie General Manager, Brian Xanders, whose first move on the job was hiring a 32 year old head coach who immediately fired the offensive coordinator and alienated the Pro Bowl Quarterback from the NFL’s second ranked offense, might do a better job evaluating talent then the Bears. According to reports, Xanders is considering trading the Broncos and Bears 2009 first round picks to move up and select USC Quarterback Mark Sanchez.

Now, we can safely assume that the Broncos 2009 first round pick is worth more than the Bears 2010 first round pick. In fact, we can probably assume that it’s worth more than the Bears 2010 first round pick and 2009 third round pick combined.

What does this mean?

It means the Broncos are considering trading more for Mark Sanchez than they received for Jay Cutler.

Game. Set. Match.

Thanks for playing, Denver. Write if you find work.

So while the Broncos begin the search for the successor to the successor to John Elway, the Bears begin to learn what they’ve been missing all these years.

I suppose in a town that hasn’t won a World Series for 108 years, 50 years can be considered a victory.

The Jimmy First Half Recap 2009

noreply@blogger.com (The Dole) — Fri, 27 Mar 2009 10:11:00 +0000

One of my favorite aspects of parenthood is the unpredictability. Every day represents a new set of experiences. Nothing goes according to plan. This transforms otherwise mundane activities, like shopping at Costco, into fun and exciting adventures. I don't know whether Haley will sit calmly and happily in her cart, explore her vocal range by shrieking at shoppers like a crack-addled pterodactyl, or decide to test the tensile strength of the Editor-in-Cheif's cell phone by flinging it out of the shopping cart. (For the record, the LG VX5500 fairs quite poorly in the "smashing on the ground" test.)

While this inherent chaos yields some challenges, such as whether the Editor-in-Chief and I can subsist for seven days on SPAM and ramen noodles after spending the week's grocery budget on a new cell phone, it adds a refreshing zeal and joie de vivre to everyday life. (That's right. I slipped "joie de vivre" into a sports column. Suck it, ESPN.) It's exhausting and often drives me banana sandwich, but it's also what makes parenthood the most uniquely enjoyable thing I've ever done.

The glory of unpredictability is also why I feel unenthusiastic about this year's NCAA Tournament. Outside of a few first round shockers (thank you Western Kentucky, Sienna, and Cleveland State), the tournament has been all-favorites, all the the time. We've had close games and exciting moments, hell, the Wisconsin game taught my daughter how to walk (details below)*, but we have not had any memorable upsets and no Cinderellas. (No, Arizona is NOT a Cinderella. When you've qualified for the last 25 NCAA Tournaments, played in 4 Final Fours, and won a National Championship 12 years ago, making the Sweet 16 is about as meaningful as Michael Jordan winning a pick-up game at the YWCA.)

* (When Trevon Hughes hit a spinning, off-balance runner in the lane to put Wisconsin, who I picked to win, ahead by 1 with 7 seconds to play in overtime, I threw my hands into the air and unleashed a primal scream. This excited my daughter so much she let go of the coffee table, threw her hands in the air, unleashed her a pterodactyl scream of her own and took the first four unaided steps of her life over to me and grabbed my leg. That's right. The NCAA Tournament taught my daughter how to walk. Let that be a lesson to all prospective fathers. If a friend asks you to attend their cousins bar mitzvah or help them move during the a future NCAA tournament, tell that you'd love to, but you need to stay home and help your kid learn how to walk (then remove their number from your cell phone and ask yourself why you were ever friends with the kind of jerk who'd ask you to miss March Madness).)

This lack of upsets, surprise and intrigue worries me. The underdog spirit and triumph of the little guy is an integral part of the NCAA Tournament. It's why they call it March Madness. It's why millions of American's waste countless work hours every year researching the rebound differential of Northern Iowa and Western Kentucky's record vs the Top 25 in a futile, yet maddeningly alluring attempt to fill out the perfect bracket.

When everything goes according to plan, there's no magic, no excitement, no satisfaction in picking the winners. It devolves into a simple numbers game.

So as the Sweet 16 starts, cheer for the underdog. Support the little guy. Rally around the madness. And, most importantly, kindly disregard the notion that the preceding 650 word diatribe has anything to do with my current position at the bottom of The Jimmy.

Ok, I feel better now. Let's hand out some first half awards!

Shaun Holaday Memorial Award for "Bracket that has no business winning, yet retains a legitimate shot to win" - Justin (Almighty J)

Last year, due solely to the fact that Yahoo uses a weighting system that awards a borderline absurd amount of points for correctly picking the winner of the NCAA Tournament, Shaun (Flying Spaghetti Monster) won the 2008 Jimmy even though he picked fewer games correct then all but two contestants because he correctly selected Kansas to win it all. Following this contentious victory, I wrote: "This certainly brings up the question of whether we need to amend the scoring system to give more weight to picking many games correctly versus just picking the champion."

This year, as I find myself buried at the bottom of the pile, yet still clinging to life as the only person who picked Pittsburgh to win it all, I've grown much more at peace with our scoring system. I look forward to proving, as I said last year, that "it's better to be unfathomably lucky, than any good at picking basketball games."

Runner-ups: Deanna (DZaster), Jason (Jays Picks), and Tori (WickedPissah) for their unique and fortuitous picks of UConn, Syracuse and Xavier respectively.

Most aptly named bracket - Jordan (Gone in 64 Seconds)

Arguably the most clever bracket name (a reference to the fact that he spent one second to deliberate the outcome of each game), Jordan had no idea how clever his name would be. I believe this picture, taken moments after the start of the NCAA Tournament, says it all.

Hollow Victory Award - (tie) Chris (Bootleg), Peter (High Flyers)

Between the two of them, Chris and Peter picked three upsets. Not three upsets correctly. Not three upsets in the first rounds. No, they picked three upsets IN THE ENTIRE TOURNAMENT.

I hope they receive no satisfaction from making picks that took the courage of a third grader. (Though I expect they get immense satisfaction from my frustration over the matter.)

I would have left you alone, but seriously, with that team name you asked for this Award - Eric (stopmakingfunofmybracket)

Really? You thought Florida State would make it to the Sweet 16? Put down the bong, Cheech.

Game most likely to end in divorce - Xavier vs. Pittsburgh

If Xavier upsets Pitt and manages to make it to the Final Four, there's a very real possibility that the Editor-in-Chief, who picked Morehead State to beat Louisville in the first round (for reasons that should be obvious), will beat me in The Jimmy. This would rank somewhere between Rex Grossman single-handedly blowing the 2004 Super Bowl and the Steve Bartman game in the worst sports moments of my life. If that happens, I may have to cut my losses and start a new life.

For the sake of my pride, and the future of my marriage, I pray that Pittsburgh pulls out a victory.

(Author's Note: The lord heard my prayers and personally guided LaVance Field's contested 35 foot three pointer to take the lead with 40 seconds to play into the hoop to give Pitt their third straight gut wrenching victory. Is it too much to ask for these guys to win an easy game? This is worse then watching the Cubs in the playoffs. I don't need this kind of stress in my life.)

The What Has Barrack Obama Done For Me Lately Award - Sean (Shizabaniza!)

In case you don't already know, Sean copied the selections of our Commander in Chief. And I can't blame him (though I will say he should have named his picks 'Barack O-Bracket'). Obama has made almost every right decision the last two years. How can you go wrong? Sadly, Obama isn't quite as adept at picking tournament games as he is dealing with our Nation's problems. Even if Sean picks every game correctly going forward, he will still lose by one.

Sorry, Sean. It's too late to vote for McCain.

You Should Be Ashamed Of Yourself Award - Mike (pitt is it)

Mike, who attended the University of Pittsburgh, named his bracket "Pitt Is It" for the second year in a row, and is, without a doubt, the biggest Pittsburgh fan I know (he's technically the only Pittsburgh fan I know, but still...), failed to pick the Panthers to win it all. Furthermore, he is currently beating me in the standings and has the same championship game selection as me (Pitt/Louisville) so he would have beaten me if he had also picked Pittsburgh to win.

Now, if Pitt ends up beating Louisville for the Championship, I'll revel in the glory of my first Jimmy championship, while Mike will try to console himself with his favorite team's "National Championship." He may never recover.

Funniest Bracket Name Award - Hayes (Big Stimulus Package)

lol

The Red Badge of Courage Award - To the 12 entrants (60%) who picked North Carolina and Louisville to meet in the National Championship Game

Shame on the 12 entrants who picked the boring and unoriginal match-up of UNC and Louisville in the Title Game.

(I would expound further on my feelings of contempt for this lack of gumption and originality, except I'm almost certain the type of risk taking and wild speculation I'm advocating is the root cause of the sub-prime mortgage crisis and our country's current state of economic ruin. Maybe risk aversion isn't so bad after all...)

Region to Watch - East Region

Everyone likes Louisville. Almost everyone likes North Carolina. No one can agree about Connecticut or Memphis, but everyone has the winner of that bracket losing to Louisville anyway.

But the East Region... The East Region is different. Some people have Pitt emerging. Others like Duke. Some like Villanova. One especially mavericky maverick even bet on Xavier. No matter what happens, whoever comes out of the East Region will decide the fate of the Jimmy. So, let's go Pittsburgh! Who's with me? (Really? No one?)

I wish I picked a different Championship Game Award - Chris (coachchris)

Chris picked a number of good games to start the tournament, identified a couple of low profile sleepers like Arizona State and Michigan to make deep tournament runs, and smartly picked Purdue to make it to the Sweet 16. Unfortunately, things fell apart on the Tournament's second day when ASU and UM lost close game. Now Chris, who is still ahead of six others, has no chance of winning the tournament because numerous brackets ahead of him share his adroit championship match-up (UNC/Louisville). Meanwhile, four of the six teams behind him still have a chance to win due to picking an outlandish and unlikely championship pairing.

Chris, if you end up losing to one of us because of our bizarre title game selections, I strongly recommend the cathartic power of writing a long winded, bitter rant in an online sports periodical about the illegitimacy of the victory. It doesn't make you feel better, but it makes you thirty and ready for a beer. (And the beer helps.)

Best upset pick - Tori (WickedPissah)

Tori was the only entrant who correctly picked Cleveland State, a metropolitan university that provides a rich environment for engaged learning in an exciting and dynamic location (at least according to their web site) and the Alma Mater of Manute Bol (thank you Wikipedia), to beat Wake Forest.

(For the record she made this pick because "they talk about Cleveland being a really cool place on '30 Rock'." I'd like to take this opportunity to remind you that I'm still in danger of losing to her.)

Worst Pick - Akron to the Championship Game - Jenn (Winner)

As easy as it is to single out Jenn for picking a team who lost in the first round to make it to the title game, I find it hard to fault her motivation: "They're called Zips!! And I think their mascot is a kangaroo!! It really doesn't get better than that. Winners for sure."

Furthermore, similar logic served her well in helping her select Louisville to win it all: "I opted for Louisville...not because they are the number one pick and a favorite for the final matchup, but because the little description about the team described them as "a team of Seabiscuits" and I love that horse."

(I'd like to take this opportunity to remind you that I'm in danger of losing to her as well.)

Worst Pick from a bracket that did NOT have Akron in the Championship game - Washington to the Final 4 - Justin (Almighty J)

Not only did Washington not make it to the Final Four, they didn't make it past the first weekend, ruining my Final Four before the Tournament even got off the ground, while the person who picked Morehead State to beat Louisville still has a chance to pick all of their Final Four teams correctly.

(I'd like to take this opportunity to remind you that you're all in danger of losing to me. GO PITTSBURGH!)

Good luck to everyone in the second half! (Especially me)

Shacking up with March Madness

noreply@blogger.com (The Dole) — Fri, 20 Mar 2009 09:58:00 +0000

For some reason, the United States Government has not realized the importance of the NCAA Tournament and declared the first two days of March Madness an official holiday. (Barack, if you're listening, you'd have my vote forever.) For those of us in Hawaii without any vacation or sick days to use, that means missing the entire first round of upsets and insanity. In order to capture a small amount of the fun, I decided to take a late lunch and watch the end of a few games (Texas/Minnesota, Michigan/Clemson, American/Villanova, Gonzaga/Akron) at The Shack in Mililani.

I decided to record the details of my experience and share them in the first ever JBorhood Running Diary.

Enjoy.

2:48pm: Arrive at The Shack Mililani. After a moment's hesitation, decide the quintessential American sporting event featuring American University will go best with a quintessentially American pint of ice cold Coors Light.

2:49pm: American University is desperately clinging to a 53-47 lead with 11:47 to play. On another TV, Michigan has climbed to a commanding 50-38 lead over Clemson. I preemptively pat myself on the back for picking the Wolverines to make it to the Sweet 16. I take a long cold sip of Coors Light. All is right with the world.

2:50pm: Feeling really good about the Michigan pick. They play a ferocious, swarming zone defense and Clemson looks lost on offense. I make a mental note to never underestimate the power of a boring, yet well executed zone defense.

2:51pm: American has apparently decided to resort to running around like crazy, dribbling out of control, and shooting off-balanced three pointers. Their four point lead looks about as stable as the economy. On the bright side, their 4' 11", 145 pound (approximately) point guard, Derrick Mercer, is freakishly quick off the dribble. It's a shame he can't hit the broad side of a barn.

2:54pm: Just saw a commercial for a cell phone service, KGB, that will answer any question you have via text message. The urge to ask KGB to decide what beer I should try next proves overwhelming. I ask them whether I should have another Coors Light or mix it up with a Kona Brewing Company Fire Rock Pale Ale. I am currently more excited about their reply then the Michigan/Clemson game.

2:56pm: American is running the Princeton weave offense with surprising effectiveness. I consider the fact that Hawaii got to the Sugar Bowl using the Run-and-Shoot and wonder why more small colleges don't employ bizarre offensive strategies. I begin to think American has a chance.

2:57pm: American hoists what I believe the Guinness Book of Records will one day classify as the worst forced shot in the history of College Basketball. They lead 55-51 with 9:00 to play. The guy next to me offers to bet me a beer that Villanova wins by 10. I decline the bet.

2:58pm: My cell phone beeps indicating I have a text message. It's KGB informing me that each answer will cost 99 cents and that I need to formally accept their terms of service with a reply. I decide the JBorhood needs a definitive answer to this question and accept the offer.

3:01pm: American's power forward, Stephen Lumpkins (picture a whiter, less athletically gifted, Chris Mimh), dribbles down the lane and throws up an out of control shot that barely hits the underside of the rim. I ask the guy next to me whether American University practices out of control drives and forced shots during practice.

3:05pm: Villanova ties the game with 7:40 remaining. The only person still optimistic about American's chances is their Eagle Mascot, who I believe may be crying under his mask.

3:06pm: Derrick Mercer turns the ball over using the patented American wild pivot foot shift move. I am now more excited about KGB's impending response than any of the basketball games.

3:09pm: Villanova hits a dagger of a three-pointer to take the lead for the first time in the second half. Predictably, American responds with an out of control drive down the lane that is easily blocked, followed by an easy layup for Villanova in transition. CBS displays a graphic on TV indicating that Villanova is on an 11-0 run. I decide to take my Coors Light to a different television.

3:11pm: I reach the bottom fourth of my beer. Still no word from KGB. I begin to worry.

3:12pm: WTF? The Michigan/Clemson game comes back from commercial and Clemson has apparently cut the lead to 58-52 with 3 minutes to play. I joke to myself that Michigan is pulling a KGB. I laugh.

3:14pm: I glance back at the other TV and watch American player Garrison Carr hit the biggest shot of his life: an off-balance runner in the lane between three Villanova players to cut the lead to 63-57. I wonder if American can pull off a miracle.

3:15pm: A Clemson player hits an insane double pump, falling away, arm fully extended reverse layup to cut the lead to 58-54. I begin to drink faster. I begin to think I may need to select a beer without text message assistance.

3:17pm: Down 58-55, Clemson employs a full court press and forces a turnover with 59.7 seconds to play. My palms begin to sweat and the amount of beer left in my glass is perilously low. I wonder how much longer I can wait for KGB.

3:18pm: The TV indicates that Texas has defeated Minnesota. I tell the bartender that it simply reaffirms my opinion that Minnesota coach Tubby Smith is only good at two things: Recruiting great players and choking in the NCAA tournament. She is visibly upset and says that she's from Minnesota. I make a mental note to give her a good tip.

3:20pm: Clemson scores. Michigan now leads 58-57. Michigan takes ten years off my life as they nearly turn the ball over 47 times getting the ball over halfcourt. A Michigan player makes a sensational layup, gets fouled and converts the three point play, giving them a 61-57 lead with 42 seconds to play. I savor a satisfying sip of Coors Light. It tastes like victory.

3:21pm: Clemson quickly scores an easy layup and cuts the Michigan lead to two with 30 seconds to play. I decide that I can't wait for KGB any longer. I order another Coors Light and pray the God of Hops keeps my mojo alive.

3:23pm: With Michigan leading 61-59, Michigan player Zack Novak takes the line to shoot two free throws. I contemplate whether to name my first born son after him if he makes them. I simultaneously wonder how I will break this news to my wife.

3:24pm: Zack Novack joins KGB on my shit list as he misses the first free throw. I begin plans to make a Zack Novack voodoo doll. Novack makes the second free throw. I decide to call it even.

3:25pm: Clemson misses a three pointer at the buzzer to seal the victory for the Wolverines. I take a big gulp of Coors Light and give thanks to the God of Hops. I consider naming my first born son Adolph Coors. I contemplate the repercussions of naming my future son Adolph. I decide against the idea.

3:26pm: With American down 63 to 74 to Villanova and Gonzaga assuming a 57-52 lead over Akron, I wonder whether it's time to get back to the office.

3:31pm: Akron turns the ball over, which leads to an easy Gonzaga score and a 61-52 lead with 6:55 to play. My mind begins to wander. I wonder why Akron's nickname is 'The Zips'. I wonder what a Zip is. I wonder who came up with the name and why they thought it was a good idea. I wonder whether a school named the Zips can ever truly succeed at sports.

3:32pm: I decide that qualifying for the NCAA tournament should likely be considered a rousing success if your nickname is the Zips. I realize it's time to get back to work.

3:34pm: A Bud Light commercial comes on TV. As a display of my new found devotion to all things Coors, I take this as a signal to leave. I ask the bartender for the check.

3:35pm: An Akron player misses a shot. Gonzaga gets the rebound and hits a quick three pointer to take a 67-53 lead with 5:30 to play. The bartender swears at the TV. I remember that she's had a hard day and leave her a nice tip.

3:39pm: As I'm driving back to work, I receive a text message from KGB that says, "Try the Hawaiian Fire Rock! That sounds yummy!"

3:40pm: I cancel my KGB membership.

All in all, I watched one great game, one potential historic upset that fell comically and tragically short, gained a newfound adoration for all things Coors, rekindled my love affair with the Michigan Wolverines, learned that text messaging question answering services still have a long way to go and, best of all, went 15 of 16 in my first day picks and sit alone in first place in The Jimmy. I think I see another trip to The Shack in my future...

(For clarification's sake and any potential HR ramifications, I would like to state for the record that I did not consume any alcoholic beverages during work hours. Any references to alcohol are included solely for humor's sake.)

Return of the Jimmy - 2009

noreply@blogger.com (The Dole) — Tue, 17 Mar 2009 11:37:00 +0000

Aloha Friends and JBors,

The JBorhood March Madness Extravaganza (aka the J.M.M.E or "The Jimmy", as we few, we happy few, like to call it) is back! It's your chance to prove, once and for all (for the third year in a row), that pluck, verve, and luck, will triumph over knowledge, experience, an understanding of the basic rules of basketball, extrodinary good looks, and an amazing set of dimples every time.

As always, the winner wins the right to select the topic for a JBorhood article.

So stop sitting back, stop relaxing, and get off your lazy behind and fill out your bracket.

You can access the madness here: http://tournament.fantasysports.yahoo.com/t1/register/joinprivategroup_assign_team?GID=147075&P=jborhood

The password is: jborhood

FYI: After signing up, YOU HAVE TO FILL OUT YOUR BRACKET. Yes, Dad, your ENTIRE bracket. Yahoo does a lot of things, but it's still lagging behind on the technological adoption of telepathic computer systems.

If you have any questions, email me at jborhood@gmail.com. Otherwise, LET THE MADNESS BEGIN!!!

World Baseball. It's Classic!

noreply@blogger.com (The Dole) — Fri, 06 Mar 2009 08:42:00 +0000

I started the JBorhood to accomplish three goals:

To clearly, rationally, and intelligently translate the idiosyncrasies of the sports world and explain their relevance to everyday life.
To highlight and poke fun at the natural absurdities of an industry that provides millions of dollars and unrelenting exposure to immature, self aggrandizing narcissists.
To get laid more than a tourist at a luau.

While I've successfully accomplished two of these goals, I have not spent nearly enough time clearly, rationally, and intelligently translating sports idiosyncrasies. (What, you thought I hadn't poked enough fun lately?) The sports world provides such a perfect venue for absurdity that it's easy to develop a myopic focus on the comic failings of athletes or, as loyal JBor Bootleg describes it, "shooting fish in a barrel". As cultured and erudite members of the JBorhood, you know that I strive to rise above the general morass of the blogosphere and would never degrade my intellectual integrity by shooting fish in a barrel. No, here in the JBorhood, we explode the barrel, torch the remains, and tastefully laugh as the charred remains slowly burn to the ground. Because it's important to be tasteful.

It's also important to provide an equal and adequate spotlight for the positive instances in sports, which is why I want to take a moment to highlight a truly spectacular event that kicks off this week:
The World Baseball Classic.

The World Baseball Classic is a 16 team international baseball tournament that occurs once every three years. It splits Major League Baseball's biggest stars and other international players into teams based on their country of origin and lets them fight it out for world baseball supremacy. It's essentially the World Cup of Baseball. And it rocks.

In order to get you as excited for the World Baseball Classic as I am, I came up with the Top 15 16 Reasons to Love the 2009 World Baseball Classic. (Much love to JBor Jewfunk for suggesting reason #16.)

16. It gives you a chance to cheer for Canada's Stubby Clap (no, really), who likely has the worst name in Baseball History.

15. It let's us watch a Domincan Republic Team where the second best shortstop in the world isn't even the best shortstop on his team. (Sorry Jose, but you're no Hanley.)

14. It provides an opportunity to hear American announcers butcher Japanese player's names. "Now stepping up to bat, Koh-suck-ee Fuck-u-Dome!"

13. It provides American viewers an uncensored glimpse into foreign sensibilities (e.g. The Chinese fans praying they will not be publically shamed when audibly cheering for a score).

12. It gives Albert Pujols another chance to suffer a career ending injury and stop haunting my dreams. (Author's Note: Albert Pujols has decided to pull-out of the WBC, solidifying his position as the new Brett Favre for Chicago sports fans.)

11. It features a Chinese Taipei team whose average height and weight is about 5' 3", 145, making it the first team we can confidently say is not using steroids.

10. It finally gives an overdue spotlight to the powerhouse Italian team, led by major league superstars Jason Grilli, Mark DiFelice, and Chris Denorfia. (If you haven't heard of them, that makes two of us.)

9. It offers the possibility that the United States and Canada will square off in the most Caucasian sporting event in the history of the world.

8. It opens the possibility for the Cuban team to forfeit the championship when half their team defects during the seventh inning stretch.

7. It gives another reason for Japanese and Korean people to hate each other. (In case you're not aware, Japanese and Koreans harbor a bitter hatred for one another. It's like the Israelis and Palestinians, only less violent, more self-righteous, and with an inability to admit that numerous aspects of their cultures bear a striking similarity.)

6. It gives us a chance to cheer on the Netherlands for a reason that doesn't involve their liberal stance on drugs or prostitution.

5. It let's us know that they play baseball in South Africa. No, really. http://web.worldbaseballclassic.com/rosters/index.jsp?team=rsa&season=2009

4. It finally provides conclusive proof that Andruw Jones is too fat to play baseball. If you can't crack the starting lineup of a Netherlands (Jones was born in Curacao, a Dutch territory, which counts as part of the Netherlands according to WBC rules.) team that includes world beaters like Bryan Engelhardt, Greg Halman, Gene Kingsale, Danny Rombley, and my personal favorite, Dirk Van Klooster, I think it's safe to say that you're too fat to play baseball.

3. It provides Asians a chance to dominate an event that doesn't revolve around math, science, or eating hot dogs.

2. It gives us a chance to watch ARod fail in the clutch for another country. (How do you say "choke" in spanish?) (Author's Note: Comically, ARod buckeled under the pre-tournament pressure and suffered a hip injury that will prevent him from choking...err, playing in the WBC.)

1. And, finally, it gives Cubs fans the opportunity to cheer for a team that might actually win something.

Play Ball!

JBorhood Oscar Recap 2009

noreply@blogger.com (The Dole) — Sat, 28 Feb 2009 07:01:00 +0000

As always is the case at this time of year, you're sick of reading about football and I'm sick of writing about football. So allow me to blast through my post-Super Bowl Breakdown in record time...

The better team won
Even though he lost Kurt Warner, solidified his qualitications for the Hall-of-Fame.
Larry Fitzgerald joined Jerry Rice in the Pantheon of unstoppable big game wide receivers.
Ben Roethlesburger proved that you don't have to be a great quarterback to be a great quarterback.

That's it. Seriously. Did you really want me to waste 3000 words of your and my time to say that?

Now that we've covered the important stuff, let's take some time and recap my favorite trivial, overblown, and pretentious (hey, sounds alot like me) celebration of the year... The Oscars

Are we entirely sure that Mickey Rourke didn't spend the previous night in a cardboard box on Hollywood Boulevard?

Speaking of Micky Rourke, we really need to come up with an Oscars drinking game. I know that people post variations every year, but I think we can do better. Please leave any suggestions in the comments.

My wife would like to extend a heartfelt 'Thank You' to Hugh Jackman for appearing at the Oscars clean shaven. Similarly, she would like to extend a big 'F-U' to Adrian Brody for giving Mickey Rourke a run for his money at the best non-intentional Joaquin Phoenix on Letterman impression.

When did Anjelica Huston turn into a transvestite? (I'd say the same thing about Sarah Jessica Parker, but she's been one for a long time.)

French Animated Short Film + Academy Award + Japanese Director + Language Barrier = Best Oscar Speech Ever.

Maybe it's because the movies were more artsy and less publicized then usual, maybe it's because I now look after a nine month old terradactyl with the attention span of a crack addicted ferret on Red Bull, but I've only seen two -- that's right, two -- movies nominated for Oscars this year, and those involved Batman and Tom Cruise in a fat suit.

Someone really needs to tell Robert Pattinson that they stopped filming Twilight a year ago and that he's not actually a vampire.
http://www.mtv.com/photos/robert-pattinsons-oscar-night/1605576/3620957/photo.jhtml

If someone punches Zac Effron in the face, I'll give them twenty bucks.

Ben Stiller is the Larry Fitzgerald of comedy. Put him on a big stage and he delivers, every time. (He gets bonus points in my book for knowing when the joke was over and reading the nominees names seriously.)

Watching the acceptance speeches for the Art Direction and Make-Up Oscars is like watching 5-year olds play soccer; Almost always boring and rarely memorable, but when it is, it's one of the funniest things in the world.

Glad to know that, in case the mood strikes, I can safely drive a Monster Truck over my May Tag washer. In the past, I've never considered the aftermath of a potential Monster Truck attack when purchasing major appliances.

I still can't believe Alan Arkin won an Oscar for playing Alan Arkin in a bland, depressing, un-funny comedy.

I have no idea who he is, but judging from his appearnce, Michael Shannon is either an actor or a pedophile.
http://l.yimg.com/k/im_siggjiYdktHPC51HwuV2hzUllQ---y626-x495-q75-n0/omg/us/img/ee/62/1381217624_1461964349.jpg

How long do you think Heath Ledger's family could have spoken before the exit music started playing? 10 minutes? 20 minutes? An hour? If they were still talking would we know won Best Picture yet?

Can someone tell Bill Maher that his movie was NOT nominated. We get it Bill. You made a controversial film. No one came. No one cares. Let it go.

The creators of the Best Documentary Short Subject winner, Smile Pinki, need to create a sequel for Best Documentary Feature nominee co-writer called 'Smile Phrasavath'.
http://fresnofilmworks.org/img_fest08/biopics/phrasavath.jpg
(The joke takes waaaaaaay to much set-up to work in print, but trust me, in context it was really funny...)

Hats off to Will Smith for stating the obvious: WHY DON'T THE OSCARS RECOGNIZE MOVIE'S THAT PEOPLE ACTUALLY WATCH. I'm not advocating the bastardization of our cinematic culture, but would it hurt them to create separate categories for Excellence in Action and Comedic performances?

I invoke the China Principal to back-up my assertion that 'The Dark Knight' should have been nominated for Best Picture because, seriously, a billion dollars can't be wrong?
(Props to JBor Holensdale for providing the inspiration for that joke earlier in the week. Take note fellow JBors, you make quippy comments, you get recognized. Hollah!)

How do they pick the Sound Editing and Sound Mixing Oscars? Out of a hat?

Did Jerry Lewis try to sneak a kiss from Eddie Murphy?

WTF?!!?!? Did anyone see the commecial for the Rhumatoid Arthritis drug, Orencia? It starts off well, explaing how it can releive the minor aches of arthritis and then, somewhere around the :28 mark, they start listing the side effects and all hell breaks lose.

Do not take Orencia with other RA medicines due to risk of SERIOUS INFECTIONS
Orencia can cause SERIOUS SIDE EFFECTS, including SERIOUS INFECTIONS
Cases of RARE CANCER have been reported
Tell your doctor if you have an infection or an OPEN SORE
Orencia may cause SERIOUS LUNG DISEASE

Let's get this straight. A medicine designed to relieve minor pain can cause SERIOUS INFECTION or lung disease? I'll take the arthritis, thank you very much.

If I ever buy a pornographic book on tape, I want Alicia Keys to narrate it. Good lord.

The film from Japan wins the Best Foreign Film Oscar and I'm thinking to myself, "Can this guy possibly give a repeat performance of the Mr. Roboto guy?", AND THEN HE DOES! We need to create a best Asian Language Film Oscar to ensure that we keep this going.

Bravo, Danny Boyle. If you win an Oscar and remember to hop like Tigger for your kids, you're a great father in my book.

Sophia Loren has finally gotten old and creepy enough that I wouldn't sleep with her. (Meryl Streep on the other hand...)

Kate Winslet gave a masters course in How-to-Give-an-Oscars-Speech. Start with a joke? Check. Thank your parents? Check. Thank Husband and Kids? Check. Thank other nominees? Check. Memorable line ("It's not a shampoo bottle anymore!")? Check. She should get a second Oscar for that speech.

For the record, if I was sleeping with Robin Wright-Penn, I wouldn't forget to thank her when I gave an Oscar acceptance speech.

Thank you to the Academy for not giving the Best Picture Oscar to 'Benjamin Button' and ruining the Oscars.

Last, but certainly not least, I want to give a big JBorhood salute to Heath Ledger, who deserved to win the Oscar whether he died or not. In his honor, I will refrain from making any Gay Cowboy jokes. Oh come on, guys. Why so serious?

The Annual JBorhood Super Bowl Prognostication Extravaganza 2009

noreply@blogger.com (The Dole) — Fri, 30 Jan 2009 20:34:00 +0000

A few months ago, I had faith that our government could effectively deal with the Wall Street Credit Crisis, so I turned my attention elsewhere and rescued the country from the Sports Credit Crisis. Unfortunately, my faith in our elected officials was unwarranted. Our country is now in the middle of a full blown recession. Millions have lost their jobs. Those that still have jobs have taken severe pay cuts, had benefits stripped, and watched their retirement savings dwindle. The country needs a hero and I'm just the man for the job. I have a simple, elegant, effective, and realistic solution to calm the markets, quell unemployment, and restore order to our nation's economy:

More pornography.

(What? You expected me to say temporarily increase government spending on infrastructure improvements and green technology to create jobs, pass legislation to encourage consumer saving, add restrictions and a fraud clause to the bailout package, abolish COLA mileage restrictions on automobiles and increase the tax on gasoline to use free market forces to reduce emissions and aid the American Auto Industry, and reduce overall spending to lower the federal budget deficit and strengthen the dollar? I said realistic solution, not idealistic fairy tale.)

At first glance, pornography is a small, almost insignificant portion of the US Economy. It generates an estimated 3.9 billion dollars a year, which accounts for a scant .02 percent of the US GDP. However, you get an entirely different picture when you examine pornography as a percentage of Internet business.

Pornography is the silent engine of the US Internet Economy. Pornographic expenditures are one the ten biggest categories of Internet spending and four of the 50 most viewed Internet sites are related to pornography. All in all, one of every 200 dollars spent on the Internet is spent on adult entertainment.

What does this tell us?

In an anonymous setting, people are 25 times more likely to spend their money on pornography. Which makes sense. On the Internet, you don't have to worry about being watched, judged, or running into someone from work, obliging an awkward interchange:

"Oh hey, Joe. Is that Co-Ed Ass Masters 42? That's a really good series. I'm just here to pick up a vibrator and some tranny porn. By the way, did you finish your research on the market valuation for mid-priced condos?"

Probably not the sort of situation most people are looking for after a long day at the office.

The internet allows people to freely express themselves, unencumbered by societal pressures. And as the economy continues its current downward spiral, people need that freedom and release -- I'm thinking that, given the topic du jour, 'escape' might have been a safer word choice. -- more then ever. If we can break down the social constructs that hinder the efficiency of America's economic engine, we could quicken the recovery of our nation's economy.

For example, I was in Las Vegas over the weekend and had a conversation about economics with a budding young female entrepreneur named Diamond. Diamond is 22 years old, married, a mother of two, and lives in Chicago. She does not have a job back home, but she flies to Vegas two weekends a month for the "economic opportunities".

J: "You only work two weekends a month??!?!?"
Diamond: "Hell yeah. There's crazy money here in Vegas, honey."
J: "Define crazy money."
Diamond: "About two grand if it's slow. But I make six when it's poppin."
J: [Puts hand in front of mouth to prevent the most recent sip of Ketel soda with lime from spraying all over his newfound friend]
Diamond: "You gonna be alright, honey?"
J: "Just thinking about a career change."

As I drifted off to sleep that night, I thought about my conversation with Diamond. (Author's Note (to Wife): My CONVERSATION with Diamond. CONVERSATION. Don't look at me like that. You were there too!) I realized that we need to stand up for our basic economic freedoms. We need to stop submitting to unjust legislation that dominates enterprising business people like Diamond, forcing her to fly across the country for work. We need to inject our intellectual capital back into our communities. We need to stimulate local growth. (We, apparently, need to tone down our sexual metaphors.)

Our country is in the midst of conflict. Last year, the Lingerie Bowl, a revered Super Bowl tradition involving scantily clad women playing football, was canceled because the athletes were not wearing enough clothing. This year it was canceled because the fans were not wearing enough clothing. We remain a country divided.

But, hope is on the horizon. I'm bolstered by the fact that a woman is the Secretary of State. I'm even more proud that our country elected its first African American President. But if we can't celebrate and embrace a football game played by gorgeous women in lingerie, we've still got a long way to go.

Luckily, this dispute is about to be settled once and for all in the public arena. On Sunday, America will watch high-flying, new age, unrestrained freedom battle the bastions of historical conservatism in a winner take all match up.

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.

This year, the JBorhood is proud to present The "And Pornography Will Save Us All" Bowl.

The Arizona Cardinals are football pornography. Exciting. Fun. Flashy. Lurid. Scintillating. Titillating. Pure offensive football in its most sensational form.

The Pittsburgh Steelers, on the other hand, represent the old standard. Traditional. Careful. Stoic. Conservative. Careful. Plodding. Pure defensive football in its most rugged form.

Their match-up in Super Bowl XLIII (43 for those of you without a degree in Roman Numerology) is a contest between pure, unfettered, exhilarating social freedoms and the stodgy, conservative social norms.

New vs. Old
Offense vs. Defense
Risk vs. Certainty

So, don't let anyone tell you that "it's just a game" this Sunday. This time it means something. Knute Rockne famously implored his team to "Win one for the Gipper." This Sunday, I'm asking the Cardinals to win one for the zipper.

So, God bless the Cardinals; God bless freedom; God bless pornography; And God bless the United States of America.

Game Breakdown

The old adage says a good defense beats a good offense. This bodes well for the Steelers who have the league's best defense, perhaps one of the best defenses of all time. The Steelers have more overall talent than the Cardinals; The Steelers are a seven point favorite in Las Vegas; The vast majority of national pundits have picked the Steelers to win. In fact, nearly all rational measure and analysis suggests that the Steelers should win the Super Bowl. Decisively.

But then, all rational measure and analysis suggested that the Cardinals should not have made the playoffs.

All rational measure and analysis suggested that the Cardinals should not have beaten the Atlanta Falcons in the Wild Card Round of the Playoffs.

All rational measure and analysis suggested that the Cardinals should not have beaten the Carolina Panthers in the Divisional Round of the Playoffs.

All rational measure and analysis suggested that the Cardinals should not have beaten the Eagles in the NFC Championship Game.

Anyone who claims to have picked Arizona to make it to the Super Bowl is either lying or Kurt Warner.

But when the Giants shocked the world and knocked off the undefeated Patriots last year, they turned the NFL upside down. Picking NFL games has devolved from a pseudo-science to a nonsensical game of chance. Monkeys throwing darts at a chalk board would have done better picking games this year than football professionals.

In the playoffs, underdogs went 6-4. Road teams went 5-5. Historically, the top two teams in each conference won approximately 75% of their opening round games. This year they lost 75% of their games. Whether a team is good is now far less important then whether a team is hot.

Which makes the Cardinals intriguing. Like last years Giants, the Cardinals are the hottest team in football going into the Super Bowl. They corrected their early season issues and played, far and away, their best football in the playoffs. They weren't the best team in football all season, but they're playing the best now.

Compounding that difficulty is that the teams match-up perfectly with one another.

The Steelers thrive on a confusing defense and blitzing scheme, designed to shut down the run and confuse the opposing Quarterback. The Cardinals rarely run the ball and have a veteran Quarterback who's as good as anyone in the game at reading defenses and identifying the open man.

The Cardinals defense is predicated on creating turnovers. The Steelers have a conservative rushing attack designed to protect the football.

The Steelers have one of the best coaching staffs in football that develops confusing offensive and defensive game plans designed to create match up problems for the opposition. The Cardinals head coach, Ken Wisenhunt, and offensive line coach, Russ Grimm, coached for the Steelers three years ago and have intimate knowledge of their schemes and personnel.

So where does this leave us?

Do we pick the team that should win, or the team that recent history warns us not to overlook?

Do we pick with our head or our heart?

Personally, I'm a numbers guy, a logic man, and my logic says the Steelers defense should do what they do best, bottle up the Cards and ride out a convincing victory in the second half. But then again, my logic picked the Seahawks, Bears and Patriots to win the last three Super Bowls, so what do I know?

Against my better judgment, and all relevant evidence, I'm picking Kurt Warner, the Arizona Cardinals, and the continued growth of a liberal attitude towards pornography to rule the day.

Look out, America. Change, as they say, is coming.

[Author's Note: This article was the repayment of a bet I lost to fellow writer and good friend Mike Oppenheim of www.mikeyopp.com, whose writing I strongly encourage you to check out. When the Philadelphia Eagles lost to the Arizona Cardinals I had to write an article on the topic of his choosing:

"The astounding amount of money made on the Internet by pornography, as compared to any other business, and how our US government is overlooking porn when looking for solutions to our economic meltdown."

I assure you, I would never voluntarily write about such a controversial topic.

Oh, who am I kidding? I'll see you next week for more lurid sensationalism. Ciao!]

Best of the JBorhood 2008 - Part 2

noreply@blogger.com (The Dole) — Wed, 21 Jan 2009 18:15:00 +0000

Aloha Friends and JBors,

I fully intended to start a new tradition this week, holding the Annual JBorhood Year End Awards (affectionately referred to as 'The Hoodies') during the week between the NFL Conference Championship Games and the Super Bowl, however, over the weekend, I encountered a minor scheduling conflict. Of course, by minor what I mean is '4 day, 2700 mile', and by scheduling conflict what I mean is 'trip to Las Vegas'.

So, much to the dismay of my fan (Author's Note: No, that is not a typo. But, never fear, I plan on doubling my fan base by the end of year. Maybe even tripling it. Let's see ESPN top that!), The Hoodies are on hold while I get my [pick a term of your choice: Vegas, gamble, drink, club, debauchery, Cirque de Soleil, hang over, walking through the middle of the street drinking a 40, lap dance (just kidding, mom)] on.

So, sit back, relax, pray for my soul, and enjoy the second half of our look back at the Best of the JBorhood 2008.

(From My Triumphant Return - 7/11/2008)
In a move that can only be described as utterly Cub, the Cubs acquired disabled list MVP Rich Harden. When he's healthy, he might be the best starter in baseball. The caveat of course being that Rich Harden is to disabled lists as the JBorhood is to obscure, alliterative, run on sentences.

(From A Midseason Night's Dream - 7/17/2008)
I write a weekly sports column and, aside from an offhand musing about the trade of a player who's spent more time on the disabled list then on the field over the last two years, I haven't written a single thing about a baseball season that is more then halfway over. That's like Jenna Jameson starting her own television channel and showing nothing but reruns of "Jeopardy" for six months. Don't get me wrong, Alex Trebek is a saucy minx; he's just probably not what you expected when you coughed up the extra twenty five dollars a month for the "premium" package.

(From A Midseason Night's Dream - 7/17/2008)
The Cubs have the best record in baseball? Next thing I know, you're going to tell me that the University of Hawaii made it to a BCS game, the Giants beat the Patriots in the Super Bowl, the Kansas Jayhawks won the NCAA tournament after they were down by 9 points with a minute to play, the Celtics bounced back from a 24-58 season to win the NBA title and Tiger Woods won the US Open with a torn ACL and two stress fractures in his right leg…

(From Paying Your Dues - 8/1/2008)
Being a worse quarterback then Brett Favre is a like being a worse porn star then Kobe Tai. You don't beat yourself up too much, because not many people can take a pounding, get you excited and bring opponents to their knees quite like Favre or Kobe. (I've written a lot of metaphors in JBorhood, but I assure you, that was, far and away, the most fun metaphor I've ever researched. I was tempted to provide a link to inform the readers who are not familiar with Kobe's "body" of work, but decided to take the high road. Trust me when I say that searching for "Kobe Tai" in Google will more then suffice. You just might not want to do it at work...)

(We're Going to Disney World - 8/8/2008)
The whole debacle reminds me of the Bud Light Commercial where the guys don't have enough money to pay for their groceries and have to decide between beer or toilet paper, only instead of beer they chose cocaine and instead of toilet paper they gave up their child's future and instead of making you laugh it made you want to bang your head into a wall and sob.

(We're Going to Disney World - 8/8/2008)
(Author's Note: Browse to Google.com, enter Flacco "House of Pancakes" into the search box and click "I Feel Lucky". The JBorhood: The definitive source for information regarding Joe Flacco and the House of Pancakes. I couldn't be more proud.)

(From Matter of Perspective - 9/12/2008)
Michael Phelps had eight chances to win a medal, whereas Kobe Bryant only had one. Both athletes won 100% of their possible gold medals in dominating fashion. Am I supposed to discount Kobe because the Olympics doesn't recognize 1 on 1, 3 on 3, the dunk contest, the 3-point shooting contest, H-O-R-S-E, P-I-G, and quitting on your teammates in the NBA Finals as Olympic events? (Sorry, I had to go there.)

(From We Believe - 9/12/2008)
The Patriots claiming that no one believed in them is like WalMart claiming that no one believed they could outsell Old Ferguson's Corner Store or Michigan claiming that no one believed they could beat Appalachian State (oh...wait.)

(From A Thin Correlation Between Love and Hate - 9/19/2008)
WARNING: Reading the following article will make you an asshole. Not quite a just-finished-reading-Atlas-Shrugged asshole, more like a guy-at-the-office-who-explains-why-you-paid-too-much-for-your-new-car asshole. So, if you don't want your friends to hate you because of your new found proclivity for bloviating about statistical misconceptions, you may want to skip this week's article. Consider yourself warned. (Yeah, I just said bloviating. That just happened).

(From A Matter of Taste - 9/29/2008)
Stella Artois is the beer of choice for college aged yuppies with tapestries of Che Guevara on their walls who think their two week summer vacation to Europe made them hip and worldly (hint: it didn't). You can easily spot these assholes, because they're sporting a faux-hawk, Cuban dictator hat, hemp necklace, and a wooden peace bracelet and as soon as they enter a bar, they'll turn to their friends -- who, conveniently, are wearing the same pretentious loser uniform -- and say "Dude, they have STELLA!"

(From Limit Your Enthusiasm - 10/17/2008)
That's like comparing the time your girlfriend broke up with you at the end of summer camp in fifth grade to the time your girlfriend told you she gave you syphilis while she broke up with you when you walked in on her having sex with your best friend, after your mom called to let you know that your grandma passed away from ovarian cancer, and your left arm was ripped from the socket by a marmoset with rabies.

(From Limit Your Enthusiasm - 10/17/2008)
If all of the SPAM mysteriously disappeared off the shelves of Downtown Honolulu, I give the city six hours until it devolved into a 28 Days Later type zombie-apocalypse. And that's a best case scenario.

(From Solving the (Sports) Credit Crisis - 10/31/2008)
You know the best part about a recession? It's once again socially acceptable to drink cheap beer. Now that you can't afford a twelve pack of Anchor Steam, no one makes fun of you for knocking back a sixer of PBR. So, while you're busy watching your 401k spiral out of control and worrying about whether you're going to default on your mortgage, crack open an ice cold Natty Light, Schlitz, Old English, King Cobra, or Milwaukee's Best and reminisce about a simpler time.

(From Solving the (Sports) Credit Crisis - 10/31/2008)
Greg Oden is the Sam Bowie to Kevin Durant's Michael Jordan. (Settle down, Bulls fans. There's only one MJ, but saying that Oden is the Kwame Brown to Durant's Pau Gasol just doesn't have the same ring to it.)

(From Strange things are afoot at the Circle J - 11/14/2008)
We could solve the educational problems in America by hiring Snoop to make educational videos. Don't tell me you wouldn't watch "Gangstah Grammah w/ Snoop". Only a punk ass would split his infinitives, biatch! Someone please make this happen.

(From A 5-Step Program for UH Basketball - 11/21/2008)
Call me crazy, but I'm of the opinion that after attending a basketball game I should be able to get to bed before my buddies who went to a strip club.

(From The Annual JBorhood Thanksgiving Extravaganza! 2008 - 12/4/2008)
Last year, instead of joining the reactionary miasma of sports writers who pointed out the year's Turkeys -- the year's biggest jerks and ne'er-do-wells, the JBorhood set aside time to list the things for which it was thankful in the world of sports. (For the record, yes, I did just say "reactionary miasma", "ne'er-do-wells" and refer to myself in the third person in the span of one sentence. Kids, don't let anyone tell you that your dreams are impossible.)

(From The Annual JBorhood Thanksgiving Extravaganza! 2008 - 12/4/2008)
I discussed spicing up the game with my friends by creating a drinking game that involved drinking every time a UH quarterback missed a wide receiver by five feet, but we abandoned this plan after agreeing it would lead to almost certain death.

(From The Year of the Buffanblu - 12/18/2008)
I'm not sure what effect this had on the game, but between Andrew Manley and Rico Newman, Leilehua dominated Punahou in the number-of-players-whose-names-

sound-like-they-belong-to-a-porn-star category. I will respectfully refrain from making a joke about them being the only two Leilehua players to hook up for a score.

(From The Year of the Buffanblu - 12/18/2008)
Finally, my personal favorite stat: Punahou players hurdled more Leilehua defenders (2), than Leilehua players scored touchdowns (1). Yes, you read that right. Two Punahou players, Robby Toma and Dalton Hilliard, both of whom, perhaps not-so-coincidentally, will line up for UCLA next year, literally jumped over would-be tacklers. Un. Be. Lievable. You don't need to know much about football to understand that it's not a good sign when the opposing team treats you like a Track & Field prop more frequently than you put the ball in the end zone.

2009 JBorhood NFL Playoff Prognostication Extravaganza! Conference Championship Edition

noreply@blogger.com (The Dole) — Fri, 16 Jan 2009 21:54:00 +0000

So, um...my picks were bad last week. Really bad. Let's just say that I got three out of four (three out of four wrong, that is) and move along.

In order to distract you from my egregiously poor prognostication abilities, I've decided to roll out the longest article title in JBorhood history and a special two-for-the-price of one article special this week. Perfect for that extra long Saturday morning bathroom trip.

So sit down, drop trou, and, as always, enjoy!

(Click here to view my Wild Card and Divisional Round break down and picks)

I have a lot of shoes.

Not a note worthy handful but an egregious collection. An embarrassingly large assemblage of footwear. I don't mean a back of pair of brown dress shoes, I mean seven different options of foot coverage when visiting 24 Hour Fitness. I'm a modern day Imelda Marco, provided Imelda was tall, white, male and had more shoes.

My vast array of footwear allows me to select the perfect compliment to any outfit or situation -- word to the wise, never underestimate the power of a good pair of bathroom shoes -- however, since my wife and I moved into our new, relatively small apartment in preparation for the birth of our daughter, the issue of where to store said bevy of boots has caused a fair amount of friction.

I'm of the opinion that the entry way, the space under the sofa, the top of the television, the babies crib and the inside of the microwave are all perfectly reasonable places to store shoes. My wife, the illustrious Editor-in-Chief of the JBorhood, does not share this opinion.

In order to keep myself out of trouble, I started stashing shoes in the various drawers of our TV stand, which is conveniently located directly inside the front door. Relative harmony reigned for a few weeks until two days ago when my wife opened one of these handy drawers while searching for a workout video. After an animated and arguably humorous (or, more accurately, humorously argumentative) discussion about what items one might appropriately store in a TV stand, a brief discussion about how to divide our assets and a potential outline for custody and visitation rights, "we" came to the conclusion that storing footwear in a more "clothing appropriate" location would make life easier and happier for "all of us".

(Author's Note: Truth be told, my wife and I have an incredible relationship and agree on very nearly everything. We simply diverge on what constitutes a "clean" household: She believes its when items are put in a designated spot upon completion of usage. I believe its when you can't see the mess.)

The next morning, as I was heading out the door, I noticed that I'd left two pairs of jeans, which I picked up the day before after getting them hemmed, lying on the floor. (A huge shoe collection? Getting my jeans hemmed? This week's article is going to hell in a hand basket. For the record, I just burped, grabbed my crotch, downed a fifth of Jack Daniels and punched myself in the face.) Rather than leaving them in a heap on the floor, I decided to remove the mess by placing the jeans in the most convenient place available: the TV stand.

Needless to say, the following phone conversation took place later that day...

Editor-in-Chief: I'm impressed you found space for something besides shoes in the TV Stand.
Me: You should thank me for not leaving them on the floor.
Editor-in-Chief: That's like thanking you for putting dirty dishes in the refrigerator.
Me: I'm guessing this isn't the best time to suggest that you stick to the freezer today.
Editor-in-Chief: ...
Me: I'm kidding.
Editor-in-Chief: I'm checking anyway.

After verifying that I did not, in fact, place any dirty dishes in the refrigerator (thank God she never checked the microwave...), the Editor-in-Chief began to discuss her plans of starting a bonfire in our living room using my shoes and jeans as kindling when I caught her completely off guard with a rational explanation for my behavior. I explained that, I was late for work and on my way out the door when I noticed the jeans. I placed them in the TV stand to temporarily alleviate the mess, with the full intention of putting them in a (slightly) more rational location when I returned home.

Much to my surprise, she acknowledge that this made sense.

Ahhh, the beauty of context.

It's alright to put jeans in the TV stand, so long as you have a damn good reason for doing so.

Which, of course, brings us to Donovan McNabb.

In ten seasons in Philadelphia, Donovan McNabb has led the Eagles to seven playoff appearances, five conference championships, and a Super Bowl. He's been selected to five Pro Bowls, finished 2nd in MVP voting in 2000, won the NFC Offensive Player of the Year award in 2004, has a lifetime Quarterback rating of 85.9, a Touchdown to Interception ratio of 194 to 90, and never lost an opening round playoff game. Despite all these accomplishments, Donovan rarely gets the respect he deserves and is almost never mentioned among the best Quarterbacks in the league because of one thing he's never done: win a Super Bowl.

On the other hand, Eli Manning, has a lower career Quarterback rating (55.9), lower completion percentage (55.9 to Donovan's 58.9), a pedestrian touchdown to interception ratio (98 to 74) and has lost three out of four of his opening round playoff games, yet is constantly bandied about as one of the top quarterbacks in the game and is on the verge of becoming the highest paid player in the NFL, all because David Tyree put super glue on the side of his helmet.

The idea that Eli Manning is a better Quarterback then Donovan McNabb is laughable. Last Saturday, playing at home, with a far more talented team, and two weeks to prepare, Eli Manning missed open receiver after open receiver, while McNabb made big play after big play.

Every time the Eagles needed a big gain, Donovan made a play. When his protection broke down, he'd scramble in the backfield, buy himself a few extra seconds and find an open receiver. The Eagles were 7-14 on third down. The Giants were 3-13. Nuff said.

Hopefully, for Donovan's sake, the Eagles can dispatch the Cardinals this weekend and win the big one in two weeks. If not, I hope you can all find it in your heart to forgive Donovan for storing his career in the proverbial TV Stand.

Original Prediction: GIANTS over Panthers
Revised Prediction: Eagles over CARDINALS

I went to the Shack, a local burger chain, on Tuesday and ordered a bacon and blue cheese burger and a basket of fries. The burger was fantastic, as always, however, it was the fries that grabbed my attention.

There wasn't anything extraordinary about them. No special seasoning. No secret recipe. They were just, hot, crispy, and delicious, which surprised me. I always believed that making great fries required some magic, a special something, a certain je ne sais quoi.

The tangy zing of seasoned curly fries.
The intense flavor of Gordon Biesch Garlic Fries.
The perfect harmony of salty, sweet, and crunch of McDonalds Fries.

The fries from The Shack lack the superstar quality of the aforementioned potato wedges. They are not great, but they're damn good. They made me realized that making good fries is much simpler then I imagined.

Serve them hot.
Make them crispy.
Salt them appropriately.

That's it. It's not rocket science, just simple goodness.

Which, of course, brings us to Joe Flacco.

As I have repeated ad nauseum in the JBorhood, Joe Flacco is not a great quarterback. He doesn't move well in the pocket, he tends to lock on to his primary target, and his accuracy leaves something to be desired. He lacks the ability to take over a game or put his team on his shoulders and lead them to victory. But, after watching him stand strong in the pocket, make just enough big plays down field to keep the defense honest, and play 60 minutes of smart, confident football in the Ravens stunning victory over the Titans I realized that I owe Flacco an apology.

I spent so much time pointing out the fact that Flacco is not a great quarterback, that I completely overlooked the possibility that he was a good quarterback. But, as I sat at The Shack, enjoying my basket of solid, yet unspectacular French Fries, I had an epiphany: Quarterback play is just like making french fries. You don't have to be special to succeed and the recipe for success is very simple.

Don't turn the ball over.
Don't take a lot of sacks.
Make a few plays down field at critical moments.

Through two playoff games, Flacco has zero turnovers, zero sacks, a handful of great throws and, most importantly, two wins. It's not always pretty, but, as The Shack fries teach us, you don't have to be special to be high quality. I'll take me some Flacco fries any day.

(Of course, after all that, I'm still taking Pittsburgh this weekend. What? I said I was wrong, I never said I was crazy.)

Original Prediction: Colts over STEELERS
Revised Prediction: TITANS over Steelers
Re-Revised Prediction: STEELERS over Ravens

Super Bowl
Original Prediction: Colts over GIANTS
Revised Prediction: GIANTS over TITANS
Re-Revised Prediction: I think it's better for all of us if I just sit this one out til next week.

2009 JBorhood NFL Playoff Prognostication Extravaganza!

noreply@blogger.com (The Dole) — Fri, 09 Jan 2009 17:13:00 +0000

Congratulations to the Chargers for their stunning upset of the Colts. A similar tip of the cap to the Cardinals, Eagles, and Ravens for their rousing victories over the weekend. Each team played hard, executed well, and deserves high praise for their performance.

It's a shame they don't mean anything.

That's right. You heard me. Not. A. Thing.

In fact -- and this might shock you -- even the Steelers and Panthers have nothing left to play for.

Due to the bizarre rules of the NFL and the continued collusion by a corrupt collection of conspirators (he pauses to bask in the glory of the 2009's first amazingly awesome alliteration), the only game that matters is the NFLCS Championship Game between the #1 Giants and #2 Titans.

Or at least that's what the BCS would have you believe.

Actually, after last night's loss, Oklahoma finished the season in 5th place, so the BCS would have you believe that the Giants and the Colts should square off for the title. (The JBorhood kindly asks that you overlook the similarity of this pick to his own initial playoff prognostication.)

But then, the BCS would have you believe that Florida and Choke-lahoma -- 4 BCS Title Game Appearances. 3 double-digit losses. 5-game BCS losing streak. Yup, choke sounds right -- are better then USC's NFL minor league team and undefeated Utah.

The BCS would have you believe that their was no shooter on the grassy knoll.

The BCS would have you believe that Alabama Head Coach Nick Saban is the coach of the year, even though Utah's Kyle Wittingham led a school with far less resources and talent to an undefeated season and embarrassed Saban's Crimson Tide in the Sugar Bowl. (To be fair, the Coach of the Year award is an NCAA award, not a BCS award, however, I figure while I'm assigning blame and have identified a convenient scapegoat, might as well heap as much as blame on them as possible. In fact, I'm pretty sure the BCS caused the sub-prime mortgage crisis and global warming, and co-wrote the Star Wars prequels.)

Lucky for us, the BCS does not run the NFL and the NFL does not decide their champion using a combination of polls, computer rankings, media blather and what Paris Hilton wore to go clubbing last weekend.

The NFL decides their champions like men. (Which is to say that men decide their issues by suiting up in pads with ten of their closest friends and spending sixty minutes knocking the bejesus out of each other fighting over an oblong ball?)

And for that, I am thankful, as are the Chargers, Ravens, Cardinals, Eagles, and football fans everywhere.

Now let's get it on!

Wild Card Round

Colts over CHARGERS
Ravens over DOLPHINS
CARDINALS over Falcons
Eagles over VIKINGS

Three out of four first round match-up correct? We're breaking new ground here in the JBorhood. I'd boast a little, except for the tiny, minuscule, mostly insignificant detail that I picked the one team that lost to make it to the Super Bowl. But then, it wouldn't be a JBorhood Prognostication Extravaganza! without comically awful predictions. Remember, I'm the same guy that picked the Giants to lose all four playoff games last year. I have serious low standards to uphold.

Divisional Round
Original Prediction: Colts over STEELERS
Revised Prediction: STEELERS over Chargers

The Steelers defense is good. I mean really good. Hey everyone, come see how good the Steelers defense is. (For those of you who've never seen Anchorman -- *cough* Trenton *cough* -- I apologize for the previous joke, since it makes no sense to you. But, seriously, if you haven't seen Anchorman at this point, I have no sympathy for you.)

How good, you...err, I ask?

Their opponents gained less then 300 yards in every game but one.

That's not good, that's freaky-deeky. (Feel free to use this term when describing the Pittsburgh defense to your friends.)

I know that San Diego has talent.
I know that they just knocked off my Super Bowl favorite.
I know they're a trendy upset pick.

I also know that the front seven of Pittsburgh is too big, too good and too fast to let mighty mite Darren Sproles and the Chargers offense develop any rhythm or consistency.

I envision a loooooooooooooooooooooooong day for Chargers QB Phillip Rivers.

TITANS over Ravens

The Titans are a defensive juggernaut that beats teams into submission with a power running game.

The Ravens are a defensive juggernaut that beats teams into submission with a power running game.

If you can differentiate between these teams, you're a better man then I.

(I would like to take a moment and pat myself on the back for discussing the Ravens without pointing out Joe Flacco's glaring inadequacies. An entire paragraph without mentioning that he'll be working at a IHOP in three years. One detailed discussion sans any cracks about how he couldn't hit the Ocean if he was standing on the Beach. I'm making real progress here.)

GIANTS over Eagles

The Giants pair a well balanced offense with a dangerous, ball hawking defense that applies constant pressure to opposing quarterbacks.

The Eagles pair a well balance offense with a dangerous, ball hawking defense that applies constant pressure to opposing quarterbacks.

If you can differentiate between these team, you're a better man then I.

PANTHERS over Cardinals

The Cardinals do two things well: Stop the run and pass the football. That is why I picked them to knock off Atlanta, who primarily runs the football and struggles to stop the pass.

The Panthers also primarily run the football, however, they do not struggle to stop the pass. In fact, the strength of their defense is applying pressure to opposing quarterbacks and shutting down opposing passing games. Couple that with an 8-0 record at home, the Cardinals 0-5 record in road games on the East Coast, and the fact that the Cardinals were outscored 102 to 202 in those games and you have the easiest pick of the day.

(It is worth noting, however, that the Cardinals had the ball at the end of the game with a chance to win in a 23-27 Week 8 loss at Carolina.)

Conference Championship Round (Detailed analysis to come 1/16/2009)
GIANTS over Panthers

The one thing the Panthers can't do is stop the run. Not good when you're facing the NFL's leading rushing team.

Original Prediction: Colts over STEELERS
Revised Prediction: TITANS over Steelers

Remember I said that the Steelers held every team but one to less then 300 yards? You know who that one team was?

That's right. The Titans.

Super Bowl (Detailed analysis to come in Super Bowl Prognostication Extravaganza!)
Original Prediction: Colts over GIANTS
Revised Prediction: GIANTS over TITANS

Giants vs. Titans?

#1 vs #2?

What can I say? Sometimes the NFLCS gets it right...

Best of the JBorhood 2008 - Part 1

noreply@blogger.com (The Dole) — Fri, 02 Jan 2009 08:39:00 +0000

Happy New Year, Friends and JBors!

As the year comes to a close, let's take a look back and celebrate the best moments from the JBorhood in 2008.

(For the record, yes, that is a clever way of saying that the ratio of time spent drinking egg nog to time spent writing the past two weeks is approximately infinity.)

For all you NFL fans out there, never fear. The JBorhood NFL Playoff Prognostication Extravaganza! 2009 is on the way, but still needs a little more time in the oven before serving (because no one likes an under-baked prediction). I'll serve the entree portion early next week, but here's a few appetizers to whet your appetite.

(I think I stretched that food metaphor about one joke too far...)

NFL Playoff Predictions

First Round:
Colts over CHARGERS
Ravens over DOLPHINS
CARDINALS over Falcons
Eagles over VIKINGS

Second Round:
Colts over STEELERS
TITANS over Ravens
GIANTS over Eagles
PANTHERS over Cardinals

Division Championship Round:
GIANTS over Panthers
Colts over TITANS

Super Bowl:
Colts over GIANTS

(Get ready for the Manning Bowl everyone...)

Now, without further ado, let's take a look back at the first half of the year that was here in the Hood.

(From Sugar Bowl Damage Control - 1/4/2008)
I'm going to let you savvy J-Borhood readers in on a little secret of mine. Feel free to use it to impress your friends, family, co-workers, neighbors, roommates, acquaintances, grocery store clerks, Starbucks baristas or various other people who's respect you desperate crave. J-Borhood Maxim of Quarterbacks: The quality of a quarterback is directly proportional to the quality of his offensive line. Simple, elegant and utterly undeniable. Quarterback's mysteriously get better when they have plenty of time to throw the ball and look decidedly pedestrian – or, as I prefer to say, Grossmanian – when they are constantly forced to scramble in the pocket and evade relentless pressure. Don't get me wrong, the Axiom does not suggest that the difference between Tom Brady and Rex Grossman is the quality of their offensive lines, only that if you provided Grossman the time to sip his morning coffee and read the paper before making his throws like Tom Brady, that he'd look like a quality NFL starter. Similarly, the one game in which Tom Brady had a terrible game was against the Ravens, who had a ferocious pass rush all game and sacked Brady four times. It's not rocket science people, just the J-Borhood Maximization.

(From NFL Playoff Primer 2008 - 1/5/2008)
But, there's still hope [that the Patriots will lose]. Perhaps God is simply trying to draw out the suspense. Perhaps He believes it will be more damaging to the Patriots to come so close to a perfect season, only to lose it all in the playoffs. For now, all we can do is hope. Because at this point, it appears that the only thing that can stop the Patriots is an act of God.

Note: That's right. The JBorhood predicted the Patriots loss and David Tyree's helmet catch on Jaunary 5th. Almost makes up for picking the Giants to lose Tampa. And Dallas. And Green Bay. And New England.

(From A Football Carol - 1/18/2008)
(Norm Chow): Hello, fellow sons of Hawaii. I know that all hope seems lost, but the sky is always blackest just before the dawn. Take my hand, I can show you the way. [Author's note: I'm not entirely sure why my Norm Chow speaks like Cain from Kung Fu, but I wouldn't it be REALLY funny if he did. Seriously, can't you imagine him getting all Zen-Master on Vince Young? "Vince, Confucius say, Quarterback who runs first, pays later" Ok, maybe it's just me.]

(From 2008 Anual J-Borhood Super Bowl Prognostication Extravaganza! - 2/3/2008)
I feel like I've written the same thing for the past three weeks, but if the Jaguars, err…Chargers, err…Giants can put consistent pressure on Tom Brady without having to take men out of coverage to blitz, then they have a chance. Unfortunately, the Patriots have the best offensive line since the mid-90's Cowboys (for you non-football fans out there, if an average NFL offensive line is a picket fence creating a small, but sturdy impediment for opposing defenses, then the mid-90's Cowboys lines were like Alcatraz, if Alcatraz was surrounded by tiger sharks with laser beams on their heads.) rendering the possibility of creating pressure on Brady for four quarters nearly impossible.

(From Pro Bowl Musings - 2/11/2008)
The game taught me everything I need to know about Terrel Owens. He dropped two easy passes to start the game, which drew the ire of the crowd and a chorus of boos. Then he caught a magnificent shoe string catch on fourth and 13 to spark an NFC rally and a rain of praise from the crowd. Wildly inconsistent. Supremely talented. Polarizing figure. Done. Done. and Done.

(From Bore Me Like Beckham - 2/22/2008)
That is not to say exhibition matches can't be fun (I kept that sentence in specifically for it's fabulous use of a double negative). I attended the Pro Bowl two weeks ago with my buddy and had a blast. But I had more fun drinking beer in the sun and watching the players trash talk each other then I did watching the game. Furthermore the game was on a Sunday afternoon, my wife was at work and I got a free ticket. If I had exerted less effort to watch the game, they would have played it in my living room.

(From Bore Me Like Beckham - 2/22/2008) Sadly, David Beckham aside, the LA Galaxy is not the English national team and the Houston Dynamo is certainly no Brazil. The fact is, the MLS is still a second class soccer league. Actually, that's being kind. The MLS is a third class soccer league. And it's not like they brought in big name opponents like Manchester United, Chelsea, Barcelona or AC Milan. Sydney FC? Gamba Osaka? Gamba Osaka sounds more like pickled vegetables then a soccer team. (In fact, I'm pretty sure I had some Gamba Osaka at Shyrokiya the other day and it was kind of gross.)

(From J-Borhood Oscar Recap 2008 - 2/28/2008)
Let me get this straight. Brad Bird, the writer of Ratatouille, has two Oscars and Johnny Depp has zero? Seriously, do the winners of all the minor awards still get the same respect as the legitimate Oscar winners? Do they still get invited to the after parties? I picture them standing around outside a liquor store like Seth, Evan and Fogell, talking about trying to pick up chicks with their Oscars and debating whether their McLovin fake ID will work.

(From A Bittersweet Farewell - 3/7/2008)
A football season without Brett Favre is like Cinemax without soft core porn (What? You expected peanut butter without jelly?). You'll still watch, you just might not pay for the premium package. Let me put it this way: prior to this year, if my friend asked me to be the best man at his wedding, which happened to fall on the same day as a Bears-Packers game, he'd be looking for a new best man. This year, I'd at least think about it (before saying no).

(From A Bittersweet Farewell - 3/7/2008)
During the Packers hey day I would not have shed a tear if I found out that Brett Favre had been hit by a bus. While being eaten by a polar bear. With rabies.

(From Bursting the Bubble - 3/13/2008)
To put the poor state of their athletic department in perspective, in 2001, Duke won twice as many games in the NCAA Tournament (4), as the Gaels won the entire season (2, for those of you with embarrassingly bad math skills).

(From Bursting the Bubble - 3/13/2008)
You can argue whether Arizona State and their .500 conference record deserves a spot more then a St. Mary's team that plays in a conference dominated by pudgy white kids all you want, but it won't change the fact that, at the end of the day, UCLA, Memphis, Kansas and North Carolina will play in the Final Four.

Note: That's right. The JBorhood correctly predicted the Final Four befor the start of the tournament. Of course, in the interest of full disclosure, I should probably include the author's note that followed the aforementioned prediction.

(Author's Note: This is NOT my actual Final Four, so don't try and use this to get a leg up on me in our March Madness pool. In fact, if you pick the four #1 seeds to make the Final Four, I think you should be disqualified from the tournament for being a douche. I'm just saying...)

(From The Jimmy First Half Recap '08 -3/26/2008)
It looks like Trenton took his time, did some research and filled out half his bracket then went out, drank a 12 pack and took 14 Jager shots before filling out the second half. In the East and South Region, Trenton correctly identified all eight, Sweet 16 teams. In fact, he only missed two games in both regions. COMBINED. Unfortunately for him, those Jager shots came back to bite him in the Midwest and the West. (Maybe it's a geography thing. He does live in New York...) In those regions, he only picked two of the eight, Sweet 16 teams and incorrectly picked a whopping 14 of 24 total games. Next year Trenton, for your sake, may I suggest picks first, Jager second?

(From JBorhood Quick Hit #1 - 4/4/2008)
Kenny was arrested after a half-mile foot chase that began in the Police parking lot. For Kenny's sake, I'll kindly gloss over the fact that starting an altercation in a police parking lot while in possession of two ounces of marijuana is never a good idea, however, I can't pass up the opportunity to reiterate that he was captured after a half mile foot chase. Seriously, you're an NFL defensive back and you can't even run away from the cops for more then a half mile? That's sad. Forget the embarrassment to their franchise; the Browns should cut him for performance reasons. (Either that or sign the cop who caught him to a one year deal.)

(From A Farewell to Jimmy - 4/15/2008)
Without Shaun's gutsy selection of Kansas as the eventual champions, the Jimmy would have likely been won by Juan, who selected two upsets (that's right, two) in his entire bracket. Hopefully, future participants will learn a valuable lesson from Shaun's bracket: It's better to be unfathomably lucky, then any good at picking basketball games.

(From A Farewell to Jimmy - 4/15/2008)
The Whatever Helps you Sleep at Night Award is presented to the participant who avoided finishing in last place due to two people not filling out their brackets, one person not realizing the numbers by teams names indicated their rankings and one person picking Sienna to win the tournament because "Sienna is the greatest city in Tuscany!".

(From NBA Playoff Prognostication 2008 - 4/20/2008)
In baseball, statistics tell me that Barry Bonds gets on base every other time he steps up to the plate, hits home runs like Ike Turner hit wives and that his defensive range and base stealing abilities have developed inversely proportional to the growth of his cranium. In basketball, statistics tell me that Jason Kidd has a superb assist to turnover ratio, but they can't explain that he gets used more then a beer bong at a frat house when he tries to guard anyone with two functional legs.

(From NBA Playoff Prognostication 2008 - 4/20/2008)
So take what I say with a grain of salt. In fact take it with a lot of salt. Get out a Margarita glass, line the rim with salt and let me pour my delicious, refreshing and hilariously uninformed thoughts, musings and predictions into it for your enjoyment.

(From A Foolish Consistency - 4/25/2008)
But, something strange happens to scouts when they see a quarterback take his shirt off. All of a sudden, they care more about how the quarterback looks in a wet T-shirt contest -- "Johnny, do you see Flacco's abs under that baby-T?" -- then how accurately they throw the football

(From First Annual JBorhood Kentucky Derby Extravaganza! - 5/3/2008)
I have a pet peeve with people who name thier animals with people names. Sure, some names like Max work equally well for humans and animals alike, but for the most part, it just sounds weird giving commands to a dog named Frank. Frank, sit. Frank, stay. Frank, don't poop in my new pair of shoes. See? Weird.

(From First Annual JBorhood Kentucky Derby Extravaganza! - 5/3/2008)
Perhaps the most disappointing of all the horses names, considering that this Colt's dad has an incredible name: Mineshaft. It sounds cool, it rolls off the tongue and has a veiled sexual reference. Perfect. Cool Coal Man, on the other hand, sounds like the nickname of an aging NBA veteran with bad knees, ugly custody battle and a heroin addiction. Not so good.

(From My Triumphant Return (Step 1) - 6/13/2008)
I'm taking a page out of the Michael Jordan school of comebacks. Once the media hype reaches a fever pitch, I'll drop my patented brand of humor, sports acumen, irreverence and filagry on the world. (If you think that last sentence was just an extemperaneous excuse to use the word filagry, then you know me all to well.)

The Year of the Buffanblu

noreply@blogger.com (The Dole) — Fri, 19 Dec 2008 07:23:00 +0000

Author's Note: It is difficult to discuss High School Football in Hawaii without addressing the financial inequities between public and private schools. Public school athletic programs run on a shoe string budget and the fact that they remain, not simply competitive, but on-par and in many cases superior to private school programs in most sports is a borderline miracle. I believe that improving the quality of the public education system in Hawaii, both in the classroom and in the quality of its extracurricular activities, is the most important social issue facing the islands. That said, I also believe there is a time and a place to discuss this issue and that it should not stop us from recognizing the accomplishments of Hawaii's current crop of High School athletes.

With that in mind, I would like to discuss Punahou's State Football Championship victory over Leilehua without pretense and celebrate it for what it was: a phenomenal football game.

Football has always been the red-headed step child of Punahou Athletics. The Volleyball, Track & Field and Swim teams win state titles like Michael Phelps wins Olympic medals; the Water Polo team churns out All-Americans like I churn out glib witticisms; the soccer team has won 16 of 35 State Championships; the Baseball team is on a string of four consecutive state championships; the Kayaking Team once won 10 consecutive state championships; and, I'm pretty sure you've heard of that Wie girl (hint: she golfs...). Meanwhile, the Football Team's crowning achievement was a 2005 State Title loss.

That might fly at Iolani (For those of you who don't know, Punahou and Iolani have a bit of a rivalry. Well, technically, Iolani would have to win occasionally for it to be considered a rivalry. Just kidding, Iolani grads. I wouldn't want to upset you and have you mess up my Starbucks order. Kidding, kidding... Starbucks would never hire Iolani grads.), but when a graduate of your school assumes the Nation's highest office and Sports Illustrated ranks your school #1 in the nation for High School athletics, that's not gonna cut it.

As of last Friday, it won't have to.

Punahou played one of the most impressive football games I have ever witnessed and won its first ever State Football title, an accomplishment 35 years in the making.

What a team.

What a game.

What a win.

But Punahou didn't just win. They crushed, obliterated, dominated -- pick a superlative -- Leilehua in every phase of the game. They were better on offense, better on defense, better on special teams, had a better game plan, and made better adjustments. The only thing Punahou failed to win was the coin toss.

Consider this...

Punahou gained 518 yards of offense.

Punahou allowed only 7 points even though they turned the ball over 5 TIMES.

Punahou had, not one, but two recievers gain over 140 yards.

Did I mentioned Punahou gained 518 yards of offense???!?!

Aside from the final drive of the game when they shifted into a prevent defense, Punahou gained nearly four times as many yards as Leilehua (518-148). Prior to that point, Leilehua's longest drive of the night was 48 yards -- 15 of which were due to penalties.

To punctuate all of this, Leilehua Quarterback Andrew Manley's longest completion of the game traveled 11 yards. To put that in perspective, Manley averaged 12.8 yards per completion in his previous game.

(Speaking of the quaterback, I'm not sure what effect this had on the game, but between Andrew Manley and Rico Newman, Leilehua dominated Punahou in the number-of-players-whose-names-sound-like-they-belong-to-a-porn-star category. I will respectfully refrain from making a joke about them being the only two Leilehua players to hook up for a score.)

Finally, my personal favorite stat: Punahou players hurdled more Leilehua defenders (2), than Leilehua players scored touchdowns (1).

Yes, you read that right. Two Punahou players, Robby Toma and Dalton Hilliard, both of whom, perhaps not-so-coincidentally, will line up for UCLA next year, literally jumped over would-be tacklers. Un. Be. Lievable. You don't need to know much about football to understand that it's not a good sign when the opposing team treats you like a Track & Field prop more frequently than you put the ball in the end zone.

It is difficult to overstate what an impressive performance Punahou staged on Friday and, while it would be easy to attribute the victory to Punahou's superior athletic ability, Punahou Head Coach Kale Ane deserves an enormous amount of credit for his defensive gameplan, to which Leilehua failed to adjust at any point during the game. In order to combat Leilehua's wide-open spread passing attack, Ane decided to only rush three lineman, drop seven men into coverage and use All-Everything linebacker recruit Manti Te'o as, what can only be described as, a force of nature.

(It would be appropriate here to mention that I'm not the only one who feels this way. Manti is rated as, in order from least to most ridiculous, the top high school football player in the state, the winner of the Dick Butkus Award for the nation's best linebacker, the #4 recruit in the nation by ESPN, and, the kicker, the High School Athlete of the Year by the Sporting News. So yeah, he's good.)

Sometimes Te'o dropped into coverage.

Sometimes Te'o rushed the passer.

Sometimes Te'o acted like he was dropping into coverage and then rushed the passer.

Sometimes Te'o just ran around field screaming at people, making them wet themselves.

(I can't verify that last part, but that's what it looked like from where I was sitting.)

No matter what Te'o did, he made an impact on every play. It was borderline unfair for him to be on the same field with other high school players. Punahou could have replaced him with a two ton flaming ball of knives and it would have been less effective. (Though arguably more entertaining.)

Yet, despite his utter dominance on the defensive side of the football, Manti's signature moment came on offense, and it only involved a four yard gain. The most spectacular four yard gain I've ever seen.

One play. Four yards gained. Approximately 30 yards covered. And seven broken tackles. That's right, SEVEN broken tackles.

(I didn't believe it when it happened so I counted the broken tackles during the replay at the Stadium. I was so blown away that I posted a Twitter message about it. Actually, I kept a running log of the game via Twitter. You can check out as well as all of my endless stream of quipy, random commentary at Twitter.com/JBorhood. If you're not familiar with Twitter, it's like a blog, only tinier and dorkier. On second thought, if you don't know about Twitter, don't ask. I'm incapable of describing it without sounding like someone who will never again get laid.)

If you only saw that one play, you'd know everything you need to know about the game and the 2008 Punahou Football team. Punahou was big. Punahou was fast. And Punahou was not to be denied.

So, after 35 years, the football team finally joined the President elect, the Athletics Department, and seemingly every other sport at Punahou at the top of the mountain.
I think it's safe to say that 2008 is the year of the Buffanblu.

A few final musings about the 2008 Punahou Football team...

Punahou has four players -- Manti Te'o, Dalton Hilliard, Cayman Shutter and Robbie Toma, who are no-doubt-about-it Division I skill players. Robbie's a little small and Cayman has a wild streak, but Dalton and Manti are jaw-droppingly amazing. They were men against boys on Friday.

Midway through the second quarter, I texted my friend who's attending UCLA and told him how lucky he is to have the privilege of watching Robby Toma and Dalton Hilliard suit up for the Bruins for the next four years. I'm pretty sure Dalton could rush for more then 39 yards against USC right now.

Cayman Shutter turns the ball over a little too much for my tastes, however, he throws the ball with undeniable accuracy and incredible touch on both short and long passes. He lofted a few balls into the corner of the end zone that I still can't believe were thrown by a High School QB. Furthermore, Cayman Shutter is, without a doubt, the best Quarterback name since Colt Brennan, which begs the question: Are we sure he didn't change his name to Cayman after it became clear that he was a phenomenal Quarterback? If we check his birth certificate, will it say Clarance Eugene Shutter the Third? If we can get a copy of Barack Obama's birth certificate, surely we can get a copy of Mr. Shutter's. Someone make this happen.

Last, but not least, shame on you to all the fans who say that they won't cheer for Manti Te'o because he's decided to go to the Mainland for school. Where Manti wants to and should go to school is up to one person and one person only. (Hint: His name starts with an M and rhymes with Banti.)

The Annual JBorhood Thankgiving Extravaganza! 2008

noreply@blogger.com (The Dole) — Fri, 05 Dec 2008 05:34:00 +0000

Some holiday festivities, like drinking hot buttered rum and watching A Christmas Story, deserve to become traditions. Others, like getting a sinus infection, taking NyQuil, passing out and locking your wife out of the apartment, not so much (see honey, isn't it a little funny when you read it in print?).

Last year, instead of joining the reactionary miasma of sports writers who pointed out the year's Turkeys -- the year's biggest jerks and ne'er-do-wells, the JBorhood set aside time to list the things for which it was thankful in the world of sports.

(For the record, yes, I did just say "reactionary miasma", "ne'er-do-wells" and refer to myself in the third person in the span of one sentence. Kids, don't let anyone tell you that your dreams are impossible.)

I believe society in general spends too much time discussing everything that's wrong with sports (the money, the egos, the unintentionally comedic and sexually suggestive 80's dance videos). On the contrary, I enjoy the opportunity to highlight and celebrate everything right about sports. With that in mind, I'd like to formally announce a new JBorhood Tradition: The Annual JBorhood Thanksgiving Extravaganza!

Because what's a holiday without an absurdly long name?

In 2009, I'm thankful for... Ping Pong Balls

The best thing about the NBA is that one player can completely turn around a franchise.

Similarly, the worst thing about the NBA is that getting one of these players is almost impossible.

Not only do you have to get the first pick in the draft, which is determined through a bingo-type weighted lottery system where the number of ping-pong balls for a given team is inversely related to their total wins, you have to hope that a franchise player is available and that your GM isn't too much of a f***tard to draft them. (Please excuse my French, but if you pass up Chris Paul for Andrew Bogut there's no other word for you. In fact, even that might be too kind.) Consequently, a large number of NBA teams toil in the hopelessness of NBA purgatory: too good to get a decent draft pick, not good enough to compete for a title.

Last season, my beloved Bulls found themselves in this hopeless quagmire and I had no hope that they would extricate themselves from this hopeless cycle any time soon. Two days after my daughter was born, that all changed.

I sat in the recovery room with my wife and two day old daughter watching ESPN when the draft lottery came on. (FYI - A newborn wants only to eat, sleep and be held. Coincidentally, all three of these things are easily accomplished while sitting on a couch watching sports. Babies: more useful then you'd think...) I rubbed my baby's head for good luck and whispered a prayer to God. "God, if you let the Bulls win the lottery, I'll consider letting her date before the age of 35. Your move."

The Bulls were slated to get the 9th pick in the draft and had only had a 1.7% chance of one of their ping pong balls emerging from the lottery, so I resigned myself to disappointment and tried to get excited about the Bulls inevitable pick of Brook Lopez. (In my opinion, it's never good when your NBA Power Forward's name sounds like it should belong to a female beach volleyball player.) But, when David Stern opened the envelope for the ninth pick in the draft, the envelope did not say Chicago Bulls; it said Charlotte Bobcats, meaning the Bulls were assured of a top 3 pick.
I started to get more nervous and excited than I'd been since the day my child was born. I rubbed my baby's head again and said another prayer to God. "God, if you give the Bulls the number one pick, I'll consider letting her date before the ago of 25. Your move."

Suffice to say, God is of the opinion that my daughter should date before graduating from college. (Though we never clarified whether the dates had to be unsupervised...)

Flash forward 6-months, Derrick Rose is setting the NBA on fire, looking like a can't-miss superstar and the Bulls -- and their fans -- have a renewed sense of hope.

And none of it would have been possible without a little help from ping-pong balls (and God's liberal dating policies).

In 2009, I'm thankful for... Bernard Pollard

Bernard Pollard is single-handedly responsible for the craziest, most competitive NFL season in recent memory. When he barreled though the Patriots line, five minutes into the season and exploded Tom Brady's ACL, MCL, PCL (and probably a couple really cool CLs that I don't even know about), he effectively eliminated the NFL's one dominant team and turned the rest of the season into a complete crap shoot. Last year, 13 weeks into the season it was the Patriots and everyone else. This year...

A staggering 21 of 32 teams have a legitimate shot at the playoffs. (My condolences to the Browns, Bengals, Chargers, Texans, Jaguars, Raiders, Chiefs, Lions, Seahawks, 49ers, and Rams.)
9 of the 12 potential NFC playoff teams have a chance to represent their conference in the Super Bowl. (My condolences to the Eagles, Bears, and Falcons.)
7 of the 9 potential AFC playoff teams have a chance to represent their conference in the Super Bowl. (My condolences to the Dolphins and Bills)

Essentially, with only 4 weeks left in the season, anything is possible.

And none of it would have been possible without Bernard Pollard.

In 2009, I'm thankful for... The Perfect Excuse

Forget about the unconditional love, the excitement of new experiences, or the inexplicable wonder of each day. The best part about having a baby is that you can use them as the ultimate Get-Out-of-Jail-Free card.

Seriously, now that I have a kid, I have a built-in excuse to watch any sporting event at any time. "I'm sorry, Mom. I'd love to volunteer at the orphanage today, but I have to stay in and watch the Lakers...err, baby." The only difference between watching a game with a baby and watching a game without a baby is that you have to change diapers at half time. A small price to pay for unlimited sports watching privileges.

But using your baby as an excuse to watch sports is only the beginning. The only thing limiting the type of excuse for which you can use your baby is your imagination.

"Sorry, I'm late. You know. The baby."

"Did someone fart? Oh, baby, that's terrible!"

"Sorry for not shaving or showering in over two weeks and wearing a bathing suit and a T-shirt to work. I have a baby."

"Sorry for starting at your breasts. I have a baby."

"I'd like a rum and coke and a shot of Jaeger. Oh, don't worry. The Jaeger is for the baby."

If I end up having another kid, I think I'll just streamline the process and name him "His Fault." "Oh, I'm sorry I ran over your Grandmother. It was His Fault." Now if you excuse me, I need to talk my wife out of signing those divorce papers.

I'm sorry for making an inappropriate joke, honey. You know. The baby...

In 2009, I'm thankful for... Greg Alexander

After three years of Colt Brennan football, I began to take the quarterback position for granted. I grew fat off the lamb of 50 point outings and accustomed to jaw-dropping 30-yard strikes hitting the hands of wide receivers in stried. I had conversations about my disappointment after "sub-par" 300 yard, 3 touchdown performances. I figured that, even after Colt left, someone would come assume the throne as the rightful heir to the mantle of UH Quarterbacks. Hell, even I could throw for 250 and 2 TD's in that offense. Right?

WRONG.

In their first three games against Division I opponents, UH Quarterbacks threw one touchdown pass and 12 interceptions. Compare that to Colt Brennan, who in 2006 threw 13 interceptions THE ENTIRE SEASON. (It also bears mentioning that he accompanied those INTs with an NCAA record 58 touchdowns.)

After watching erstwhile starter Inoke Funaki attempt to set offense football back a century against Boise State, I inquired about the possibility of petitioning for lifetime NCAA eligibility for Colt Breannan. (Seriously, some guys are just born to play college sports and Colt is one of them. Why waste his talent on the bench in Washington when he can resume his rightful place behind center for the UH Warriors for the next 20 years. Similarly, the NCAA needs to grant lifetime eligibility to Tyler Hansborough. I refuse to sit idly by while he becomes our generations Christian Laettner.)

I told myself that the offense was simply undergoing growing pains following the departure of June Jones.

I discussed spicing up the game with my friends by creating a drinking game that involved drinking every time a UH quarterback missed a wide receiver by five feet, but we abandoned this plan after agreeing it would lead to almost certain death.

I did anything I could to make UH football watchable, but nothing worked.

Nothing, that is, until Greg "I-don't-care-that-you're-not-really-that-good-you-look-like-a-combination-of-Payton-Manning-and-Jesus-compared-to-the-other-quarterbacks" Alexander took over. After taking over the starting job in Game 8, Alexander did not throw an interception until the 4th quarter of Game 12. For the more mathematically inclined JBors, that is a 2000% decrease in the number of interceptions thrown in comparison to his predecessors. For those of you not so mathematically inclined, that's a good thing.

He may not be perfect. He may not have a laser rocket arm. He may not be Colt Brennan. Hell, he may not even be Timmy Chang. But Greg Alexander can throw a football down field and occasionally have it caught by other players, most of whom play for our team and for that, I am thankful.

Trust me. If you watched the first half of the University of Hawaii's season, you'd be thankful too.

In 2009, I'm thankful for... Iowa Football

Two years in a row, college football fans watched a Big Ten team embarrass themselves in the National Title Game, both times rendering the contest virtually unwatchable. This year, that scenario threatened to occur for a third straight year as Penn State marched toward an unbeaten season.

Even though Penn State often struggled against mediocre competition and did not have a single signature non-conference win on their schedule -- No, beating Oregon State does not qualify as a "signature win" no matter what USC fans tell you. You lose to Stanford, I stop taking you seriously. End of story. -- the feel-good story of iconic coach Joe Paterno's return to prominence made them a virtual lock for the title game if they finished the season undefeated. After they narrowly edge perennial Big Ten powerhouse Ohio State, only Iowa stood in between them and a date with destiny.

Truth be told, I already had a soft spot in my heart for the Hawkeyes because both my parents graduated from the University of Iowa. Even still, heading into the match-up with Penn State, I put the Hawkeyes chances of victory somewhere between the possibility of peace in the Middle East and the likelihood that Catherine Zeta-Jones will one day return my undying affection (I'll let you surmise which one of those is more likely). Iowa has a solid football team -- good defense, strong running game -- but the list of big Iowa football victories is about the same size as the list of Matt LeBlanc's hit movies. Their last marquee game involved a 38-17 drubbing at the hands of USC in the 2003 Orange Bowl. (Note: It should say something that their last marquee game occurred in 2003.)

Yet, there they were. Making an improbable drive, capped off by an unbelievable 3rd and 10 conversion by a Quarterback who didn't assume the starting role until the 6th game of the season. Now, rather than brace for another Big 10 drubbing in the national championship game, college football fans are getting excited for a Alabama/Florida vs. Texas/Oklahoma showdown of the Titans.

And none of it would have been possible without the Iowa Hawkeyes.

In 2009, I'm thankful for... A Beautiful, Happy, Healthy Baby Girl

Nothing that has occurred in my life up to this point could have prepared me for the joy of my little baby smiling at me whenever I walk into a room. I love her so much and wish I could spend every moment of every day with her. I'm thankful for a lot of things to do with sports this year, but none quite compare with how thankful I am for my baby girl.

Happy Holidays Everyone!

A 5-Step Program for UH Basketball

noreply@blogger.com (The Dole) — Fri, 21 Nov 2008 22:37:00 +0000

What I want to do on Monday night at 11 pm generally starts and ends with my couch, polishing off a second bottle of Tempranillo – almost as fun to say as it is to drink – and discussing the glorious, unintentional comedy of the latest episode of Scream Queens on VH1 with the Editor-in-Chief. (That’s right. I watch Scream Queens. Religiously. In fact, I also watch Rock of Love Charm School and, most shamefully, Paris Hilton’s My New BFF on a weekly basis. What can I say? I’m a sucker for bikini clad bombshells in contrived melodramatic situations. Moving on…). What this list does not include is attending a UH Basketball game.

Yet, there I was, walking into the Stan Sheriff Center on Monday night along with a motley crew of college students, drunks, stoners, and the unemployed to support a 0-2 Rainbow basketball team in a game scheduled to end sometime after last call at Femme Nu. Call me crazy, but I’m of the opinion that after attending a basketball game I should be able to get to bed before my buddies who went to a strip club. But I digress…

Upon entering the Arena, I met up with a few friends and headed for the concession stands to partake in one of the finer aspects of UH Basketball games: $7.50, 32 ounce beers and Gordon Biersch garlic fries. As we circled the Arena, we noticed a troubling development:

No beer. No garlic fries.

I understand that late night driving and 32 ounce beers probably don’t mesh well, however, college basketball without an embarrassingly large malt beverage is positively un-American. I started to go through the five stages of grief.

Denial – This can’t be happening. There must be beer here somewhere.

Anger – Why didn’t they announce they weren’t serving beer? This is ridiculous!

Bargaining – I wonder if I could pay someone to open up the beer garden…

Depression – This game is going to suck, maybe we should just go home.

Acceptance - … (Let’s just say that some things are beyond acceptance.)

As I struggled to figure out a way to distill Coca-Cola into a liquor, I heard the words every sports fan dreams about…

Anna Kournikova is in your hot-tub?

Even better. Well, not better, but slightly more realistic.

The Cubs won the World Series?

I said realistic.

[Your Name], please come to the front of the Arena to claim your prize?

Bingo.

When I finally arrived, out of breath, at the front of the Arena, an usher informed me that I had won four courtside seats to the game. That’s right, four courtside seats to the nationally televised game. Not only did my buddies and I have front row seats to an amazing basketball game – UH won in an overtime thriller – we showed up on ESPN. As I attempted to call everyone I thought wouldn’t terminate our friendship for waking them up, I received the coolest text message ever from my wife midway through the first quarter:

Did you just catch a ball? I think I saw you!

I always dreamed about appearing on ESPN. I never thought it would happen quite like that.

(The best place to see me is at the :20 mark. I’m the devastatingly handsome guy sitting behind the Bank of Hawaii sign wearing a green and white striped shirt. Make sure to watch the video in High Quality, otherwise you can’t tell if it’s me or a splotch of vomit on the camera lens. God bless You Tube.)

It’s one thing to watch a basketball game on TV.

It’s another thing to watch a basketball game live.

It’s a completely different experience altogether to watch a basketball game courtside. On TV, the players look big. In person, they look huge. Courtside? Downright terrifying.

Nothing makes you feel quite as small as a 6’ 7”, 235 pound man diving out of bounds and crashing into a table right in front of you. I’m 90% sure that I could wear Brandon Adams’s shoe as a hat.

It was truly an amazing experience and it reminded me about all the reasons why I love college basketball. It also reminded me that UH has a long way to go before it can join the ranks of the elite college basketball programs in the country. But there is hope. Not long ago crowds routinely filled the Stan Sheriff Center and you got a sense of that passion on Monday night.

After attending the game, I have a renewed faith that we can rekindle the magic of UH Basketball and get the crowds to return. We just need to make a few adjustments.

Remember That We Wear Green and White

Forget “White Out” night.

I don’t want to hear about “Green Out” night.

Don’t even get me started about “Black Out” night. (It’s a basketball game, not a wake.)

Without being prompted, UH fans should attend games wearing some combination of green and white. Not black, not blue, not their favorite Tommy Bahama Aloha shirt. Green and white.

If you watch any of the approximately 9,632 basketball games on ESPN every Saturday, you’ll notice that the fans all wear the same color or colors. You’ll also notice, not coincidentally, that the team wears the same color.

It’s not complicated.

The UH Basketball team wears green and white. You wear green and white. Ok? Do you really need a marketing department to help you pick out a matching color scheme?

Once we get everyone wearing green and white, we can work on getting them to keep standing after tip-off until the team scores. Baby steps.

Increase Student Attendance

Even though only 2000 people showed up for the game, the crowd was loud, cheered constantly, and maintained a great energy from tip-off to the end of overtime. A typical UH game is about as lively as a Kenny G concert and Monday’s game was more like a Miley Cyrus show. Not quite the AC/DC atmosphere we need, but a step in the right direction.

The improved atmosphere was largely due to the increased number of students that attended the game. Usually, the student section consists of about 30 kids sequestered under the visitor’s basket. On Monday, there were well over 200 students at the game and, due to the open seating format, they were spread out all over the arena. They were loud, they were rowdy, and they gave the Rainbows a noticeable boost.

In order to truly grow the program and foster the high energy college atmosphere that makes college basketball so special, UH needs to do everything in its power to make games more accessible to students. I understand this is a complex issue that includes a the construction of new dorms, vast improvements of on-campus life, and the transition from a commuter school to one with a full fledged dorm life, however, if we ever want UH games to be more than a glorified tea party, the students need to lead the way.

Get Students Closer to the Floor

I know that season ticket holders already occupy the seats.

I know that it means less money for the University up front. (I’d argue that making games more exciting and accessible for students builds a more loyal fan base, more likely to donate to the program in the future, but that’s an argument for another day.)

But there’s no substitute for loud, crazy students, sitting courtside at a college basketball game. Every large college basketball program in the country includes a large student section next to the court. Not sequestered under a basket somewhere, or hidden in the bleachers. Front and center.

UH needs to move all the current season ticket holders from the section directly across from the visitor’s bench, block out the entire section for students, and give the prior season ticket holders first priority for new season tickets. They might complain about being moved at first, but they’ll come around the first time they watch an opposing player break down in tears after the students ride them for an entire game.

Which leads me to my next point…

Improve Heckling

For the last time, yelling “You F***ing Suck!” does not constitute heckling.

It’s not witty, it’s not funny and, most importantly, it doesn’t psyche out the other team. The whole point of heckling is to get into the other team’s head and swearing at them like every other drunk loser they hear night in, night out isn’t going to get it done.

You have to remember, they’ve been playing 40 games a year since they were in high school. They’ve heard almost every conceivable heckle in the book. Many of them far more witty and original then anything you’re going to say. The only way to get under their skin is to catch them off guard. Hit them with something humorous and original.

Heckling is a lot like Marketing. Anyone can do it, and a little creativity goes a long way, but true success requires extensive research. Each week the Manoa Maniacs need to create a heckler cheat sheet and pass them out at the games. These should include each opposing players name, basic facts about them, as well as any embarrassing facts they dug up on the internet. Player A danced ballet in high school. Player B was arrested for marijuana possession. Player C was caught with his pants down in the company of a sheep. You get the picture.

UH fans need to embrace heckling as a true art form. They’re college students. It’s not like they have better things to do then sit up late at night, drink 40s and research the best way to make opposing players cry.

Someone make this happen.

Always Server Beer

I’ll give you a free pass for Monday. Just don’t ever let that happen again, ok?

I’m confident that if UH makes the aforementioned changes, UH Basketball can once again sell out the Stan Sheriff Center and take their program to the next level. But, if all else fails, never underestimate the power of bikini clad bombshells in contrived melodramatic situations.

I’m just saying…

Strange things are afoot at the Circle J

noreply@blogger.com (The Dole) — Fri, 14 Nov 2008 10:02:00 +0000

[Author’s Note: Due to some necessary administrative upgrades with the JBorhood, brief political reflections and a musical side project (all explained below), this week’s article has nothing to do with sports. For those of you looking for my thoughts on the BCS, MLB Awards and the start of the College Basketball season, feel free to email me at JBorhood@gmail.com. Otherwise, enjoy this week’s brief respite and we’ll resume regular programming next week.]

Strange things are afoot at the Circle J.

I’m updating the site layout, adding the ability to view the site from www.jborhood.com instead of restricting access via the simple, yet Spartan jborhood.com, adding regular updates from Twitter (see the new section on the sidebar), and revamping the comment and email systems. So, I apologize for the seemingly sporadic updates and the cessation of a steady stream of sporting sustenance (not to mention an abatement of absurd and abundant alliteration), but I want you to know that I won’t make you wait in vain.

Change is coming.

On that note, I want to take a brief moment and discuss two important issues concerning the events of last week before we let our hair down, pop open our 40’s and kick-it old school.

#1) Stop saying “Yes We Did”.

We didn’t do anything last week. We simply stated that we want something done. It’s our job to remain as engaged over the next four years as we’ve been over the last four weeks and hold our elected officials accountable for their lofty promises. Until we turn our positive momentum into positive action, the message remains “Yes We Can.”

#2) Can’t we all just get along?

The saddest development of this political season, both nationally and locally, was the mounting bitterness and lack of understanding amongst voters. Whether the issue was who should be President or whether same sex couples should retain the right to marry in California, people made up their minds, drew a line in the sand, and berated anyone with a different opinion. Even the hippie loving, weed smoking, peace denizens here in Hawaii couldn’t discuss whether or not to build a train without coming to blows.

I fear that Americans have lost the ability to rationally discuss public policy and, frankly, that’s a much bigger issue then whether a Democrat or Republican should lead our country for the next four years.

If we can’t discuss our differences then how can we possibly find common ground?

[I just devoted 100 words in an online independent sports article to what I believe is one of the most pressing and difficult political issue of the modern era. That’s the baseball equivalent of the Cubs trying to win the World Series by mowing the grass at Wrigley. Oh well, to move a mountain you need to start by writing a blog entry or something like that, he mumbles while stepping off his soapbox…]

Now, who wants to talk about hip-hop?

This past weekend, while downing a bottle of Tempranillo with my buddy Sky, we broached the subject of the best 20 hip-hop songs of all time. (Because, really, don’t all conversations over a bottle of Spanish red wine eventually lead to hip-hop?) Unsurprisingly, after an hour of drunken discussion, we were no closer to narrowing down the list then when we started. We decided to table the debate, develop our lists independently and then compare notes.

After countless hours of listening to videos on YouTube, bumping hits in my car and listening to every hip-hop song on my iPod seventy five times (plus or minus seventy four), I compiled a list of the hottest, illest, sickest, and the most wicked hip-hop jams of all-times, guaranteed to blow the speakers right off your stereo.

What follows is that list.

Enjoy.

[Author’s Note: The following list contains explicit language, both in the descriptions of the songs and the corresponding videos. Not that you care, but just so you know…]

[Additional Author’s Note: As a rule, each artist can only appear in the list once. It was tough to narrow down the list of Vanilla Ice hits to just one, but I did my best…]

[Seriously? Another Author’s Note?:

1. I am White.
2. I do not have an encyclopedic knowledge of hip-hop.
3. Did I mention that I’m white?
]

#20. Benefit - So Sick

Who?

No, you’ve never heard of him, but that’s a crying shame. Benefit was a Napster sensation who gained notoriety with his song “Warp to World”, which discusses Mario’s quest to deflower Princess Toadstool. He never hit the big time (Really? The guy who rapped about Mario’s sexual conquests never went mainstream? How surprising…), but he did leave us with “So Sick”, one of the most unbelievably dense flows of all time.

#19. Ice Cube – Today Was A Good Day

It’s hard to rap slowly.

When you rap quickly you can cover up a forced rhyme or a bad line. When you rap slowly, the audience has time analyzes every phrase. (What does Ludacris really mean when he says he wants hos in different area codes?) Only a few rappers (Snoop Dogg, Too Short, Ice Cube) manage to pull it off, but when they do, it’s a thing of beauty.

#18. Black Star – Definition

I’ll let Mos Def and Talib Kweli say it for me:

1, 2, 3,
Mos Def and Talib Kweli
We came to rock it on to the tip- top
Best alliance in hip-hop, wai oh!

#17. The Grouch - Wish You a Good Day

The only thing that rivals the silky smooth lyrics of this song, is it’s ability pick you up when you’re feeling down. This song is like a lyrical hug. It’s the musical equivalent of a Tony Robbins book.

If you’re my mom, my brother my friend, my lover, my sister
I want to wish you a good day

Thanks, Grouch. I hope you have a pretty good day too.

#16. Souls of Mischief - '93 Til Infinity

When you listen to this song, keep in mind…

These kids are 18 years old

They have not yet graduated from High School

Tajai, the MC who does the intro, will eventually graduate from Stanford with a degree in Anthropology.

Who says there are no role models in hip-hop?

#15. Bustah Rhymes - Woo Ha (Got You All in Check)

Yes, it’s cheesy.

Yes, it’s poppy.

But, still, as soon as Buster drops the beat, there’s nothing you can do but nod your head.

Ya, ya, ya, ya, ya…

(For the non-believers out there, I included the Instrumental version after the original video. I challenge you to listen to it and tell me that what Bustah does with a three note baseline and the child-like synthesizer overlay is anything short of miraculous. It’s like Tom Brady showing up to quarterback your High School football team. Insane.)

(Regular Version - Song starts at :38 mark)

(Instrumental Version)

#14. Cannibus - 2000 BC

If you’re angry at the world and looking for a track to play while you whip yourself into a fury, then look no further. Canibus verbally assaults the microphone with a stunning array of lyrical gymnastics and a loop that’s befitting of the end of days. If the four horsemen of the apocalypse ever descend on the Earth, this is the track they’ll play to announce their arrival.

#13. Tupac Shakur f. Dr Dre - California Love

The ubiquitous hip-hop anthem of the 90’s.

It’s unequivocally the greatest hip-hop video of all time and, if I was doing a list of the greatest or most influential hip-hop songs of all times, this would be a contender for the top spot. But the song has aged over time and lacks some of the depth and grit of more recent tracks. That said, I still get shivers every time Tupac takes the mic from Dr. Dre and throws down one of the most memorable flows of all time.

From Oakland and Sac-Town, the Bay Area and back down
Cali is where they put there mack down

It most certainly is.

#13. High and Mighty - Dirty Decibles

Don’t listen too closely.

Don’t dissect the lyrics.

Don’t consider how it contributed to hip-hop culture in America.

Just put your headphones on, turn your volume up, and enjoy.

#11. Dead Prez - Hip Hop

On one hand, this is one of the greatest beats of all time.

On the other hand, it’s a profound statement about the meaning and importance of real hip-hop culture.

Put it together and you have one of the greatest songs of all time and one that is just as poignant and banging today as it was in 2000.

#10. Pharoahe Monch- Simon Says

New York City gritty committee, pity the fool that
Act shitty, in the midst of the calm, the witty

Nuff said.

#9. Atmosphere – Scapegoat

As the video says, it begins with a creepy piano intro. But it doesn’t stop there. In fact, the creepy piano intro plays again, and again, and again, and again, until it lulls you into a state of uneasy complacency. Suddenly, Slug, Atmosphere’s sesquipedalian MC (Yeah, I said sesquipedalian. It’s a big word that means someone who uses big words. Could I be any more pretentious?), chimes in with a soft, steady stream of rhymes that hooks you in and doesn’t let you go for three and a half minutes. At the end, you’re shaken, impressed, and in dire need of a cigarette.

#8. Aesop Rock - The Yes and the Ya'll

It’s not a stretch or hyperbole of any kind to say that Aesop is the most verbose hip-hop lyricist of all time. In fact, it’s constrictive to even call him a MC. If anything, he’s a spoken word artist.

Some people rhyme words.

Others rhyme phrases.

Aesop rhymes volumes.

Sometimes his complicated flows distract from his songs and his beats aren’t always solid, but when he strikes the perfect balance between beat and lyrics, he strikes hard.

In this case, the yes is the yin to the ya’ll’s yang. (Say that ten time fast.)

#7. Wu Tang Clan - M.E.T.H.O.D. Man

So raw, so young, yet so timeless. If you want to understand Wu Tang, then look no further. I hadn’t listened to the song in five years and I could still rattle off…

From the slums of Shaolin, Wu Tang Clan strikes again
The Rza, the Gza, Old Dirty Bastard, Inspector Deck, Raekwon the Chef, UGod, Ghostface Killah and…

#6. Blackalicious – Deception

The beat, the lyrics, the message, the echo: All money.

Don’t let money change yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa…

#5. Snoop Dogg – Who Am I? (What’s My Name?)

Snoop is the coolest muthafuckah on planet Earth and that is a scientific fact. Seriously, we could solve the educational problems in America by hiring Snoop to make educational videos. Don’t tell me you wouldn’t watch “Gangstah Grammah w/ Snoop”.

Only a punk ass would split his infinitives, biatch!

Someone please make this happen.

#4. Dr. Dre f Eminem - Forget About Dre

The greatest comeback song of all time.

If this song were an NBA comeback, it’d be Michael Jordan suiting up for the Bulls tomorrow, scoring 101 points to break Wilt’s scoring record and simultaneously dunking over Kobe and LeBron.

I was living in LA when the song was released and happened to be driving in my car, listening to Power 106 when they premiered it on the radio. I pulled off to the side of the road and sat speechless, with my mouth hanging open. After it ended, I drove straight home, found a copy of the song online and preceded to listen to it about 50 times in a row, calling everyone I knew to come down to my dorm room and listen. Let’s just say the ratio of beers to classes was precipitously high for the rest of the day.

#3. Hieroglyphics - At the Helm

To me it doesn’t matter how dope your write or look
MCs without a voice should write a book
- Dilated Peoples from “Guaranteed”

To me, no MC has a better voice (or more ridiculous name, for that matter) then Del the
Funky Homosapien and no song is that more on display then “At the Helm”, the greatest song from one of the greatest albums (Third Eye Vision) from one of the greatest groups (Hieroglyphics).

(I would like to dedicate that string of hyperbole to my little brother, who taught me that you can never have too much hyperbole, because that would be impossible.)

#2. Eminem – Without Me

Personally, I believe that Eminem could have been the greatest hip-hop lyricist of all time if he hadn’t gotten popular so quickly. I thought about including “Don’t Give a Fuck” here instead as a display of his raw ability and a reminder of what could have been.

But that didn’t happen.

He got wildly popular and developed a slightly poppy style. Even still, you can’t deny the fact that he’s one of the most talented artists of all time and put out an unbelievable number of amazing songs. Love it or hate it, “Without Me” represents the pinnacle of Eminem’s development as a pop hip-hop artist. As much as I want to turn my nose up at it, I’m too busy nodding my head.

#1. Jay-Z - 99 Problems

He’s got 99 problems, but getting to the top of my list of favorite hip-hop songs of all time for combining an unbelievable flow, poignant message, gritty style, and ridiculous beat that seems to get better over time aint one.