The Legend of Cecilio Guante

Jennie Finch is Like Vintage Big Unit on the Mound...in Some Ways

2009-07-17T08:15:00.009-04:00

I'm Intimidated

OK, so sports-watching options were slim and weak last night. The Mets opened up the second half like a house-on-fire predictably dropping to the Bravos 5-3. After that, I found myself aching for some SportsCenter only to find the U.S. still playing the Netherlands in World Cup of Softball? The event is sponsored by Kentucky Fried Chicken, of course, the international ambassador of fried chicken. Here's the scary part. It was infinitely better than what they were televising on ESPN2, and I like lacrosse. But really? The Bud Light Skills competition? At least at the hockey skills challenge there are some people in the arena. Ugh, bru-tal.

Anyway, back to the softball. More specifically, back to Jennie Finch. Now, you'd have to be buried far beneath the work not to follow sports as a young male and not have somehow stumbled on maybe a story or mention somehwere of this Finch character. But, I'll be honest...I can't recall ever actually sitting and watching her pitch over multiple innings. Two basic observations from watching only two innings of work.

First off, she is nasty. Her stuff. The change-up, riseball, all that sh*t. Filthy. Came into yesterday's game in relief and tossed 11Ks in four innings of work. She is also crazy intense on the mound and just has that look that you see in somebody like a Paps or a Unit. Just crazy-focused and an absolute gamer. A lot of the other girls look like they're just out there "playing." She looks every second like she's competing. You pick this up watching one batter. I know some of you think I'm crazy (for even talking U.S. softball right now), but I'm telling you.

Second, she looks like Manute-freakin'-Bol on the non-hill. In terms of the height. She's actually significantly better looking than Manute Bol. It's also a very good thing the bump is on level ground in the ladies' game otherwise she would frighten off children. She really did remind me of Randy Johnson on the mound in that respect. She towers over people. My first thought was "how tall is this woman?" Answer: 6'0. This partly explains why she looks like a 17 year-old camp counselor ushering around a bunch of 12 year-old girls at sleepaway camp.

By my precise math, I've decided that Finch towers over her peers in much the same way Randy Johnson does when he steps on the diamond - maybe to an even greater degree. Finch can also hurl that thing much like the Big Unit. Physical appearance is where any similarities quickly cease.

Got an Hour to Kill? Hit Epic Carnival for Ultimate "Top 40"

2009-07-16T22:19:00.007-04:00

It's undoubtedly one of the best top 40s we've heard since Casey Kasem. If you've got some time you need to kill, bookmark this post right now. Do it.

The fine folks at Epic Carnival, who've been more than kind with their linkage to the LCG in the past, have taken the time to find, rank and provide their top 40 Bud Light Real Men of Genius commercials. It is a historic work, and I feel ashamed that it's taken me more than two weeks since its original posting to track it down.

Joking aside, I know how long a seemingly simple post can be to put together, and Epic Carnival has done so real yeoman's work here. A complete list of 40 with accompanying YouTube videos for each and every one one of them. Once I clicked on #40, it was a slippery slope to an hour of pure amusement. My personal top 10 with the number they ranked in EC post:

Mr. Jean Shorts Inventor (#40): Any time jorts are involved it's pure gold.

Mr. Way Too Proud of Texas Guy (#37): This is so funny, because it's totally true. Texans love to remind themselves and others they live in Texas. I dated a girl from Austin for a bit, and I fell in love with that city. That said, they brand that damn Lone Star on their beer bottles, belt buckles, dumpsters, heck even the sidewalks have lone stars on metal plates. You know, just in case you're walking down the street and forget what state you're in.

Mr. Footlong Hot Dog Inventor (#36): One of the original classics. I remember this one fondly.

Mr. Chinese Food Delivery Guy (#29): Distinctly remember hearing this for the first time in a car and almost spitting up. The lyrics ring so true except it's about six minutes if you're talking NYC Chinese Food Delivery Guy.

Mr. Bowling Shoe Giver Outer (#25): I just like "giver outer"...as a general rule tied to anything.

Mr. Cell Phone Holster Wearer (#19): One of my favorite guys ever!

Mr. Grocery Store Cart Wrangler (#12): Is there a more thankless man of genius?

Mr. T-Shirt Launch Inventor (#8): I've touched on the men who ply their trade with this invention.

Mr. Hair Gel Over-Geller (#7): Immediately reminded of this classic video (portions NSFW).

Mr. Taco Salad Inventor (#4 and #35): My #1."Is your taco salad healthy...of course it is, it's a salad isn't it."

There are other great ones within this quite "epic" post. Go. Read. Watch. Do it. What does this have to do with sports? Very little. The commercials are marketed to sports fans? A few sports fan parodies on the list? Sure, good enough criteria-hitting for me.

LCG Random: Charlie O'Brien

2009-07-16T22:02:00.004-04:00

Do You Remember?

This is part of a series, people. Or at least that's the idea.

LCG Era Random strikes again! What's on my mind, today? Punch-less catchers who seem to hang around forever despite being a complete and utter liability at the plate. Modern-day folks like Brian Schneider and Gregg Zaun come to mind, although they're Hank Aaron compared to today's athlete of focus. LCG Era Random is all about taking a trip in the way-back machine. Today's destination: Charlie O'Brien.

C'mon...don't even pretend you don't remember Charlie. I think defensive catchers who made their living based on what they did behind the plate and not at the dish, and I think...Charlie O'Brien. And when I think OB, I also think fropermullet. That would be the unique combination of afro, perm and mullet that created those gorgeous locks of his. Powerful stuff. In all seriousness, though, I love these types of guys. The modern-day Charlie O'Brien? Thinking maybe our boy Mikey DiFelice?

Anyway, I often find myself talking sports with friends, all of us whom played some level of organized sports either throughout high school, college or both, and we remind ourselves that these guys are so filthy good we can't even comprehend. The biggest stiff on an NBA bench? That guy was All-State and probably All-Conference at some major D1 school. The pea-shooter journeyman out of the pen? We likely wouldn't be able to touch his stuff. Average fourth-string receiver relegated to an NFL special-teamer? Not unlikely there are trophy cases dedicated to said receiver's exploits at his high school alma mater.

So much is to say, while I mildly poke fun at Charlie for his hair and lack of pop, it's all relative. Dude played for 15 seasons in the majors. That's OK in my book. In going back into the archives, we found some more fun-filled facts about Charlie O and uncovered one reason O'Brien has left a much longer-lasting impact on the game. It is seriously a big deal, and I'm embarrassed that I was completely unaware of it. In the spirit of LCG Era Random, drink in these tidbits:

Career Stats
Batting Average - .221
Home Runs: 56
RBI: 261

Featured on the cover of this 1994 SI issue. Baseball brawls. A shoo-in topic for a future LCG Era Random. Those things were great. Uhhh, I mean terrible and reprehensible. Anyway, here's OB throwing a couple haymakers to...wait a second, that's John Cangelosi? In his memorable stint as a Met? Is that Terry Pendelton in the background? Oh, LCG Era Random is the gift that keeps on giving.

But, this is not the lasting legacy on baseball I was referring to earlier. Nope. You know those hockey mask style helmets you see a lot of catchers rocking today? Guess who you can thank for those? You got it...Charlie O'Brien. I, for one, had no idea. The man was not only a damn good defensive catcher, he was a visionary. Hell, he's an innovator. Not sure what it says for the rest of the catchers who got repeatedly drilled in the head that nobody else ever thought of an alternative, but kudos to OB. The Wikipedia-approved short version of the story along with photo:

After getting smashed in his mask by two consecutive foul-tip balls in a game, O'Brien had the idea for a new catcher's mask (a helmet, actually) while he was watching a hockey game. He worked with Van Velden Mask Inc., of Hamilton, Ontario, Canada, to develop his idea. The new design, called the All-Star MVP, was approved in 1996 by Major League Baseball.

Charlie O'Brien. That's what popped into my head today. And that, my friends, is what LCG Era Random is all about. Feeling it? Don't care. I'm gonna keep doing it.

Favre: Enough with You and Your Deadlines. GO AWAY Already

2009-07-16T09:14:00.005-04:00

Cry Me a River

I effing can't stand Brett-effin-Fav-Ra. Sure, I've more subtly thrown barbs at the ole' gunslinger in the past, but, truth be told, I wasn't a permanent resident of Hateville, U.S.A. I'm now a card-carrying member. I've reached a breaking point, and, more than anything, I hate Favre for making me hate Favre.

You see, I fell hook, line and sinker for the pitch. Down-to-Earth, laid-back Southern boy rocking Wranglers and playing the game he loves the way we loved to watch him play it. I couldn't get enough. Give me one NFL player to hang out with, and I'm on the next flight down to Mississippi to throw in a lipper, sit on a boat, fish and maybe drink some Busch beer (at least that's how I'd like to envision it). Even after a few of his earlier retirement shenanigans, I was all sorts of fired up at news of his signing by the Jets.

Now? Now! I can't cope with this nonsense anymore. Network crews should just start annually parking their trucks down in Hattiesburg. Attention! Attention! I'm Brett Favre, and I've got an announcement to make! Yesterday, his media whoredome jumped to new heights as the Un-Retirer publicly declared his own self-imposed deadline to announce his decision on playing for the Vikings this 2009 season - to the Vikings and the woooorld!

Yes, the one-man PR machine that is Favre has created at least another week of Favre-a-licious media coverage as analysts break down the zip on his out routes to HS sophomores while he of the cannon arm rocks cargo shorts and shades rest on his head. Gag me with a spoon.

So, when is this new deadline you ask? Well, it's seems it will be convenient for Brett to figure it all out by the first day of Vikings training camp on July 30th. Love yourself much? Apparently dominating the headlines for the better part of the summer is an ambition he'll look to push to its ultimate limits. Luckily for Vikings players, coaches, staff and management, their opening day will have absolutely nothing to do with their existing team, new arrivals or the opening of camp itself. Instead, it will be all about #4, which is exactly the way he likes it.

Way to go, Favre. You've quite literally gone from an all-time favorite of mine to one of my most disliked players. Yet again, you've somehow compelled me to write - regardless of tone or critique - about you. I hate myself for doing that. No more. Maybe you'll end up on the Vikings. I'd prefer at this point you just go away -- quietly. Either way, I don't give a damn what you think you're entitled to! Sorry, always wanted to work that in...

LCG Era Random: Nehemiah and Gault Olympic Gridiron

2009-07-15T20:20:00.007-04:00

Ummm...Riiight

This is part of a series, people. Or at least that's the idea.

LCG Era Random in the hiz-ouse! I can't get enough of this notion! I may post random sports crap from my ute-dom for all eternity! Here's one for ya. Olympians playing on NFL teams. A lil' sumpin' I remember from my younger days. Perhaps, you too?

Yes, former Olympian Track & Field stars playing ball on Sunday was all the rage back in the 80s and early 90s. May it please the court, we offer exhibits Gault and Nehemiah. First, fast Willie. Now, truth be told, Gault and Nehemiah had little in common besides making on Olympic team. Willie Gault was an All-American receiver at Tennessee and a track star. He made the 80s Olympic team, but we boycotted. He later won a medal in the boycott games and, according to Wikipedia (bless its little heart), even made the American Olympic bobsled team on one occasion? Is this a bad Cool Runnings joke?

Anyway, Gault came up with the Bears and then - stop me if you've heard this one - was snatched up by the Raiders who loved his speed. Oh, Al Davis, when will you ever learn? Gault managed to log a more-than-respectable 11-year NFL career during which he caught 333 passes and found the endzone 45 times.

Nehemiah, on the other hand, was seen as a glorified PR stunt. Remember how Usain Bolt and NFL discussions strangely reared their head around these here Internets about a year ago (and even recently)? Imagine all that...but then someone actually handed over a contract, a uniform and a playbook. That's basically what happened wiht Renaldo Nehemiah.

Nehemiah was a legendary hurdler who dominated the sport in the late 70s and early 80s setting record after record. Then, he got invited in 1982 to work out for some NFL teams. The 49ers signed him up and put him on the field. Three years later, Nehemiah's career ended with 43 receptions and four touchdowns (and one Super Bowl ring). Legendary hurdler? Check. Stud receiver? Not so much. Renaldo today is a marketer/consultant to several of track & field's biggest stars, yet I remember him expressly due the buzz that surrounded hsi signing by the Niners.

You know the scariest part about all this? I was five when Nehemiah put on a gold helmet for the first time. Gault's career spanned ages six to 16. I remember, thouhg, no joke. Nuts. The moral of the story? Olympic-caliber athletes are stupid-fast. That doesn't guarantee they'll be superstar football players. I do recall.

LCG Era Random

2009-07-15T20:17:00.005-04:00

Do You Remember?

So, here's the deal folks. Thank as always to those who come and comment frequently. And those of you who come occasionally and never comment. As well as those poor schleps who just stumble onto this page and decide to stick around a minute or two. You people are the salt o' the earf. I'm going to keep doing this the best I can until my wife cuts of our home Internet service or impounds my laptop. I'm also going to try to start bringin' this blog back to its roots a bit.

I talk about the era of throwing inside and trash talk and all that. My namesake is Cecilio-freakin'-Guante. As a kid/early teen (OK, so maybe even a little older), I collected baseball cards and rookie sets like it was going out of style. I bought NFL Films videos (actually, mom) and watched them over and over. I had handmade collages up on my wall various members of the Colorado Buffaloes , the team I adopted as my college football quad following Sal Aunese's death in 1989 (I went on to obsess over Westbrook, Hagan, Bieniemy, Alfred, Woolfork, Fauria, Steed, Figures and so many others).

Those were the good ole' days as they say. Very few worries in the world. Not at all jaded and far too ignorant to know any better than to unequivocally love sports and athletes as if they were deities. I still remember those days. In the past, I've made some ill-fated attempts to harken back to that era with "regular features" that died by volume tw o. Frankly, almost every consisent thing I've tried thus far (outside the regular flow of somewhat current news and commentary) has pretty much fallen apart.

The reality is that I don't really have the time or energy for link round-ups. It's not what I do here, and it probably never will be. There are a ton of great, creative sports bloggers out there who I'm happy to hype and link to on occasion. I'll also continue to read and comment on their blogs regularly. The whole process of pulling them all together in a consistent "dump?" Probably not going to happen. For similar reasons, my novel-length "weekly reminiscences" are not destined for longevitiy.

Therefore, I'm going to try something new. It may just have a chance. Or it may die like a whole bunch of other not-so-brilliant half-assed, poorly-thought-through ideas I've had over the past two years related to this blog. Here's the gist. I write about random athletes, events or sports "things" that stick out from my youth in what is left of my memory. They don't have to be particulary notable or have done anything special. They just stick out in my head for whatever reason. Scientific. Exact. Precise.

This concept has little to no potential to drive traffic and linkage, and will likely be completely irrelevant to anything timely going on in the world of sports. And that's sort of the point. I'm going to wax poetic on topics of interest to 0.2% of the sports blog-reading population. Subject matter will be explored in great depth that has zero significance to a large portion of the 18-24 crowd. I am actually mildly excited about the prospect.

I am just going to write about random sports stuff from the wonder years. I shall call it LCG Era Random. The first installment will come later tonight...or tomorrow. It will then continue for many, many years, or not at all. Here's to...whatever.

Later, people.

2009 All-Star Game: Two Thumbs Up

2009-07-14T22:39:00.012-04:00

A Solid Show from the 'Lou

Good stuff for the most part on the All-Star game. I love baseball for many reasons. Just one is that this game is the only all-star event in professional sports that has some sort of mystique, a bit of pageantry and players actually playing the game. Tonight's edition of the midsummer classic was near-perfect. Well-played for the most part. Crisp. Competitive. Lots of young faces and stars. Enjoyable all around.

Outside of Buck and McCarver who were typically intolerable, I was pleasantly entertained from the time I got home for the third inning through to the finish. MLB All-Star games also give this NL diehard a chance to see players I almost never see, along with a few NLers that don't make it East all that much. Of course, it's hard to pick up much of anything when players are coming in and out like musical chairs. However, this much I think I deduced...many of these things I'd heard but never witnessed...the moments were fleeting, but convincing:

Carl Crawford can still flat out fly
Greinke is as nasty as advertised; can see how he dominated out of the gates
The fact that Orlando Hudson is a lifelong Mets fan and admits to wanting to play in New York makes my physically sick every time I watch him play. At least we've got Castillo...
Joe Mauer is the natural
Adam Jones appears to be what you would get if you tried to artificially create a superstar modern outfielder in a lab
I'm still convinced Heath Bell's stint in San Diego is a mirage
I watch him constantly, but it hit home again tonight...Shane Victorino might be the most shining example of a guy who I hate as a member of the Phils, but would absolutely love if on my team

That is all. Tomorrow...sports silence blankets our nation.

From "Zero" to "Hero": Well-Played, Matt Cassel

2009-07-14T22:10:00.006-04:00

They are just throwing out ridiculous contracts left and right this week, huh? First, Marcin Gortat and now Matty Cassel? When will the wonders cease?! Seriously, one could make a case that these two deals - worth nearly $100M combined - are two of the more startling in recent memory for very different reasons.

Not that I'm equating them in any way. Shoot me down should you differ, but I've got way fewer problems with Cassel who is going to endure 16 games worth of pummeling as a starting QB in the NFL. Gortat's $34M to log 10 minutes/game to give Dwight Howard a blow? More of an issue.

But this isn't about comparing uncomparable contracts. This is about the absolute coup that Matt Cassel has pulled off here. I'm not going to belittle my supremely sports-educated readers on the Matt Cassel Story they already know backwards and forwards. Still, you've got to give some props to a guy who never started a college game at QB and is now set to make $63 million over a six-year deal with $28M gah-ron-teeed. Suck on that clipboard, eh.

History will now be the judge as to whether this is looked back upon as a shrewd move by a franchise in desperate need of a steadying force that picked up a good young quarterback to lead their team for years. Or a desperate move by a team blinded by a one-hit wonder and doomed to be haunted by its leap of faith. I, for one, am very interested to see how Cassel fares during the 2009 campaign. Is he the next Steve Bono or the Brady story part deux? I don't know, brain is fried. Talk amongst yourselves.

The Clippers Could Be...Interesting?

2009-07-14T08:28:00.014-04:00

Hmmm...Very Int-er-esting

The Clip Joint is still the Clip Joint. Hence, why they picked #1 this year. So, making any claims that the Clippers will be "good" is somewhat irresponsible and rather foolhardy. However, on roster name value alone, the team is certainly moving further toward at least being compelling to watch. The latest? A.I. in "serious talks" with the "other" LA squad.

Now, let's assume for a second that A.I. heads out to Hollywood. Put aside the fact that the Clippers have three guys who love to score and have occasionally or frequently played point guard in The Answer, Baron Davis and Eric Gordon. Eradicate the knowledge that the Clippers ranked 24th in the NBA in team defense last year. For the purpose of this exercise, consider only the names and "talent" of the core folks that would be on the Clippers roster (assume for fantasy-land purposes all are at optimal levels health):

Baron Davis
Allen Iverson
Eric Gordon
Blake Griffin
Marcus Camby
Al Thornton

No offense to Chris Kaman, Ricky Davis and the rest of the crew. I also won't try to guess what's going to happen with other free agents, but you can already add Q-Rich to the mix and subtract Zach Randolph. Removing Randolph can only mean better things for any franchise. Compelling right? Even if only from an offensive standpoint.

In reality, who knows how this will pan out. Griffin may be a non-factor. Camby could easily break in half as he's been known to do. A.I. and Davis could prove to be further on the downslope than anyone imagined. The triumvirate of Gordon, Davis and A.I. might spiral into the chaotic mess it seems almost destined to become. Yet, based on talent alone, these names make the team immediately more intriguing to this admittedly less-than-diehard NBA fan.

We shall see...it's a brutal Western Conference...and they're still the Clippers...I have lost it, right?

Thrilling Time in Sports

2009-07-14T08:15:00.003-04:00

I just got reminded how the All-Star break eradicates the only thing going in sports. ESPN First Take's "teaser" this morning...

- Breakdown of Blake Griffin's summer league debut

- An update on Lance at the Tour de France

- Previews of the Dolphins and Jaguars

Is it football season yet? Although, not-for-nothing, Griffin did throw up 27 and 12 in 30 minutes against the Lake Show. I am intrigued.

Ichiro Deserves More Love, I Shall Oblige.

2009-07-12T22:46:00.012-04:00

Sure, he's made numerous All-Star games. Everyone knows he's a hit machine. But, as one of the guilty parties, how many of us have really recognized what Ichiro Suzuki has done since arriving in Seattle in 2001?

As an NL guy, I rarely get to see him play outside of the midsummer classic or the postseason (which hasn't been in the cards for the M's since Suzuki's 2001 rookie season). Add in the very real east coast bias of the national media, and it's easy to occasionally forget what this man is doing (and has done) in the Pacific Northwest.

Because he's not blasting home runs, we don't see him night-after-night on SportsCenter. In fact, we don't see much from Seattle period (goes back to that whole ESPN Sox-Mets-Yanks lovefest thing). Since he's not a loudmouth or malcontent, he doesn't make headlines in the gossip columns or rumor mills. What's the point of all this? We need to stop and look. The microscope needs to be dialed up and focused on #51. I did, and I was blown away.

Last summer, Erie's Scribe sang Ichiro's praises after catching a few Tribe-Ms games. He gushed actually, saying: "woe is the fan who hasn't seen the Ichiro experience, damn you Seattle for keeping it to yourselves." He's right. Only they haven't kept him from us per se, we've just chosen not to pay attention for whatever reason. Admit it. When I say "best players of the decade," unless you're from the Emerald City, chances are good Ichiro Suzuki isn't coming out of your mouth first...or second...or maybe even at all.

Here's why it should. Baseball is a sport whose culture - for better or worse - is all about stats. Stats and accolades. And while chicks may dig the long ball, there are plenty of other statistics in the game. So when judging a player, we frequently consult the numbers to tell the story - if not at the very least the Cliff Notes-version. It doesn't matter how you slice Ichiro's tale. His accomplishments from 2001-2009 are absolutely ree-freakin'-diculous. Consider...

We'll start off with some figures that may not get you to the Hall-of-Fame directly, but they sure are helpful in terms of acheiving the milestones that do. These also get a ton of respect from me, someone who's watched a walking wounded Mets crew all season. Games played. 157, 157, 159, 161, 162, 161. 161, 162. Ichiro's played in 78 so far in 2009.

How 'bout hits? Many are aware Ichiro is a one-man hit parade. Over 200 hits every season and on-pace to crush 200 again this year (currently at 125). Has led the League in hits five of his eight completed seasons, and betting on six of nine is showing pretty good odds.

One of only two players (Fred Lynn being the other) to win Rookie of the Year and MVP honors in same season. During that 2001 campaign, Suzuki hit .350 with 56 steals during a Gold Glove regular season. He hit .421 in ten 2001 playoff games.

.332 career average. He's yet to finish a season under .300 (.303 lowest, .372 highest).

Nine of nine All-Star games

Eight of eight Gold Gloves

Two Silver Slugger awards

The list goes on and on. It's not preposterous to put him in the conversation of some of MLB's best all-time leadoff men. The only questions that may linger around Suzuki are "what ifs?" What if he'd started his career in the States? Would he already have reached 3,000 hits? Would he have a shot at Rose? What if he'd been on a winning team for all these years? What if he played in a bigger media market?

Regardless, of the "what ifs" Ichiro's greatness should be without question. It's about time a few more of us started to recognize it.

Worst. Lineup. Ever.

2009-07-10T23:26:00.019-04:00

One of the Many Minor Leaguers in Friday's Legendary Lineup

I get that the Mets have injuries. I'm not expecting much. In fact, what I've come to expect is basically what I witnessed in person earlier this evening. That is to say, a ship without a rudder aimlessly wandering through the seas waiting for some one or some thing to mercilessly end the journey. None of this changes the fact that the lineup the New York Mets rolled out for a regular season game at Citi Field tonight was one of the most staggeringly pitiful collection of so-called Major Leaguers I can remember. Ever.

I could talk about the game and chronicle the pathetic effort. I could talk about Bronson Arroyo's continued career domination of the Metros. There would certainly be ample opportunity to break down Arroyo's four-hit complete game shutout. Not going to do that, though. Nope, just going to let you fair readers check out tonight's Mets lineup and let the beauty of it all just wash over you. Don't pinch yourself. This is, in fact, a Major League starting slate.

Imagine a PA announcer belting this out. Now, imagine it actually happened.

Leading off...in centerfield...#16...Angel Pagan

Batting second...the shortstop...Alex Cora

Hitting third (editor emphasis)...the (ahem) first baseman...#28...Daniel Murphy

Batting clean up...#5 David Wright

Batting fifth...the rightfielder...Jeremy Reed

In leftfield...Fernando...Tatis

Batting seventh...the catcher...Brian Schneider

At shortstop...batting eighth...Argenis Reyes

And on the mound for the Mets...Fernando Nieve

Now, outside of Mets fans, there have to be a least a fair number of "who's?" going on. I don't blame you. It's downright laughable at this point. Luckily, I get to watch Jeff Francouer swing at absolutely everything now. Should be fun. Mets = good times!

Can Someone Explain to Me When Baseball Bloopers are Funny?

2009-07-09T22:06:00.009-04:00

Let me start by saying my mood is poor right now. Late night. Botched dinner. Hungry and cranky. It's bad without even factoring in this crap. So, if what comes next seems unnecessarily acerbic, such may be the case. So, what's got me all riled up tonight, you may ask? Baseball bloopers.

Yup. That's right. The time-honored stadium tradition for gosh-knows-how-many decades thoroughly disgusts me. I'm sick of it, and I need to talk about it. You're my audience for random-as-hell sports rants, so be a polite receiver and listen.

Here's my issue. There are tons of options for in-game entertainment. Music videos. Highlight montages. Sausage races. Even the g-dforsaken kiss cam. And yet, there they are time-after-time. At every game, on comes the between-inning two-minute "bloopers reel" showing HILARIOUS things like people dropping pop-ups, running into railings or (LMFAO!) a ball dropping in-between two players. Oh, it's the kind of laughter that hurts deep down in the belly.

Seriously, I don't remember bloopers ever soliciting a laugh out of me. Like ever. And this isn't meant to be some holier-than-thou I'm-too-good-for-good-ole-fashioned-stadium-entertainment posts. I know there are people out there who really do dig the wave. And although I strenously object, there is a part of me that reconcile what goes on in people's brains that makes such an action seem somewhat approachable.

The soapbox stand on bloopers is is just as much a cry for explanation as a critique. Why are these funny? What's the humorous aspect? Please, someone tell me? I got to dozens of games each year, and I am consistently baffled to hear middle-aged adults hamming it up in response to bloopers -- not to mention it's typically the same reel that's been recycled from the mid-90s. Next time, maybe I'll just ask them. "Sir, what's so funny exactly?"

Some giggles from the kids? That I get...kind of. But if somebody can break down for me the appeal of baseball bloopers to seemingly more than half of the sports-viewing population, I would be forever indebted. I appreciate your illumination on this issue. Now, if you'll excuse me there are some clips of an outfielder slipping that I just must catch. Tootles.

Striking Out Looking

2009-07-08T23:01:00.006-04:00

I Got Nuthin'

Empty pockets, all. I try to bring something original here most days -- or at least adopt a somewhat new take on some old and tired news. But, occasionally -- when you're eating dinner at 10 o'clock, banging out work emails and then finally break out the trusty laptop around this time when all you want to do is sleep -- there just ain't anything. Zippo. Nada. Zilch. Can't even muster an old-fashioned link dump. Too...much...effort. So, I'm not going to try to spin Shawn Marion going to Dallas into something, or the fact that the Mets finally won a game. I'll see if there's some juice tomorrow.

Thomas Jones and His Amazing Technicolor Dream Cars

2009-07-07T22:51:00.025-04:00

A Rainbow of Delicious Fruit Flavors
(Photo: RIDES July/August 2009)

I've had one car in my life. It was a blue mid-90s vintage Isuzu Rodeo. It was phat with a capital P and a freakin' H. I had a bit of a lean-back working when rollin' in the Row-DAY-O, coupled with my head cocked a bit to the right, usually rocking to some Ice Cube track. If anyone had seen me, I likely deserved to get my ass kicked. New York Jets running back Thomas Jones luckily has none of those problems. For starters, with guns like his very few are stepping to him. And, second, the man has does not have one car that puts the Row-DAY-O to shame. He has seven.

From my days working on a brand that catered to "tuners" (you know, the Fast & Furious types), I learned a bit about car culture and read through the prominent publications. Not to mention, I was a mild auto enthusiast in my youth, although it was more on the Road & Track front versus Import Tuner. Let's just say I grew to respect both worlds, appreciating customization and modification, yet not to a degree that it ultimately detracts from an automobile capable of standing as a spectacle in its own right.

All this is to say, Thomas Jones has one of the most ree-donculous fleets I've ever seen...and I actually like it. Without further commentary or preamble, behold the glorious rainbow of Jones' garage. No matter what he does for the Jets this year, I will not question one thing related to his choice of motor vehicles. All photos via RIDES July/August issue.

#1: 2004 Blue Range Rover

#2 and #3: 2004 Green Beamer, 2004 (Chicago Bear) Orange Ferrari

#4: 2006 White Aston Martin

#5: 2006 Yellow Lamborghini

#6: 2004 Red Rolls Phantom

#7: 2005 Bentley

Lucky sevens, indeed. Well played, Mr. Jones. Well played.

No-MAH Garciaparra and HOF: Discuss

2009-07-06T21:35:00.007-04:00

Earlier this evening I happened upon MLB.com trying to quickly catch up on anything missed from the long weekend. In so doing, I landed on this piece that chronicled the warm reception Nomar received upon his first trip back to Fenway since being traded back in 2004. It was nice to hear of the ovations for a guy who owned Boston for an extended period of time. To be honest, it served to remind me that Nomar Garciaparra, not too long ago one of the most feared hitters in the game, was still playing in the majors (albeit sparingly for the Oakland A's).

No one can argue Nomar's greatness - particularly as it relates to his time in Boston. Recalling his heyday also forced me to do what fans often due when trying to assess a player's ultimate legacy or historical standing - consult the stats.

Which is how we landed at one of the favorite topics of baseball fan debate - a question that in only three words can spark the most vociferous responses in all of sports: Hall of Famer? The factors and considerations are plentiful. Do we look at Nomar as a shortstop exclusively? How does one factor injuries into the equation? And, what is frequently becoming a HOF credentials pre-requisite query for players of this era, well, you know...

HOF arguments often begin and end with the numbers. So, at the very least, that's where I started. Twenty-one shortstops currently boast residences in Cooperstown. Here's where Nomar Garciaparra ranks (in a few categories) among that group if his career ended today:

HRs: 228, 4th (behind Banks, Ripken and Yount)
BA: .313, 3rd (behind only Honus Wagner and Arky Vaughan)
RBI: 10th

We'll spare you the complete rundown and comparisons. But consider these additional Nomar notables:

6 All-Star appearances
2 AL batting titles
1997: ROY
1998: Finished second in MVP voting

This, of course, is just a sprinkling of stats and accolades. Take a deeper look. Then, we just want one simple word in the comments. Yes or no. Is Nomar Garciaparra deserving of a spot in Cooperstown?

My vote? A fairly assertive...no. On account mainly of lack of consistency and longevity at his peak performance levels. What say you?

R.I.P., Air McNair

2009-07-04T17:36:00.012-04:00

When I first heard of the death of Steve McNair a few minutes ago, this was the image that immediately popped into my mind. "Air McNair" of Alcorn St. A college football player from a small 1-AA SWAC school who managed to capture the attention of the country. A larger than life athlete.

It is rare any professional athlete touches us personally. For the most part, we are "pure" fans, watching from the outside. We make judgments and assumptions about players' personalities, their character as human beings, their relative "goodness," largely based on perception. Most of us have not been in the locker room with these men or shared a huddle or a team meal alongside them. We watch players like Steve McNair from our living rooms and form opinions from their actions on the playing field, their demeanor and conduct in post-game interviews and a very non-scientific "feel."

Unquestionably, McNair was one of those players (and there aren't many) for whom my perceptions were universally positive. I'm sure countless analysts, former teammates and opponents will share the familiar cliche over the coming days that Steve McNair "played the game right." Too often this is a throw-away line. In this case, it seems more right appropriate for this man than it may be for most other professionals I can think of. He also carried himself - and appeared to be respected -- as an ambassador of the game and of those who shared the same occupation as NFL players. It always appeared McNair's selfless attitude also translated beyond the gridiron.

It's almost always sobering to hear about the death of a player or personality that you "grew up with" through the intermediary of sports, film, publishing or some other media-oriented channel. However, it's far more seldom that the death of an athlete - moreover one that never played on any team to whom you pledge allegiance - floors you. That is the case now, as I pause to reflect following the death of Steve McNair.

The only thing seemingly definitive about this story is that nothing about it is (or will be) immediately clear. McNair's death may reveal things that say more or less about the man over the days and weeks to come. But, for now, sadness is the prevailing emotion. A 36 year-old husband and father of four is gone. Professional football and its fans have lost a man who left indelible memories on so many of my era. RIP, Air McNair.

The Legend Hits Philly Inquirer/I'm Outed

2009-07-03T10:59:00.007-04:00

Well, so much for complete and total anonymity. After being no more than Cecilio's Scribe for two years, I've been outed - in one of the leading newspapers in the country no less.

In a perfect example of the wonderful weirdness that the blogosphere has helped create, your humble editor (pictured to the left) graced the pages of today's print and online editions of the Philadelphia Inquirer. In a story by John Gonzalez (he of recent Internet fame as part of the Ibanez "scandal," and the more reasonable of the two MSMers on that Outside the Lines segment), my Mets addiction and downward sprial toward the recent two-week rehab stint is chronicled in great detail.

It's a sad story but one that could likely be told (in various renditions) by many a Mets fan. My thanks to John who read about (and dug) the whole rehab/detox concept and gave me a call earlier this week for an interview that led to today's column.

For anyone curious, my return to the Mets has been measured and, hence, quite smooth (so far). I'll certainly be keeping close tabs on the Phillies series and hoping the Metros can steal two out of three, but it certainly won't be keeping me up at night if they don't.

Have a great holiday weekend, all.

Back from the Brink: Kudos to Antonio McDyess

2009-07-01T21:02:00.008-04:00

This is the vision of Antonio McDyess I remember best. Hunched over, looking a bit battered. It was six years ago, during the 2003-04 season, when McDyess was a Knick. And for anyone who'd ever watched basketball, he was clearly a player on the way out. Beaten down. Fragile. Fighting an uphill battle with his heart against a body that simly couldn't and wouldn't keep up.

To understand how sad it was to watch, one had to understand the recent history and promise of the player leading up to that point. McDyess had established himself as an NBA stalwart. A member of the 2000 Olympic team, he had the physique and game of Amar'e Stoudamire long before AMare's arrival. During that 2000-01 season, he averaged 20.8 PPG and 12 boards a contest -- and a block-and-a-half a game to boot. He was a member of the Western Conference All-Star team. A 26-year old with plenty of runway left and maybe even some more upside. Then it disappared.

By the time McDyess arrived in New York, a lot had changed. Early in 01-02, he went down with a ruptured patella tendon and has season-ending surgery. It would then be almost two years before he came back to the floor after re-injuries and multiple setbacks. The Knicks had high hopes for McDyess. I remember. I was hoping he was the guy before the injuries. It was clear even early on that he wasn't. Then, it happened again. McDyess didn't even make it through the exhibition season. A broken kneecap in an exhibition game shelved him again.

Eventually, he'd return to play 18 games with the Knicks and finish in Phoenix. Career lows of 5 and change points/boards a game, but, more telling, he looked done. It was like watching Jose Reyes run the bases a few years back. You closed your eyes and hoped nothing bad would happen. In McDyess's case, it was every dunk, rebound of fastbreak. He looked just unsteady enough to go down again.

Regardless, it was clear his career was on the swift decline. It was sad, moreso because you could see in his eyes how hard he'd fought to get back...how much he wanted to be the old explosive Antonio...how hard he was fighting against nature knowing it was a losing battle.

Fast-forward to today and how I landed on this post. Earlier this evening I was reading about the Pistons early moves in free agency, signing Charlie Villaneuva and Ben Gordon. The ESPN story ended with the following:

"The Pistons now turn their attention to re-signing forward Antonio McDyess, but they'll have competition from the Cavaliers, Celtics and Spurs.

And that's when I stopped...and gave Antonio McDyess a long-distance fist-pound. Good for him. Sure, I was fully aware that McDyess was still around and a member of the Pistons. But, in the context of his career, the final sentence of that article is somewhat remarkable. The mere notion of McDyess playing in the NBA if offered up six seasons ago might likely have been greeted with laughter by even the most prophetic of pundits. The concept that McDyess might be sought-after having proved himself still valuable after a season in which he averaged nearly a double-double over 62 games?

Yet, McDyess now enters his 14th season in the NBA and is due to make many millions. Whether it's the Pistons who ante up, or some of the many other suitors rumored to be seriously interested, they're getting a gamer. For anyone who is a Knicks fan like me and watched McDyess wither into a shell of his former self six years ago, it's a pleasure to seeing him continuing to play the game and contribute. Who knows maybe he'll even latch on somewhere with a chance at a ring. It would be a fitting close to a career that many lesser players might have abandoned a long, long time ago.

When Sports and Baby Names Collide

2009-07-01T09:08:00.011-04:00

I Thought He Looked Like a Carlos, Too

Those who've been around the block with me here at the LCG know I'm 31 with the tre-deuce lingering around the corner. It's cool, though. I've come to grips with my 30s. With them has come marriage, talk of mortgages, linked bank accounts, responsibility and all sorts of other frightening things. Meanwhile gunslinging young bucks are seemingly all-around the sports blogosphere. They're all sex, drugs and rock n' roll. Going out on weekends. Getting hangovers. Caruousing. I hate them. Yet, despite our differences a common thread links us. Sports boasts the magical power to bring relevance to virtually every topic. This includes baby names. Yes, baby names.

This fact hit me the other night when my wife and I dined our with one of my childhood buddies and his lovely wife. They're "expecting," so our dinner conversation not-so-surprisingly veered toward the popular topic of baby names. Here's where sports managed to creatively insert itself somewhat unexpectedly.

For a few months, my friend and I (both devout Mets and Jets fans) had casually tossed around some personal favorites - D'Brickshaw and Laverneus among them. Shockingly to both of us, no dice. My wife had even gotten into the spirit offering up Tatis as a fine first name on one occasion. I happened to think it was bold and innovative. Negative traction.

So this past Sunday night, as we enjoyed a lovely "couples meal," some real possibilities were being discussed in between sips of red wine (on a side note, the more the ratio of Bud bottles to glasses of vino shifts in favor of the latter, the older and older I feel). It was in the course of this conversation that I realized the true power and ever-reaching influence of sports fandom.

You see, in addition to the banana-fana-fo-fana game, there are other important filters individuals (e.g., the non-sports fanatic ladies in our life) must be aware of including names of players for whom some venom is reserved (by their husbands, of course). Observe a portion of our conversation below for further explanation.

Me: OK, hit us up with one of the names.

His wife: Promise to tell us your honest opinion?

Me and my wife: Absolutely

His wife: Braden

Collision one. My buddy and I look at each other both immediately thinking the same thing, as a funny-looking knowing grin spreads across each our faces. Both wives stare back at us with expressions that belie the same sense of utter lack of understanding.

The Women (to us): What? (in unison...and in one of those critiquing and accusatory tones that automatically implies you're a complete moron(s) for what's about to come of your mouth(s) )

The Men (somewhat embarrassingly studdering/explaining): You see...the Mets...they used to have this closer...Braden Looper...

More looks of incredulousness. We move on. Fast-forward 10 minutes...

Me: What else ya got?

His wife: Chase.

Me: I actually dig Chase. Potential to be bad ass...(trailing off). Wait...

His wife: What?

Collision two. Guess this is the part where it bears mentioning my buddy's wife's family is from Pennsylvania, and their sports allegiances are firmly rooted with the Eagles and Phillies. So, you can probably see where this is going.

This time it's my buddy who is giving me a different look that say's "think about it for a second."

Me and my buddy (in unison): Utley

My wife and his wife (in unison): Huh?

I'll spare you the rest of the conversation, but you get the gist. It was at once highly amusing and all sorts of enlightening. It also got me to thinking of names that are off-limits should my wife and I decide to make the leap in the near future. A few that came to mind immediately included Alex, Brett, Herman and Aaron.

So, you can call me crazy. But, chances are, I think you smell what I'm steppin' in. If so, hit us up with a few names that are on your personal banned baby name list.

The NBA, Where Amazingly Mobile Happens: Name that Team

2009-06-29T23:11:00.005-04:00

The Glove Fit...In Seattle

Maybe it's perception. But doesn't it seem like players move around the NBA at alarming speeds these days? I mean, sure I'm not the fan I used to be. And, no, I don't play fantasy basketball, so I may not be as up on rosters as the die-hards. But for years now, I haven't been able to keep up. Gary Payton played somewhere other than Seattle? Gimme a break (yes, I know technically he did). C'mon, Antoine Walker's still a Celtic. Wait, he's really on the Grizzlies?

Maybe I'm just behind the times and the game has passed me by. But, perhaps, you're like me? If you're having trouble keeping tabs, here's a rundown of new faces in new places. Test yourself blind. These kids today...

The Mighty Ben Wallace. Seems like just yesterday he was the most feared defensive player in the game. He was a Pistons fixture. The question wasn't whether he would dominate for years in big D on D, the only matter for discussion was how he'd wear his hair. Now, he's a Phoenix Sun after a quick stop in Cleveland. Wait, huh?

Ah yes, Jason Kapono. The fixture of the All-Star Game weekend three-point shooting contest. A nice little player off the bench for the Heat. Oh, right, it's sitting there in front of me on the mic: I meant the Raptors. Hmm...he also played in Charlotte and Cleveland. Ladies and gentlemen, your newest Philadelphia 76er!

Speedy Claxton. Remember him 'cause he was a Hofstra product and a sparkplug off San Antonio's bench. Turns out he was only there a year. It was Speedy's second stop and would be followed by Golden St., New Orleans, Oklahoma City, Atlanta and now...back to Golden St. Who knew? Seven teams in nine seasons. Speedy is right.

Jamal. Promising youngster with the Bulls...I mean, Knicks...I mean, Golden St., I mean, the 29 year-old Atlanta Hawks guard? If you say so...

Ahhh, Krazy Kurt. Loved him as a Knick. Surprisingly consistent jumper. Also, never committed a foul in his career (according to him) -- always got a kick out of that. Miami. Dallas. New York. Phoenix. Seattle. San Antonio. Next stop? All aboard for Milwaukee! Ugh. Even Krazy Kurt doesn't deserve that fate.

Mike Miller. Anyone, anyone? Yes, I would've gone Grizzle as well. I'd forgotten he'd also played in Orlando before that, and Minnesota last season. It's OK, though, because he's a Wizard now. Duh.

I always remembered Lue and those dreadlocks. Ask me one team he played for though and there would admittedly be a long moment of hesitation (or possibly several moments). I think I would deserve a pass. Lue has managed to stay in the NBA for 10 years. Ready for this? Lakers. Wiz. Magic. Rockets. Hawks. Mavs. Bucks. Now, he's back with the Magic for round two -- for now.

Last but not least in our latest round of moving pieces, our boy Q. The days as a sharpshooting threat in wide-open Phoenix are long gone. Enjoy Memphis, buddy. Poor guy.

These are just the recent folks who've shipped around. There are plenty of players I still imagine are playing for a team they likely took the floor for four teams ago. Hit me with some of yours.

Congrats, Mo

2009-06-29T09:44:00.004-04:00

Yes, you're reading that title right. This Mets devotee is saying something nice about a Yankee. Don't expect it to happen again.

Congratulations to Mariano Rivera on his 500th save. If you're a real fan of the Mets or the Yankees, pure unadulterated hatred is typically reserved for the other hometown team. Those who claim they "root for both," or "like one a bit more, but want them both to do well," are posers.

So, it's fair to say I've hated the Yankees for many, many years. However, to be honest, the teams of the past were somewhat easier to despise than the current roster. In terms of players, it was never hard to click off folks in pinstripes to whom our ire was directed. Clemens. Pauly "cry-after-every-call" O'Neil. Chuck Knoblauch. A-Rod. The list could go on and on. Mariano Rivera has never and will never grace that list of despised Yankees.

Mo has taken the hill year-after-year and just competed -- and done so better than virtually any closer in history. At one time, he could blow the ball by you in the mid-90s and make hitters look foolish with the cutter. More recently, as a few MPH have ticked off, Rivera the pitcher is showing why he's so special. There's never any theatrics or showing other players up (like our new spastic closer). Nary a bulletin board quote is uttered by #42. He just goes out and gets the job done, typically in dominant fashion.

Well done, Mo. This Mets fan salutes you.

Two-Week Mets Rehab and Detox Over: Lessons Learned

2009-06-28T16:25:00.020-04:00

Rehabilitated? I Don't Know the Meaning of the Word...

A wise philosopher once said: "Isms in my opinion are not good. A person should not believe in an ism, he should believe in himself." Prescient commentary. Fanaticism is one of those isms, and it too is not good. This is one of the things I've learned after going to Mets rehab. In fact, my two-week long detox has given me perspective on so many things. I shall tell you about these learnings, yes?

First, a quick recap for those just joining the program. Approximately two weeks ago the Mets dropped a game to the New York Yankees in which two runs scored in the bottom of the ninth on an Alex Rodriguez pop-up to second base. Despite decades of watching the Mets find new and inventive ways to lose, I had never seen anything quite like this. A single moment, as ball hit leather and then dropped implausibly to the grass in slow-motion, encapsulated everything it is to be a fan of the Metros. And I had finally seen enough. I tapped out.

At 11:08 p.m. on Friday, June 12th, I checked myself into Mets rehab. It was a self-imposed two-week vacation. The move was excessive and irrational. It was also completely predictable. You just need to go back to that word "fanaticism." You see, fanaticism is described as "excessive, irrational zeal." I have always been fanatical about the Mets, and it is all sorts of irrational.

For decades, the Mets had brought me very little pleasure and great deals of pain. Rehab was perhaps a foregone conclusion. In retrospect, the only real question was when, and the answer was found somewhere in Luis Castillo's glove (if only for a fleeting second). However, as I began my journey I quickly gained the advantage of perspective. I realized my rehab was more aptly described as "detox," a temporary cleansing of the system of all Mets stimuli.

Kicking the habit was never a realistic outcome, but a little time off seemed well within the parameters of proper and responsible treatment. So, for 14 days, I abstained from watching any Mets baseball -- live or on television. No radio, either. I tracked my progress and learned a great deal about myself, and my addiction.

During that time, the Mets won six games and lost nine. They are depleted yes, but they are also just not very good. My detox was actually quite easy -- and rather enjoyable. I didn't miss them much, which is to say not at all. There were no dejected text messages to my Mets cronies. No rants about their ineptitude on this blog. No hours spent struggling to fall asleep needlessly contemplating how another defeat was inexplicably snatched from the jaws of victory. The benefit of distance also reminded me of a few things that will help me now as I prepare to return to the world of Los Mets.

1. Really good teams typically have good to very good managers. These things seems to correlate. The Mets are led by a painfully average (at best) manager. Hence, the fact they are a painfully average team should not be very surprising.

2. The Mets have two proven pitchers -- and one of those is Livan Hernandez. This is not a good omen for a 2009 baseball team that has playoff -- or even (chuckling) championship -- aspirations.

3. Our team's most intimidating power hitter is a 40 year-old man who considered retirement back in 2004 and most pundits wondered if he was good enough to make a Major League roster this year.

4. The squad's franchise player is hitting .244 with RISP and two outs. With the bases loaded, his average is .182. Yes, I know he is second in the majors in hitting. These averages are still notable. They are not good.

5. Clutch pitching. Clutch hitting. Fire. Grit. Hustle. These are not terms one would think to ever associate with this team. This is also not good.

With the above in mind, and the joys of detox fresh in my consciousness, I make a not-so-triumphant return to my beloved Mets with the same loyalty but a bit less fanaticism. The Mets are like a movie you've hyped up with no logical reason to do so. Head to the theater with those lofty expectations, and you will undoubtedly be disappointed. Go in hoping only to "be entertained" and your chances significantly improve (except for evenings like last night, which must have been riveting by the way..."one hit? that's all we got was one g-ddamn hit?").

Besides, isms really aren't good, and I don't believe in them anymore -- at least not in a 162-game season. During the fall on the other hand...

Wait, who's on the mound tonight? Livan vs. Wanger? So, you're saying there's a chance? Hello, my name is Cecilio's Scribe, and I'm a Mets addict.

Former Exile of the Week Showing Why

2009-06-25T23:16:00.005-04:00

Last week, Chad Ochocinco took the honors in our kind-of-weekly "Exile of the Week" feature. He was so recognized for a variety of his deficiencies and overall transgressions including talking. Tonight, the receiver-formerly-known-as-Johnson proved the clairvoyance of our selection.

We are immediately reminded of a skit from comedian Ron White during which he says (in the context of a funny little bit) "next time you have a thought...let it go." Would've been excellent advice for the ole' 8-5. Via Deadspin, from OchoCinco's always-chirping Twitter page:

Knicks Seek to Make Up for Weis, Deal for Darko

2009-06-25T22:55:00.009-04:00

He Sure Has the Look (not)

The Knicks have righted a previous wrong. Apparently devastated by the fact that their great French first-round selection Frederic Weis never stepped foot on the Garden floor, the Knickerbockers today dealt for another, perhaps even bigger, European bust.

Yes fans, Darko Milicic is now a Knick (for all intents and purposes). The former #2 pick in the absolutely stacked 2003 NBA draft, Milicic is a seven-foot Serbian who went ahead of Dwayne Wade, Chris Bosh and Carmelo Anthony. He has done very little in the NBA but disappoint making him a clear-cut candidate for most NBA all-bust draft teams.

He seems like a perfect fit for Mike D'Antoni's uptempo open floor system. It makes complete sense. In all seriousness, yes I know he runs the floor pretty well for a big man. In fact, Darko will probably look like The Flash compared to fat Eddie. On another positive note, Darko has great strength as evidenced by this passage from Wikipedia:

Darko Miličić gained notoriety on YouTube during the December 8, 2008 game against the Houston Rockets. Darko was guarding Yao Ming and was called for a questionable foul and protested to the official. Darko then received a technical foul and was subsequently sent to the bench. In anger, Darko reached up and ripped his jersey down the middle--an impressive feat of strength given the durability of NBA authentic jerseys.

So, the Knicks have that going for them...which is nice. Oh yea, see you later Q.