SportsKarma

The Five Athletes Who Would Make Fantastic Pro Wrestling Characters

2011-10-12T23:42:00.013-05:00

This summer, I came out of the closet. I began to admit publicly what only a few of my closest friends knew.

It took a lot of courage coming out. It's not something that every 32-year-old man wants to disclose, especially when he has a burgeoning career and wants to attract a likewise partner.

However, after some prodding from an influential website and some mentoring from fantastic role models, I feel liberated enough to proclaim this truth.

I watch Raw on Monday nights.

I loved pro wrestling when I was a kid, but swore it off when I got to high school, mainly because I wanted to attract girls, and knowing a ton about Bret "The Hitman" Hart and "The Heartbreak Kid" Shawn Michaels wasn't helping my cause.

I denied it again in college when WWF/E was at its apex glory with The Rock, Stone Cold Steve Austin and Triple H were all in their absolute primes. I wanted to be above the fray. Frat guys liked that stuff, and they also liked Matchbox 20 too. That wasn't my scene so i stayed away, and missed the party.

I lived without cable for many years after college so up until about two years ago, I didn't even know wrestling was still on TV. One night after work about a year-and-a-half ago, I sat down to dinner one Monday night during the summer and turned on my Astros. They were in the midst of getting crushed by the Pirates, of all teams, and I quickly grew disgusted. I started impatiently flipping channels just looking to see if there were any other ballgames on in the middle of summer when there's not much else in the world of sports to see.

No ballgames on. I kept clicking.

"Was that The Undertaker?" I asked rhetorically to my apartment walls. "He's still wrestling?"

Indeed he was, and here I was just like I was 11 years old all over again. I was watching the Undertaker walk across the top rope for the Dead Man Walking elbow drop, and then set up some poor sap for the Tombstone pile driver.

One.

Two.

Three.

The Undertaker rolled his eyes back into his skull for the victory. I felt so dirty, but I enjoyed the hell out of watching wrestling again. Certainly more than I enjoyed watching the Astros get their asses handed to them by Pittsburgh. So I kept watching the rest of the night more for nostalgic purposes than anything. I didn't want to admit to myself how much I really liked it.

So I denied it and kept it to myself. But when the Astros were suffering on a Monday night, I knew what to turn over and watch. And when Monday Night Football hit a lull or a bad game, I would flip over to see what was going on.

But I still felt pathetic. I'm in my 30s now. What is any self-respecting man really doing watching two grown men pretend to fight?

Throughout that year, though, Aaron Rodgers unveiled his touchdown celebration, The Imaginary Championship Belt.

I, along with millions of other dorks, embraced it. Here was the best quarterback in the NFL pretty much admitting that he was in on the joke too.

So between Aaron Rodgers' influence, and ESPN's Bill Simmons' new website, Grantland, which devotes a weekly column to pro wrestling, it seemed OK to admit that I loved this when I was a kid, and frankly, I still love it now. It's silly, it's fun and they're more enjoyable to watch than the Astros anyway.

But the more I watched Raw, the more it started to color the way I watch other sports. I started thinking of certain guys as heels (bad guys) and faces (good guys), and who did a better job than others at portraying those characters.

So to that end, here are the five athletes that I've seen who would translate best to the squared circle.

5. Brett Favre

What he would be: Heel

Who he resembles: Ric Flair

In many ways, Brett Favre is Ric Flair. Both are good ol' Southern boys who stuck around for entirely too long. Both appear to have had "performance enhancements" throughout their careers. Flair has admitted to steroid use; Favre had a well-documented painkiller addiction. In addition, although it was never mentioned in the media, Favre did have a very peculiar spike in numbers between 2005-2010 when he was in his late 30s. At an age where most athletes should decline in production, Favre threw 51% fewer interceptions in 2007 than he did in 2005, and his quarterback rating jumped from a 70.9 in 2005 to a 107.2 in 2009.

Favre was actually playing the position better at 40 than he was at 35. Perhaps that's because just like every great heel, he might have been using a foreign object to beat his opponent while the referee's back was turned.

Favre and Flair both also seemed to be quite pleased with showing off their crowned jewels. In 2010, Favre's penis was famously captured on his cell phone pictures to Jets reporter Jenn Sterger. In May 2002, Flair was caught "spinning" his willie on a European flight, and the WWE was sued as a result.

But both are undisputed legends of their craft, and any discussion of the greatest of all-time in their respective sports will always include Brett Favre and Ric Flair, no matter how pathetic they may seem.

WOO!

4. Shaquille O'Neal

What he would be: Face
Who he resembles: Andre The Giant

Even when Andre The Giant was a heel, and was squaring off against Hulk Hogan in Wrestlemania III, everybody loved him anyway. By all accounts, he was one of the funniest and best guys to be around in the business, and parlayed his good nature into a memorable film role as Fezzik, the lovable ogre, in The Princess Bride.

Shaq never made a movie as good or as memorable as The Princess Bride. Hell, Andre might have been a better thespian as well because frankly, Shaq was a terrible actor (scroll to about 2:35).

But Shaq, much like Andre, was so revered by those in the sports and entertainment community, that even when he was playing the heel role and leaving the Lakers to win a title in Miami, no one could stay mad at him. He was just too good of a guy, and everyone had a great time around him.

Both were huge men with larger than life personalities. The major difference between the two, though? One broke backboards in his prime. The other broke drinking records.

3. Danica Patrick

What she would be: Heel
Who she resembles: Chyna

Neither one are particularly attractive, although Danica actually looks like a woman compared to Chyna. Chyna looks like something from the Rocky Horror Picture Show, to be honest.

However, both succeeded in a man's world to a certain extent. Danica is considered a mainstream driver in NASCAR. Although she's nowhere near on par with Jimmie Johnson or Kyle Busch in terms of victories or overall success, she is perhaps the most well-marketed NASCAR driver, especially as a result of her GoDaddy.com commercials.

Chyna's run coincided with the WWE/F's golden age in the late 1990s-early 2000s, and just like Danica Patrick, she could hang with the big boys. She won the Intercontinental Title twice, was actually the #1 contender for the title in 1999. That same year, she won the Royal Rumble.

One could rather easily argue that Chyna, in her brief four-year run with WWE was way more successful than Danica Patrick has been in her whole career in Indy Car/NASCAR. But this is less about success and more about resemblance, and Danica stands out like Chyna for her willingness to compete in a male-dominated field, and succeed to a respectable degree.

Danica, however, gets the heel tag here for her constant provocation of fights, snapping towels at people, running over her pit crew, and generally acting like a pain in the ass.

However, there's no question as to who I would rather see in a sex tape. (Hint: Not Chyna)

2. LeBron James

What he would be: Heel
Who he resembles: Chris Jericho

It would be asinine to suggest that either LBJ or Y2J's careers have been failures. Far from it, in fact. LeBron has made two NBA Finals appearances, won the MVP twice and won a scoring title. Jericho won the Intercontinental title a record nine times, held the World Heavyweight belt three times and became the first-ever undisputed championship in WWE/F history.

LeBron James is one of the most visible athletes in the world. His Nike marketing campaign has made him one of the world's most recognized athletes. Chris Jericho is one of the most visible wrestlers in the world. Between emceeing the game show Downfall on ABC, hosting VH1's 100 Most Shocking Music Moments, and his stint on Dancing With The Stars, Chris Jericho is one of the world's most recognized wrestlers.

But absolute greatness has eluded the both of them. Until LeBron James wins an NBA title, he will always live in the shadows of Kobe Bryant and his teammate Dwyane Wade. Everyone is free to acknowledge his God-given talents but even with the marketing campaigns and all the promise that he had coming into the NBA, LeBron James hasn't quite delivered despite his impressive resume.

Much like LeBron James' craves acceptance in the post-basketball arena, for Chris Jericho, it won't matter how well he does on Dancing With The Stars. He'll never be as big as Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson. Jericho is hosting VH1 specials and appearing on reality television shows. The Rock is appearing in blockbuster films, and his last major hit, Fast Five, grossed $209,805,005 as of August 2011.

Both entered their respective leagues, lauded as the good guys. Jericho entered the WWF/E in 1999 and was supposed to content for the title the same way The Rock did.

LeBron James entered the NBA in 2003, and promised to bring a championship home to his home state of Ohio.

Both turned their back on the fans and embraced the heel role. But both have never really lived up to their potential. And that's what makes them all the more interesting.

1. Aaron Rodgers

What he would be: Face
Who he resembles: The Rock

We end the way we began. Aaron Rodgers first stepped up in 2008 and beat the evil Brett Favre for the Green Bay starting job in a Loser Leaves Town match. Then this year, his Packers defeated the Michael Vick-led Philadelphia Eagles in the playoffs en route to Super Bowl XLV where he crushed the villainous two-time champion Ben "The Rapistberger" Roethlisberger in Super Bowl XLV. After that victory, he didn't just become a Super Bowl champion. By virtue of defeating Brett Favre, the Canine Hannibal Lecter and Rapistberger, he became the People's Champion as well.

Similar to The Rock, everyone seems to love Aaron Rodgers. Year after year, Rodgers plays not just for the Green Bay Packers, but he also plays for the People on Team Bring It.

Judging by his fantasy numbers and Packers victories, it's safe to say that he certainly does Bring It.

Rout 55: A Recap of the Weekend That Wasn't To Be

2011-10-09T12:04:00.011-05:00

I honestly thought we could win this game.

I thought the revamped Bryan Harsin offense would keep OU off-balance enough to counter their experience. I thought our new Boise State offense based on sleight of hand and misdirection would close the gap on OU's team speed advantage. I thought if we could just keep the game close in the first half, Mack Brown and the staff would make all the necessary second half adjustments that would surprise the Sooners.

I thought for sure I'd meet up with my friends Drop Dead and Ham smoking victory cigars on Saturday afternoon. Instead, I fled one of my least-favorite American cities with my eyes bleeding from three quarters of embarrassment.

But that's not going to stop me from writing about an ill-fated trip to Dallas. We'll start from Friday afternoon...

--Before heading on the road, I stop into Schlotsky's for lunch, partially because I like them, but really because it's an Austin-based chain. We need all the good karma we can get. I'm chowing on my turkey sandwich when Ex-Boss spots me. "Hey, I didn't know they let you out for lunch!" Ex-Boss exclaims. "No work for me today," I tell him. "Heading to Dallas after I finish this." We laugh and he tells me to be careful. No worries.

Fortunately, I like Ex-Boss so I count this as a positive sign.

--Driving up to Dallas I discover Reason # 3,342 why satellite radio is superior to corporate terrestrial radio: Even the classic rock stations will play something that you haven't heard a bazillion times before. I've heard so many songs recently that I know corporate radio would never have the balls to play. I would know too because I worked in corporate radio for about seven years. For example, Manfred Mann's cover of Bruce Springsteen's "For You" comes on when I'm driving through Troy, TX.

I'm not a huge Springsteen guy, but man, this version cranks. It sounds like Springsteen mashed up with Baba O'Reilly. And the hell of it this: I've never heard corporate radio play either version. But by all means Clear Channel and the ilk, keep playing "Blinded By The Light" and "Born To Run" for the seven billionth time. No one is sick and tired of hearing the same songs over and over again. Maybe that's why you're hemorrhaging cash and going bankrupt. Terrible business deals, horrible and obnoxious advertisements, and the same damn songs over and over again. Congratulations, Clear Channel. I'll gladly pay $12 per month not hear your crap.

--Listening to ESPN Radio in Hillsboro. The general consensus of all my former colleagues: OU is going to win in a rout. This makes me angry.

"What the hell?" I yell out to no one in particular. "We've gotten better every week. The offense is better than everyone thinks, the defense is quicker than everyone thinks, and again if we can just keep it close...man, this could be good." Scott Van Pelt isn't listening to my rhetorical argument.

No one else is either. I'm getting testy.

--I get to Dallas and flip back over to the classic hard rock station. They're playing "Achilles Last Stand" by Led Zeppelin. Yet again, another phenomenal reason why satellite radio is awesome and corporate radio blows.

Clocking in at almost ten-and-a-half minutes, it's Led Zeppelin's third longest song. I can almost understand Clear Channel's logic in not playing it. However, they would do just as well to not play two five minutes songs and just let this one rock out.

It also occurs to me while I'm sitting in traffic that Iron Maiden pretty much owe their entire career to Led Zeppelin, specifically "Achilles Last Stand." Steve Harris has spent the last 25 years ripping off John Paul Jones' galloping bass lick that defines Iron Maiden's sound.

(NSFW language)

Bruce Dickinson should owe Led Zeppelin royalties and a gold-plated diaper for ripping off them so badly.

--I'm close to the hotel in Irving, and I'm not sure what my GPS hates more: Dallas or me. It seems that the Metroplex is under more construction than Joan Rivers' face. Consequently, I miss my exit that doesn't actually exist, start driving around on roads my GPS doesn't recognize, end up on a feeder road and swing back around to my hotel in what can only be described as a U-shaped Z. Just a series of bizarre twists on roads that I think were born last week.

--I check into the Park Inn by Radisson. Not a bad joint but it's not like I'm not there for long. I head out for some dinner. First stop: Humperdink's.

--I'm not in Dallas very often. Mainly because I hate Dallas (more on that later). But whenever I'm in Dallas I always make it a point to stop into Humperdink's, a brewpub chain exclusive to the Metroplex. Thankfully, there's one right down the street from where I'm staying.

I pull into the Humperdink's on the Northwest Highway and spot an old-school Chevy truck painted crimson with the cream OU insignia painted on the doors at the entrance.

That's not good.

I find a parking spot next to a Honda Accord with an OU window sticker.

That's not any better.

I walk up the long entrance ramp and there's about 15 OU fans huddled around the patio area. One of the OU fans, a skinny man with a quasi-porn mustache says to me, "You better be careful in there." I'm wearing a brand-new burnt orange polo and khakis.

"Don't worry," I say with a smile. "Someone will have my back."

I saunter into the bar area. There's absolutely no one wearing burnt orange. The entire bar area is one gigantic Soonerpalooza. I walk towards the back of the restaurant. The sports radio station from OKC is broadcasting from the back of the bar and told all of their listeners to meet there.

Not one soul has my back at Humperdink's. Every single person from here to Hobart is a carnie-lookin' freak clad in crimson and cream. At this point, I'm Yankee Doodle Dandy waiving the Stars and Stripes in Pyongyang.

This is not only bad, this is potentially dangerous. I make eye contact with no one because one wrong step towards a booze-soaked Sooner and I could end up like this.

I talk to the hostess, and ask her which Humperdink's is the closest from where I am now. She doesn't know. Of course she doesn't. She asks the girl next to her. She doesn't know either. Of course they don't know.

Eventually, after much discussion back and forth between two other people who live in Dallas but don't know the city's geography, everyone agrees that the one on Greenville is the closest. Fair enough. I hightail it out of there, and porn 'stache Sooner fan spots me walking out.

"Told you. You walked into the wrong bar, man," he said.

"Live and learn. That's all you can do," I tell him.

Well, that and not get your balls ripped out in enemy territory.

--The GPS tells me to keep going down the NW Highway for a few miles. Cruising this stretch, it reminds me why I can't stand Dallas. To be fair, it's nice. Nice and soul-crushingly sterile. Every vehicle next to me is an SUV of some sort. Escalades, Hummers, Land Rovers, Range Rovers, Roll Over Rovers. It's almost as if Dallas had once heard of the phrase "green," but then said "You know, it ain't easy bein' green" and just quit trying.

Everything along the NW Highway in Dallas is a strip mall painted an off and un-offending white filled with generic, unassuming stores and unassuming fast food chains. All the streets' meridians are well-manicured and lush grass spills out from the embankments separating the north from the southbound lanes.

Meanwhile, Texas has been in a record-setting drought for much of 2011.

But the thing that perhaps pisses me off about Dallas more than anything was seeing the gated communities all along the road. To me, a gated housing community doesn't signify safety. At least not here it doesn't. It signifies exclusivity, and it signals a desire to shield themselves from the outside world, and anything that might be out of the ordinary.

So in Dallas, you drive your safe SUV, you shop at safe, unassuming stores and live in a safe, gated community. For many people in Dallas their world is a safe, unassuming bubble. It's a Stepford Wife's dream come true.

But God help them if that safe, unassuming bubble pops. And we all know one thing. This is life. It will pop. It always does.

--My friend Brad calls me while I'm navigating my way to Humperdink's. He wants to know my thoughts on Hank Williams Jr. being shown the door on MNF after dropping a Hitler reference on Fox News recently. I tell him it's about 20 years too late, but that's because I think that song is ridiculous and should have been put out of its misery a long time ago.

I tell him I have to go, but not before he advises me to get to the watch party tomorrow two hours ahead of time. Texas-OU kicks off at 11 AM. So get there at 9 AM, and start drinking at when? 9:30?

--The Humperdink's on Greenville is kinda dark, and I don't mean dark in a gritty, cool sorta way. This is the kinda dark where it makes you wonder if they forgot to pay the light bill. All the neon beer lights obscure the fact that there's hardly any other light in the joint. Which, in turn, obscures the fact that it looks like Humperdink's hasn't cleaned the carpet since the Clinton administration. So far, the Humperdink's on the NW Highway trumps the one on Greenville, if you don't count the fact that three quarters of the state of Oklahoma was at the NW Highway location. That said, though, I sit down anyway and order their Oktoberfest beer. Oktoberfest beer is quite possibly my favorite style of beer. Note to all brewers: If you make Oktoberfest-style beer year-round, I will drink it year-round. That's a promise. And yes, their Oktoberfest was a winner, and that's a good think because their menu was dominated by light beer, a raspberry blonde and a Bud Light Lime knock-off.

Seriously. Even when Dallas gives me stuff I like such as brewpubs, they manage to screw it up with a dingy, uninviting feel and a beer menu that looks like something from a Sex and the City watch party.

I'm sipping on my beer while I shoot Drop Dead a text to find out where he's at. We're supposed to meet tonight at a bar called Lee Harvey's. He's at Manny's, a Tex-Mex joint in Uptown Dallas. I let him know that I'm drinking an Oktoberfest beer, watching Game 5 of the Milwaukee-Arizona series and I just ordered a burger. He probably won't be there until about 9 PM or so.

It's around 7 PM so there's time to kill, and fortunately a damn good ballgame is on too. Brewers closer John Axford comes into the game. I'm an Astros fan so suffice to say, I checked out on baseball probably around mid-May. I have no idea who this guy is, but Axford has phenomenal facial hair.

That picture doesn't even do him justice. Sure he looks like Snidely Whiplash in that picture, but when I saw him pitch on Friday night, he had a fu manchu like Hulk Hogan that had handlebars protruding from the ends of the fu manchu itself. He looks like he belongs in an Old West Wanted Dead or Alive poster. And since this was the bottom of the ninth in Milwaukee and he just gave up a run to tie the game, Brewers fans might put him on that poster yet.

The burger comes out along with onion rings. The bun is actually a really big soft pretzel. Given that the Tray family has a history of heart issues, I'm pretty sure my ticker hates everything I just ordered. It'll get over it.

I finish my burger and rings and order another beer. The Brewers come back in the bottom of the 10th to win. If the Brewers win the World Series, we may be entering into a golden age of facial hair for closers. Last year, it was Brian Wilson.

This year it might be a cross between Wyatt Earp and John Wilkes Booth who seals the deal in October. If that happens, you can forget all the Moneyball crap and the new-fangled statistics when it comes to searching for a reliable closer. It looks like all you need is a fastball, a change-up and memorable facial hair.

And if you think I'm kidding, remember these guys? All of them are Hall of Famers.

--After dinner, I'm still waiting for Drop Dead to give me the signal and head to Lee Harvey's. I stop at a Starbucks on Greenville just to kill a little time and to order up my medium coffee with a shot of vanilla and a shot of raspberry. Across the street, I see Dallas Cigars. I consider stopping in for victory stogies, but I figure that's premature.

While sipping on coffee, I get a text from Karl Brown, and an old mate from my college fraternity, and a loyal Sports Karma reader. He's heading to Lee Harvey's now. Drop Dead will meet me there, not the other way around.

--Lee Harvey's is an old-style honky tonk crossed with an Austin patio bar stuck right in the middle of a rough part of town. And by rough, what I mean is the least-manicured part of Dallas.

Lee Harvey's is a no-bullshit, brown liquor bar with a bunch of picnic tables spread across a gravely expanse. I don't think there was even an "inside," per say, just a covered bar with a couple of shithouses to the right and a stage to the left. I head up to the bar, and Drop Dead stops me before I can get a Shiner. He just got there and was going to text me, he says. No worries, I say, just get me a beer. Drop Dead cheerfully obliges and also introduces me to a bunch of other dudes from Austin.

These guys are drunk. Offhand, they look like they've been drinkin' since last Tuesday. All I know is that these bastards are going to be hurtin' come 11 AM Saturday morning.

While Drop Dead is getting Shiners, Karl and his brother Chris spot me. I like these guys. Not only are they UT grads originally from Houston, they're loyal Sports Karma readers too. Which is cool because there's only about six of them in the world.

Drop Dead returns with the beer, and so it's Drop Dead, Karl and Chris Brown plus their younger brother, Stephen, who's a Sam Houston Bearkat and has no dog in this fight. We give him good-natured crap about this until a double-decker bus pulls up in front of Lee Harvey's.

Out comes Bevo (the furry, not the actual bovine mascot). Out come the cheerleaders. Out come the ladies on the pom squad. The band that was trying to set up on stage make a quick exit so the cheerleaders and pom squad can lead us all in singing "The Eyes of Texas," and...

TEXAS!

FIGHT!

TEXAS!

FIGHT!

OU!

SUCKS!

OU!

SUCKS!

Dudes are drunkenly eyeballing the cheerleaders. The ladies want to get their picture taken with Bevo ("Bevo's ADORABLE!" I think I heard at one point during the scramble to snap pictures with the mascot.). I'm standing there, Shiner in hand, simply proud as hell to be a part of this and to see generations of Longhorns come together in one spot to be a part of a grand tradition. I know OU fans probably feel the same when they gather at Humperdink's, and maybe it's the beer talking too, but it's truly wonderful to see that no matter what we studied or what we did in our careers, we still have a bond from one generation to the next that needs to be passed on.

After about 20 minutes of raucous singing and yelling, the cheerleaders and Bevo pack it up, and head to another bar full of Longhorns. Our quintet spends some time shooting the shit about our careers, our lives, where we're going, a little bit about the Astros' demise, but mostly about OU and how much they suck.

After an hour or so, Chris and Karl announce that they need to bolt. Somebody's cousin goes to OU and they promised they would meet up on the West End with her. Drop Dead and I aren't interested in heading towards enemy territory especially if OU Fan is belligerent and liquored up.

They take off, and that leaves us with a bunch of drunken yahoos, some semi-cute blonde in a Lewinsky blue dress, and a country band that somehow nails a improbable rockabilly melody of "Take Me Out" by Franz Ferdinand, "Seven Nation Army" by the White Stripes and "Battle Hymn of the Republic." Perhaps the strangest mishmash of styles that worked since the Grey Album.

Drop Dead and I both lay off the Shiners and chill out to the band, but we quickly stop paying attention to the music mainly because we spot this kid running from the picnic tables to the bar.

OK, maybe not THAT kid specifically, but definitely a first cousin. I don't know why this kid was running back and forth from the picnic tables to the bar and back, but we immediately thought of three things:

1. Why in the hell are there kids in a bar, specifically on OU weekend?

2. Given how heavy this kid is, is that child abuse?

3. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHHAAHA

(catching our breath while watching this kid run back and forth)

HAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAAHAAHA

Look, I know making fun of kids isn't funny. I know that in all seriousness, this poor kid's health is probably suffering greatly. I also know what it's like to be overweight. I lost 40 pounds about three or four years ago so I'm actually pretty sympathetic to the plight of those trying to lose weight.

All of that said, all of this was even funnier when a fat female midget walked into the bar! Drop Dead and I are visibly cackling and everyone knows why we're acting like a bunch of vicious hyenas. Fat Midget steps up on a couple of phone books and an encyclopedia set to order a scotch on the rocks, probably in a short glass. Fat Kid and Fat Midget actually meet at the bar, leading us to the following conversation:

Me: "If Fat Kid and Fat Midget had reproduced, what would come out? Jabba the Hutt or the writhing maggot from the birth scene in The Fly?"

DD: "Shit."

Me: "You mean like, 'Shit, I don't know.'"

DD: "No. I just mean 'Shit.'"

Drop Dead and I are terrible, awful people. Not only are we likely going to Hell for making fun of the Fat Kid and Fat Midget, but rest assured, our bad karmic outburst is probably the reason why OU dropped 55 on our burnt orange backside. Only a slight regret, though, considering that we got a great story out of it.

We leave behind Lee Harvey's around 11:45 for some much needed shuteye and eye-bleach too given what we just saw at the bar.

--I wake up at 8 AM. I'm never up this early during the week, let alone on Saturdays. But it's OU weekend, and just like Christmas, it's that one day that everyone gets up early because its tradition.

I shower, grab all my stuff, check out of the hotel and head to the Knox Street Pub in midtown Dallas to meet up with the Texas Exes for their watch party. I don't have tickets, but Drop Dead and my friend Ham both do and while I'm driving, they're checking in from the Cotton Bowl tailgate. Madness, they both report. Madness.

I get to Knox Street Pub around 9:15 AM remembering Brad's "get there two hours before kickoff" rule. There's absolutely no one in there. Everyone is still hungover I'm guessing. To hell with Brad's two-hour rule. I stop in next to the local cafe for breakfast.

--Yet another reason I hate Dallas. $12 migas. Seriously, Dallas? If I'm paying $12 for migas, I'd better be shitting gold bullion wrapped in bacon afterwards. If you're paying $12 for migas, you're a fool. Plain and simple. You're a fool and your money will soon be parted because you love to stupidly overpay for needlessly expensive things. I settle for a Bacon & Egg sandwich served on Texas toast plus coffee. It's only $10 total.

They bring the sandwich out, and they serve it with a side of pesto. I try a little bit of it with the sandwich because I figure that this place knows what they're doing.

I'm wrong.

I quickly find out that pesto coupled with bacon and egg is disgusting. Pesto-flavored ice cream would be more tolerable than this. No, seriously Dallas: Fuck you. This crap is expensive and horrific. You can take your high-falootin' crap elsewhere. Leave pesto in my pasta with some grilled chicken alone and take your highway robbery with you.

--I choke down the sandwich and walk next door to Knox Street Pub an hour before kickoff. There's a little bit of a burnt orange gathering now, but still nothing compared to what Drop Dead and Ham are experiencing right now. They're near the Gameday set with Corso and Herbstreet, they text me. Complete pandemonium, I'm told.

It's 10 AM. Kick off is in one hour, and the bar is open. After my experience with pesto-covered egg, I decide that I'm in need of a malted, hoppy dessert. I order up a Rahr and Sons Amber Lager, and at the bar, I also meet the president of the Texas Exes Dallas Chapter.

She's cute and I'm drinking at 10 AM. This is positive. I think.

--Breaking News during Gameday: Oakland Raiders owner Al Davis has been pronounced dead at the age of 82.

Wait? He was ALIVE? Are we sure? Can we get a ruling on this?

--The chapter president and I get to talking, and we have strangely similar backgrounds. We were both communications majors who got the hell out of the business once we figured out the business was for suckers. Now she's in finance and I'm in tech support. Her friends roll up shortly before kickoff as I look around. It's official. The Knox Street Pub is packed with the Longhorn faithful.

I order up a 2nd Rahr and Sons. It's 11 AM and OU sucks.

--OU gets a long drive, but we keep them to a field goal. A pretty good defensive stand by only holding them to three points. Again, if we can just keep this close, we've got a shot.

--They get a second field goal. We need some points here.

--The chapter president's friend rolls up to the bar in the middle of our drive. I'm not paying much attention to her given that I already noticed the ring on her finger, but she looks despondent upon receiving her drink. I mean, this girl looks like she just received "That Call That No One Wants From the Hospital."

I look over, stop paying attention to our march down the field, and ask, "Hey, are you OK?"

No response. I ask again.

"Well...FIRST," she begins. "This cup is too small! And SECOND, the bartender didn't give me the SUGAR FREE Red Bull!"

I stare blankly at her. "You have some major first-world problems," I tell her. She doesn't find the humor in this. Clearly, this girl's originally from Dallas. I'm half-convinced she really went to school in San Marcos and is just there to humor her friend.

--We get a field goal out of our drive. 6-3. Crap. We really needed a touchdown.

--2nd quarter begins with OU getting a touchdown. 13-3. This is bad. We need another score quickly, but our quarterbacks, Jaxon Shipley and David Ash, look more inexperienced than a nun in a porno. Another turnover. I get a third Texas Red. This beer is quickly becoming the best part of the day.

That too is bad.

--After a pick-six, OU has a 27-3 lead. My eyes look like OU's school colors: Bloodshot and white. I step outside to grab a burger, and everyone is texting me with stories of pain and misery from the Cotton Bowl. I consider leaving as Fossy Whitaker takes the kickoff back 100 yards for a touchdown. 27-10 is the score now.

All I asked at the beginning was to keep it close. Hmm...

--Never mind. OU gets another fucking touchdown. 34-10 now. The pesto, egg and bacon sandwich is now the second worst thing I've experienced today.

--I make the decision that unless some miraculous happens, I need to leave at the end of the third quarter. I close out my tab at halftime.

--48-10 at the end of the third quarter. The only person sitting next to me now is an Aggie who is loving every second of this game. Of course he would. At this point, I don't even have the heart to tell him to:

A. Shut the fuck up and enjoy losing eight games a year for the next ten seasons in the SEC, you tasteless, maroon-wearing jackass.
B. Shut the fuck up because the Aggies had massive leads on both Oklahoma State and Arkansas before choking both games away in the fourth quarter two weeks in a row. We all know OU sucks, but at least they have a gag reflex, unlike the Aggies.
C. Shut the fuck up because, no seriously, what the hell are you even doing here? Is your Aggie life that pathetic that you need to show up at a bar when we're getting our butts kicked just so you can feel superior? Congratulations Aggie. You win. I guess.

--I'm walking out the door of the Knox Street Pub, but before I leave the gentleman who was working the grill stopped me.

"We're just inexperienced this year," he said. "I tell you what though. OU is in big trouble next year. They lose their senior quarterback. They lose their wide receiver. But our team? Our team is back next year. We just need a little bit more time together, that's all."

He's right. He's absolutely right. Whether in football or in celebrations, we all need a little more time together.

Despite the blowout, that's what it makes our time in Dallas so special. We're altogether from every age, every generation, all united for one weekend a year. It ain't homecoming because for some people, you can never go back home. For me, personally, I live in Austin. I'm already home. However, you can always come to Dallas united by one common bond.

Yeah, I head back to Austin on the losing end this year.

But here's the cool thing, though. I get to go back to Austin. As for the winners? They have to go back to Oklahoma.

The Three Biggest Reasons Why OU Sucks

2011-10-06T00:22:00.005-05:00

I know you really don't need incontrovertible proof of how badly OU sucks. But just in case you're new to the rivalry, Sports Karma is happy to provide the three best examples as to why no matter what time it is, OU will always and forever suck.

1. They freely admit in their nickname that they like to cheat.

In 1889, the government decided that, well, someone had to settle in Oklahoma. So at 12 PM on April 22 of that year, a Land Run was authorized by President Benjamin Harrison. A healthy number of people entered early and claimed their land before the noontime start of the Land Run. Since they were there sooner than they should have been, the cheaters were known as "Sooners."

Just to review, they actually cheated for the right to live in Oklahoma.

Sadly, the Sooners never quite grew out of this tradition of cheating. OU was placed on probation in 1988 after coach Barry Switzer lost control of the program. In a six-month span, Switzer's quarterback was caught on camera dealing cocaine. Other players were involved a shooting and a rape in the athletic dorm and Switzer's own house got robbed by one of his own players.

The Sooners were busted again this time in 2006 when OU quarterback Rhett Bomar never showed up for work at a car dealership, but was paid nonetheless. OU had to vacate wins for the 2005 season, and had to promise that they would never, ever cross the line scrimmage early again.

So much for that promise...

2. The Boz

Simply put, Brian Bosworth is a walking embarrassment.

Other than the guys in Britny Fox (and yes, they were actually guys), can you name anybody else from the 80s with worse hair?

Brian Bosworth had a mohawk mullet, for God sakes. He made Billy Ray Cyrus look cultured by way of comparison. There's a reason The Boz doesn't have hair anymore.

God took it away as punishment for inflicting the world with that mohawk mullet that he had.

The Boz took his ridiculous hair to Seattle for the 1987 season, and was promptly run over by Bo Jackson on Monday Night Football.

Bosworth retired two years later after that hit claiming a shoulder injury ended his career. Either that or he just didn't want to get humiliated by Bo anymore.

So The Boz's hair was a disgrace. His performance on the field was hideous. However, that was nothing compared to his thespian debut in the completely wretched 1991 film Stone Cold.

The Boz played an Alabama cop named Joe Huff who infiltrated a Mississippi biker gang. I'll tell you more about the movie, but frankly, you had to be huffin' in order to enjoy Stone Cold. And if you watched Stone Cold while huffin', you ain't nothin'.

Or an OU freshman. Which is sort of about the same, really.

3. January 1, 2007

To review, OU. You had Adrian Peterson, one of the best running backs in the NFL. You could have handed the ball to him 40 times and probably beaten a WAC school but 20. But no...

Instead you committed four turnovers, scrambled all the way back to take the lead against an 18-point underdog, only to bite on three trick plays to lose the 2007 Fiesta Bowl.

OU, I know you're ashamed of that night again, but still there are a lot of us who can't get enough of seeing this, so what the hell? Here it is again!

So OU, just so we're clear:

1. You enjoy cheating
2. One of your most famous football players had a hairstyle only a meth addict could love.
3. You lost one of college football's most famous games in the most embarrassing way possible.

Yes, OU...you suck. Just remember that this weekend when we meet in Dallas, and if you don't behave yourself, we won't bring any Rogaine for Bosworth.

Hook 'em.

College Football...Are You Ready To Play 15 Questions?

2011-09-01T23:00:00.008-05:00

For Ramiro and me, Craig Kilborn was the patron saint of College. Everyone else went with Conan but at the time we didn't appreciate Conan's self-deprecating wit especially with the ladies. Kilborn seemed almost aloof, even cocky in that Han Solo kinda way, and it showed in his signature interview-ending gimmick, Five Questions.

I met Kilborn in 2004 while I was still a production assistant for ESPN Radio. He came back for one night to host SportsCenter as a part of a 25th Anniversary celebration for the network. We shook hands, had a brief conversation about show business and I even had a chance to show off my imitation of him as well.

Four days after we met, he announced he was quitting the Late Late Show. For all intensive purposes, he hasn't been heard from since.

But with college football season upon, Ramiro and I decided there was no better way to pay tribute to our greatest memories of college than to break down the college football year by liberally borrowing from our Patron Saint of College, and his greatest gimmick. This time, though, we're going use an extended remix of it.

College football...are you ready to play 15 questions? Here we go! We start with geography...

1. Which team will have the biggest impact on their new conference?

Ramiro: In Mexico we boil corn and eat it in a cup with butter and seasonings. That’s what’s gonna happen to Nebraska. Biggest impact? Boise State! No doubt about it.

Tray: Nebraska wouldn't have the biggest impact? Really? Considering that Michigan is still a train wreck from the RichRod era, Ohio State lost their starting QB and head coach, Michigan State is still regarded as an inferior to their big brother in Ann Arbor and Iowa is too busy giving their players kidney problems, I'm taking Nebraska here.

For Boise State, the move is simply a lateral one. Of course they've made lateral moves before that worked out pretty well, but still.

2. Who wins in a death-off: JoePa or Beano Cook?

Ramiro: Is this even a real question? I’m convinced JoePa has a titanium skeleton! The guy has been knocked down twice in recent memory and has been fine! Twice, Tray! Twice! The golf cart he rides in is to distract his enemies. Meanwhile, Beano Cook is gonna wonder into traffic eventually. Can he form a sentence?

Tray: Actually, he's been injured three times in the last five years, dude. Not two. We know about the most recent incident where he injured his shoulder, his hip and even suffered a hairline fracture of his goddamn pelvis. But he had his hip replaced in 2008 after trying to demonstrate an onside kick and he had his leg broken after a Wisconsin player ran into him on the sidelines in 2006. That's three times now that Death has been knockin' in the last five years and JoePa slammed the door on Death's face each time like he was a door-to-door vacuum cleaner salesman.

I guess now that I think about it, not only would JoePa beat Beano Cook in a death-off, but at this point, he might even beat Keith Richards too. JoePa FTW.

3. Who's your surprise team for 2011 and why?

Ramiro: I’m gonna go with Oklahoma. As in, it’s gonna be a surprise how fast they fall from the Number 1 spot. Just watch.

Tray: I do believe your hatred of OU is running wild right now. Seriously, do you think they're losing to Florida State? If you do, great, but just know that's about their only shot at losing possibly all year. They get Tech and A&M at home. The only game on their schedule I could see them losing is the last game of the year in Stillwater.

On the other hand, a real surprise team to me is someone who started 0-2 last year. Virginia Tech has an incredibly favorable schedule with a non-conference slate of Appalachian State, East Carolina, Marshall and Arkansas State. Their only tough road game is at Georgia Tech. If they aren't undefeated by their November 10 tilt with the Yellow Jackets then something went massively wrong in Blacksburg.

4. Who will be the biggest disappointment for 2011?

Ramiro: The biggest diappointment will be not getting enough Erin Andrews. Who are these jokers in programming, Tray? I mean, come on!

Seriously… I’m going with the Stanford Cardinal. Without Harbaugh’s leadership, this ship is gonna sink faster than the Titanic. Andrew Luck, seriously, lots of love for staying in college and enjoying life, but deep down inside, we all know you should have bolted.

Tray: We saw that one coming though. No way in Hell they were going to be as good as they were last year. Andrew Luck is nothing more than Jake Locker 2.0. Good luck with that, Luck.

That said, there's always one team that gets into the Top 10 every year and you just sorta look at it and say, "What the hell are they doing there?" This year's team is #9 Oklahoma State. They have Arizona, at A&M, at Texas, at Mizzou, at Tech and close the year against OU. They will lose at least three of those games guaranteed.

Mike Gundy may be a man, but he ain't getting through that gauntlet, and I don't care how old he is.

5. No seriously, have you figured out why Tray's former employer keeps rolling out Beano Cook? I mean, what purpose does this guy serve other than being nostalgic for the 1940s?

Ramiro: It’s like the reverse of the Bill Cosby “Kids Say the Darndest Things”. In this case, “Senile ol’ Beano Says the Darndest Things”…

Tray: I just want to know if he thinks Joe Theismann will win two Heismans this year. I also want to hear him count to potato during Gameday.

6. The Longhorns will do what this season?

Ramiro: I’m gonna stay optimistic and say we are totally capable of getting an 8-9 win season. I think that’s a goal. See you at the Cotton Bowl!

Tray: You have more confidence than I do. Take a read of this recent Cedric Golden piece, and tell me otherwise. Mack Brown doesn't believe in this bunch, and if he doesn't, I don't have any reason to either. I'm going lower like 6-7 wins.

And I have a bonus prediction: Case McCoy takes over the starting QB job after the OU game.

7. Gus Johnson will be the new voice of Fox College Football on Saturday nights. How many Hail Marys will he get to call? Over/under is 2.5...

Ramiro: Jeez… that’s a tough one. I think under, 2. I can’t wait to see them though. CBS, you are mildly retarded.

Tray: I may be insane, but I'm taking the over on this one, and I have two good reasons why. The first is the Law of Gus. Secondly, don't you think the Pac-12 is pretty competitive? Toss Oregon aside for a second (the best of the conference) and Washington State (the worst of the conference), and what do you get? You have seven or eight teams that all match up pretty well with each other. I see a lot of games down to the wire, and if you throw in the Gus Johnson Factor, I could totally see three Hail Marys in one season. Now you'll notice the question doesn't ask if they'll be completed. I just said how many do you think you'll see.

And yes, CBS, you are retarded. I want to see a CBS Sports executive and Beano Cook have an epic spell-off. First one to potato wins.

8. You get to go to one game this year outside of Austin and it cannot involve the Longhorns. Where are you going and why?

Ramiro: You know, my first instinct was just to choose a game I really wanted to go to purely on the game itself. But then I started thinking that there are a lot of things to consider, like tailgating, women, and overall atmosphere. I want a quality game, great tailgating, beautiful women in tiny dresses to talk to and I would like to generally “cheer” for one team. The only team I can cheer for without throwing up all over myself would be Michigan. I hate Ohio State. But the game will probably suck … I would have chosen LSU at Oregon, but that’s two Top 5 teams the first week? Although it will probably be a great game, whoever loses will be forgiven by the end of the season, negating the game itself…

I think I’m going with LSU at Alabama, Nov. 5. Probably two Top 5 teams near the end of the season with real implications, beautiful Southern women and great barbecue and beer in tailgating? I’m in heaven. Oh and I’m cheering for LSU, obviously. And I’m hoping there’s some desperate screw up with the time and the Ol’ Mad Hatter comes up with something brilliant.

Tray: You will get no argument from me, but I'm going with Oregon at Stanford on November 12. I've never been to the Bay Area before and I owe your pledge brother and my ex-roommate, Domingo Guerra, a visit to the San Francisco area. Considering the fact that he's a Stanford alum (he got his Masters there), has connections and can probably get us good seats where I can drink Anchor Steam all day, this sounds like a deal.

Couple that with a potential national championship contender in Oregon, getting a chance to watch a future NFL quarterback in Stanford's Andrew Luck play plus I'm pretty certain the food won't suck and the weather will be great...I mean, that will not suck in any way, shape or form.

Maybe Stanford pulls the upset. And if they don't, I will still have awesome views of Palo Alto and an Anchor Steam in hand. I like this idea.

9. Best looking cheerleaders (alma mater excluded)?

Ramiro: One step from Hollywood… I gotta go USC here. Classic California beauties? Absoluuuutely.

Tray: The University of Florida cheerleaders would like a word with you. Actually, they want a word with me first.

10. Best tailgating (alma mater and LSU both excluded b/c, let's face it...the Cajuns crush all in the tailgate dept)?

Ramiro: Hard to say since I have never been, but again, I’m going with deep South. If you’re taking LSU away from the table, then I will say ‘bama or Ole Miss!

Tray: The Grove in Oxford, Mississippi. I cannot argue with this. A 10-acre spread of beautiful women, astronomical calorie-counts and fields of booze, booze, plentiful booze. When Axl Rose sang about the Paradise City where the grass was green and the girls are pretty, I believe he spoke of this place.

Excellent call, my friend.

11. If you had to guess, what program would you suspect will be the next program taken down by scandal?

Ramiro: Assuming the ones already investigated are off the table, I would have to guess LSU. Mad Hatter has that crazy look in his eyes. I’m sure something will come up.

Tray: LSU is sorta-kinda off the table given the recent incidents of Jordan Jefferson. I will casually assume we're talking about the scandals closer to Ohio State and Miami than we are scandals that involve beating the crap out of people at Shady's in Baton Rouge.

And if we're keeping in line with scandals closer to Ohio State and Miami, it's just a matter of time before something big leaks about Oregon. Yeah, I know they had a thing-to-do this summer, but that's nothing. I'm talking about a massive scandal that will probably involve Phil Knight, briefcases of money, blocks of Colombian chronic and dead hookers. It'll be like Scarface with a spread offense.

12. How much will Andrew Luck regret not going to the NFL when he had the chance?

Ramiro: Hmmm, how much would you regret having a winning lottery ticket and exchanging it for another lottery ticket not yet scratched?

Tray: So in other words...Jake Locker? Matt Leinert? No disagreements here.

13. What will be the bigger mistake: The Longhorn Network or the Aggies decision to leave the Big XII as a result of the Longhorn Network?

Ramiro: Aggies, no question… By the way, will Aggies have to change their fight song? Seriously, no one has answered this for me!

Tray: Well, if they no longer play the Longhorns, then yes, they will have to change it. Honestly, leaving the Big XII conference will be the single-greatest thing that Texas A&M University has ever done. It won't be the greatest thing for Aggies Football, but that's secondary.

As everyone well knows, my hatred for the Aggies has been strong ever since the 1999 Bonfire collapse. The fact that they could continue such a tradition even unofficially and off-campus is repulsive to me. The fact that the Aggies couldn't recognize that carrying on a "tradition" that killed twelve of their own over a football game defied all laws of common sense. In fact, it defies civility in my mind.

I strongly suspect that new Texas A&M president R. Bowen Loftin recognizes that the school he is now running has a terrible national reputation after Bonfire, and if he doesn't act to distance the culture, he may lose generations of national and international students.

Forging a new culture and a new identity is probably one of the best things that ever happened to College Station. I wish them well as they head to the SEC and lose eight games a year. Good luck with Vanderbilt, Aggies.

14. And the Heisman goes to...?

Ramiro: LaMichael James. With his support and the Flying V formation for the Oregon Ducks, (Yes! I made my “Mighty Ducks” reference!) you can’t lose!

Tray: Trent Richardson, Alabama. I'm going with the SEC until somebody steps up and proves otherwise.

15. Who's playing for the national championship? Who's winning?

Ramiro: Oregon-Boise State! I can always dream! Oregon wins.

Tray: Just to tie it altogether, I'm going with the SEC until proven otherwise and my surprise team. Alabama-Virginia Tech for the national championship.

And yes, the Tide will roll. Big time.

The End of The Dirt Road, Part Two: How the NFL Can End Corruption In College Football

2011-09-01T00:55:00.004-05:00

***Click here for Part 1***

The NFL needs a minor league system where they can cultivate their talent minus the obvious corruption and outside influence the college game brings. An NFL minor league would also weed out the kids who simply are not cut out for handling both an athletic and scholastic schedule simultaneously.

However, a minor league must be handled responsibly in both respect to profit and players' personal development, both as a football player and a person. College football should be doing that but have failed egregiously for all of the outlined reasons. Furthermore, Roger Goddell and the NFL has enough clout at this point to advise the NCAA of the following:

"The president is looking at you. Congress is looking at you. State attorney generals are looking at you. You can follow this path and face investigations. Or you can work with us. It's your choice. But know this. The President is not looking at us."

Therefore the NFL could propose the following rough outline to the NCAA as a joint pact in the development of a true football minor league system.

Every NFL team has one minor league affiliate.
The drafting of high school players begins the weekend between the Conference Championship games and the Super Bowl. The traditional NFL draft would remain on the same dates in April.
The minor league is for players straight out of high school or players that have been demoted from the NFL due to developmental reasons
The NFL minor league schedule begins two weeks after the Super Bowl and ends with the Minor League Super Bowl on the 4th of July.
A player may be called up during the season for any reason the club deems necessary, including injury or just because the club feels that the individual is ready to play in the NFL.

These would seem like fairly agreeable terms thus far. However, if the NFL wants this to be a truly remarkable venture, it won't be enough to simply draw up a minor league and call it a success. The reality is that the NFL would be employing 18-year-old men who still need guidance. Guidance that some of them may never had gotten at home, and many more still are not getting in the ranks of college football. Therefore a social contract between the NFL and NCAA must be of paramount importance in the league's and players' development.

If a high schooler elects to forgo college to play in the NFL minor league, he cannot be convicted of a felony while employed by the League. If a player is convicted of a felony, the penalty is automatic termination of his contract and a permanent ban from playing in the NFL or any having any employment in the League itself.
However, through a joint effort with the NFL and NCAA, any player that is convicted of a felony can still attend college and play college football once a player has served his sentence to completion. Although a player is no longer eligible for employment with the NFL, an opportunity is still provided to the young man to gain his college degree after time served.
Any player that must "retire" in the minor leagues due to a career-ending injury may still attend an NCAA university at no cost, but cannot play football for that school under any circumstance.
No school may be permitted more than two NFL expulsions due to felonies or injury.
Any felony conviction while playing college football will result in a permanent ban from the NCAA as well. Any re-enrollment after time served would be for academics exclusively and at the university's discretion.

The above mentioned proposal is admittedly controversial, and openly advocates socially engineering due a certain extent. No doubt this will generate a fair number of questions such as the following:

Q: Wait a second, how is it fair that someone convicted of a felony can still attend college football and PLAY college football while they're at it?

A: Sports Karma never advocated that it was fair. In many ways, it's not fair at all especially to the students that bust their tails, get good grades, work jobs and participate in extracurricular activities. To those people who state that the most controversial piece of this proposal isn't fair, they are 100 percent correct. It's not fair.

However, I would urge others to consider the cases of both former Ohio State RB Maurice Clarett and former Texas RB Ramonce Taylor.

Clarett was just a freshman when Ohio State upset Miami to win the 2002 National Championship, but was kicked off the team in 2003 after filing false police reports. After losing a landmark case against the NFL where Clarett challenged the NFL's age requirements, he was released on waivers on August 28, 2005 by the Denver Broncos.

Not even six months later, on February 10, 2006, Clarett was indicted on two counts of aggravated robbery with gun specifications. Less than a year after he was cut by the Broncos, Clarett was arrested again this time charged with driving with an open container of Grey Goose vodka while carrying loaded handguns and AK-47s. Clarett could not be tased in the incident because he was wearing body armor.

In April 2010, Clarett was granted early release. He is now playing for the Omaha Nighthawks of the United Football League.

Taylor's story, although nowhere near as dramatic, is much the same as Clarett's. Taylor was the starting RB on the Longhorns 2005 National Championship team. Coach Mack Brown kicked Taylor off the team in May 2006 after he was accused of felony drug charges. Taylor was sentenced to 60 days in jail in September 2006, and was sentenced to jail again in 2008 for a probation violation.

Taylor was cut from the Edmonton Eskimos of the Canadian Football League in June 2010. He's now playing the Rio Grande Valley Dorados of the Arena Football League.

Both men won national championships. Both men were convicted of felonies. Neither man played in the NFL nor is it likely that they will ever play in the NFL. Both men were involved in criminal activity while at their respective universities, but both got into further trouble once football was removed completely from their lives. Both men have returned to football, but are playing at a level that would be considered minor league at best.

What both men do once football is officially over remains anyone's guess.

Is it fair that we give convicted felons a second opportunity at playing football and getting a free college education? Perhaps not, but consider the alternative presented when football as structure is removed completely from a young man's life. Forget about Clarett and Taylor as football players for a moment, and what these felony convictions cost them. Instead, how much did it cost society to have to prosecute and house Clarett and Taylor? How much will it continue to cost society when their football careers are done and they really don't have much to show for it?

Furthermore, Clarett and Taylor were both star players. Both were starting in their respective national championship games. The reality, however, is that many players regardless of skill level aren't graduating, and it's not because all of them are making the leap to the NFL. Texas, for example, graduated only 49 percent of its players according to a November 2009 report by the NCAA.

The question isn't about what happens to guys like Clarett and Taylor. The bigger question has to be how many of these guys don't we hear about in the news? How many of these players never graduate from institutions like Texas and have nothing to show for it?

The plain truth is that for too long, our schools both on a public and university level, have valued exceptional athletes for their endeavors on the field and cut them excessive slack in the classroom. This benefits no one--not the schools, the athletes or society as a whole--when athletics have been taken away entirely, and the athletes have little to fall back as a result.

This proposal takes this into account and allows the athlete turned felon to have other options in life besides football.

Q. Wait a sec, it's still not fair though! Why shouldn't other felons be offered the same opportunities? Why should football players be singled out for special treatment?

A. Sports Karma never advocated full social rehabilitation for every criminal. Some criminals, frankly, don't deserve social rehabilitation. The proposal is meant as a way to restructure both the NFL and the NCAA. If other states or the federal government would like to try new methods of rehabilitation for other criminals regardless of athletic achievement, that's ultimately at their discretion.

Furthermore, college is not the answer for everyone. Sports Karma fully recognizes that not all people, regardless of criminal history, will necessarily be cut out for the rigors of collegiate studies. However, under the guise of football, college is the most appropriate place for this social contract to occur.

Q. A permanent employment ban in the NFL? Doesn't that seem harsh?

A. Not really. As Clarett and Taylor demonstrated, 18-year-olds have a tendency to get in trouble especially if there's not a great deal of structure provided to them. A draconian policy would be needed as a mechanism to curtail and discourage such activities.

Q. OK, you've really managed to piss me off with this social contract of yours, but so be it. Moving on to other things, how are you really going to sell a kid on joining an NFL minor league? Doesn't the idea of college girls and football sound way more appealing to an 18-year-old than living in a traditional minor league city like Albuquerque?

A. Simple. Being in the NFL minor leagues makes the individual a better football player. Period. Consider that a player in the minor leagues sole devotion would be to football. They would have no outside classes to attend to or anything of that nature. Consequently, a player devoted to the game of football will ultimately be better than the player who goes to college and has to devote time to additional studies. It just boils down to a matter of more practice.

Therefore a high schooler who is drafted by the NFL minor leagues will have a greater earning potential than his collegiate counterpart and achieve that earning potential in a quicker time frame. The college player will have to compete against someone who has spent every day engrossed in nothing but football, and has received tutelage and coaching by NFL employees who know exactly what the League wants to see in a player. The NFL minor leaguer would actually be at a competitive advantage for NFL jobs and NFL millions, not the college player.

Q. What about players that commit a felony in college? Will they still be allowed in the NFL draft? And what about players that commit felonies while in the NFL, but didn't go through the minor leagues?

A. The NFL minor league is a special system set up for those that truly want to focus on football, and be the absolute best. There are different rules that apply for the minor leagues because the players are on a fast track to the NFL. What players did while they were in college will be examined on a case-by-case basis as it currently is now. Furthermore, players that commit felonies while in the NFL regardless of whether they participated in the minor league system, will be reviewed by the Commissioner and handled on a case-by-case basis.

Q. Wouldn't a minor league of this magnitude severely damage college football's drawing power?

A. Doubtful. In much of the United States, especially in Texas and in SEC country, college football is such an ingrained part of life that it would be unfathomable to imagine all of the tailgating and pageantry to suddenly shut down just because the prized five-star recruits decided to play in minor leagues instead. Besides, as mentioned previously, college football turned a $1 billion profit in 2010. It would be unthinkable that college football would fall apart just because the talent level might drop off to a certain extent. It might not turn a $1 billion profit if there's an NFL minor league in place, but the stadiums will still fill up on Saturday afternoons in the fall up to capacity, no doubt. Furthermore, the NFL minor league schedule wouldn't interfere with either the college or the pro game so conflict could occur.

Q. The NFL is a for-profit business. How does the NFL make money off this minor league?

A. Ticket sales obviously, but that's just the beginning. If the NFL branches out to other cities and stadiums, this opens up a whole new avenue of licensing and merchandise. Minor league jersey sales won't do as well as they would in the NFL due to the temporal nature of the players, but everything else that sells on NFL.com could be sold as merchandise.

This would also be a fantastic marketing opportunity for the NFL. Currently, after the Super Bowl, the NFL isn't heard from again until the April Draft, and then it's not heard from until the start of training camp in July. With a minor league schedule staring in mid-February and ending on Independence Day, the NFL can literally be in the news year-round. This keeps brand awareness alive at all times and allows various cross-selling opportunities between the NFL franchises and their minor league affiliates.

Moreover, finding stadiums to play in shouldn't be an issue. As a part of the joint agreement between the NFL and NCAA, the minor league teams can play games in college stadiums, if available, and the schools can receive a 15% cut of all revenue at the game. Fifteen percent may not seem like a great deal, but it's considerably more than what they were making with the stadium empty for a vast portion of the year.

If the NCAA finds this agreement objectionable, there's nothing to suggest that the teams can't already use the stadiums in place that NFL teams play in or find other municipal stadiums that don't have contractual agreements to a local university. Examples could include places like the Alamodome or even baseball stadiums reconfigured for football.

You don't know who this person is yet.

That man is Mark Emmert and he is the president of the NCAA. I don't envy him one bit. Emmert will have some very difficult decisions to make in the next few years, especially in President Obama wins a re-election. You may not recognize him now, but if President Obama wins in 2012, rest assured he may become the face of a Congressional investigation as to how an alleged non-profit can rack up a $1 billion profit. How his industry repeatedly aligns itself with felons. How some of his alleged student-athletes become felons.

And perhaps most importantly, he might become the face of a government investigation that calls for closing of corporate tax loopholes. He's going to have an awful lot of questions to answer. But so will university presidents. So will "boosters" like Nevin Shapiro. So will former players. So will coaches. So will current NFL players.

Mark Emmert may not want to answer these questions. He may not have a choice. What he has is a choice now to either clean up college football's mess or have someone do it for him. The question is: Who cleans it up? The feds or Roger Goddell?

Regardless of who cleans up college football, change must happen. The NFL can benefit from this more than anyone, but what will it come down to is President Emmert and the path he chooses for the NCAA.

It might be change we can believe in. But if Mark Emmert doesn't act, it will be change the NCAA will believe in.

So help them God.

The End of The Dirt Road, Part One: How the NFL Can End Corruption In College Football

2011-08-23T22:16:00.011-05:00

It reads more like a laundry list at this point.

Reggie Bush accepting $290,000 in gifts while at USC. Bush having to vacate the Heisman Trophy as a result. Cam Newton's father claiming that it would take "anywhere between $100,000 and $180,000" to get his son to play at Mississippi State.

Newton didn't go to Starkville, but chose Auburn after being kicked out of the University of Florida because he stole a laptop and was caught three times for academic cheating.

That's just the minor stuff, really. Compared to Ohio State and Miami, the acceptance of speakeasy-style money seems downright quaint.

Ohio State players, most notably new Oakland quarterback Terrelle Pryor, were selling Buckeye merchandise to a known Columbus drug dealer in exchange for discounted tattoos. Tattoo artist Edward Rife plead guilty to charges of money laundering and drug trafficking on June 28. He could face up to 60 years in federal prison between the two offenses.

These dalliances lead to the dismissals of Pryor and national championship winning coach Jim Tressel from Ohio State. It should be noted that Tressel knew of this scandal in April 2010, but never disclosed this information per contractual requirements and NCAA compliance regulations.

Furthermore, Tressel once wrote a book called The Winners Manual. The Winners Manual habitually cites Scripture. In fact, the beginning of the first chapter uses a passage from the Book of Romans:

Rejoice in our confident hope.
Be patient in trouble,
And keep on praying.
--Romans 12:12

It would appear that Tressel was quite confident that all he would need to beat his troubles would be the patience of a deaf-mute as he sat on his hands and did nothing. All the while his athletes cavorted with felons and cost him his job.

Never mind the unemployment line. Tressel should just rejoice that he didn't land in jail alongside the felons. That would be more than enough reason to keep on praying.

And then there's the University of Miami which may face the NCAA's Death Penalty for the latest accusations published by Yahoo! Sports in August 2011. At least 72 Miami football and basketball players were readily involved with convicted Ponzi scheme artist and Miami graduate Nevin Shapiro. Shapiro allegedly provided $2 million in under-the-table benefits that includes sex parties on his yacht with prostitutes, cash and in one instance, the money to front an abortion.

Some of the biggest names and best players in the NFL are all linked to the scandal and involvement with Shapiro. Patriots defensive lineman Vince Wilfork, Carolina LB Jon Beason, Giants safety Antrel Rolle and Chicago's electrifying all-purpose return man Devin Hester are amongst the alleged beneficiaries of Shapiro's sleazy and criminal acts.

Make no mistake of how bad this looks for all parties, including the NFL. The four aforementioned players have appeared in eleven combined Pro Bowls. These aren't exactly stiffs on the bench we're talking about here. Furthermore, Wilfork and Hester are bordering on household names, and Hester might be a shoo-in for the Pro Football Hall of Fame just for his special teams play alone.

To that end, everyone looks bad. Potentially criminal, in fact. In the past, the NCAA and university presidents might shrug their shoulders, promise reform but then look the other way as the scandals ensue. This time, though, reform may be imminent but it won't be due to shame as a result of the depravities at college football's biggest institutions.

It might happen because someone living at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue tells the NCAA that they must fix college football. Or else.

Here's three things we know offhand:

1. President Obama is a huge sports fan.

2. President Obama has openly stated that he wants reform in college football, starting with a playoff. To that end, we also know that Utah Attorney General Mark Shurtleff is still working on an antitrust lawsuit against the Bowl Championship Series that decides how college football determines a national championship.

3. America is about 9 bazillion dollars in the hole.

Regarding the third point, Congress and the President are debating, sometimes cantankerously, if at all, on how to solve the debt crisis. One of the biggest talking points includes taxation reform, or more accurately, closing loopholes that inhibit revenue enhancement. If taxes can't go up, the money has to come from somewhere to cover the costs incurred. The main focus in the debate has been on companies like GE's tax avoidance methods and also increasing the taxation of luxury items like corporate jets.

However, it would be naive to suggest that other entities both large and small wouldn't be affected by the debt discussions in Washington. It is certainly not inconceivable to suggest that many tax loopholes may be closing in the next few years in an attempt to generate revenue and balance the federal budget.

This is central to both college football and the NFL for one simple reason. Take a look again at the money being thrown around in the clandestine world of college football. Look at the numbers already discussed here. Reggie Bush's $290,000 "gifts" that he received as a student/athlete at USC. The brazen six-figure sums thrown about by Cam Newton's father. The untold piles of cash derived from Columbus money launderers. The $2 million spent on Miami football players.

It doesn't just beg the question of where the money is coming from. For political purposes, there's a greater question to be asked.

Is it being taxed?

Consider the sources. Money launderers, drug dealers and Ponzi scheme architects amongst others. Given that the money paid out to college football's elite came by sketchy, if not illegal means, then it would take an incredible leap of faith to suggest that this money was properly reported and taxed accordingly.

Furthermore, college football's profit topped $1 billion for the first time in 2010. For Americans that protest Congressional involvement in sports scandals as a way of political grandstanding and a waste of time, Sports Karma asks this. How many American or multinational corporations can post profits of $1 billion while they repeatedly and publicly align themselves with felons? How is it possible that they don't they receive federal subpoenas? If this were an oil company or an accounting firm, wouldn't every American call for an investigation, at the least? Why then does the NCAA get a pass from Congressional questioning? Just because it's football?

Moreover, if we're speaking of public institutions, aren't they supposed to be non-profit? How can a public institution "profit?"

What the business is is irrelevant for the purposes of tax reform. What the business is doing is cause for significant alarm, regardless of what line of work they are in. Don't kid yourself. What college football is doing may be criminal, and the NCAA seems powerless to stop itself.

Keep in mind that scandals are really old hat to the NCAA and to college football as a whole. Miami has been down this road before as evidenced by ESPN's 30 For 30 documentary series, The U. Oklahoma State graduated the illiterate Dexter Manley from its university. SMU was the first and only Death Penalty casualty of the NCAA. SMU had to shut down the program for two years during the 1980s as a result of repeated NCAA transgressions. It should be noted that Oklahoma State and SMU were involved in two of college football's biggest scandals of yesteryear, and they were hardly considered amongst the blue-bloods of the game.

Miami, Ohio State and USC, on the other hand, have combined for an astonishing twenty-four national championships, sixteen Heisman Trophy winners and three of the biggest scandals in sports history, the latter three all accounted for within the last 6 years.

Given all the evidence, would it really be a huge surprise to see NCAA officials, university presidents and NFL players all testifying on Capitol Hill within the next 3-5 years? Would it really be a huge surprise to see Congress demanding these individuals cough up their "fair share?" The NCAA has already proven they have no shame so that's not really the issue here. However, the NFL would probably like to avoid the ignoble limelight in this instance.

Many believe that the NFL can do no wrong and that's probably true in this day and age. That said, there's no question how awful it would look to see millionaire football players being grilled by Congress on the subject of questionable alliances and the prospects of tax evasion. In a day and age where more and more Americans are having a tough time simply putting food on the table, the sight of seeing some of the NFL's marquee names being questioned in Washington would be a PR nightmare akin to Major League Baseball's recent visit to Congress.

Given the possible scenarios in play, it seems that college football's path is an endless dirt road of investigations, scandals and possible criminal conduct with a Congressional roadblock in sight.

That is, unless, the NFL can provide a permanent detour.

In a way, NFL Commissioner Roger Goddell already has intervened in NCAA matters. Terrelle Pryor was drafted by Oakland in the NFL supplemental draft, but was immediately suspended five games for violating the "integrity of the eligibility rules for the NFL draft."

Pryor was supposed to be suspended by Ohio State for the first five games, but he left the university entirely to pursue an NFL career. ESPN's Tim Keown suggests:

"this is another example of a professional sports league engaging in a little quid pro quo with the allegedly amateur organization that provides it with talent. Goodell's decision to 'honor' Pryor's five-game Ohio State suspension by transferring it to the NFL is eerily similar to the NBA/NCAA collusion on NBA age limits."

Keown uses an interesting word here and it typically has a negative connotation.

Collusion.

Normally, the idea of collusion sounds conspiratorial, but in this case, the NCAA may not have much of a choice but to play along with the NFL. While the NFL may certainly have some problematic characters (Re: Michael Vick, Ben Roethlisberger, Cedric Benson, etc), there's no questioning its for-profit status or the legitimacy of the NFL's profits. The NCAA obviously cannot say the same.

Given that point, could the NFL potentially risk a future where some of their future employers are under constant financial scrutiny from the federal government? Can the NFL seriously trust college coaches and university presidents with their potential employees considering some of the unscrupulous behavior already exhibited, not just by the players, but by the coaches and presidents themselves?

What the NFL ultimately needs isn't for college football to be its minor league system. What the NFL needs is a minor league system.

Click here for Part 2

The World Needs An Antihero: Why Dennis Rodman Still Matters

2011-08-09T00:22:00.013-05:00

Some days I think about me at 16 years old. Some days it still hurts to consider how painfully awkward and shy I was. I knew that I didn't fit in at Clear Lake High School in Houston, TX. I didn't make friends easily mainly because I saw a lot of people who simply followed whatever trend was put in front of them.

I wasn't that kid that followed the hottest gossip or listened to most popular bands. I proudly listened to Styx, possibly the most uncool band in the world. I was listening to John Coltrane's Blue Train album, countered with Pantera's Far Beyond Driven, and would swear up and down that Appetite For Destruction was the greatest hard rock album ever recorded much to the chagrin of every Nirvana fan I knew. (And it is too. This realization still makes every Cobain Fan Boy crazy, no matter how much they try to fight it.)

I paid attention in English class and I could recite full sonnets and poems by Shakespeare and Longfellow, respectively, off the top of my head.

Looking back on it, I recognize I wasn't like most people, and have come to accept the fact that I've always been a little different. Just rereading the above sentences makes me realize, yeah, that's definitely a tad abnormal.

As an adult, I moved to Albuquerque. Then to Hartford. Lots of people graduate college and dream of moving to New York, Los Angeles or San Francisco in the pursuit of the big city and bigger careers.

I felt strangely guilty that I had no desire to do this. Hell, I liked New Mexico and Connecticut. I didn't understand at the time why no else did.

I've grown older now, and I've grown into my acceptance that I've always been a little different, and will continue to be a little different. But accepting this fact is far different when you're 32 than it is when you're 16. If you're a little different when you're 16, you don't really have a voice or a way to communicate how you feel yet. That voice hasn't truly matured, and that voice doesn't even really know how to eloquently state the confusion of what you're feeling.

So when you're 16, you need a voice to speak for you.

While everyone else at Clear Lake High School rooted for Michael Jordan or the home team hero, Hakeem Olajuwon, I found the voice I needed. He dyed his hair crazy colors, said wildly inappropriate things during interviews, rarely, if ever, scored during the game, and won rebounding title after rebounding title, championship after championship

He was the best defender on the greatest team of all-time, and now Dennis Rodman is just like Jordan, Olajuwon and every other guy that so many other people rooted for.

He's a Hall of Famer.

He won seven consecutive rebounding titles, the most in NBA history. He is perhaps the greatest defensive power forward ever, notoriously shutting down a young Shaq in the 1996 Eastern Conference Finals, tangling with Karl Malone in the 1997 and 1998 Finals and slowing down Olajuwon in his prime when David Robinson couldn't.

He won five rings in his career. Two with Detroit and three more with Chicago.

That's why Dennis Rodman was inducted into the Basketball Hall of Fame on Friday. But that's not why Dennis Rodman was famous. And that's certainly not why so many people rallied around him during his career.

Rodman was wildly successful, but completely on his own terms, and in his own way. Everyone wants to be the scorer in basketball. Everyone wants to root for the guy who scores. Rodman rarely scored, averaging just 7.3 points per game for his entire career. Rodman once remarked, "I can score 20 points if I want to, but that's not my desire."

He also shot less than 60 percent from the free throw line during his career. "I can't begin to describe the amount of crap I've taken for being a lousy free-throw shooter," Rodman lamented.
That said, Rodman focused his efforts primarily on rebounding and defense, and was inducted into Springfield as a result of approaching the game a little bit differently.

Michael Jordan wore suits after every game, regardless of the game's outcome. He was not only the world's greatest player, but commercially branded himself as a corporate icon, something every right-leaning suburbanite would appreciate.

Rodman famously cross-dressed to promote books and generally wore whatever the hell he damned well wanted to wear regardless of the game's outcome. "If I want to wear a dress, I'll wear a dress," Rodman boasted. And he did. Repeatedly.

He still sports multiple piercings, outrageous hair colors, an absurd amount of tattoos and a fashion style that make Liberace look downright reserved.

While others discreetly fooled around, Rodman had famous dalliances with Madonna and Carmen Electra. "With me," Rodman said. "Everything's right on the table."

Rodman was, in every sense of the word, unique. He was different than his peers, and in many ways, better than them as his now-Hall of Fame resume proves. Much like some kid huddled in his bedroom, playing bass and listening to uncool bands, Rodman approached everything differently and just didn't give a damn about what others thought. He rarely scored, he looked funny and he was hardly quiet about anything from his love life to his criticisms of NBA commissioner David Stern.

"The NBA's chosen ones think I'm setting a bad example?" Rodman once rhetorically asked. "I think they need to look around and stop taking themselves so seriously...The NBA believes if you play for a team and get paid by a team, you're the property of that team for 24 hours a day."

Dennis Rodman didn't just go the other way regarding so many different things. Dennis Rodman was the other way. He lived it. He personified it. And because of this, he gave every person who was a little different, looked a little different, behaved a little different, Dennis Rodman gave them hope. Perhaps more importantly, he gave them courage and acceptance to embrace who they were, and to live their life on their terms.

Not on Michael Jordan's terms. Not on David Stern's either. Nor the cool kids in the class or on the basketball court who were really just following along with what everyone else was doing. Dennis Rodman made it to Springfield by no other way but his own, and The Worm's enshrinement couldn't have come at a more prophetic time for me personally.

Recently at work, there have been some major philosophical shifts within our department. Amongst those shifts is a concerted effort for everyone to continue their formal education. Since I already have a Bachelors degree, the next step would be for me to gain my MBA.

Most people would probably pursue their MBA if their employer advised them to do so. Maybe I will someday, but I recently told my boss that probably isn't a wise idea for me right now. Frankly, I don't like the idea of sinking further into debt without the promise of gaining a better job from the MBA. Furthermore, I told them that I wanted to spend my free time working on a new website tentatively titled sportsbeerandrock.com.

The idea originally began as a documentary series that I dreamed up while I was working for ESPN. This website would allow me to write, and potentially, employ others as it relates to the subject of sports, beer and rock music. I have begun work, in earnest, on a business plan for this website.

It ain't easy, and maybe I will need my MBA just to figure out what the hell I'm going to do in certain aspects. If that's the case, I will do it because I want to do it, not because I'm property of my team for 24 hours a day.

I'm sure most people would have a hard time looking their boss in the eye and telling him that they were going to go a different way, but still somehow remain productive in the workplace. It wasn't easy, I can tell you that.

But Dennis Rodman reminded me at his Hall of Fame speech that those of us who are a little different, we are the Ones less traveled by.

I have to try.

Perhaps that will make all the difference.

Ed Wade is a Mouth-Breathing Piece of Crap...and Other Observations

2011-07-31T13:58:00.009-05:00

We get it, Ed.

No really. Seriously. We honestly get it. The Houston Astros need to rebuild. That much has been patently obvious this season. The bullpen has been the athletic equivalent of a Uwe Boll film. The bullpen is last or next to last in the National League in almost every conceivable category including saves, ERA, hits allowed, HR allowed and runs allowed. Brandon Lyon, who was the closer to start the year, has an ERA of 11.48, which is possibly larger than his shoe size and most certainly higher than your intelligence quotient.

It's also called an IQ, Ed. I'll save you the trouble of having to look it up.

We know our #1 pitcher to start the year is an alleged wife beater who has an ERA approaching 5. Our best pitcher is a 32-year-old streaky southpaw who is at best a .500 pitcher. In fact, he's 69-71 for his career.

That's right, Ed. We know. Our best pitcher is a guy who is my age, and is below .500 for his career. That's pretty pitiful. And by the way, Ed, I'll save you trouble of your next argument which is "Well, Wandy's WAR is 2.3 which is the highest on the team."

He's also my age, Ed. He's not getting any better. And we know it. Spare me the new-fangled statistics, and look with your own two damned eyes, if you can bear the sight of what we've had to look at this year.

Ed, we also know that we have one of the shortest left field porches in the majors and the Astros are next to last in the National League in home runs. It was a park specifically designed for Jeff Bagwell and power-hitting right handers. Instead we have Big Fat Carlos Lee, our $100 million beer league softball cleanup hitter, who's hit 30+ home runs once in his entire stint with the Astros.

We don't hold that signing against you, of course. Big Fat Carlos was signed by your equally incompetent predecessor Tim Purpura. However, we do fault you for hiring the catering staff that keeps feeding him those $100 bills slathered in lard. Those aren't helping the cause.

So just to review, Ed. Our bullpen has blown more leads than Lindsay Lohan has dudes. Our starting rotation is riddled with mediocrity, inferiority and guys who only belong as a #1 starter in Lifetime movies about abusive husbands.

The Astros can't hit either as evidenced by the fact that our power hitter swings through the doors of Ruggles more often than he swings for the fences.

The Astros are 36-73, far and away the worst team in baseball. We need to look to the future.

So if we're all in agreement on that point, then tell us this: Why in the hell did you trade it?

Hunter Pence went 3-4 with a home run against the World Series winning San Francisco Giants on Thursday night. Sadly though, Pence did this wearing a Philadelphia uniform. They won 3-0.

Ed, you definitely don't realize this, but Hunter Pence was the simultaneously the present and the future of the franchise. He was a two-time All-Star, and he wasn't just an All-Star because the Astros needed a representative. He's currently eighth in the NL in batting average, 10th in RBIs, and in the top 20 in OPS. He still leads the team in HRs and RBIs even though he doesn't wear an Astros uniform any longer. He accomplished all this despite the fact that Pence has played the vast majority of the season for a team with a collective batting average of just .260. His only protection in the line-up was the constantly juggled duo of Jeff Kepinger and Angel Sanchez along with Big Fat Carlos who is too busy smearing cream cheese and barbecue sauce all over his $100 bills to care about his clean-up hitting duties.

So Pence pretty much had to go it alone and still produced respectably despite having less protection in the lineup than a broken condom.

And Ed, you traded him in his absolute prime for three prospects.

Let me clarify something to you about prospects, Ed. "Prospects" do not mean "sure thing." For example, I'm a single man, but I've been on a fair number of dates recently. The women I've been dating have been prospects for a long-term relationship. One woman who recently moved to Texas by way of Louisiana had potential, but I had to kick her to the curb because she got a little too flaky and greedy.

Another woman I'm currently seeing seems pretty cool, but the jury is still out on her right now. Yet another woman I went out with recently...well, let's just say her online profile picture was from about 30 pounds ago and let's just leave it there.

Ed, the same thing holds true here. The women I'm dating are prospects, not girlfriends, and certainly not wives. At least not yet. And the guys you acquired might turn out to be legit players, All-Stars in fact, but for now they are just like the women I go out to wine bars and play putt-putt golf with. They're prospects, and prospects don't always turn out for the best. Just ask Todd Van Poppel or Brien Taylor. Or for that matter, ask our current first baseman, Brett Wallace, who was one of the most balleyhooed prospects in recent memory. Wallace was a a two-time Triple Crown Winner at Arizona State University, and was the #27 prospect pre-2010 by Baseball America.

He's currently hitting .256 with six home runs. The jury is still out on Wallace, but he's not exactly setting the world on fire right now. And he was considered a great prospect.

So you just traded an All-Star for a group of guys that might--I stress, might--work out a few years from now. And why? Pence's contract doesn't expire until 2013, anyway. It's projected that the two biggest prospects, pitcher Jarred Cosart and 1B-OF Jonathan Singleton, won't even be ready for the big leagues until Pence's contract is near expiration.

You traded Houston's best player in exchange for two guys who won't be able to help the club for another two years? You traded Houston's best player for a couple of guys that you may have been able to acquire two years from now, especially if you needed Pence's expiring contract as a bargaining chip?

Ed, we all know about the rebuilding process, and Houston fans have been here before. Don't worry, we're veterans of the rebuilding process. But you still have to concern yourself with the present. And presently, you have absolutely no shot at getting anyone to the ballpark in the next two years. I mean, none.

How in the hell do you exactly plan on marketing this team, Ed? Everyone knows the franchise is rebuilding but for God's sakes, trading Pence still doesn't address how awful the bullpen. It doesn't address the shaky starting rotation and it doesn't address the fact that Big Fat Carlos is in the clubhouse smearing butter all over his baseball bat in an attempt to eat it.

Hunter Pence was the one reason that people were coming to ballpark. He's a Texas kid who grew up rooting for the Astros. Fans loved to see him choking up on the bat, his cannon arm in right field, and his hustle down the first base line. Pence always gave a damn, and carried the offensive load with nary a complaint publicly. He certainly wasn't in the Pantheon of Houston sports legends, but Pence was standing outside the doorway listening in on the conversations between Biggio, Bagwell, Nolan, Hakeem, Earl and the newest Pantheon member, Andre Johnson.

He was getting damned close, Ed, and you rudely slammed the door in his face. Ours as well.

We could accept rebuilding for the next two years if Hunter Pence had been the center of the rebuilding process. We could accept rebuilding if we knew that we could go to the yard, watch the pieces start to come together with Pence as the focal point of marketing campaigns, encouraging everyone to come out and support the team.

We could even understand if Pence needed to go in a 2013 trading deadline deal provided that the Astros still weren't getting any better, but got a really good deal in return.

But this, Ed? This? What is this? Instead of building the pieces around Pence for the next two years, you've decided to field a team that is still inept at virtually every phase of the game, won't be any better for the foreseeable future, and might--might--be better depending on how "prospects" turn out.

And while you're waiting for the prospects turn out, how exactly are the Astros marketing team suppose to spin this for the next few years? What kind of campaign are they going to have to produce in order to get people to come watch the team play?

Your 2012 Houston Astros: We Make Losing Creative

Your 2012 Houston Astros: Come to Minute Maid Park or Brett Myers Will Have to Choke a Bitch

Your 2012 Houston Astros: You Gonna Eat That?

And if the prospects don't work out, Ed, then what? Are we going to see years of endless gimmicks, ridiculous promotions and bobbleheads just to get people to come out to watch what was once a great franchise play baseball?

It's got a lot of fans pissed off, but from the looks of it, I'd say they're getting pissed on too.

Actually, that sounds like a great promotion now that I think of it.

Your Houston Astros For The Indefinite Future: Enjoy The Golden Shower Years

If only that weren't such an apt metaphor for what just happened, Ed. Truth be told, Hunter Pence might get a World Series ring this year along with Brad Lidge and Roy Oswalt. And if that happens, you'll be singing in the rain completely oblivious to the mess you've just made.

For the rest of us, we see a future controlled by a man who thinks all a season down the toilet needs is another flush.

What a pisser.

Crazy King: What I'll Always Remember About Chadd Thomas

2011-07-20T23:19:00.005-05:00

May 2001

I spent my first night as a college graduate at a seedy, rank shithole of a rock n' roll dive on Dirty 6th.

I was at the Black Cat Lounge at the request of one of my best friends, Chris Harrison. Chris knew that I wanted to party that weekend, and he said he had just the tonic for my gin n' sin. He was playing in a new rockabilly band fronted by a gentleman named Chadd Thomas. Chris said they were hitting the stage just around the same time I was walking off the stage, diploma in hand, from the University of Texas.

Chris even promised me that if I showed up, he would play a very special solo just for me. They were rehearsing a closing song where Chris' guitar solo borrowed liberally from the intro lick to "Thunderstruck" by AC/DC. Knowing how much I love AC/DC, and how much I enjoy seeing Chris play, I agreed to see him out there as soon as I could.

So on a steamy, late spring Saturday night full of publicly drunk college graduates cramming 6th Street in jubilation, I dragged the two people who were with me that night, Uncle Tim and Aunt Kathy, out to see Chris and his new band play at the Black Cat.

We probably got there around 10:30 PM. The Black Cat was nothing more than a stage in front, two rickety black-tarred bleachers on the left and right covered in graffiti, a makeshift bar of graying wood near the entrance door and an overhang upstairs about the same color as the bar.

No chairs were up there. The overhang was standing room only.

The walls were concrete and tattooed in every possible color, in every possible way. The walls were spray painted, smeared with permanent marker, etched in with a pocket knife, all of them marking bands barely remembered. The floors were also concrete, but faintly streaked with blood from mosh pits.

Uncle Tim went to the can, and remarked that he had "to give this place an A for its shit-house smut." I never went inside.

The rest of the Black Cat crowd took on the resemblance of the place itself: hard-edged and tough. Beyond the obligatory tattoos, the Black Cat crowd was like a UN convention of body piercings. Multi-colored hair was waived proudly like a national flag. Younger green haired Mohawk dude with piercings decorating his face like zits stood next to an aging rocker guy who had long dyed black hair and was openly bragging about piercing his hemorrhoids.

The only one who appeared to be smiling was the pompadoured 20-something-year-old lead singer of the Crazy Kings. While Chris and the rest of band appeared mildly stoic still learning the new material, this guy was over here shaking his hips like Elvis and tapping his black and white wingtips to the groove of revved-up Johnny Cash and Hank Williams numbers.

The Crazy Kings finished out their 45-minute set with what started as an almost spoken word number from the lead singer about driving up a lone blacktop from Corpus Christi to Austin. And the only thing behind him, according to the song, was a Cadillac gaining closer.

"FUCK THAT CADILLAC!" was the refrain. I wasn't too sure why the Cadillac had gotten the Crazy Kings all riled up, but it sure sounded good. Even better was when Chris launched into his AC/DC solo that got a noticeable pop from the tattooed and pierced, but was intended just for me. I dug that.

Uncle Tim, Aunt Kathy and I shook everyone's hands after the set and congratulated Chris on the new gig. Sensing that the Crazy Kings were trying to pack up, we hightailed it out of the Black Cat and headed east for beers at the Copper Tank.

However, the lead singer Chadd Thomas, as well as Chris did their finest to send me out into the world properly with a fine night of rock n' roll, beer and a slight degree of danger. At the Copper Tank, the beers weren't Lone Star, the girls were cuter and dancing to "Pour Some Sugar On Me."

I would never walk into the Black Cat again.

February 2005

I ran ragged across the country in pursuit of a career. After college, I moved to Albuquerque, NM where I worked for an 80s radio station. The station flipped formats shortly before Christmas to Top 40, and I had the impossible task of telling our advertisers why they should continue to stay the course with my station while the ratings went into the tank, general managers were being fired at a rate of once every quarter and Britney Spears was playing once an hour.

I quit right before Christmas 2002.

Undaunted, I packed up and moved to Connecticut where I found a series of great part-time work including a weekend production assistant gig at ESPN Radio. However, permanent positions were not to be had. My steadiest gig wasn't ESPN or my teaching/play-by-play gig for the University of New Haven. It was waiting tables and tending bar at the Rainforest Cafe inside a West Hartford mall.

That too was unsustainable. After a long talk with my buddy Jesse Gonzales, he urged me to come back to Austin and start over again. He had a spare bedroom for rent in a house he was living at in the central Austin neighborhood of Hyde Park. I couldn't say no.

I quit all my gigs right before Christmas 2004, and I found myself back in Austin for New Years Eve. I had no direction, no career to speak of, but I was back home again in Austin. In February 2005, I got a call from Chris to see him play with the Crazy Kings, this time at a place on Red River called Headhunters.

Why Headhunters? Well, Black Cat was burned to the ground at some point during my three-year absence from the city. It was never rebuilt. There wasn't that much to rebuild, honestly.

Jesse and I found our old downtown parking spot--the old lot of the Texas Teacher Pension building on 10th and Red River--and walked one block exactly. That one block walk smelled like a sinful amalgam, a wonderful blend of Jack Daniel's and Shiner Bock, Marlboros and perfume, Tex-Mex from Jaime's and mesquite smoke from Stubb's.

Headhunters still attracted a lot of the same Black Cat crowd, but it was a much nicer venue. It used to be an old tiki lounge called Ocean's 11, and Headhunters still featured some of the same drinks from the old joint like the gin-heavy Sufferin' Bastard. It was much tighter quarters in the middle compared to the Black Cat, but the floors and walls were mahogany paneled, void of the old graffiti coverings of the Black Cat.

Jesse and I found the bar, ordered a round of Shiners, and spotted a long-haired brunette wearing a tight black tank-top and a short white skirt also at the bar. We start talking it up with this girl. Turns out she had just moved to Austin from Utah with a friend of hers. A friend of hers who was also there that night.

Chris and Chadd came out to greet us before the show started and shared a Shiner with us. Well, we drank Shiners. Chadd drank a Lone Star. Shiner was too fancy for him, he said.

We shook hands and let them get down to business. They hit the stage around midnight and it was clear that this wasn't the same band that I remembered. Chadd Thomas and the Crazy Kings sounded loose but completely locked down the rockabilly groove. Everyone was smiling on stage and kept the crowd dancing. Dylan, the bassist, started throwing around his upright bass w/ abandon, twirling it around his head like an eight-foot, four-stringed baton. Chris was grinning wildly while playing whirling dervish blues solos on his prized grid orange Gretch guitar.

Somewhere around the song "Nueces County Jail," I spotted the friend of the girl in the blank tank-top. She was tall, about 5'9" with long blonde hair and a glittering nose stud in her right nostril. I walked up and asked her why she had a shiny booger in her nose. I offered her a tissue to get that cleaned up. She smacked me in the shoulder, but smiled and said how rude I was being to a total stranger.

It was on.

Throughout the set, I regaled her with tales from Connecticut and New Mexico, some of them true, but most of them false. The best was when she bragged about how good she was at air hockey. I told her that when I was at ESPN, we had a game room with an air hockey table. One day when I was there, Wayne Gretzky was there and challenged all comers to a game of air hockey. I told this girl that I beat #99 in air hockey by a score of 8-5.

She was completely enthralled by this. I was, of course, lying. I've never met the Great One, let alone kicked his ass at air hockey, but I know one thing for sure. There's no way in hell I was letting this girl beat me at air hockey or storytelling or dancing to rockabilly music.

So with her mouth still agape from the Gretzky tale, I grabbed her hand and lead her on the dance floor. Chadd winked at me while this blonde cutie and I tried our best to reenact the final dance scene of Swingers. I was Mikey, she was Lorraine and Chadd Thomas and the Crazy Kings were our Big Bad Voodoo Daddy.

We twirled all over the makeshift dance floor, laughing like the semi-drunk loons we were while careening into other people on tight quarters of Headhunters. Chadd was putting the final notes on a song called "Hot Rod Man," while the Crazy Kings ended the number with a desperate fury. I flipped her down in the classic way to end a song, her back over-arched in my arms, her soft, glistened hair barely scraping the booze-soaked floor.

I brought her back up and we were both standing upright, smiling. I leaned in to kiss her.

Her friend in the black top and white skirt had about enough of this. Just as I was about to reach her lips, her friend grabbed her free hand and told her she was leaving.

Now.

She hauled her out of Headhunters, and was about damned near on 7th Street--two blocks away--before I could catch them. I asked her for the girl's number, but the girl in the white skirt hustled her down a side street before I could get an answer.

I got back in time for "Fuck That Cadillac." Jesse and I had one last Shiner as the Crazy Kings closed out the bar and the night. Regardless of the outcome with the blonde girl, one thing was clear. This was the first night I had been out in Austin, Texas since I moved back. It consisted of pretty girls, great beer, the greatest friends any man could have and ass-kicking rock n' roll.

I never saw the pretty blonde girl or her friend again. But it was good to be home. And I haven't left home since.

Two of the most memorable nights out. One night marked the end of college for me. The other night marked the beginning of my homecoming here in Austin. Both times I was there to support my friend, Chris Harrison. Both times, though, it was the voice, the direction and the vision of Chadd Thomas that was the soundtrack to those nights.

On July 12, Chadd Thomas was found dead on South Congress, the victim of an apparent homicide.

He was 38 years old.

Chadd was the voice of so many great nights out. Nights that marked passages and rites, departures and arrivals, beer and whiskey, and the promise of dangerous liaisons. Most of which didn't happen, but a few certainly did.

Chris left the Crazy Kings about a year ago to pursue his own surf rock act, the Mighty Landshark. While I will always support Chris and his musical ventures, I will, as well as the Austin community, miss the voice and the talents of the Craziest King himself, Chadd Thomas.

Austin Police continue to search for clues and suspects. What I've been searching for the last few weeks is peace and understanding as to why or how this could happen. I still haven't found that yet, and I don't suspect most will for awhile either.

But for now, I think of the crazy nights with the Crazy Kings. I give thanks for sending me off in grand fashion, and welcoming me back with open arms and a beer in hand.

Until we meet again, Chadd. Fuck That Cadillac.

Sports Karma's 11 New Rules For Going Out And Having a Drink (or Three)

2011-06-29T23:37:00.026-05:00

On Going Out And Setting The Mood

1. If you find yourself at a bar that's playing The Humpty Dance, just leave. That song was cool when you were ten. It stopped being cool when you turned eleven. And it hasn't gotten any cooler since that point.

Besides you couldn't drink when you were eleven anyway, and if you were drinking, you were probably stealing sips of your Mom's wine coolers. That's what The Humpty Dance is: It's the Bartles and Jaymes of hip-hop. It was cool if you didn't know any better.

But you know better now. So give up the Humpty Dance and move on to the next bar.

2. Jukeboxes with a predefined number of albums are always better internet jukeboxes where some yokel can just throw on whatever he wants. Jukeboxes with a defined selection allow the establishment to define who they are and what they want to be. If you see a jukebox with a fair amount of Tom Waits and The Clash, you know the bar fancies itself as a gritty soul with a depth of intelligence. Lots of AC/DC and Motorhead conveys that the establishment is simple, tough and lacks bullshit. More Eminem and Katy Perry means its trying to be fun and encourages hooking up.

But internet jukeboxes allow the patron to define the atmosphere for everyone else. And if one person gets to decide what the bar is, then what is the bar itself?

Internet jukeboxes may let the people decide what they want to hear, but far more often than not, the bar is subject to the whims of the proletariat. You know...morons. Morons who may decide to put on Megadeth when clearly there is a bachelorette party in the midst or a perfect ratio of men to women in the bar.

3. Regardless of predefined or internet jukebox lists, certain artists will ALWAYS get played in a bar, partially because of their immense popularity, but perhaps because their music seems to sound considerably better in a bar. Remember that lots of times its all about context. Artists like Tom Petty, Bob Seger and Judas Priest seem to always sound better while driving. Soul artists like Marvin Gaye always sound better with the lights low in the thrust of a sexual interlude. Such as it is when drinking. Some artists simply sound better in their artistic context after about two drinks.

However, bartenders and patrons alike are tired of hearing the same crap from the same unimaginative people. These five artists have so many hidden gems that never get played, but can liven the whole joint up just by being a little different and creative.

A. Johnny Cash

Don't Play:

Folsom Prison Blues; Walk The Line; Ring of Fire

Johnny Cash is one of America's greatest singer-songwriters, a man whose voice defied genre and his songs captured the roots of country, the guts of punk and the balls of rock. He threw them all against a Delta blues-framed Memphis canvas and painted a grim but defiant American history. So if Johnny Cash was one of this country's greatest narrators, why are we contented to hear the same stories?

Play Instead:

A Boy Named Sue (lyrics written by Shel Silverstein); Cash's spooky cover of Neil Diamond's Solitary Man or the macabre Cocaine Blues

B. Michael Jackson

Don't Play:

The Big Three from Thriller (Billie Jean, Beat It and the title cut just in case you've been living under a rock for the last 30 years or so)

We know, we get it. Thriller is an amazing, amazing record. No one is denying this fact. It's sold 110 million copies worldwide. It features the greatest bass line in pop/rock music history. It made the music video a viable art form. It features an absolutely blistering Eddie Van Halen guitar solo on Beat It, and made hard rock and virtuoso guitarists mainstream in the process.

You know how we know all that?

Because those three songs have been on an endless loop in every bar in America since about 1983. Seriously, people do realize that Michael Jackson had other songs and other albums besides Thriller, right?

Play instead:

Bad (a sneaky fun song to sing along to), Dirty Diana (another one of Jackson's hard rock songs, this time featuring Steve Stevens of Billy Idol fame) or the wildly underrated Don't Stop 'Til You Get Enough

C. AC/DC

Don't Play:

You Shook Me All Night Long, Back In Black or Highway To Hell

Critics of AC/DC will tell you that everyone of their songs sound alike. This is not an unfair critique and one that even the band's lead guitarist and founder Angus Young has acknowledged in an oh-so tongue-in-cheek kinda way.

"I'm sick to death of people saying we've made 11 albums that sounds exactly the same," Young once said. "In fact, we've made 12 albums that sound exactly the same."

So if Angus Young has acknowledged that all of their songs sound the same, why not pick something different from AC/DC? Who knows, maybe no one will notice the difference?

Play Instead:

Shot Down In Flames (a perfect ode to men getting stood up in bars by the ladies); The Jack (a sleazy blues number about STDs) or the ridiculously silly Hard As A Rock

D. Guns N' Roses

Don't Play:

The Big Three off of Appetite For Destruction (And for you cave dwellers that missed out on Thriller, that would be Welcome To The Jungle, Sweet Child O' Mine and Paradise City).

To be fair, Appetite is my all-time favorite album. That said, these songs have practically lived in a bar since they were all conceived in the mid-eighties. It's time to give these ubiquitous three a rest, and consider that GN'R actually has three songs in their catalog that are worthy of a great bar debate.

Play Instead:

You Could Be Mine (Featured in Terminator 2. Was T2 the greatest action movie of all-time? If not, what else is in the discussion?); Knockin' On Heaven's Door (Given that Guns covered everyone from the Rolling Stones to Bob Dylan to the Skyliners weren't they really just the greatest cover band of all-time?); Rocket Queen (A Day In the Life by the Beatles is the greatest song to close an album. This is not debatable. But is Rocket Queen the second greatest song to close out an album? Discuss.)

E. Journey

Don't Play:

Don't Stop Believin', Open Arms or Separate Ways

Journey is experiencing a renaissance of late thanks in part to pop culture references in The Sopranos and Family Guy, but really more because a whole lot of people have come to realize what everyone in the late 70s and early 80s already knew. Steve Perry had a soaring and delicate voice that hit octaves not yet explored, and Neal Schon was a hard-rocking shredhead that could swing with every great guitarist of his era, including Eddie Van Halen and Jimmy Page.

That said, these three songs are the ones that get all the jukebox play. Don't Stop Believin' because of its pop culture meme status, Open Arms because it just renders the heart strings, and Separate Ways mainly because no one can help but sing along and think of what might be the worst video in history (they were not the most handsome men ever, as evidenced by the picture above). Therefore it's time to explore some of Journey's other material just to liven things up a bit in the bar.

Play Instead:

Wheel In The Sky (a gritty road trip anthem); Stone In Love and the catchy but completely bombastic Anyway You Want It (again, Journey had a knack for incredibly horrible videos).

4. Speaking of Guns N' Roses and Journey, we need to address karaoke for a moment. Almost every night in America, some jackass gets on stage about three sheets to the wind and goes all William Hung on either Sweet Child O' Mine or Don't Stop Believin'. Sometimes both in the same night.

Unacceptable. Unless you're name is Axl Rose or Steve Perry, you probably aren't going to hit the high notes of the aforementioned and respective songs. No one wants to hear you wail desperately off-key while doing the Axl Shuffle or imitating Steve Perry's bare-chested theatrics. Just stop. It's terrible and no one thinks you're cool while you're openly butchering American classics.

Not to go totally President Obama on you, but let me be clear. Unless you actually can sing, under no circumstances should you EVER get on a karaoke stage, especially after you've had more than two drinks. Back even three years ago, getting loaded and ruining people's favorite songs was nothing more than a laughable night out, and one that everyone would give you crap about for many years to come. Nowadays because of smart phones that allow people to film your idiocy and post it directly to YouTube, the whole world can see you in your full, drunken jackass glory.

Yes, the whole world can potentially see you make a viral fool of yourself. Including your boss and HR director. Is it really worth it to potentially jeopardize your job and your reputation all so you can have drunken karaoke glory? All so you can probably sound like this?

Just step away from the stage, put the mic down and leave the singing to the professionals. It's for the best.

On Drinking Itself

5. This one is for the guys exclusively.

Gentlemen, by now I'm sure you've seen Sex And The City, voluntarily or otherwise. Because of, or in spite of Horse Face and her three friends, all red drinks are now a feminine domain. No matter how much you love Cape Cods, you must put it away now. That goes for any drink that might involve grenadine too. It looks decidedly unmanly. And if you order a grenadine or cranberry-based martini drink, prepare to not get laid for awhile.

The only possible exception to this rule? Ordering a Hurricane at Pat O'Brien's in New Orleans. And no, the Pat O'Brien's in San Antonio and Orlando don't count.

That said, however, there's no good reason for you not to know how to make a few red cocktails for your special lady.

The following three martini drinks are specialty cocktails that ever man should know how to make. Bartending school isn't required. Only a little bit of charm, a fair amount of booze and an amply supply of mixers. All the listed drinks below should shaken, strained and served straight in a martini glass.

A. Cosmopolitan

1 oz vodka
1/2 oz Grand Marnier
1/2 oz lime
1/2 oz cranberry

Garnished with a lemon peel

B. French Martini

1.5 oz flavored vodka
1 oz Chambord (raspberry liquor)
1.5 oz pineapple juice

Garnished with a cocktail sword of either blackberries or raspberries

C. Gin N' Sin

1.5 oz gin
1 oz orange juice
1 oz freshly squeezed lemon juice
1/2 oz grenadine

Garnished with a lemon peel

6. Unless a lady offers to buy, quit doing shots. You aren't in college anymore. If that lady does offer to buy you a shot, the only acceptable answers are mid-grade American whiskeys (Jack Daniel's, Jim Beam, Wild Turkey, etc.) and Jagermeister.

And whatever you do, for the love of God, do not order a shot of Patron. First of all, it's not that good of a tequila. Secondly, only angry douche bags wearing Ed Hardy gear with a penchant for violence order Patron.

7. When walking into a brewpub or an establishment with 40+ beers on tap, don't order Bud Light or some other cheap American swill. Ordering Bud Light at a great beer joint is like walking into Ben and Jerry's Home of Orgasmic Ice Cream Utopia and ordering a scoop of vanilla. You look like an uncultured rube.

Expand your horizons. Even if you're not a sophisticated beer drinker, any beer joint worth its salt will probably have one of the following three instant conversation starters in bottle or tap.

A. Flying Dog

Flying Dog recently relocated to Frederick, MD by way of the snowy climes of Aspen, CO. Their pale ales have won multiple awards at the Great American Beer Festival, but that's not really what they are most famous for. Their beer labels are designed by Hunter S. Thompson's long-time illustrator, Ralph Steadman. The significance of this is that in 1970 Thompson ran for the office of sheriff of Aspen on the Freak Power ticket. Although he didn't win, he did garner 44 percent of the county vote, and his election bid was well chronicled in Thompson's Rolling Stone column, The Battle of Aspen. Steadman's continued work with Flying Dog is a tribute to the brewery's roots and to Aspen's most famous, and perhaps strangest, resident.

Literary buffs and beer enthusiasts alike will celebrate this well-hopped Gonzo selection on your part.

B. Chimay

Inside the Scourmont Abbey in the small Belgian town of Chimay, you'll find Trappist monks living life by a basic code of prayer, reading and manual labor. Nothing shocking about that. Well, nothing shocking until you find out that their "manual labor" generates over $50 million in sales per year.

The Trappist monks have been brewing their own beer inside Scourmont Abbey since 1862. All proceeds go to various charities and to support the Trappist monks local community.

So if someone walks up to when you're enjoying a Chimay, let them know that you're drinking for a good cause. And here's the best part: You won't be lying.

C. Roswell Alien Amber

This is the flagship beer of the Sierra Blanca Brewing Company based out of Moriarty, NM, about 30 miles east of Albuquerque. It's a straight-forward amber ale, and for those who don't enjoy heavily-hopped beers, this is a true winner here.

That said, you're probably not drinking it because you're a huge fan of amber ales. Nope, you're drinking it because there's a bright green alien on the bottle. No doubt some will be put off by the cartoon character label, but for those that aren't, it's a mysterious and tasty beer that one way or the other will invoke conversation and controversy.

Just like Roswell itself.

8. Dos Equis is a solid German-style lager. Absolutely nothing wrong with it at all. But just because The Most Interesting Man In The World enjoys it, that doesn't necessarily mean that it's the most intriguing Mexican beer around.

For a little bit of variety, try Pacifico or Negro Modelo. If you are a man, do not order Corona lest your man card will be revoked. That's almost as bad as ordering a Cosmopolitan in public.

9. Americans have a tendency to believe that foreign beers are superior to American beers simply because they are foreign. This is a critical mistake, and Americans routinely overpay for mediocre to downright horrible beers under the pretense that they're really good. In fact, there are three well-known foreign beers that Americans order all the time, and they just aren't worth the money.

A. Red Stripe

The commercials were pretty funny, I'll grant you that.

In 2001, Jamaican-brewed Red Stripe launched their "Hooray Beer!" campaign. I was in college at the time, and soon everyone was saying "Hooray Beer!" at every party. Eventually, people started to bring in Red Stripe and while it wasn't bad, it tasted like virtually every other mass-produced American beer. In other words, it wasn't worth the $7 we paid. Everyone went back to buying Bud and Miller products for about $2-3 less.

And we still had beer. Hooray beer!

B. Beck's

Beck's seems like a good idea about once every other year. It seems like it should be good. It's German, after all, but it's definitely not mainstream. It's the beer less traveled, if you will. And then you order it and you come to realize why you only order it or buy it once every other year. Beck's is nothing more than the German Rolling Rock. You can't say that it's bad, but it ain't great either. In fact, it doesn't taste like much of anything at all. Just like Rolling Rock.

So if you don't want your beer to taste like much of anything, why pay the extra $3 more per six-pack to get Beck's when you can simply purchase Latrobe, PA's finest product?

C. Heineken

If you're somebody who truly enjoys Heineken, I have a way of saving you some money on your beer drinking budget.

First, gather up your armpit sweat. Add yeast and hops to it. Bottle it. Drink it.

Enjoy.

10. Unless you are truly knowledgeable on wine and you grew up with it, never spend more than $40 on a bottle of wine. It's unlikely that you will know the difference between a $49.99 bottle and a $29.99 bottle. Besides, countries like Spain and Chile are producing high-quality wines at about half the cost of Napa. Los Vascos chardonnay from Chile can swing with just about any Napa-based chardonnay, and it's only about $10. It's a great deal for those who want to know more about wine, but are limited due to budget constraints.

11. Once a man reaches 30 years old, a regular drink lineup should be well established. A man's drinking staple should now consist of the following exclusively:

A. Beer
B. Wine
C. Whiskeys on the rocks or neat. This includes all American whiskeys, scotch and Irish whiskeys such as Jameson's and Tullamore Dew. There should be no need for soft drinks any longer.
D. Vodka with tonic or club soda
E. Gin N' Tonic

Outliers like rum, Southern Comfort and margaritas should make infrequent appearances.

And on that note, drink up a round to the best, may we never get less. And here's to a round for the worst.

May they die of thirst.

Oma-huh? How college basketball and The Pope can help make the College World Series better

2011-06-05T22:41:00.009-05:00

We all have that friend.

We all have that friend from high school who seemed way more talented than he ever let on. We all know that he could have gone on to do bigger and better things. After high school, everyone went on to college or simply moved out to experience new life in a new place.

But not that friend. That friend stayed at home, took a job in his hometown, and never left. He married his high school sweetheart, had a couple of kids and seems pretty happy with his lot in life. He never once questioned why he needed to leave, never bothered to really grow beyond the town he lived in.

Everyone knew that friend could have done more and had greater success in life. Everyone except that friend.

College baseball, sadly, is that friend and Omaha, Nebraska is its hometown.

Omaha is actually a really nice city, and I don't just say that because the picture is pretty. It's a charming Midwestern city with a killer downtown lined with cobblestone streets and parks lining the Platte River. Exceptional microbrews can be quaffed at the Uptown Brewing Company while you shoot billiards upstairs. The city is littered with some of the world's greatest steakhouses and it also boasts an absurdly underrated live music scene. Rock/reggae stars 311 are probably Omaha's most famous musical alum. The city also boasts one of America's best jazz scenes.

Furthermore, Omaha is a major financial sector, perhaps one of America's most noteworthy. Warren Buffett still makes him home there as does TD Ameritrade. It's noteworthy that the latter has the sponsorship deal for the new baseball stadium in Omaha that houses both the Kansas City Royals triple-A minor league affiliate and the College World Series.

But none of this really matters. Simply put, Omaha does not have the national cache that other cities possess. In Midwestern terms, it lacks the major metropolitan quality of Chicago, the history of St. Louis or the quirkiness of Minneapolis. Omaha is basically the Midwest's equivalent to Albuquerque. Sure, it may be vastly underrated but when was the last time you heard of anyone aspiring to travel or move there? Ask yourself this question: With the exception of the College World Series, when was the last time you heard anyone get excited about going to Omaha?

Unless they have friends or family in the area, the answer is "probably never."

When people think of Omaha, they probably think of three things: Insurance, steak and college baseball. Omaha isn't a glamorous place, and it doesn't aspire to be. That doesn't make Omaha a bad place at all, not by a long shot. But if college baseball wants to be a little more glamorous, a little bit more like their money-making college football and basketball friends, it needs to leave the smallish city behind and think big.

Real big. College baseball can totally reinvent itself as a major player in the sports world if it follows the following steps.

1. Infect people with the June Bug

College basketball has the insanity called March Madness. College baseball could have something similar called the June Bug. It starts with making sure their conference tournaments are televised on visible networks like ESPN. Not ESPNU, not Vs., not the regional Fox Sports broadcasts. College baseball, especially tournament play, needs to make sure that they are more visible on ESPN and ESPN2.

March Madness doesn't start with the NCAA tournament, of course. It starts with the conference tournaments that are televised ubiquitously starting in March. The major upsets, the buzzer-beaters and the improbable story lines in conference play are all just appetizers to the NCAA tournament, an event that has improbably become the second biggest sporting event in America, next to only the Super Bowl in terms of overall coverage and national interest.

Furthermore, has college baseball ever televised the live announcement of their bracket? Why not? What's the harm in a partnership with ESPN where they announce the College World Series bracket in an hour-long special before the Sunday night baseball game? Has the NCAA even considered doing something like that? If it's a matter of money or even prior contractual obligations that the folks in Bristol may have, that's one thing. But it's not clear that the NCAA has even considered marketing their sport in the same manner that March Madness is currently packaged. If this has never been considered, simply put, that's completely inexcusable by the NCAA. Considering the fact that we may not see the NBA and NFL play their next respective seasons, it is unfathomable to think that the NCAA wouldn't want to have as many captive sports fans tuning into their product as possible.

2. Restructure where the games are played

One of the great appeals of March Madness is that it truly feels like a national event. The regions are divided into four distinct quadrants and action is happening all across the country. No matter where you are in America, it feels as if you're not that distant from the action.

But for the first round of the College World Series, known as the "super regional," these games are played on college campuses. These games are rarely televised, and even less publicized. Again, why?

The College World Series could market the June Bug by selling the venues they play at as a part of the event itself. This is, frankly, nothing new and has been common practice in the world of sports, entertainment and even religion.

Consider this. When Pope Benedict XVI came to America in April 2008, he celebrated Mass at St. Patrick's Cathedral in New York City. He also celebrated Mass at Nationals Stadium in Washington DC. But nothing compared to the national attention he received when he celebrated Mass at Yankee Stadium. This Mass was televised worldwide on CNN and much ado was made about where the Pope was going to conduct Mass (right around second base as it turns out). Was the Mass inherently different or somehow unorthodox than the Masses he celebrated elsewhere. Probably not.

But the major difference was the venue itself. Honestly, it just sounded incredibly important. Pope Benedict XVI at Yankee Stadium sounds quite a bit better than Pope Benedict XVI at Nationals Stadium. It sounds like an event.

Since that Mass, the NHL has begun televising a New Years Day game from football and baseball stadiums outdoors. The NHL recognized what the Pope understood. A Bruins-Flyers game live from Fenway Park on New Years Day just sounds like something you need to see. It sounds special. The action and proceedings may not be any different, but it feels like it should be.

College football has adopted this mentality as well. Illinois played Northwestern last season from Wrigley Field. No one aside from Illinois and Northwestern grads would have cared even one iota about this match-up had it been played in Champaign or Evanston. But because Illinois and Northwestern were playing at Wrigley Field, somehow it felt much more important even if both squads were afterthoughts in the Big 10 conference.

The College World Series live from UFCU Disch-Falk Field in Austin or TD Ameritrade Stadium in Omaha does not sound like an event. It sounds like an ordeal. To that end, the College World Series needs to restructure these games in a three-tiered format.

A: Move the "super regional" games off the college campuses and into minor league stadiums. Bill these games as "The Beginning," not unlike "the beginning" for most Major League Baseball players. It is the starting point in the journey, not the final destination. College basketball does this very well. The opening rounds usually give lesser-known cities like Tulsa, Boise and Greensboro a chance in the spotlight before moving on to the next rounds of play.

High-tech minor league stadiums in cities like Austin, Memphis and Albuquerque have developed and would make fantastic choices for opening round games.

B: Move the traditional rounds that take place in Omaha to major league stadiums. This could be dubbed "The Big Time," similar to how a player feels when he gets called up to the Majors.

Traditionally, in Omaha, eight schools are split into two, four-team, double-elimination brackets, with the winner of each bracket playing in the best-of-three championship series. Why not divide the two brackets into a North and South or East and West regional taking place in major league stadiums?

What sounds better to you? Texas and LSU live from Coors Field in Denver? Or Texas and LSU live from TD Ameritrade Park in Omaha? What sounds more important? It's the same product but what sounds a bigger deal?

Furthermore, it wouldn't be that difficult to schedule either. All the NCAA needs to do is find out when the respective major leagues won't be in town and schedule games accordingly. These games could be rotated throughout various stadiums over the years. Unless they are one of the Final Four, if you will.

C. The final two schools in the College World Series meet at one of baseball's four greatest stadiums. Fenway Park, Yankee Stadium, Wrigley Field and Dodger Stadium would be on rotation yearly for the College World Series not unlike how the BCS currently structures the national championship game for football between the Rose, Fiesta, Sugar and Orange Bowls. The College World Series would play out in a best-of-three format in baseball's most important, most cherished venues.

Again, what sounds better? Texas and LSU live from Yankee Stadium for a deciding Game 3 of the College World Series? Or Texas and LSU live from TD Ameritrade Park in Omaha for a deciding Game 3 of the College World Series? What sounds like it should be more important? And which would you rather watch?

Our friend, college baseball, has great potential. On May 31, 2009, our friend showed perhaps its greatest potential to date. Texas and Boston College played an unthinkable twenty-five inning game. Texas reliever Austin Wood pitched an absurd 12 1/3 innings of no-hit ball and delivered the Longhorns a 3-2 victory over the Eagles at right around the same time the bars were beginning to close on 6th Street.

This game should be the stuff of legend and lore. When people talk about the greatest games of all-time of any sport, this game should be near the top of every sports fans list. It is the longest game in college baseball history, and it featured one of the greatest pitching performances the game has ever seen or will ever seen again.

But it will never be mentioned. The game was never televised. The audio was never preserved or if it was, it certainly hasn't seen the light of day by way of a Google search. The game was played in front of about 7500 people in Austin. Consider for a moment how awesome it would have been for every sports fan in America to tune in on ESPN, realize what was happening and call everyone they know that they have to watch this game.

A 25-inning game that features over 12 innings of no-hit baseball isn't a game. It's an event. It's a heart-rendering event that should have defined guts, grit and glory. It should have defined every possible reason America loves sports and loves baseball. But our friend, college baseball, stayed tucked away in the spotlight, not caring to publicize itself and losing potentially millions of fans in the process.

But college baseball doesn't seem to care. It seems pretty content with its new digs in Omaha. And it seems pretty happy with the crowds they get.

But college baseball could be doing better. Way better, in fact.

They'll never know until they leave home.

It's Time: Why Rick Barnes Needs To Leave Texas & Who Should Replace Him

2011-03-22T00:14:00.011-05:00

I was 21-years-old when I first met Coach Barnes. I was an intern for the local sports radio station, and I was asked to operate the mixing boards for his statewide call-in radio show. At the time, the show was being broadcast from a banquet area of a now non-existent steakhouse in south Austin.

Nobody asked him questions while I was there. No one walked up to him in all the time I worked with him to congratulate him or criticize him. Perhaps people were too shy to say anything, but I know one thing for sure: If Mack Brown had a call-in radio show from a steakhouse, people would damned well would grill him like a well-done t-bone. The Burnt Orange Faithful would undoubtedly make Woodward and Bernstein look like The Chris Farley Show when it comes to their line of questioning. It goes with the territory and the salary, and I have no doubt Coach Brown knows that.

Perhaps it's more accurate to suggest that no one gave a damn about Texas basketball until Coach Barnes got there. And that's really the greatest compliment anyone can give him. Suddenly, Texas basketball in March has become as routine as Spring Breakers in South Padre and the bluebonnets in Brenham.

Under Coach Barnes' 13-year tenure as head coach, the Longhorns have yet to miss the NCAA Tournament. By way of comparison, North Carolina, one of college basketball's greatest programs has missed the NCAA tournament twice in the last ten years. Expectations have been raised significantly and so has his salary. He's now one of only eight college basketball coaches who commands $2 million a season, but has only made the Final Four once and that was almost ten years ago.

He's currently in the same earning fraternity with gentlemen like Florida's Billy Donovan, Connecticut's Jim Calhoun and North Carolina's Roy Williams all of whom have won multiple national championships. Barnes is currently making more money than Michigan State's Tom Izzo who has won a national championship and has been to six Final Fours. Barnes is also earning more than Duke's Mike Krzyzewski, and Krzyzewski may be the greatest college basketball coach alive.

It's not always, and it shouldn't always be about the money, but the reality is that Rick Barnes is making elite-level money and doesn't have anywhere near the resume that his similarly salaried peers have. And he's doing less with more talent than any other coach in the country.

Current NBA scoring leader Kevin Durant was paired with current Charlotte Bobcat PG D.J. Augustin for the 2006-2007 Longhorn basketball season, and could only muster a first round win in the tournament to New Mexico State. They were crushed in the next round by USC 87-68. Durant turned pro almost immediately afterwards.

Since that season, Texas has only made it past the second round of the tournament once despite boasting an impressive four first-round NBA draft picks (Durant, Augustin, Avery Bradley and Damion James). Moreover, it hasn't just been losing early that has been frustrating, it's been the way they lost--the complete lack of fundamentals--that have contributed to these early exits.

Consider, for example, the startling the plunge of the 2009-2010 Longhorn team that was ranked #1 in the country for a time, but then tanked the season and landed in the dreaded 8-9 match-up against Wake Forest. Simply put, this team absolutely could not make a free throw with a gun to its collective head. The 2009-2010 team shot an abysmal 63.3 percent from the free throw line. This ranked them a staggeringly awful 325th in the country that season for that particular statistic. This season Texas "improved" their free throw shooting percentage to 65.4 percent, good for 285th in the country. Both seasons they finished dead last in the Big XII in free throw shooting percentage.

This is compared to the same disappointing 2006-2007 team that shot 73.6 percent from the line, good for 35th in the country.

The following simply cannot be explained away: Free throw shooting, perhaps the most basic and fundamental aspect of basketball, has declined almost a full ten percentage points in four years under Rick Barnes' watch. That is simply inexcusable especially given the depth of talent that Texas has seen over the course of that period of time.

The lack of fundamentals has lead to disappointments like losing that aforementioned game to Wake Forest on an overtime buzzer beater in 2010 after missing two free throws. And it also lead to Arizona outing Texas this year in the second round of the tournament.

Whether or not Cory Joseph's ill-fated timeout was actually made before he committed a five-second violation is moot. Not only did the Longhorns lose the game, but frankly, Joseph should have never gotten that close to a five-second violation in the first place. The fact that such a struggle took place to inbound the ball in a pressure situation again comes down to lack of fundamentals, and further, a lack of execution.

That lack of execution is directly related to a lack of quality coaching. A better scheme should have been in place. And if the better scheme wasn't in place, a better decision could have and should have been made. But it wasn't. Consequently, the 2011 Texas Longhorns season ended with a loss and unnecessary controversy.

But how is all of this possible? It's not as if all of a sudden a man who has won 524 basketball games all of a sudden completely forgot the most fundamental elements of the game. Furthermore, Barnes has won on average 25 games a year at Texas. Let's say that he continues to coach at Texas for another eight years, and averages the same number of wins. He would have 722 wins for his career, good for top 20 all-time in college basketball history. Furthermore, some of the names he would surpass like UTEP's Don Haskins and Louisville's Denny Crum are enshrined in Springfield.

Is it possible that the Longhorns would go out of their way to evict a possible Hall of Famer? Or perhaps a better way to phrase the question: Is Coach Barnes coaching like a Hall of Famer right now?

It would be unfair to say that the program has slid backwards considering that the Longhorns have become a fixture of tournament brackets and office pools every March. But it's perhaps more accurate to say that Texas basketball has plateaued over the course of the last five seasons, and that new ideas and a fresh approach is necessary to advance the program forward to the elite levels that match the talent.

It's not even a rip on Coach Barnes either. Larry Bird wisely ducked out of the Indiana Pacers coaching job after only three seasons. Bird won a Coach of the Year award and was offered an extended contract, but declined stating that three years was long enough. Anything after three years and the players start tuning out the coaches.

The NBA is no question structured differently, but the principle remains the same, and this isn't just true in basketball, but in business as well. Corporate leaders face the ax on a daily basis if they can't reach their employees in an effort to improve their profits and market share. Many well-educated and knowledgeable leaders face termination if the numbers aren't satisfactory and that's not because they all of a sudden forgot fundamental business theories or just blanked on their latest presentations to the stockholders.

Sometimes in life, a new voice is needed to move teams--sports or otherwise--towards a greater direction. It's not to suggest that what the leader before did was bad or flawed. It's just tired. And right now, Coach Barnes is tired. The Longhorns look tired. And losing consistently in the tournament with a higher level of NBA talent than most schools will ever dream of is tired.

I don't doubt for a second that Coach Barnes will be successful elsewhere. He took Texas out of the doldrums of the Tom Penders era, and made Texas a consistent presence in the NCAA Tournament. Texas is now a destination school for elite talent, and that's not something that was the case before Barnes arrived in Austin.

The program has had nary a violation or run-in with the NCAA about much of anything. With the exception of Alexis Wangmene's February 2011 DWI arrest, Texas basketball players have, by and large, remained out of the police blotter.

But that could be said about Duke. Or North Carolina. Both programs have excelled on and off the court and in the classroom as well. In 2010, Duke and North Carolina graduated 92 and 75 percent of their players respectively compared to just Texas' 47 percent. In fact, this is one of the few numbers that the Longhorns have actually improved on during the last five years of Barnes' tenure. Texas basketball's graduation was a paltry 40 percent in 2006 so this has at least been an improvement in some regard.

But it's nowhere close to being good enough. That's why it's time.

It's time for a change in leadership for Texas basketball. It's time for new ideas and a fresh face to emerge in Austin. It's time for March to bleed into April with the Horns still alive in the Final Four. It's time to schedule crawfish boils around net-cutting ceremonies, and it's time for 6th Street to explode with raucous joy not normally seen on a Monday night. It's time for One Shining Moment to be sung by Willie Nelson.

But that time may never come if the status quo doesn't change. For that status quo to change, Texas needs someone already proven, somebody young and somebody willing to build a dynastic legacy in Austin. Texas needs someone that can manage the sometimes dizzying expectations of the school, understands the scrutiny, and can still manage the madness surrounding every March.

One small problem: The best man for the job is still in the tournament right now. And he normally resides in Indianapolis.

Brad Stevens of Butler has already accomplished more than Rick Barnes at least in one sense. Both have one Final Four under their belt, but Stevens took it one step further in 2010 and made it to the national championship game, losing by a fraction of an inch to Duke 61-59.

He has collected two 30-win seasons in his four-year tenure at Butler, and won't turn 35 years old until October. Butler is back in the Sweet Sixteen again this year after knocking out the #1-seeded Pittsburgh Panthers, marking the second year in a row that Butler has trumped a one-seed in the NCAA tournament.

Unthinkably, Stevens has transformed a tiny school in Indianapolis with an enrollment of only 4,200 into what is likely the best basketball school in a state famous for Bob Knight, Jimmy Chitwood, Larry Bird and John Wooden.

Butler is still competing in the tournament whereas Purdue, Notre Dame and Indiana State all made early exits. The legendary Indiana Hoosiers have become an afterthought and haven't seen the Big Dance in years. The Bulldogs has become The Big Dogs in the state of Indiana, but the question remains: How long can a school with such a tiny enrollment afford to keep him?

Stevens is a native Hoosier, and his contract with Butler extends well into the next decade, but his salary only pays him roughly around $750,000 for the 2009-2010 season. No doubt that's outstanding money for just about anyone, but given the amount of money Longhorn boosters have been known to throw around, it's certainly not inconceivable for them to have Barnes' contract bought out and pay Stevens double what he's currently making now.

Perhaps triple or quadruple his current salary if he can light the tower orange in April.

It's certainly unnerving to so casually toss money around in such flippant ways--a million here, two million there--but the facts are that Texas, as it stands, is vastly overpaying Rick Barnes. The results don't justify the cost. If you're going to spend that kind of money, you might as well at least go after someone who has already accomplished as much, if not more than Barnes has. No one wants to be accused of the being the Yankees of college athletics, but the money is already being spent. It would be wiser economically to invest in someone that is currently delivering more anyway.

And make no mistake, the late John Wooden, who won more championships than any other college coach in history said about Stevens, "I enjoy watching [Stevens] and very much enjoy [Butler's] style of play." President Obama called Stevens after the national championship to congratulate him. Butler, of course, lost that game and the President still thought he did a great job.

If Coach Wooden singled you out for your exemplary coaching job, if the President of the United States wants to talk to you after you lost, you're doing something right.

Texas would do right to at least introduce Brad Stevens and his family to the 40 Acres, Zilker Park, bluebonnets, brisket and Shiner Bock. I know he said that he wouldn't leave Butler unless they kicked him out. But Austin has a funny way with people once they get here. They come from all over Texas and the United States, and once they get here, they don't typically leave.

Therefore getting kicked out may not be necessary for Brad Stevens. The same can't be said for Rick Barnes.

Mr. Irrelevant: Why It Won't Matter Who Notre Dame's Next Coach Will Be

2009-12-08T15:11:00.011-06:00

Right now, it's 33 degrees in South Bend, Indiana. A mixture of sleet is expected later this evening. This news can't be much of a surprise to anyone who's been there. The average high temperature in the city doesn't even get above 60 degrees. In a nation that's getting increasingly weary of the cold, in a nation that seems to be moving further south and west, that doesn't bode well for future growth and economic prosperity.

And it hasn't.

South Bend's population dwindled to 103,807 in July 2008, down 3.7 percent from the 2000 census. 22.3 percent of those nearly 104,000 people lived 2007 in poverty, including 38.1 percent of the community's African-American population. The estimated median household income in 2007 was only $34,774 well below the Indiana state average of $47,448.

But still South Bend attracts some of America's brightest teenagers to attend the University of Notre Dame. Their academic prowess is renowned the world over as it possibly the finest Catholic education this side of Vatican City. However, that is starting to slip as well. In 2009, Notre's Dame law school fell out of the US News and World Report's Top 25 for the first time in six years and actually ended up tied with their southside public brethren, the University of Indiana. Their MBA program has slid all the way back to 34th, and can't even be considered the best MBA program for a Catholic university any longer. Georgetown and Boston College both rank higher in the same 2009 US News and World Report survey, 22nd and 32nd respectively.

Most don't recognize these facts, though. Most are only aware of Notre Dame's struggles as a once-powerful college football giant struggling to regain the tarnished luster that used to be about the Four Horsemen, Win One For The Gipper, Joe Montana and Touchdown Jesus.

What it seems to be about now, much like the city of South Bend and its academic reputation, is decline. It seems to be about a football program that boasts an impressive 11 national championships but hasn't won a New Year's Day bowl game since 1994. It seems to be about 119 seasons with a winning percentage of .733, but only has a winning percentage of .575 since 1997. It seems to be about the Chicken Soup game and the Catholics vs. Convicts matchup, but is now more famous for the Bush Push contest.

Notre Dame won the first aforementioned two. They lost the aforementioned third.

South Bend, Indiana is a two-hour car ride from the nearest major airport, Chicago's Midway. It's a little longer if you want to fly into O'Hare, and a lot longer if you get stuck in Chicago's notorious traffic jams. For many recruits, both academic and athletic, Notre Dame is definitely not the easiest place to get to. Certainly, there are harder campuses to get to that play Division I football, but there's also a reason why they aren't traditional powerhouses.

Pullman, WA is the home of Washington State University, but even Washington State residents would have a hard time finding it on a map. It's almost two hours southeast of Spokane, practically sitting on the chimney of Idaho in the extreme east corner of the state. Right now, it's 12 degrees in Pullman.

It will be 16 degrees there tomorrow.

Starkville, MS is the home of Mississippi State University, and its athletic program has at least one thing going for it. 14,991 people made their way to Dudy Noble Field, Polk-DeMent Stadium to see the Bulldogs play baseball against the University of Florida on April 22, 1989. That game still holds the NCAA baseball on-campus attendance record. While it is widely regarded as one of the best places to watch a college baseball game, unless you live around Starkville chances are you're probably not going to see a baseball game there. Starkville is about two hours, fifteen minutes from the nearest significant airport in the state capitol of Jackson. It's about two hours, thirty minutes from Birmingham, AL.

Washington State and Mississippi State's combined football record since 1990 is 110-237. They've both had some good moments, of course. Washington State made two Rose Bowl appearances since 1990, once in 1998 and another in 2003. They lost them both.

Mississippi State made the 1998 SEC Championship game. They lost that game to Tennessee 24-14. Their consolation prize was a matchup with traditional powerhouse Texas in the Cotton Bowl. They lost that too 38-11.

While anomalies certainly exist in the college football hierarchy, it would appear that location, specifically the proximity to an airport of significance, does play a major factor in 21st century success.

The following is the final BCS Top 10 ranking. In parentheses is the distance from the airport of nearest significance and the major carrier that flies there. A major international hub is duly noted.

1. Alabama (Birmingham Int'l Airport--approximately 56 miles from campus/Southwest)
2. Texas (Austin--same city/Southwest)
3. Cincinnati (Same city/Delta)
4. TCU (Fort Worth--Dallas-Fort Worth International Airport/Major Hub)
5. Florida (Jacksonville--approximately 113 miles/Southwest)
6. Boise State (same city/Southwest)
7. Oregon (Portland--approximately 110 miles/Southwest)
8. Ohio State (Columbus--same city/Southwest)
9. Georgia Tech (Atlanta/Major Hub)
10. Iowa (Des Moines--approximately 112 miles/American)

What we can discern from the Top 10 is that majority of the schools are located right next to airports that are nearby, if not in the same city. The schools that aren't certainly have plausible explanations for their success. Gainesville is centrally located in Florida, and they are right in the middle of what is arguably the most fertile recruiting base in the country. Alabama is much the same way especially with their traditional degree of success in the football-mad southeastern region of the country.

Oregon has benefitted from their most famous graduate, Nike founder Phil Knight, dumping millions of dollars of his fortune into their athletic program and sparing no expense in turning the Ducks' training facilities into a gridiron palace that rivals the best of the NFL.

The only genuine anomoly of the Top 10 is Iowa, and their coach, Kirk Ferentz, has been long regarded as one of college football's best coaches. Due to his NFL ties, he has long been rumored to return to his roots, but has yet to do so.

Much like real estate, college football success as we approach 2010 is predicated greatly on location. Either the campus had better be readily accessible by airplane or the campus should be centrally located in area visible to top recruits if constant BCS attention is desired. Furthermore, half of the schools, including four of the top five in the BCS Top 10, are located in what are thought of traditionally as warm-weather climates. In a day and age where Americans are leaving colder climates in droves due to both economics and just plain ol' bad weather, it makes sense for top recruits to follow the current sociological trend as well.

Washington State and Mississippi State both recognized these trends years ago, and are content to enjoy the success they receive from time to time.

Meanwhile, Notre Dame just rejected a bowl offer, and will not be playing in the 2009 postseason. Just like Washington State and Mississippi State.

He has been sarcastically called Saint Tebow of Nazareth. But Florida quarterback will walk away from college football as one of the all-time greats. He has won one Heisman Trophy, possibly another on Saturday and has won two national championships. And he also wears divinity on his face. Literally.

Tebow has been known to sport eyeblack referencing John 16:33 which states, "These things I have spoken unto you, that in me ye might have peace. In the world ye shall have tribulation: but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world."

His Christian devotion is so famous that he even managed to recruit his head coach, Urban Meyer, to travel with him for one of his mission trips to the Dominican Republic.

Tebow's comparably famous counterpart, Texas Longhorn quarterback Colt McCoy, is nearly as successfully and devoted to the Christian faith as he is. McCoy, who is considered the front-runner for the 2009 Heisman Trophy, became college football's all-time winningest quarterback this year.

He, like Tebow, also has traveled significant distances for missionary work. McCoy has spent past Spring Breaks in Peru doing humanitarian work, and still manages to find time to visit local Austin children's hospitals as well.

Notre Dame has long prided itself on being not just a top-tier university or just a top-tier football program, but on producing top-tier student-athletes. While there are certainly a fair number of programs that allow sketchy characters to play football at their respective universities, it is also clear that football players do exist that excel both at the highest levels of athletics and their devotional calling. So why couldn't Notre Dame land either Tebow or McCoy? They may not necessarily be Catholic, but they would certainly embody many of the traits that Notre Dame is looking for.

At first glance, the obvious answer is proximity. Tebow and McCoy are from Florida and Texas, respectively. But there are other reasons too.

The first two pictures are obviously Tebow's female admirers. The third picture is reportedly Colt McCoy's girlfriend.

Is it to suggest that girls that are as attractive as the following three are impossible to find at Notre Dame? No, but all you need to do is go to virtually any Southern school in the country to know that the girls are quite a bit more attractive than the norm due to, in large part, the better weather. Even as devoted as Tebow and McCoy are to their Christian faith, let's face it, they are still young men who know how well they have it in the South. The beautiful weather, the good-looking girls, the chance to lead a football powerhouse, and a chance to nurture their spiritual nature all without having to leave home?

Isn't the decision a no-brainer for Tebow and McCoy? And if you're the next Notre Dame head coach, well...could you blame them?

That next Notre Dame head coach has been rumored to be Cincinnati's Brian Kelly. He has lead the Bearcats to an undefeated record this season and a Sugar Bowl showdown against Tebow's Florida Gators. Should he accept the job, no doubt it will be a tremendous pay raise. But along with it, he will have to accept an enormous degree of obstacles along the way. He will have to accept that the job he's taking is located in an economically depressed city in an economically depressed part of the country that's pretty hard to get to. He will have to find recruits that not only can pay only devotion to Christ, but can pay no mind to nearly five months of winter.

And Notre Dame should accept the fact that as we head into a new decade, their football program may not be what it once was, and may never be again. Meyer along with former Super Bowl winning coach Jon Gruden declined interest in the Notre Dame opening five years ago. Perhaps it's because they knew all of these truths, and knew Notre Dame was unwilling to accept these truths to be self-evident. Perhaps they recognized that Notre Dame should reassess itself as an academic powerhouse, and reestablish itself as the world's preeminent Catholic university.

Perhaps they both recognized that Notre Dame's football program is closer to Stanford and Northwestern than Florida and Texas, and that distinction is actually something to be proud of, not to be scoffed at.

But the Fighting Irish refuse to believe that. So Notre Dame is entrusting Brian Kelly to wake up the echoes, sounding Her name.

And if he fails? Then Notre Dame football will always be exactly that.

Just an echo.

In Defense of the Home Run Derby

2009-07-13T22:55:00.006-05:00

It has become all too commonplace amongst sports media elitists to suggest that the Home Run Derby, much like rotten milk, stale bread and Aerosmith, is well past its prime. If you've listened to enough sports radio and heard the talking heads on ESPN over the course of the last few days, you'd swear the Home Run Derby was a relic from the horse-and-buggy era, an event that has long worn out its welcome and is now passed out on the couch like Uncle Jack after a few boilermakers. Worst of all, though...

It's a meaningless exhibition.

God Forbid That, of course. We can't have meaningless exhibitions in a sport where the Pirates and Nationals and the Royals and Orioles routinely play each other even when both teams are about 25 games out of their respective divisions, and the outcome of the game itself is, um, meaningless.

Except in the truly phenomenal games does sports ever mean anything at all. I went to an Astros-Pirates game with two of my closest friends for my 30th birthday, and we had a great time. 'Stros won too, 6-4. Can't say the game itself changed my life, my perspective or altered my thought process in an impactful, soul-altering sort of way. Neither the Astros nor the Pirates will probably figure into the NL Central race, so the outcome was likely void of meaning. But it was a great day at the ball park and we had one hell of a good time, having drinks, watching the game, and busting each other chops. Probably spent a little too much money, but such is life.

In other words, JKIII, Brad and I saw a meaningless exhibition, and I really don't care. Lance Berkman wasn't having some sort of existential conflict playing first base. I seriously doubt that Astros manager Cecil Cooper was contemplating a double switch via Socratic method. Nor do I think I think Michael Bourne views his center field position as an extension of Nietchze's theory of religion (God is Dead. Just like potential triples hit to the flag pole on the hill at Minute Maid Park).

Sports can teach us many things, and perhaps I sometimes think a little too hard about what particular outcomes could mean in a much broader context. But at the end of the day, baseball, and sports in general, aren't philosophy classes. Why these sports pundits are all of sudden concerned with meaning when most of their lives are spent talking about nothing is beyond me.

But just in case they need a reason to care about something so utterly frivilous as the Home Run Derby, here I am to share a brief story of enlightenment.

I had the distinct honor and privilege of attending the 2004 Home Run Derby and All-Star Game. Mom, Dad, Grandma Tray and I arrived at Minute Maid Park literally hours before the festivities just to watch batting practice.

Let's stop right there for a second. The four of us drove into Houston, fought traffic and found parking to show up and watch a bunch of guys hit a baseball for no other reason than for warming up and practice.

Nothing that Alex Rodriguez, Ken Griffey Jr. or Albert Pujols hit counted towards anything at all. It was the very definition of meaningless. After all, we were talkin' 'bout batting practice. Not the All-Star game. Not the Home Run Derby. We were talkin' 'bout batting practice.

How silly was that?

Simply put, we were in awe. Especially of Pujols. Keep in mind, this is pre-2005 so Pujols wasn't Public Enemy #1 in Houston just yet. Pujols and his peers kept hitting perfectly curved comets of leather and stitching into the nether regions of Minute Maid Park, slipping the surly bonds of Earth only to crash with a rickety thud into the vacant Crawford Box seats. Pujols, himself, hit a few shots that Rube Goldberged their way across the train tracks above the bleachers.

It was like watching a 4th of July fireworks display conducted by a pyromaniac. Shots flying everywhere in any which direction, full of oohing and ahhing and a smattering of "Holy crap, that was pretty cool."

A few hours later, ESPN began the broadcast of the Home Run Derby by bringing onto the field every living member of the 500 Home Run Club. Hank Aaron, Willie Mays, Reggie Jackson and my father's hero, Ernie Banks were all introduced by Chris Berman to the spastic Houston crowd.

Shortly after the introduction, we all cheered on our hometown guy, Lance Berkman, as he made the second round of the Derby. I think he had eight home runs, none of which were of prodigious note. I distinctly recall Dad and I admiring the hell out of Rafael Palmeiro's swing. Little did we know he was juicing at the time, but damn...his swing was as smooth as Billy Dee. Rafael Palmeiro might have been roided out of his mind, but that night it was like he was swinging equal parts of velvet and Godiva, Jameson's 18 and Sinatra at The Sands. During that first round, I developed a veritable man-crush on Raffy's swing. I have no shame in admitting this.

The second round was perhaps most memorable. Minute Maid Park pulled back the retractable roof and let Lance Berkman take dead aim at Crawford Street. Right around about the seventh or eighth home run, he wasn't just hitting them on to the street. He was smacking light poles on Crawford Street. He forced accidental pedestrians to duck for cover like they were in the middle of a misbegotten hail storm. Lance Berkman became Genghis Khan with a Louisville Slugger, and every baseball he saw was China. He crushed them further and further into the Houston night, exiling the baseballs some 520 feet away, sentencing them to solitary confinement far beyond the maddened crowd.

Berkman could hit only a few more home runs, finishing with ten, an incredibly respectable number in the second round. Miguel Tejada stepped up quietly afterwards, and while he didn't hit them as far, he carefully measured each shot precisely into the Crawford Boxes, only 315 feet away. He not only won the round from Berkman, but also won what was the all-time record for most home runs hit in a round with 15. Furthermore, he ended up pulling a Maximus and winning the crowd as well. A crowd that had already cheered its hometown hero with delirious praise. Dad and I actually gave Tejada a standing ovation, and remarked how much we'd love to have him on the Astros someday.

Tejada ended up defeating Berkman in the final round. I can't even honestly say I remember how many home runs either man hit at the very end. All I can tell you is this, though. The 2004 Home Run Derby was one of the 15 happiest days of my life. No joke. Everything about it was inherently meaningless, true. But watching Berkman and Tejada duel in that second round, watching Palmeiro swing the bat without any degree of effort it seemed, validated all those moments in the driveway re-enacting past Home Run Derbies with Dad and my sister, Caitlin. It validated all those summer days with my cousins playing Home Run Derby in their backyard, and later in the cornfields of Shenandoah, Iowa as well. That meaningless home run derby? Like hell, it is.

It is the connection between our past to our present. It is the connection between Banks to Berkman, a bridge so that we may not forget who we were at one time and to remember that it's not too difficult to go back to that place every so often.

Moreover, isn't happiness life's ultimate pursuit? If this is what makes people happy, how can it be meaningless?

So to those grizzled sportwriters, pundits and talking heads, I say this: Embrace your inner child and give it a hug. Grab a wiffle bat and go out to the driveway. Stand their with the bat in your hand, crouching, legs spread apart just like Jeff Bagwell. And just stand there in your Bagwell stance.

For about at least a couple of hours until it really starts to hurt, you pretentious asses.

Revisionist History: What We All Seem To Be Forgetting About Michael Jackson

2009-06-26T00:33:00.002-05:00

50 seems about appropriate.

Contrary to what the suddenly gushing press and bloggers seem to be saying, I don't truly believe that Michael Jackson had another comeback in him. I think he could still sell out arenas, yes, but not in a good way.

Michael Jackson touring past 50 years old would have been an inglorious train wreck, featuring a pop culture carnival with PT Barnum on lead guitar and the Elephant Man dancing back-up. Thinking Michael Jackson had one more in him would be like suggesting that Mark McGwire still had at least 100 more home runs in him.

Honestly. Take a step back for a moment. Can you really see an aging Michael Jackson and whatever was left of his face try to carry on with the swagger of Mick Jagger or the grace of Tina Turner?

Honestly?

Simply put, too much damage, permanent and irreversable, had been done too many years ago, and Michael Jackson was too old and too much of a freakshow to make any lasting musical comeback seem like anything other than a novelty act. Maybe Jackson would have been put on some great shows, and maybe he would impressed the media to an extent, but then again, so did Axl Rose with all of his recent performances and Chinese Democracy still went over about as well as a fart in church with the public.

And that was no accident. Similarly, Rose wasted two whole decades as a troubled hermit before he decided to try and become relevant again. His bout with relevance was met with indifference, and not because he wasn't talented. He was and is. And not because Chinese Democracy sucked. It didn't.

But what so many critics failed to realize was that the performances can only be so great. The albums can only be so important. But once the public gets past a certain point, the most important things cannot be forgiven.

The constant controversy involving children. The battered women.

The constantly changing face. The constantly changing time for the concert to start.

The behavior that likened Howard Hughes. The behavior that likened J.D. Salinger.

The undeniable talent forever shrouded by what they had done, and what they had failed to do, not by what they had truly accomplished.

I can't help but think that a 50-year-old, a 60-year-old, a 70-year-old Michael Jackson performing would have had all the impact of Mike Tyson in The Hangover.

Amusing? Yes. Occasionally brilliant? Perhaps. Slightly more than pathetic? Absolutely.

One night a few years ago at a bar in Downtown Austin, Brad and I were going to play bocce ball and have a few drinks when one of the TVs stuck on ESPN Classic started replaying old fights of a young Mike Tyson. We were mesmerized. We abandoned our company, quit talking to women and simply watched Tyson kick ass and dominate for close to an hour.

He was young, in his prime and nobody had ever come along and dominated quite the way he did in the late 1980s. Not Ali, not Lewis, not Foreman. Tonight, I watched a young Michael Jackson in his prime on YouTube, and I can honestly say nobody had ever come along and dominated quite the way he did in the early 1980s. Not The Beatles, not Elvis, not Zeppelin.

But just like Tyson, Jackson had become a sad, cliched punchline. Always good for a laugh, and a constant reminder of eccentricity gone horribly wrong. I don't think anybody would enjoy seeing a 50-year-old Michael Jackson trying to dominate the way he did when he was 20 any moreso than watching a 50-year-old Tyson, a 50-year-old Rose, a 50-year-old McGwire try to recapture a glory that had been tainted so long ago by unforgivable sins, and a public that can no longer embrace, but has chosen to make fun of them.

Perhaps on Friday morning and throughout the weekend, nobody will be here talk about the past. Perhaps most people will simply choose to forget and forgive Michael Jackson now that he's dead. Artistically, it's always the more convenient choice.

But I will talk about the past. And it was the past that dictated how so many people truly felt about Michael Jackson up until today.

If It Matters At All: Thoughts on Manny Ramirez

2009-05-07T22:04:00.008-05:00

I can honestly tell you that I remember everything about the moment, all except for the Blue Jay who foolishly pitched to Manny Ramirez.

Six weeks into the 2004 season, early May I believe. 2-2 count, and some middle relief rack threw a slider to Manny that didn't dive. It hung there suspended in mid-air as if the baseball were on an invisible tee that only Manny Ramirez could see. I was drinking a Magic Hat #9, and started to choke on a swig, as he began to swing. He hadn't even connected just yet, but I knew what the hell was going to happen.

Manny Ramirez was going to hit the ball harder than any human being ever had before. Bat connected with baseball. Beer went flying out my nose.

Seriously.

Magic Hat #9, the only good thing to ever have come out of Vermont, went shrieking out my nose burning like cocaine in reverse. Manny Ramirez freaking destroyed this baseball, not in The Natural Roy Hobbs way. He hit that hanging slider the way Ike hit Tina, or Forrest Gump beat the ever-living shit out of that thug at the Black Panther party. Manny smacked it merciless and cruel like a bad-wielding Machavelli with a stick of black chaw spewing from his gums. Fenway didn't even cheer for Manny. They audibly gasped as if they were trying to keep the $10 beers from coming out of their collective noses as well.

The baseball that Manny Ramirez hit was still ascending over the Coke Bottle behind the Green Monster behind the Citgo sign. That's about 420 feet away and still climbing.

To put that in perspective: The dead center field flagpole at Minute Maid Park in Houston is about 430 feet away. Manny Ramirez's home run that night in Boston would have had a legitimate shot of sailing higher than the flagpole.

The baseball ended up careening off a building, skipping through a parking lot and ended up on the Mass Pike almost 800 feet away. It was unquestionably the most massive shot I have ever seen anyone hit my entire life.

I watched Manny trot around the bases thinking, "Holy crap, there's no way what he just did was humanly possibly."

Turns out, I was right. It wasn't.

Here's the implausible explanation that Manny Ramirez: He has broken junk. The same man who beat a baseball into submission will now take a 50-game vacation for using gonadotropins, or simply put, something prescribed to address erectile dysfunction.

Well, at least he and Rafael Palmeiro now have two things in common, I do suppose.

Maybe more than that now that I really consider it closely. Both had swings that were Grand Canyon at Sunset pretty. Call me naive, but I will never believe steroids would have made their swings better. Steroids improved the results of their at-bats, no doubt, but damn, I'm convinced their swings would have looked just as graceful flailing at air.

They were also unequivocally bad guys, as well, and no, their steroid use isn't indictive of their character. Rafael Palmeiro was arrogant and defiant in front of Congress, lying to everyone and pretty much everything about what he was really doing. Manny may not have lied--at least not that we're aware of--but he was accused of shoving the 60-year-old assistant around (roid rage?), sulked and essentially quit on the Red Sox, forcing a trade to the Dodgers.

And as soon as he got to Los Angeles? He reverted back to the Manny of that night in May 2004, demolishing every baseball in the National League with a wooden, Louisville Slugger-style jackhammer. After the season was done, he held the Dodgers hostage in a Favrian manner, continually toying with them until they gave him a contract that even AIG would have blushed at.

Manny Ramirez, in the Dodgers' mind, was too big to fail.

He did anyway.

Manny Ramirez, Roger Clemens, Alex Rodriguez, Barry Bonds.

Four guys that were unquestionably heading for Immortality. Now they're just four rich bastards that no one will ever trust again. But that's not their problem. Those four guys will simply insulate themselves with their friends, their peers, their hangers-on, their butt-kissers, their groupies and a million other people who will make their excuses for them.

Trust? That's hardly their problem. It's yours.

But there's a greater problem with sports now, and it doesn't have the slightest thing to do with steroids, in and of itself. Sports has a credibility problem, and it's manifesting itself in every possible avenue. Today's news about Manny Ramirez is hardly shocking. Yao Ming picking up three quick fouls in the Rockets loss to the Lakers was NBA refereeing at its finest. Yao picking up three quickies all but ensured a Lakers win, and tied the series up at one a piece.

Hell, I actually bet my friend Brad, a Southern California native and die-hard Laker fan, a bottle of 18-year Jameson's that the Cavs would beat the Lakers IF they both got to the NBA Finals. Simply put, David Stern would rather market the entirely likeable LeBron James, as opposed to probable rapist, Kobe Bryant. I am 100 percent certain of the outcome in the same way that I am certain the sun will rise in the east, this summer will be hot and Amy Winehouse will be ugly tomorrow, the next day or the day after that. It's a foregone conclusion that the NBA refs will ensure the Cavs (read: LeBron) gets their first ring, and then market the hell out of him, trying to make him the next Michael Jordan. And that's why I'll be drinking some of the finest Irish whiskey in the world come late June. It's not because I think the Cavs are better.

It's because the outcome that I'm betting on is more favorable to the business of the NBA.

The BCS is such a farce it's not even worth mentioning. And even the NFL isn't immune from this credibility problem. They have a steroid problem every bit on par with MLB, but people are all too willing to sweep their problems under the rug in the name of gambling, fantasy football and all the other things the make the NFL so popular.

Perhaps I'm wrong about all of these things. Maybe I will watch Brad drink a bottle of my favorite whiskey right in front of my face. And maybe Yao really did pick up those three fouls, and maybe--just maybe--Manny Ramirez really does have broken junk.

But when he comes back 50 games from now, thousands upon thousands of people will flock to Dodger Stadium to watch a man fallen from grace hit a baseball farther than perhaps anyone on the planet ever could.

The sun will shine in Los Angeles, the beers will flow, Vin Scully will wax eloquent about days gone past, Dodger Dogs will taste better than ever.

And Manny Ramirez will round the bases without a care in the world.

The Year Of Meh: Why I'm Having A Hard Time Liking College Basketball This Season

2009-01-14T01:47:00.007-06:00

I've said before that I have a relationship with baseball like I would hope to have with my future wife. I love it. I care for it. I oftentimes worry about it, but I hope to grow old with it. Its values and heritage I would hope to pass down to my children so that they can cherish as much as I do.

I've also said that while I'm married to baseball, college basketball is my wild sex kitten of a mistress. It's constantly exciting, a thrill-ride to the very end with constant surprises. You have to be careful with college basketball, however, because if you're aren't paying attention you get burned by the choices you make...like when you fill out your brackets.

Even the dynamics of their rites of passage are similar. The first Friday of the NCAA Tournament has now become the unofficial Adult Spring Break. Many people call out sick, and spend all day cheating on their jobs with the best sporting event in the country: A coast-to-coast, never-ending orgy of Madness.

The NCAA Tournament leads right into the First Day of Baseball when these same respectable men who just called out of work to cheat are now completely honest and forthright about their absence. They just want to take their son out to the ballgame and enjoy the day with their family.

For whatever reason, I'm having a really hard time getting the jones to see my mistress this season. College basketball hasn't really sucked me in the way it normally does. Oh, I'm trying to get into it, believe me. But this season is shaping up like a Keanu Reeves blockbuster: No real discernible plotline, not terribly interesting, but it feels like it should be way better than what it really is.

Specifically, I've nailed down the five reasons college basketball just isn't doing it for me right now.

1. Pitt's Number 1? Seriously?

Head coach Jamie Dixon has done a miraculous job with Pitt basketball ever since Ben Howland left for UCLA. Given the fact that the program is ranked number one for the very first time, one could even argue he's done a better job than Howland ever did while he was in Steeler Country.

But Pitt basketball is like Pitt football. They always seem to be in the Top 25, but never in the Top 10, and certainly never ranked number one. Seeing Pitt at the top of the basketball poll is almost as unseemly as seeing Dave Wannstedt hoisting up the BCS Crystal Ball. The collective public is way more familiar with him looking forlorn on a bench with a porn mustache. The same situation sort of holds true for the basketball team. Looking forlorn on a bench.

Minus the porn mustache, though.

Now, I'm supposed to believe that Pitt basketball is amongst the mightiest teams in the land on par with North Carolina, Connecticut and the ilk? Really? Like Dave Wannstedt winning championships, it just seems like so much of a stretch.

2. No Big-Time Superstars To Get Excited About

Tyler Hansbrough is the all-time leader in points scored at North Carolina! He passed Michael Jordan, James Worthy, Sam Perkins, Vince Carter, Antawn Jamison, and doesn't this make you all so excited! Tyler Hansbrough is so gosh-darn good!

Um...no.

Tyler Hansbrough, sadly, is more the product of being tall and in the right system than he is a great basketball player. According to my handy Rosetta Stone, Hanbrough is Dutch for "Big White Stiff in the NBA next year."

Here's an important key to understanding college basketball. Never let anyone fool you into believing that guard play is the most important part of a college hoops squad. Dick Vitale has squawked about this endlessly for the last ten years in part because of the 1997 Arizona team which featured a three-guard set. In truth, though, the teams that advance the furthest in the NCAA Tournament traditionally have a big-time center leading the way.

Guard play is more important in the NBA than in college basketball due to the fact that in the NBA all the big men are already there. The best guards are the ones who can distribute the ball effectively to the big man (think Steve Nash and Chris Paul). In college basketball, big men are such a premium that oftentimes the team without one simply has no answer to counter the matchup problem. The 2004 Georgia Tech team worked this to perfection using a gangly, red-headed 7-footer named Luke Schenscher to simply overpower everybody else all the way to the NCAA Tournament title game where they lost to Connecticut, and their more imposing big man, Emeka Okafor.

Was Schenscher really any good? Nope, but he created a matchup that the opposition simply couldn't answer.

What does all this mean for Tyler Hansbrough? It means he's taking advantage of a system, not that he's terribly great. Between this revelation and better teams figuring out a way to minimize the shooting touch of Davidson's Stephen Curry, this season really lacks a certain panache. Whether it was Redick-Morrison, Durant-Law, or the Florida Gator squad that won back-to-back titles and became household names in the process, this season just seems devoid of a face or a name or a rivalry that college basketball fans can really embrace.

I mean, I guess the face would be Tyler Hansbrough. But if that's the case, then as the British might say, bloody help us all.

3. Where's the Mid-Majors?

Just scanned the AP Top 25. Gonzaga's not there, but probably will be before the Tournament starts. They played possibly the most difficult schedule in the country and right now their win-loss totals reflect that. But there's no other West Coast Conference schools in the Top 25 either. No Missouri Valley teams. No love for the Colonial Athletic--the conference that gave us tournament darlings like George Mason and UNC Wilmington. Ditto the Mountain West as well. Hell, there's not even a Conference USA squad in the mix like, say, Memphis.

There's only the Horizon League favorites Butler and Atlantic-10 power, the Xavier Muskateers, amongst the mid-majors rustling up the Top 25. And Xavier, frankly, is impossible to take seriously after being trounced by Duke 84-62. The game, honestly, wasn't even that close and the Blue Devils could have won by 40 points easily if they had kept their starters in throughout the game.

One of the beauties of college basketball is, just like the mistress, you have to keep track of everything in order to be successful. This year, unlike past years, there doesn't seem to be any real drama unfolding in the Missouri Valley Conference, a conference that has become so good in recent years that CBS has televised its championship game alongside the Pac-10 and SEC.

Gonzaga has lost some of their luster from past years. One of the Mountain West schools, typically either Utah, BYU or UNLV, makes some noise and a Top 25, if not Top 10 appearance.

This year? Well, where the hell are they? It's entirely possible that as the season goes on into February, we'll really get to know one of these Cinderellas. But for now, the polls are pretty top-heavy towards the favorites, but rather skinny on the mysterious teams still lurking.

4. The Longhorns Suck

Yes, I know this isn't a problem that every college basketball fan has. In fact, I'm guessing fans of all the other Big XII schools are quite glad about this point.

I'm the biggest Texas college hoops fan that anyone knows. I actually worked with Coach Barnes on his radio show when I was an intern for KVET-AM in Austin. He was one of the most gracious people I've ever had the privilege of working with during my tenure in radio. When I worked for ESPN, he rememebered me when I called him up looking for an interview. Nobody remembers the intern.

But Coach Barnes did.

So it absolutely kills me to say what I have to say, but this is one of the most unlikeable teams I can ever remember him having. A.J. Abrams is entirely too streaky of a shooter to be effective over the course of the next few months. They have no dominant big man inside, and it showed when Oklahoma's Blake Griffin just bullied his way in the paint all night long during a nationally televised contest. Gary Johnson still hasn't reached his full potential and Dexter Pittman has been playing like a poor man's Oliver Miller. No, that's not a compliment towards either Pittman or Miller.

And then there's the case of Clear Lake High School's Own Connor Atchley. He's seemingly regressed like a basketball playing Charley from Flowers For Algernon. During the 2007-08 campaign, I remember some serious chatter on Austin sports talk radio about the possibility of Atchley actually playing significant minutes in the NBA.

Now it seems like Atchley is trying just to log significant minutes playing for the Horns. He's lost confidence in his once-trusty outside jump shot. He gets abused down low more often a horde of kids sleeping over at Neverland Ranch. His posture is terrible, and it's almost deja vu to when Kevin Durant was literally slapping him around on the floor during 2006 season for taking bad shots.

It's honestly depressing to watch one of Clear Lake High School's own fall so far after so much promise initially.

Given that the Austin community just embraced one of the most likeable and overachieving Longhorn football teams in recent memory, unless everyone gets their act together quickly, Coach Barnes can pretty much forget about riding Mack Brown's karmic coattails for awhile, and start the rebuilding job immediately.

5. A Serious Lack Of Gus Johnson

I need Gus Johnson the way Bruce Dickinson needs cowbell: More of it and preferably louder.

Johnson, right now, is the best basketball play-by-play man alive and it's not even close. Why CBS doesn't make him the lead anchor for March Madness is unfathomable and downright criminal, honestly. If college basketball is my mistress, then Gus Johnson is the spine-tingling orgasm that screams for more.

As far as I can tell, Gus Johnson was put on Earth by God to do one thing and one thing exclusively. He was put here to make things more exciting, and infinitely more dramatic. If he would like to call a game of grass growing or paint drying, I'm dialed in and watching, listening, living and dying with every last word.

And honestly, I need more of that. That's the joy of college basketball and March Madness. The excitement. The drama. A certain innocence that can only come from overexuberance.

I'm missing that right now from this season. But I know there's still time left.

And sometimes in college basketball, a little bit of time is all you really need.

The End Of An Era: Why Chinese Democracy Matters So Much To So Many

2008-11-17T03:44:00.011-06:00

On Sunday, hundreds of thousands of people, mostly men in their late 20s and early 30s, will line up to buy Chinese Democracy, a mythical album 15 years in the making from rock n' roll's most famous recluse, Axl Rose.

Chinese Democracy, for the last ten years or so, has practically replaced "Hell Freezing Over" and "The Cubs Winning The World Series" as the de facto punchline for things that will never come to be. While his ex-bandmates in Guns N' Roses like Slash became ubiquitous cultural icons not just in rock n' roll, but in video games and literature, Axl Rose stood alone, silent and mysteriously out of reach from the public eye. The only thing the masses could barely see from a well-kept distance was an alleged madman continously tinkering and crafting an album that was supposed to be worlds apart from Guns N' Roses iconic debut album Appetite For Destruction.

Rose practically ditched the whole legendary outfit in pursuit of his White Whale, so to speak. He had promised that the sound would be true to Appetite's roots, but would sound wholly modern in its approach. When buzz on the Internet reached a fever pitch that Rose would finally release the album this year in 2008, the reaction was an equal blend of "I'll believe when I see it" apathy and exasperation. Dr Pepper promised everyone in America except Slash a free soda if Axl actually delivered on his promise. The soda giant knew full well, just like so many other rock n' roll purists, that Axl had promised us this album before. Chinese Democracy was first ready scheduled to be released in 1999. I was 20 years and a junior in college.

I'm now close to 30 years old, and stopped drinking soda close to three years ago. But for one day this week, I will indulge myself with an old friend from my past and a bad habit that I gave up years ago.

On Sunday, Dr Pepper is ready to pay up. Millions, like myself, will drink to that.

Once the official release date was set, I found myself scouring the internet looking for details on the track listings, reviews, etc. I stumbled onto a message board on Fark.com, and found men mostly men about my age bitching about the cover art.

I was pleasantly surprised by this. Not by the cover art, mind you, because I'll concede that it sucks. I was pleasantly surprised that people were even having a discussion about cover art at all.

Fark posters were discussing the lyrics and what they were supposed to mean, what they could mean, what they were supposed to mean. All of these comments, both the good and the bad, made me extremely happy but incredibly sad at the exact same time.

You see, Chinese Democracy is the last significant rock album that will ever be made. There will never be again a rock album that will gain this much scrutiny over everything from the music itself, the lyrics, the cover art and its overall artistic merit. Chinese Democracy marks the last hurrah for three generations that were raised on rock n' roll as it stood in its original artistic format.

An entire generation and generations after them do not and will not understand why this is so significant. The technological innovations of MP3 players and the I-Pod instantaneously transformed the way people process music. Don't misunderstand this as a rant against the young little whipper-snappers and their new fangled gadgets. The I-Pod and creations similar to it were borne of necessity based on the direction of the music industry and the corporate radio ideology of Clear Channel and the ilk.

More and more artists in the late 1990s and early 2000s were compromised by the music industry to release their work for the radio industry as fast as possible aiming for the hit single to push the product to as many people as necessary. It is hardly a surprise that this same era also led to some of the worst music of any generation, an amalgam of slickly overproduced bubblegum pop headlined by the various boy bands, Britney Spears, rap rock and all the various auditory feces that followed.

The focus was more on the image than it ever was the product itself. The music industry was more interested in cultivating celebrities than talent, more concerned with instant gratification than long-term success. Napster.com emerged as a way for people to cut out the middle man and the filler to get what they wanted without having to shell out close to $20 to get it. When Napster came under fire from the likes of the equally craptastic Metallica and others like them, it became evident that technology was going to have to evolve from something less illegal, but to still keep the same overall premise.

I-Pods and other similar products filled the void perfectly and have now become a necessity for anyone who truly cares about music at all. But with that comes a cultural price to pay and it has created a permanent disconnection from a new generation and everyone that has come before them.

That disconnection comes from a certain rite of passage involving music, especially rock n' roll. I can remember spending many nights in high school over at my friend Joseph Kramer's place listening to everyone from the Smashing Pumpkins and Tool to yesteryear artists like Black Sabbath and Deep Purple beneath his black light posters and the PBR neon sign in his room. I didn't necessarily care much for Billy Corgan's voice, but his lyrics on Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness were simply mesmerizing. If I could ever write poetry as well as Corgan did on that album, I'd die completely satisfied as a writer.

I loved the cover art of that album and I loved all the various paintings and snapshot inserts that the Smashing Pumpkins threw in there as well. It was a grand artistic achievement where each song was meticulously placed and spaced perfectly. It was high, sonic art that could kick your ass across a room, and make you wonder what it was supposed to mean.

Decades before this, my Dad used to light incense in his room and put on Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band with his brothers, Chris and Tim. I've talked to both my Dad and Uncle Tim about the wonder of perhaps the greatest rock album ever made when it first came out. They would pore over the liner notes, trying to decipher the most famous album cover in history, and attempt to piece together the order of the songs and figure out why those songs were arranged in such a fashion.

They studied the clothes they wore for the photo shoots, the concept of the songs themselves and the mystery of "A Day In The Life." Twenty-five years later, my friend Lauren and I would ask all of the very same questions and more over a CD copy of Sgt. Pepper and a brown-bag lunch in high school when the album was brand new to us.

I was over at Uncle Tim's place not too long ago, drinking a few beers with him, and he turned me on to some songs by Black Sabbath that I confess I had never heard before. He had put on a very raw Ozzy Osbourne screaming into a mic, and was quick to point out the exact moment when Ozzy started to scream profanities. He excitely turned to me and said, "This was the part when Dad used to get pissed off and yell at us to turn it down!"

Much akin, of course, to when I was sixteen and Dad used to get pissed off at the gutteral, primal end of "Slaughtered" by Pantera. I left Uncle Tim's place that night and dug out some old Pantera, and put it in as loud as my ears could take.

My neighbors got pissed off and told me to turn it down. Three of them, in fact.

That, I suppose, was the point.

Interestingly enough, Appetite For Destruction was the last major rock album to be mastered by hand. After that, albums were mastered digitally. It seems only fitting that Chinese Democracy is released at the end of another era as well. It will be released to the delight of an entire generation that for one last time will engage in an old rite of passage. They will take home a CD, and study the whole body of work like it was the textbook for a collegiate philosophy class.

Later this week, I hope to put on Chinese Democracy. Like so many others, I hope I can figure out through the lyrics something relating to Axl's various neuroses, his bipolar rage, his endless and meticulous tinkering with an album that probably won't be half as good or as memorable as Appetite For Destruction.

I'm sure I'll endlessly ponder the liner notes, the cover, the inside photos, everything about this album just to figure out what makes this guy tick, what made him want to fire the entire band so that he could pursue this impossible venture that has led us to this point today.

I hope a younger generation understands what all the fuss is about, and why the events of this week are so important to so many. I hope they pick up a copy of Chinese Democracy. But I suspect they won't.

I suspect they'll just download the title cut, dismiss the song because it's from a washed-up has-been and move right on to whatever song is next on their I-Pod. Sadly, they wouldn't be totally wrong in their initial assessment.

But I know they wouldn't be completely right either.

The Failed Apprenticeship of Sage Rosenfels

2008-11-11T03:07:00.005-06:00

Pretend for just a moment that you're a big-time corporate executive, a CEO or CFO of a major corporation that is looking to make a huge breakthrough in a single fiscal year. Many analysts have been predicting big things for your company. You have assembled a tremendous collection of young, dedicated talent. You have done your due diligence in the scouting department, and it definitely showed in your last quarter when your company did better than expected. In fact, it was because of this impressive showing that expectations have been so high for this fiscal year.

You have brought together a staff of precocious managers with the potential for innovation. And you've hired one project manager to help pick up the slack when others get sidetracked.

Let's focus on this one project manager for a moment because, simply put, he plays an enormous role in your company. He plays almost an apprentice-type role with the company. He's probably good enough, but he needs some adult supervision and the guiding hands of experience when things go awry. And in business, of course, you have to be prepared when things go awry because they will from time to time.

You have to depend on this apprentice, however, because the lead project manager might have to go away for weeks at a time on business trips. He's not going to be in the office, and hell, he might not even be able to be reached if he's flying to and fro from points and destinations unknown. Your apprentice may not be as savvy as the lead, but he has to be capable enough to guide the employees along without rebellion, effectively keep the customers happy, and when situations arise in the office or in business, he has to be worthy of trust and handle such matters in a dignified, respectable manner that all parties find suitable.

He may not be the lead project manager, he may not even be as good as the lead project manager, but considering the fact that the apprentice is being temporarily entrusted with million-dollar accounts and the good faith of your employees and your customers, he'd better be damned well ready for the tasks and responsibilities at hand.

Let's pretend your apprentice finally gets his big opportunity. It seems like he's doing such an excellent job that it's almost effortless. The employees seem to really respect him, the customers are completely enamored with him, and you're watching the whole thing thinking to yourself, "If he keeps this up, he may be getting a promotion in the near future."

Then the apprentice makes a careless mistake against one of your toughest competitors. It was a mistake that, although costly, you can easily forgive because it was a mistake borne of a competitive, almost fearless, nature. You pull him into your office, and tell him how much you appreciate his efforts, but still, you have to remind him that he has to be careful about being too reckless. Too many mistakes like that will result in the company losing not just competitive momentum, but potentially, millions of dollars in the process.

You send your apprentice project manager back out to face your competition and your customers. But that little chat you just had with him seemingly did no good. That effortless charm has been replaced with overt cautiousness. As a result, he makes another huge mistake against that same competitor, but this time the results are much worse. Catastrophic, in fact.

Your toughest competitor has just trumped your apprentice project manager in such a stunning fashion that, as a result, you have just watched your company's stock tailspin out of control. Your customers are incredibly disappointed with your company, and the product that once had promise has devolved, regressed really, to a incompetent laughingstock.

In vain, your apprentice project manager tries to salvage the situation and in a last-ditch effort tries everything possible to seize momentum and money back to your company. He fails miserably again, making an even dumber decision than the previous two dumb decisions.

Certainly, there were a few things here and there that could have prevented such an absolute collapse. But not many. You have limited options at this point. Your lead project manager won't be back for another week, and your apprentice project manager pretty much single-handily destroyed an entire account, lost millions of dollars for the company, alienated all of his employees and is now routinely mocked at the water cooler by pretty much everyone.

Your competitors have zero respect for his business acumen or his ability to handle pressure. And frankly, you don't either.

The decision for you is really quite simple. Given all the damage he did, you are left with no choice but to immediately fire the apprentice project manager. Yes, he still has talent, but that talent can't be cultivated in your company any longer. It goes well beyond just the millions of dollars lost, you think to yourself. It has so much more to with a complete lack of trust that his peers, your peers and the employees have for him. After such a series of inexplicably poor decisions, you simply cannot afford to entrust him again with your employees or your clientele. The trust in his abilities have been irreversibly shattered, and it is best for all parties to move on in a new direction.

Of course, the task of hiring a new apprentice project manager will be challenging. It will unquestionably require much more time than you really were expecting to spend or have during your work week. But hiring on someone else, sorting through resumes, running interviews and all the things that come with the territory are all going to make your company better in the long-term.

Going in a new direction symbolizes to your customers that such failure will not be tolerated and poor decisions cannot be rewarded. Furthermore, your product will be better and although you may see some struggles initially, over time the company will be much better as a result of this clean slate.

Let's stop pretending now. You are not a CEO of a major corporation, and apparently nobody in the Houston Texans front office is either. After the epic meltdown that the apprentice, Sage Rosenfels, had in the infamous Indianapolis game, I wrote:

"Although this seems rather harsh, I don't see any alternative for the Texans but to cut him right now. Not really for the team's sake really, but for his. I'd almost think that Rosenfels would probably prefer anonymity at this point anyway, and God knows there are enough places for a journeyman QB to latch onto anyways."

From a business perspective, firing Sage Rosenfels was the only logical option, even if seemed pretty brutal at the time. His salary which the Texans would have had to pay him whether he was on the roster or not was basically a sunk cost. It was money that was down the drain, an unsolvable cost that would just have to be dealt with by the company and the accountants as a loss.

True also that hiring a new quarterback in such a short period of time would be an arduous process to say the very least. That said, however, the new quarterback wouldn't be expected to save the season either because, frankly, due to the actions of Rosenfels that pipe dream has been essentially snuffed. At least for this year, certainly.

But the Texans decided to stay with their embattled apprentice, the backup in turmoil, Sage Rosenfels on Sunday against the Ravens due to Matt Schaub's knee injury. Four interceptions from Rosenfels and a 41-13 thumping have only led to a larger chasm of distrust from the team, his peers, and perhaps most importantly, the paying customers.

Think back to earlier in this column when I mentioned that your company was losing millions of dollars as a result of your apprentice project manager's actions. For the Texans, that's no lie.

Consider the following two points, if you will.

1. The Texans had all but beaten the Colts, and were up by 17 points with about five minutes to go. If they won, they would have gone to 1-3 with an easy stretch of Miami, Detroit and Cincinnati all visiting Houston. Not only could they have been 4-3, but they would have picked up a crucial division win on the Colts.

Gaining a division victory in a brutally tough division like the AFC South was critical for a possible playoff berth. Maybe if the Texans beat the Colts, they still wouldn't have made the playoffs, but Sage Rosenfels' actions in that game without question decided their postseason fate. The fact that Rosenfels potentially cost the Texans, literally, millions of dollars in revenue due to them not making the postseason cannot sit well with any business owner no matter how lacking in business acumen they may be.

2. One of our closest friends at SportsKarma, Brad Hoegler, is a huge sports fan and a Texans season ticket holder. After Sunday's contest I asked him point blank, "Based on what you saw today, would you renew your season tickets for next season?" His answer was unapologetic.

"From what I saw today," Hoegler said. "I'd say no. That was terrible. I don't even want to talk about it."

He kept his word. Normally, Brad will talk to me about sports for hours on end, literally. After Sunday, I got one phone call from Brad of about two minutes. He was too disgusted to talk about the product on the field, and given today's current economic state, I can't say that I would blame him if that was a cost that he decided to forsake in 2009, even if the Texans were 6-3 and not 3-6.

If Rosenfels doesn't throw a single interception, maybe the Texans still lose the game against the Ravens. But his actions dictated an inevitable loss. It is because of those actions that a season-ticket holder is right now seriously giving thought to not renewing next year. That is also a loss, potentially, of millions of dollars in revenue.

Are there other factors besides Rosenfels' performance that signal trouble for the Houston Texans? Undoubtedly yes, but none are more painfully obvious to the casual observer than one man's mistakes that should have never been allowed to happen in the first place.

Recently in sports and life, we've seen great changes take place and we've had a chance to see people given even a glimmer of hope. Knicks fans saw Isiah Thomas purged from the organization. Lions fans saw Matt Millen fired, and although they don't have a win yet, at least the direction of the franchise is better than what it was. Politically, we saw a bumbling, incompetent fool who can barely articulate a sentence, let alone policy, whose ideology was trumped by a young man from the Midwest who has brought great joy and hope for millions of Americans and billions around the globe.

This Sunday against the Colts, I guess Brad and I will just have to hope for better days. As it stands right now we're watching a bumbling, incompetent fool barely able to complete a pass under center.

Worse yet, we don't see a single person in sight with any common business sense to pull the plug on someone not worthy of our money and our time. But perhaps most importantly, Sage Rosenfels isn't worthy of our trust either.

The 11 Most Criminally Underappreciated Rock Songs

2008-11-06T03:07:00.008-06:00

We all have songs that move us, inspire us, and take us to a higher place. And then we wonder, "WHAT??? What do you mean you've never HEARD this song before? That's one of my favorite songs!"

I have a lot of these songs from over the years that I adore, and either they were never released as singles, stuck on albums that sold poorly or were just generally never recognized as being of higher quality than the artists' most well-known songs. Some of these songs are also from bands that I sometimes wonder why nobody liked them as much as me, and "Because they sucked" is not a proper answer, smartasses.

To that end, we've compiled the 11 Most Criminally Underappreciated Rock Songs. The rules for compiling this list are pretty simple, actually. It can't be a song that's featured in even light rotation on any rock radio station. Only one of these songs is featured on a greatest hits album, and frankly, it was a major stretch to put it on the album to begin with considering the fact that I hadn't even heard of the song before until I bought the CD.

The only other rules that apply are either that:
A: It can't be one of the first songs that comes to mind by a popular rock band.

Or

B: You probably haven't even thought of this band in the last eight years. I'd say ten years, but a few of these bands are from my high school years, and I'm just slightly past my 10-year high school reunion. I'm willing to give them a pass in that sense.

That's really about it...now come with us. Slightly underground. But not that far, I suppose.

11. Exit Music (For A Film)--Radiohead
Where You Can Find It--OK Computer (1997)

The more well-known songs by Radiohead: Karma Police, Creep

Why it's Criminally Underappreciated: I love Thom Yorke's solitary acoustic guitar, the creepy organ press, and the massive crescendo to close the song. It sounds almost as if David Gilmour of Pink Floyd dressed in all black and did some peyote with his lover right before kidnapping her in front of her parents. It's a beautiful, haunting song with a buildup bigger than Chinese Democracy but better in virtually every respect.

10. Got No Shame--Brother Cane
Where You Can Find It--Brother Cane (1993)

Why It's Criminally Underappreciated--Brother Cane came out in the heart of the grunge era and wrote this blues-rock gem that was so woefully behind the times, it actually came out ahead. Got No Shame is unabashedly bluesy, borrowing more from Lynyrd Skynyrd and the Allman Brothers than from Nirvana and Pearl Jam. It's heart is stuck in the 1970s, and it's soul is smothered in cream gravy with a side of grits. It just couldn't exist in the hyper-caffeinated sounds of Seattle rock. Brother Cane released a few more albums but were done by 1998. Sadly, that was about the time Seattle rock called it quits too.

9. Plowed--Sponge
Where Can You Find It--Rotting Pinata (1994)

Why It's Criminally Underappreciated: I haven't the faintest idea why this song, and this band, didn't do better than it did even in hindsight. Some songs like "What I Like About You" by the Romantics didn't score as well on the charts when they first came out, but gained in popularity as the years progress. I'm surprised this didn't follow suit. Plowed is chock-full of raging sonic energy full of frenetic bombast. Or more simply put: It kicks a metric ton of ass. The only thing I can possibly figure is that Sponge came out at a time when rock music had sorta lost an edge. Kurt Cobain had just committed suicide right around the time this song came out. I'm convinced rock n' roll lacked the frantic energy that this song possesses, and Plowed at the time was like watching a 5-year-old with ADD run around at a funeral.

8. Drop--Blue October
Where You Can Find It--Consent To Treatment (2000)

The more well-known songs by Blue October: Hate Me, Calling You, Into The Ocean

Why It's Criminally Underappreciated: Actually, the entire Consent To Treatment album fits the bill perfectly. This album came out during one of the absolute worst periods in popular music. It was an era of boy bands and Britney, rap rock and generic schlock. And here came Blue October straight out of the Houston Heights and the San Marcos River, cranking straight-forward rock music with a violin. They were emo with a sneer, and sang about sex, drugs and the saving graces of rock n' roll with a deafening force. Consent To Treatment is, in my opinion, the best album of this decade, but in 2000 no one seemed to care. The music scene eventually caught up to them, and in 2006, they became the toast of alternative rock with the Foiled album. But this is their forgotten masterpiece, and Drop is the single that, to me, defines the album.

7. Unbroken (Hotel Baby)--Monster Magnet
Where You Can Find It--Monolithic Baby! (2004)

The More Well-Known Song by Monster Magnet--Space Lord

Why It's Criminally Appreciated: It's their own damned fault, in a way. Monster Magnet released a killer album, Dopes To Infinity, and then didn't release another album for three years. That album, Powertrip, featured Space Lord which was commercially successful. Their next album sucked. It was four years until they released this tasty piece of rock candy. "Unbroken" has everything you could want in a three-and-a-half minute rock n' roll song: A kick-ass chorus, plenty of profanity, rip-roaring guitar solos, and lots o' screaming. But there just hasn't been enough of Monster Magnet in recent years and this one fell through the cracks.

6. Teen Angst (What The World Needs Now)--Cracker
Where You Can Find It--Cracker (1992)

The More Well-Known Song by Cracker: Low

Why It's Criminally Underappreciated: OK, so I'm technically cheating just a little bit on this one because I just heard it on the Flashback Lunch feature on our alternative rock station here in Austin. But still, "Teen Angst" sounds like a smart-ass Neil Young pounding back bourbons straight with Denis Leary. It's darkly humorous, needlessly sarcastic and damned fine rock n' roll that sounds best after a few drinks of brown booze. This one simply was obscured by Nirvana, Pearl Jam and the ilk when it was released in 1992, and that's a shame because this one could swing with any of the best works of that era.

5. Candy--Iggy Pop and Kate Pierson
Where You Can Find It--Brick By Brick (1990)

The More Well-Known Song by Iggy Pop: I Wanna Be Your Dog (with The Stooges)

Why It's Criminally Underappreciated: I actually knew nothing about this song, or this album, until I read Slash's autobiography. Slash and Duff both played on this album and contributed to a song called "Home." I knew a fair amount about his career and that he was discovered by David Bowie, and so based on the recommendations of Bowie and Slash, I felt it necessary to check out this album. What I didn't realize, though, was how much Iggy Pop sounded like Bowie, and how good of a songwriter he is as well. His voice is beautifully dark and rich, and perfectly complements Kate Pierson of the B-52s on this song that I'm pretty sure is about cocaine, but I can't be totally sure. On a side note, I never knew Kate Pierson was hot. I mean, Good Lord, seeing this video was quite a shocker.

4. God Gave Me Everything I Want--Mick Jagger featuring Lenny Kravitz
Where You Can Find It--The Bruce Almighty soundtrack (2003)

The More Well-Known Songs by Mick Jagger: Seriously, we need to have this conversation?

Why It's Criminally Underappreciated: Lenny Kravitz wrote this one and sings backup for Mick Jagger. I'm not a huge fan of Kravitz, but he does a phenomenal job of channeling old-school Stones like "Gimme Shelter" and puts a modern twist on it with Mick singing lead. But hell, that's not the only reason it's criminally underappreciated. This is the only song on this list to be paired up with somebody else as equally underappreciated: The absolutely stunning Catherine Bell.

3. Supernaut--Black Sabbath
Where You Can Find It--Black Sabbath Vol. 4 (1972)

The More Well-Known Songs by Black Sabbath: Paranoid, Iron Man, War Pigs

Why It's Criminally Underappreciated: "I like it because I think it's prototypical of a certain musical style, and I think it's well done. Also, I happen to like the guitar lick that's being played in the background." --Frank Zappa

Zappa, however, neglected to mention that this riff is one of the heaviest, most evil sons-a-bitches on the face of the earth. If riffs were people, Supernaut would probably be Ray Lewis: hard-hitting, intense and possibly capable of murder.

2. I'm The One--Van Halen
Where You Can Find It--Van Halen (1978)

The More Well-Known Songs by Van Halen--Jump, Panama, Runnin' With The Devil

Why It's Criminally Underappreciated: Eddie Van Halen is widely regarding as one of the greatest guitarist to ever live, but this might very well be his best effort to date. I'm The One is the 5th track on Van Halen's debut album, and that's an album that already features Eruption and Ain't Talkin' 'Bout Love, two songs that pretty much every aspiring rock guitarist worth a salt takes their cracks at learning. But I'm The One is perhaps better, not just because it features Eddie's blinding speed and death-defying dexterity on the six-string, but because it many ways he manages to reinvent the blues to suit his needs. Basically, it's almost as if Eddie Van Halen took John Lee Hooker and Eric Clapton, grabbed them by their ankles, flipped them upside down, shook them vigorously until their noses bled, and then threw them down a flight of stairs for good measure. Whatever lands at the bottom of that flight of stairs is what Eddie Van Halen recreated. The blues became a wild, screaming, scary ride because of that shakeup, and on "I'm The One" Eddie Van Halen sounded like a man laughing all the way to the bottom.

1. Give In To Me--Michael Jackson featuring Slash
Where You Can Find It--Dangerous (1991)

The More Well-Known Michael Jackson Songs: See the entry on Mick Jagger and ask yourself that same question. Dumbass.

Why It's Criminally Underappreciated: It's not very often that you'd consider Michael Jackson sexy. And by "not very often," what I mean is "never." But Michael Jackson along with Slash manages to accomplish just this. Michael Jackson sings with raspy soul that accomplishes the near-impossible. He actually sounds like he's trying to seduce women, and towards the end of the song, he sounds like he's actually successful at it. And then there's Slash. He plays like Aretha Franklin sings: Full of soul, guts and grace. His solo is every bit as good, if not better, than anything he recorded with Guns N' Roses or Velvet Revolver. This song was never released as a single in the United States, and as a result, most Americans missed out on one of the great collaborations of the 1990s.

It's Not Over Yet

2008-11-03T03:06:00.003-06:00

OK, OK, first and foremost, my sincerest apologies to the great people of Lubbock and Texas Tech University. The Red Raiders played one hell of a game, the Longhorns made way too many mistakes, especially in the secondary, and made us pay accordingly. I will pay my penance and gladly spend some money at the Artist Formerly Known As Hub City Brewery the next time I'm in town. Seriously.

And yes, by the way, your nose-picking insurance salesman of a coach with that wacky sense of humor can gameplan a little bit too. Props to him. Even larger props to him if Tech can beat Oklahoma State and Oklahoma as well. That'd pretty much put you in the national championship game as well because there's no way in hell that Tech would lose to Baylor and the Big XII North Champ. At least I don't think so.

But that's the interesting thing here. Tech still has to finish, and just like the Horns, they've got one hell of a task to stay there. If recent years are any indication, getting to the top is much easier than staying there. I believe at one point last year we saw South Florida, California, Mizzou, West Virginia and, of course, the Ohio State WegetourasseskickedroutinelybytheSEC all occupy the #2 spot in the BCS rankings. Texas Tech is #2 right now. Whether they can stay there or not remains debatable.

Now what we have are the Longhorns occupying the #4 spot, and facing a rather winnable stretch of games: Baylor, at Kansas, A&M. In a weird, twisted kind of way, I'm actually kinda looking forward to the stretch run. You see, the pressure's off now. Colt McCoy has been pretty spotty following the Missouri game, and I wonder if maybe all the attention he's been receiving lately has affected him more than he's let on. It's an incredible dynamic having to go from Tuscola to Austin. It's an even greater dynamic having to go from Vince's shadow to your own. I don't even think that the attention has necessarily gone to his head. From what I gather, and this is merely speculative, but it seems like all the attention might be a little embarrassing for a Born Again small town kid like Colt.

Well, the rest of the college football world has moved on, and is looking at Texas Tech. The national spotlight will cast an occasional glare on Texas, but not certainly the way it has over the course of the last month. Baylor and a little home cooking will be good for Colt McCoy and the Longhorns to regain some confidence, and not have to worry about the constant specter of #1 constantly glowering over every move they make.

Let's let some other teams carry the #1 burden for a little while. I think after November, the Longhorns will be strong enough to carry that burden again. And after November that #1 ranking will no longer be a burden anyway, but rather, a ticket to Miami.

Redemption: The Lessons Brad Lidge Can Teach Us All

2008-10-30T02:11:00.008-05:00

I've never been happier for a professional athlete than I am for Brad Lidge.

I'll never forget the day Lidge was traded to the Phillies for five prospects. I called every Astros fan I knew and started to celebrate like he did tonight. Dad was one of the first people to put me in my place, and reminded me, "He handled everything with class. He's a stand-up guy."

I was the first to remind him, "Yeah, but he sucked and cost the Astros the World Series and the 2006 NL Central title."

And we were both right to an extent. Lidge thanked all his teammates profusely, praised the most difficult fans in America as the best in the world, and lastly thanked Jesus for bringing him to this moment. Normally when an athlete thanks God, it always seems contrived and almost silly. But not here. Considering that Lidge went through Hell after That Night, it only seeemed appropriate to thank the Savior for delivering him, and the city of Philadelphia, to the 2008 World Series Championship.

He won with absolute grace and class, not to mention with sheer dominance, so yes, Dad was completely correct on his point. But the guy we saw this season closing games in a Phillies uniform wasn't the Brad Lidge we knew during the 2005 playoffs, nor was it the guy we saw throughout the 2006 or 2007 seasons. This was 2004 Brad Lidge, a closer in complete command of his slider, someone so dominant all he was missing was a leather catsuit and a whip.

He was perfect this season. Lidge was 41 for 41 in save opportunities and had a 0.00 ERA in the postseason. He was the valedictorian of closers this year, even in light of Francisco Rodriguez and his record-setting accomplishments this year. If Curt Hennig were alive today, he'd probably have to relinquish his nickhame because 2008 Brad Lidge was Mr. Perfect.

Without question, though, this Brad Lidge--the old Brad Lidge--could not have been rediscovered by staying in Houston. In a way, Lidge's departure from Houston was like the classic breakup situation. Sometimes, two people have to move on from each other. The relationship simply cannot continue because the two people are bringing each other down, not building one another up. And that's when it has to end, amicably and with respect.

But make no mistake. The relationship has to end.

Lidge continued to struggle in Houston, seemingly unable to shake his 2005 playoff demons. Houston fans and management alike grew increasingly frustrated watching Lidge struggle against the likes of Xavier Nady and his ilk. It was a parting that had to happen for both parties to find their collective peace.

And peace Brad Lidge has now. He has successfully cast aside That Night and every other struggle that he had as a Houston Astro. The last few years, though, Astros fans have hung on to those same bitter memories and gave them a haunting embrace. I hope tonight helps bring closure to the city of Houston and That Night so that we can pursue something better than disappointment.

We must pursue hope, not defeat. We must embrace victory, not loss. We mustn't look at Brad Lidge and ask "Why couldn't you do that for Us?" Instead, we must look to Brad Lidge as an example of what it is like to lose, but to never give up faith in ourselves.

Last of all, we can't wallow in pity. We must pursue excellence in our life's journeys, and thank God for each and every opportunity that we are given to succeed. No matter where it is, no matter what we've done, redemption awaits us all.

Brad Lidge's redemption was waiting for him at the bottom of a joyous dogpile on a pitching mound in Philadelphia. On the whole, I'm guessing there was no place he'd rather be.

An Open Letter From Austin to Our Good Friends in Lubbock

2008-10-26T00:13:00.016-05:00

Dear Texas Tech fans, residents of Lubbock, the inhabitants of West Texas and the Panhandle:

Congratulations on Saturday's thumping of the Kansas Jayhawks. You truly looked magnificent in your 63-21 victory. You kicked their butts so badly Coach Mangino might even punish his team during Monday's practice by feeding at least one or two of his defensive guys to his pet Rancor.

And as well he should. But I digress.

Y'all racked up 555 total yards of offense and a ridiculous 36 first downs. We already knew Tech's offense was the stuff urban legends and video games are made of. What we didn't know, though, was y'all got yourself a helluva defense too. Tech forced the Jayhawks into five turnovers, including three interceptions thrown by Todd Reesing. Last time I checked Reesing was still an Austin high school legend on recent par w/ Drew Brees. Reesing only led Lake Travis to the 4A state championship, and to the best of my knowledge, around here that's nothing to sneeze at.

Finally, there's another coach in the Big XII that's getting recognized for doing an outstanding job, and his name ain't Mack or Stoops or Pinkel or Jabba, er, Mangino. Boy, the national media sure does love Coach Leach, don't they? And who can blame them?

After all, he looks just like so many of the sportswriters anyway. Hell, Coach Leach doesn't even look like a football coach, does he? More like a nose-picking insurance salesman, if you ask me, and I know you didn't. He doesn't look like the kinda guy that inspires confidence or even knowledge in the nuances of the spread offense, like say, that dreamy fellow down in Gainesville, Urban Meyer.

Hey, but you know Coach Leach knows a thing or two about offense despite not being the most handsome man in the world. And apparently, he knows plenty about a lot of things from pirates to relationships, from the top (only?) steakhouse in Lubbock to lighting up defenses faster than a pyromaniac. Coach Leach has become college football's Yogi Berra, and God Bless him for it. We need more colorful characters in the buttoned-down, downright corporate world of college football. His offense is wacky and so is his advice on where to take a girl on the first date.

So, everyone's pretty damned big on Coach Leach and your Red Raiders right now. Meanwhile, Saturday was a tough day in Austin. It wasn't bad by any stretch, but it was most definitely a challenge. I'm sure y'all know this, but Oklahoma State plays us tough every year. Hell, we even had to rally the last few years when we were down by double digits. They were up three touchdowns when VY was under center during the Championship Year, and I'm pretty sure that was the only time that ever happened that entire season.

They definitely came to play here in Austin, and frankly, of the Top 10 teams in action this week, we were, like Coach Leach, amongst the least impressive looking. Alabama took care of Tennessee like they should have. Penn State went into Columbus and covered the spread, and that's certainly not easy to do. USC got a tough road win against an improved Arizona team. Oklahoma and Florida routed their competition, and were pretty much done by halftime.

The Longhorns couldn't seem to put away the Cowboys, and it took a last minute defensive stand to finally send them back to Eskimo Joe's in Stillwater for a cold one, a pat on the back and a couple o' "attaboy, we'll get 'em next time's." Sure, we'll still keep the #1 ranking for another week, but there's already a lot of talk from the national media--the ones that love Coach Leach so much--that the Longhorns are doomed to fall from that top perch on November 1 when the Longhorns visit Lubbock.

I'll be the first to admit, on paper, it certainly looks feasible. After all, Texas Tech played great on Saturday. The 'Horns, meanwhile, did just enough to win. Graham Harrell threw for five touchdowns and ran for another. Colt McCoy, on the other hand, was a mere mortal throwing a costly interception and fumbling in the fourth quarter to put Oklahoma State right back in the game. Another turnover from McCoy, and we would have to stop anointing him next to Vince and Earl. Hell, we would have had to maybe bring him down a notch or two and start calling him, I don't know, "Sage Rosenfels."

You figure that between a prime-time ABC broadcast, Gameday probably coming to Lubbock, the largest crowd ever for a Texas Tech home game, and the highest ranking Tech has had in my lifetime, it sure does seem like an upset's brewing. Hey, if I could make it work, I'd love to be in Lubbock for Halloween. The next day, I'd shake off my Jameson's hangover, and head to the stadium to watch Fowler, Corso and Herbie broadcast live from your pad. I probably wouldn't even mind when Corso picks Texas Tech to win, and puts on whatever mascot helmet they give him.

I also know that the students will be more liquored up than Hasselhoff, and rowdier than a Delta house toga party. Getting laid that weekend will be easier than changing my shirt. Hell, I'd love to go the more I think about it, and because I also know one other thing about that weekend too.

Texas Tech will be exposed worse than Tara Reid on the red carpet.

Look, I know y'all are excited and you should be. It's going to be a helluva game for at least the first couple o' quarters, I know that and you do too. But there's a few reasons that you're not beating the Longhorns come November 1, and I swear to Good God Almighty none of these reasons will have anything to do w/ your impending Halloween hangover. Although, I admit that probably won't feel very good.

1. Do you really think this guy's going to have another letdown like he did today?

No seriously, here are the stats of Colt McCoy's "letdown game": 38-45, 390 yds 2 TDs, 1 INT, 10 Rush, 40 yds, 1 TD. Keep in mind, Red Raider Friends, this is possibly the worst he's played all year, especially down the stretch. However, he still managed to complete 18 straight passes and set a new school record for most consecutive completions. If he plays in Lubbock the way he played on Saturday, OK, you might have a shot.

But what if he doesn't? What if he comes out and plays like he did against Missouri? That wasn't even a football game in the first half because Colt McCoy made the Tigers' defense look softer than a bunch of Frenchies in a pillow fight. Oh, and since he's from West Texas--Tuscola, specifically--and you didn't recruit him, don't you think Colt's going to enjoy just sticking it to Tech in front of the Lubbock faithful and a nationally televised audience?

Colt may praise Jesus after every game, but by God does he ever play like the Devil in big-time games.

2. Red Raiders, as long as were on the subject of things that are soft like Frenchies...

Remember these guys, Texas Tech? This was your first opponent of the year, the Eastern Washington Eagles, the pride of Cheney, WA. Sure, you jumped out to a 21-0 lead on your 1-AA opponent, but you went to the half only up 28-17. You actually needed the final two touchdowns in the 4th quarter to put away a jobber of a football team. Tremendous.

You've actually been more impressive on the road than you have at home, Texas Tech. The Red Raiders have destroyed Big XII opponents on the road by an average of 30 points per game, but struggled at home to a mediocre Nebraska team, beating them by only six points. The other illustrious opponents from this year's schedule include yet another 1-AA scrub in Massachusetts, and SMU, who I'm pretty sure are less alive from their NCAA Death Penalty than Ted Bundy is from his.

Some say we played a pretty easy non-conference schedule too, and there's some merit to that discussion. But Florida Atlantic at least went to a bowl the year previously. Arkansas did too, and when the schedule was made, hell that was a big game. Huge, in fact.

Bottom line is this, Tech. You had a fantastic win against KU. But all you've done really is beat up on the Big XII North and A&M who have a combined record of 29-29. Couple that with a few wins over some schools that you should have never been playing to begin with, and you've proved a whole bunch of nothing to whole lot of people.

Meanwhile, here in Austin we just got done beating our third top-10 ranked team in a row.

And ultimately, we'll make it four in a row. Why?

3. Because We Have Will Muschamp And You Don't

This picture is from last season when he was at Auburn. He's now the defensive coordinator here at Texas, and quite frankly, he's probably the most intense guy to grace the 40 Acres ever, and that's even counting the student government lackeys handing out fliers to the masses like they were trying to elect Obama or something.

This is a guy who eats, sleeps, breathes, pisses and poops the film room, and we really hope not in the literal sense on the last two. A guy who has been known to go berserk on the sidelines because the defense gave up garbage time, 4th quarter touchdowns while the Longhorns led by four or five scores in the waning moments of the game (see the Mizzou game for a great example of this).

This is a guy who, as demonstrated above, will chest bump his players even if they outweigh him by 150 pounds or more. Simply put, Muschamp is a stark, raving lunatic and we'd never want him any other way.

That said, do you really think with a week to prepare that Will Muschamp won't be able to prepare and figure out every possible nuance of Coach Leach's spread offense? I'm guessing that Texas Tech will still put some points on the board. But I'm also guessing that Coach Muschamp will be ready and have the defense ready just a tad better than Eastern Washington did.

Or Kansas for that matter.

So all of that said, Red Raider Nation, I'm sure you're counting down the days until November 1, just waiting in giddy anticipation because nothing this big has ever happened in Lubbock before.

Just know this, though. We have big things like this happen all the time here in Austin. In fact, we have a word for it. It's called "Tuesday."

After the game, maybe we can visit over a Lone Star and talk about where it all went wrong. Until then, enjoy this week and the attention. Because after November 1, the attention and the victory will be ours. As usual.

Hook 'em,
The Longhorn Nation

Sports Karma's Five Favorite World Series Moments From This Decade

2008-10-21T23:56:00.007-05:00

As I'm sure you're completely aware, the Phillies and the Rays square off on Wednesday to decide the 2008 World Series. The networks are already cutting their losses, and assuming that no one will watch this Fall Classic outside of baseball geeks such as myself.

And yeah, I guess they're right. I confess that up until about two weeks ago, I couldn't name more than five Tampa Bay players, and truthfully, I had to really struggle just to name five. It's really a contest between the totally anonymous versus the historically irrelevant. The Phillies have more losses all-time than any other franchise. The Rays were a doormat, one of baseball's worst franchises since their 1998 inception.

So while most pundits truly believe this will be a great match-up, admittedly, it does leave a lot to be desired in terms of star power and name recognition. If this were a Super Bowl, it'd be like watching the Texans play the Cardinals for all the marbles. Sure, it'd be an entertaining game, but I'm not sure anyone outside of Houston and Phoenix would even bother to watch.

But that's not going to stop us at Sports Karma. This is a contest right in our wheelhouse. In fact, the underdog quotient of this World Series is so far off the charts, it makes Eli Manning and the New York Giants sick with envy. Consider for a moment that the Tampa Bay Rays will have to face at some point during the Series none other than Mr. Comeback, Brad Lidge. In order to complete the single greatest turnaround in team sports history, the Rays will have to face Lidge who is looking to complete one of the single greatest turnarounds by a pitcher in baseball history. Something or someone will have to give way in that scenario, especially if it's the bottom of the ninth.

Or even better, Brad Lidge vs. Evan Longoria, bottom of the ninth, Game Freaking Seven. It could happen. The end result could be either the greatest redemption of any pitcher in my lifetime or the final conquest of a team that could revolutionize the game of baseball from a fiscal standpoint. It could just join our list of favorite World Series moments this decade. We've compiled our Top Five.

One thing of note before we begin: The 2005 and 2006 World Series are both curiously absent from this list. The reasoning is pretty simple, actually. We're Astros fans here, and as far as we're concerned, nothing good happened either year. The Astros got swept by the White Sox in 2005. The Cardinals, more specifically the Antichrist, won their ring in 2006. In fact, let's just begin this before I start swearing like a terminally ill Tourette's patient.

5. Roger Clemens throws Mike Piazza's broken bat back at him (2000 World Series).

When this first happened in the 2000 World Series, I had absolutely no opinion of the act, and frankly didn't care to as it was the Subway Series, Yankees-Mets, and I was openly rooting for them, like most Americans, to both lose.

As this decade comes to a close, though, this has become a retroactive favorite of ours if for no other reason than it marks our first legitimate reason to truly hate Roger Clemens. At the time, you may recall the only people who hated Roger Clemens were Red Sox fans (justifiably) and Blue Jays fans (also justifiable but rather questionable as no one has ever actually met a Blue Jays fan).

This marked the first time that pretty much everyone agreed that Clemens had done something truly despicable. Clemens lobbing Mike Piazza's broken bat at his head while he was jogging down the first basepath set the stage for the 2004 All-Star Game where Piazza allegedly tipped Clemens' signs to the American League hitters. It would also retroactively explain why he came back to Houston, pitched one season, hijacked the team for a ridiculous amount of money the year after, refused to travel with the team unless he absolutely had to, took his sweet-ass time decided whether he was going to pitch again for the Astros until they paid his absurd ransom, left the Astros hanging because he had to go pitch for the Yankees who actually would capitulate to his absurd ransom, and then in the end, have his entire career become a sham due to both his monumentally bloated ego and his involvement in steroid use.

So yeah, Clemens was a douchebag. And this was the first time everyone noticed. Good times!

4. George W. Bush's First Pitch (Game 3--2001 World Series)

There was a point in time when George W. Bush wasn't a lameduck president with failed foreign policies, a collapsed economy, a corrupt administration and a general populace that pretty much despised him.

There was a point in time when a shell-shocked nation turned to George W. Bush for guidance and strength. And for perhaps the only time in his administration, he delivered. A deeply-grieving nation returned to New York City for the first memorable sporting event held there since the 9/11 terrorist attacks. People really have forgotten this, but at the time, this was one of the ballsiest acts by a president since Reagan appeared in Berlin and demanded that Gorbachev "tear down this Wall."

Remember back to life shortly after 9/11, and security was a monumental issue. Bush's appearance at the 2001 World Series was a pretty brass move at the time when we were still rather skittish about whether the president should be seen in public not because of his policies and demeanor, but rather because we were literally fearful for his life. And ours for that matter.

Bush assuaged the American public's fear not with an act of foreign policy, but rather with a singular act. A high strike on a change-up. It was the perfect pitch at the right time.

3. Manny Ramirez accepts the 2004 World Series MVP Award

I was a production assistant for ESPN Radio during the Red Sox miracle run through the 2004 playoffs. Because I had spoken to Terry Francona and David Ortiz on a semi-regular basis to secure interviews, I had taken a liking to this particular team, and although I never spoke to him, I loved Manny Ramirez.

He disappointed me to no end with his act this season, subsequently forcing his way out of Boston and into Dodger Blue. That said, there is absolutely no better quote that could not only summarize that 2004 Red Sox team, but Manny Ramirez himself.

"I don't believe in curse. I believe you make your own destination."

Well said, Manny. Well said. I can only hope that after he retires, Manny Ramirez will fade into Bolivian too.

2. Jeff Suppan is annointed "Crappiest Baserunner Alive" by Cardinals' third base coach, Jose Oquendo (2004 World Series)

I'm really disappointed that I couldn't find a better picture of this moment or a YouTube clip of it either. It was seriously funny.

As an Astros fan, Cardinals hater, and at the time due to my aforementioned ties to the team, a Red Sox supporter, I wanted to not only see the Red Sox win, but more importantly, I wanted the Cardinals lose because they were the ones who vanquished the Astros in the 2004 NLCS.

The Red Sox were up two games to none on the Cardinals with the Series heading back to St. Louis. Jeff Suppan was the starting pitcher for the home team, and in the third inning somehow found himself standing on third base. He got caught up in a run-down on what was a routine pop-up. He should have scored on a sacrifice fly, but no. Suppan inexplicably forgot the rules of baseball, got about halfway down the line, and realized he forgot to tag the base first before heading home. This led to a comical scramble back to third base, and as Bill Simmons described it in Now I Can Die In Peace, it was "the first moment in baseball history where a third base coach walked away from a baserunner in disgust during the play."

The third base coach in question was ex-Cardinal shortstop Jose Oquendo. He just threw up his hands and refused to even look at Suppan as he tried to get back to third base. It was pretty much the moment in time when everyone knew the Red Sox were going to win this thing, and more importantly, that the Cardinals were going to lose.

1. Luis Gonzalez's game-winning hit off of Mariano Rivera (Game 7--2001 World Series)

Perhaps the greatest World Series of all-time was ended by a bloop single from Luis Gonzalez. Everyone remembers this. But here's what most people don't remember. At the time, seeing Mariano Rivera fold under the pressure was the equivalent of seeing Ivan Drago cut in Rocky IV. It wasn't just shocking. Up until that point, I don't think anyone had ever done it before.

The Diamondbacks had accomplished what nobody else thought was even possible. They shut down and bullied the baddest man on the planet at the time. Rivera has still been dominant as the Yankees' closer, but after the 2001 World Series he lost his invincibility permanently.

When one considers the circumstances surrounding the 2001 World Series, it seems unfathomable that we could witness anything that epic for this year's contest between the Rays and the Phillies.

But I think we will see something as equally dramatic. Will we see Evan Longoria face Brad Lidge in the bottom of the ninth of Game 7 to decide the 2008 World Series?

I say yes. It will be the greatest World Series moment seen by no one else but us.

Rays of Hope: Why The Red Sox Aren't Done Yet

2008-10-16T03:16:00.008-05:00

It has been long established on Sports Karma that we support the underdog. We love Boise State going for two, the 14th seed in the NCAA Tournament that won't go away, The Miracle On Ice, William Wallace savaging the British Empire and Ric Ocasek of The Cars, who may be the biggest underdog-made-good ever, when you consider that he married supermodel Paulina Porizkova. Seriously, Ric Ocasek looks like Howard Stern on a heroin bender. How he wooed her is a bigger upset than Buster Douglas knocking out Mike Tyson.

But I digress. All that said, it should stand to reason that we should be supporting the Tampa Bay Rays, a completely anonymous collection of young talent that spanked the Red Sox and Yankees all year long, won the AL East and now are on the precipice of going to their first World Series in franchise history. This from a team that has never won more than 70 games in a season, was routinely mocked by both the baseball pundits and the rich jocks in their division who were both too busy outspending their way into superiority, and would never stoop so low as to pay their lowly basement-dwelling cousins to the south much attention.

But now the Rays have the Red Sox down three games to one, and all the major websites and sportswriters seem to almost concede this series to Tampa Bay. After all, they did just massacre Tim Wakefield's knuckler in Game 4, and this Red Sox team, unlike the 2004 and 2007 teams, don't have Manny Ramirez anymore. The Citgo sign behind The Green Monster just caught fire as well, so many view this as a foreshadowing of sorts, symbolizing the Red Sox inevitable doom.

Maybe I'm wrong. If I am, this piece will look incredibly silly, but I wouldn't exactly write the 2008 Red Sox obituary just yet. Consider the last five years, if you will:

2003: Down 2-0 to Oakland in the ALDS. They won the series 3-2
2004: Down 3-0 to the Yankees in the ALCS. They won the series 4-3, and became the only team in baseball history to comeback from being down three games to none.
2007: Down 3-1 to Cleveland in the ALCS. They were supposed to be beaten by the Indians' two-headed pitching monster in Sabathia and Carmona. They won the series anyway, 4-3.

I don't know whether the Red Sox simply thrive better in do-or-die circumstances, but I do know that they have consistently demonstrated more resiliency and more moxy in pressure situations than any team has over the last five years. And while the faces have changed slightly, a few things haven't.

Namely...

1. Terry Francona

Until he's proven otherwise, Terry Francona is simply the best big-game manager currently alive. I would take Francona over every other manager in the big leagues, without fail. Not Torre, Leyland, LaRussa, Pinella or anyone else. Francona has captured two rings since being hired on in 2004 by getting more out of his players' abilities, trusting in them to get their job done without ridicule, tuning out the uber-cynical Boston media, and carefully managing the unending circus that comes with being baseball's biggest draw.

His counterpart, Rays manager Joe Maddon, has done a miraculous job of transforming the culture of a losing franchise, and knowing how to handle an incredibly young team of men still learning not just how to play baseball at the highest level, but how to manage their emotions as well. Remember, this is a Rays team that earlier in the season was busy fighting all comers from the Red Sox and the Yankees, and when they got done fighting them, they fought each other in the clubhouse. This is also a team that features budding superstar B.J. Upton, who on multiple occasions, has been benched by Maddon for not hustling out ground balls and pop-ups.

Maddon should be credited for keeping all of these guys together when it seems they could very well have crumbled with all the fighting and lackadaisical play. However, it should be noted that Maddon is a disciple of Los Angeles Angels manager Mike Scioscia. Let the record reflect that Francona owns a record over Scioscia in the playoffs that I think is roughly 293-0. My math could be slightly off on this one, but I think Argentina put up more of a fight over the Falkland Islands than Scioscia has in the playoffs against Francona.

If the Rays actually manage to lose this series to Francona and the Red Sox, I'm sure Scioscia might confront Maddon in his room and ask him how he managed to lose in such a fashion. I can only imagine that Maddon would respond like this:

2. Big Papi

Yes, I know he hasn't been playing well. Yes, I know he hasn't been healthy this year. Yes, I'm also aware that he may no longer be what he once was, that his three-year window may have shut and that David Ortiz may very well be remembered like Kurt Warner, The Ultimate Warrior or Axl Rose. Three to four years of absolutely mind-boggling, gooseflesh-rendering dominance followed by a rather drastic and equally absolute fall from grace.

But are we seriously going to shelve the greatest clutch hitter of my lifetime just yet? Does anyone really believe that the 2008 ALCS will be Papi's Spaghetti Incident? I highly doubt it, and it is moments like tonight where David Ortiz has been at his best.

3. Red Sox Nation

Simply put, the Nation is everywhere, and especially in Florida where, literally, millions of New England transplants and retirees now live. Let's just say that the Red Sox steal Game 5 at Fenway. Don't you think the Nation is going to show up en masse to Tropicana Field for a Game 6 and a potential Game 7? Won't Game 6 really be nothing more than a glorified home game? And how do you really think a young Rays team is going to respond when it appears the home crowd is cheering against them? Given their collective temperament does it seem totally illogical that they'd want to go beat the crap out of the paying customers for not cheering them on?

Maybe this is all moot. If the Rays take care of business in Boston tonight, they will face Philadelphia for the 2008 World Series. Win or lose against the Phillies, the Tampa Bay Rays will have accomplished one of the most remarkable turnarounds in sports history. By and large, they already have.

But they still have to kill the Red Sox first. And as Oakland, New York and Cleveland can tell you, killing them might actually be the more remarkable achievement.