Derby: Game Over

Some horses ran and there was yelling and stuff. Good race but no winning tickets for me and my crew.

I also may need to modify my theory that God hates horses because after yesterday's deluge, the weather was exceptional today.

Overall, a great weekend and I would definitely do it again.

Ode To Bobby

Between the 6th and 7th races at the derby, Churchill Downs had a tribute to their fallen reigning champion, Barbaro. Out in the grandstand it sounded something like, "blah, blah, blah, blahblah, blah." But that's just a loose translation. My Bobby memorial experience was enhanced by the woman in my section wearing the "Barbaro Forever In My Heart," T-shirt. I'm reasonably sure that this woman expects Bobby to rise from the dead and ascend to his proper place among jebus and the holy ghost etc.

But enough about that. Speaking of miracles, I actually held winning tickets for the first two races. The next 4 brought me back down to earth, albeit with some close ones.

We still have about 3 hours and 3 races until its time for the actual derby but our bets are in. We've got money all over the board but we're a but heavier on Circular Quay, Scat Daddy, and Liquidity.

If you're betting with us, good luck. Because you must be an idiot.

We're On The Board

True Competitor finished 2nd in the 3rd to give üa our first betting win of the day, albeit a modest one. Hooray mint juleps!

Make It Rain (And Pacman Isn't Even Here)

The boys and I are approaching Churchill Downs and it's pouring. Nice. My only conclusion at this point is that God hates horses. Either that or it's a low pressure system. But what do I know? I'm no meteorologist.

This is my first crack at blogging from my Blackberry and I'll try to keep up with it today and throughout the weekend but we'll see how that goes after 2 (or 10) mint juleps.

My horrificness at picking anything has been well documented on this blog, but I like Idoitmyway in the 2nd today.

NEWS FLASH: Major League Baseball Sucks At Marketing

Barry Bonds is excellent at what he does. Being an especially selective hitter who frequently hits the ball far (or far enough anyway) when he does decide to swing is one of the things he does well. The other is engender hatred from fans, media, teammates, and even his league. In my opinion, he's earned it fair and square.

Aside from generally being considered a jerk, cheating on his wife, and allegedly physically and mentally abusing the woman he cheated with, his greatest sin - in the eyes of many fans, the media aristocracy that is baseball writers, and Bud Selig - is his tainting of the integrity of the game by taking steroids.

One problem. The guy has never failed a piss test. Well, for steroids anyway. But really, who isn't popping greenies? How do you think I hammer out my monthly post?

Summer of 1998 heroes - the guys who many credited with saving baseball after the crushing strike in 1994 - Mark McGwire and Sammy Sosa, are painted with the same brush even though they never tested positive for steroids. Of course the visual and circumstantial evidence is overwhelming in all of these cases. These guys performance and physical stature likely grew too much too fast to be anything natural. But when McGwire and Sosa staged their epic home run chase in '98 and Bonds began his level jumping in 1999, steroids were illegal in this country, but they were not against the rules of Major League Baseball.

I'm no doctor but I don't think steroids are good for people or good for the game. But I have a real hard time with his retroactive morality. If McGwire, Sosa, and Bonds were taking steroids in the late 90s, it wasn't against the rules. While I'd like the athletes I follow to all believe in the purity of performance, baseball is hardly alone in this. There are performance enhancing drug scandals at the Olympics, in cycling, football, basketball - in short, in every sport. The difference is these other sports and governing bodies regulate the use and punish the cheaters. Baseball did not. So who's fault is it then?

Fast forward to today. Unless he homers tonight, Bonds is currently sitting at 741 home runs. That's 15 shy of breaking Hank Aaron's all-time record. And Bud Selig and Major League Baseball are dropping the ball.

If Hank Aaron wasn't the first baseball player I was really conscious of, he was damn close. I spent most of my childhood thinking wishing I was named after him (my middle name is Aaron - I wasn't . . . the guy I was named after was pretty cool in his own right but he didn't have Hank's stick). So I can understand why many - myself included - wish that it weren't Barry Bonds about to break what might be the most hallowed record in all of sports. Bud Selig and Hank Aaron himself certainly appear to fall into that category. For Aaron, fine. He's still works in the game but he doesn't work for the league. In my mind, he can do what he wants. But Selig is a different story. His non-committal statements about his intention to attend what could be a record-breaking game are flat-out unacceptable for a man charged with operating in the best interest of the game.

Of course, he's allowed to feel anyway he wants personally. And I even understand the fear of celebrating Bonds' feat only to learn later - with hard evidence - that he was juicing. That said, by not celebrating what Bonds is about to do, Selig and the MLB are essentially killing the legacy of the sport, not to mention turning their back on baseball royalty - son of a star, god son of a Hall of Famer, and soon to be the All-Time Home Run King. Wouldn't you think the league would want to have a better relationship with arguably its most visible star.

After Babe Ruth finished his career with 714 home runs, it took nearly 40 years for Aaron to pass him. Now, assuming Bonds' head doesn't explode before he hits No. 756, it will have taken another 30+ years. We are watching a once-a-generation event taking place and so many are letting their disdain for the athlete or the question of tainted performance distract them from the fact that they are watching something truly amazing.

So tonight, I'm officially changing my stance. Instead of hoping it doesn't happen or ignoring it while it does, I'll be closely following Barry's progress. You don't have to like the guy, but he can hit. And like me, you're getting older, and you may never see this again.

And hey, steroids aren't all bad. Without them, chances are Barry wouldn't have had the tits to pull this off:

Cow-herd the Cow-ard

If you travel in the same blogging circles I do, then you've undoubtedly heard about what ESPN Radio host Colin Cowherd and his denial of service minions have done to TheBigLead.com. According to TBL and other reports, this was an unprovoked attack. Now Cowherd can add cyber-terrorism to his list of offenses against blogs - prior to this, it was limited to stealing their content. Of course, Cowherd is far from alone at ESPN or among radio hosts when it comes to using blog content without attribution (fortunately some at the WWL are willing to give credit where credit is due) so let's not focus our attention there.

This story is concerning on a bunch of levels. First, it is clear that Cowherd has no respect for the blogging community. From the brief amount of time I've spent listening to him, I suspect he doesn't respect much. This is a guy that does a solo radio show and is perfectly comfortable with 15 minute monologues that amount to little more than verbal masturbation. In the instances where he does take phone calls from listeners, he routinely listens to one comment and the disconnects the caller while he berates them or their opinion or, usually, both.

The second thing is even though I'm not convinced that ESPN - Cowherd's bosses - truly "get" what blogging is all about, they are clearly trying to get on the band wagon with their Insider Weblog Roster. At the very least, shouldn't some big cheese be explaining this to Cowherd that blatantly disrespecting an entire community has repercussions on the ESPN bottom line (the dollars and cents, not the scoreboard)?

Lastly, and most important in my mind, this is just more proof that ESPN is not an organization of journalists but rather an entertainment company. This kind of activity would not be tolerated by a true news organization. And while you can argue that it shouldn't be tolerated by any kind of organization, this is getting Cowherd and ESPN attention. Don't they say that there is no such thing as bad publicity?

As The Big Lead has pointed out in the last few days, the sports information landscape is changing. The change began when people who loved sports began writing about it online and built their own audience. And the change is continuing as athletes like Gilbert Arenas and Curt Schilling use blogs to communicate directly to the public. The reality is that traditional media is losing control of the content. There will always be a place for ESPN, Cowherd, and others in their line of work but their stranglehold on the distribution channels of information and opinion is a thing of the past.

Ultimately Cowherd has a choice: He can recognize the change, embrace it, and find the angle where he can thrive or he can pretend it doesn't exist, insult it, and steal from it while it swallows him up and spits him out.

I never had a ton of respect for Colin Cowherd but now, he is nothing more than a vandal. If ESPN is really the reputable company it purports itself to be, they can not tolerate this kind of behavior from people in their employ.

See you in hell Schrutebag.

Baseball Fever - It's Twitterriffic

I've been hearing tons about Twitter in my daily reading as part of my day job. Because I like to experience these new technologies, understand their attraction and relevance, I signed up. I set myself as a "follower" of a friend of mine so I could read her twitters. It was mildly interesting but . . . I don't know, I wasn't feeling the next killer app.

That was, until tonight anyway. That was when that same twittering friend showed me the Red Sox Twittercast. For those of you who don't know about Twitter, it's essentially micro-blogging. Each tweet is limited to 144 characters so the thoughts relayed need to be short and sweet. Well, it turns out this works pretty well for live blogging an event. And with the ability to interact with twitter via SMS, you can receive messages on your phone.

You can bet I'll have that hooked up when Daisuke Matsuzaka is making his debut smack in the middle of my work day tomorrow. I'm a believer.

I Didn't Want To Do This . . .

I have a beautiful daughter who is four. She's a great kid, really well behaved in general. But a fact of life all parents - and some innocent airplane passengers - learn, is that toddlers occasionally totally and completely FREAK OUT. If I read a book about it, or watched Nanny 911, I'm sure I'd learn that these are power struggles.

As a parent, when I ask my kid to do something, what I want more than anything else is comprehensive obedience. Of course, it rarely works out that way, which is fine. But sometimes the result is out and out defiance. Being as I am, my response to this was to push and push and push to try to get my way. Partially because she's 4 and partially because she has at least 1/2 my genes, she appears to be just as stubborn - or worse - than I am.

One of the hardest lessons I learned was to let her freak. Just let it happen. Refuse to communicate on that plane. If you ignore the behavior then the child isn't getting the desired result from it and they'll change, right? It is always hard listening to screaming and crying - especially when it's over turning off The Wiggles (how can something that makes me so happy make her so sad?) - but lo and behold, the ignoring the undesirable behavior worked.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why I did NOT want to post about Dan Shaughnessy. See, if I write and complain about Shaughnessy's latest annoying, stupid, boneheaded column, then I'm just reinforcing his behavior. Everyone up in arms is exactly what he wants. He's made a living off it. There is a freakin' blog about NOTHING ELSE! Of course, to be fair, there is at least one blog about pretty much anything.

But I'm failing. Right now. He sucked me in. DAMN YOU, CHB! (A special thanks to Carl Everett, patron saint of Shaughnessy hatred)

When I started thinking about this post, it was going to be about this Shaughnessy - Schilling spat. But even since he wrote that on Sunday, he's already got another stinker in his assessment of Daisuke Matsuzaka's pitching performance yesterday.

Let's start with Dice-K and work backwards . . . In this morning's column, Shaughnessy had this to say:

The story is that Dice-K walked five batters and demonstrated poor command of his fastball. Then he did some stretching of his back and legs, which was caught by ESPN cameras. Then he iced down in the locker room. Then he changed his mind about his postgame routine and decided for the first time not to speak with the media -- American or Japanese.

The result of all this will be a five-day frenzy of Dice-K speculation on two continents. Is he hurt? Is he frustrated? Is he a diva? Is he physically and mentally prepared for his first big league start next Friday in Kansas City?

Only in Boston. Only here could there be a crisis after a guy throws a five-inning no-hitter.

There's a crisis? I live and work in Boston. I'm not panicking. In fact, I'm encouraged. I rode the T in from Quincy today. No one looked overly depressed. There was no crying and wailing. A crisis? In March? Who really worries about spring training numbers in the first place? Dan Shaughnessy, that's who.

That bring us back to Shaughnessy's Sunday column. He rips Schilling - way to chase the easy target, Dan - and takes a pretty good shot as his own readership because I'm pretty sure the same Red Sox fans reading Schilling's blog also get their Red Sox news from The Boston Globe and Boston.com. Along the way he demonstrates a complete lack of understanding of the new media.

Here's the thing though . . . when Schilling is out on the mound, I'm a huge fan. I love his style, love his toughness. He's a guy you want in your corner - cue the 14 billionth bloody sock reference - in tough situations. But when he opens his yap to proclaim he's still the ace, or he wants a new contract, or tell us how much he loves Everquest, eh, not so much then.

Put it this way: Having to pick a side in a Shaughnessy-Schilling feud is like being forced to pick your favorite contestant in a wet t-shirt contest between Charlie Weiss and Bill Parcells. You've gotta "support" Weiss - wins hands down, of course - and the same is true for Schilling here. But it's not something you feel good about.

Aside from his usual jack-assed-ness, what Shaughnessy is really missing here - like many other print dinosaurs (see: Smith, Sam and Vecsey, Peter) - is that in the last 3 years, it just got WAY easier to get your opinion out there. It wasn't that long ago that if you wanted someone to know what you thought, you had to tell your buddy in the bar (or whoever would listen) or be one of maybe 5 columnists in this city. But those days are gone. Long gone. Now anyone who has a computer, an opinion, and some free time can publish. God bless you, Al Gore.

One of the things that especially pissed me off besides, well, everything, was Shaughnessy's characterization of bloggers and blog readers as middle-aged guys living in their mothers basement. This misconception is laughable for a couple reasons. First, CHB and many other sportswriters of his era were likely not talented enough to play the games they now cover. They were the ones getting the figurative sand kicked in their face. But now, 20-30 years, a couple books, and generations of Red Sox players and fans as enemies later, he's the one making fun of the dorks. Second, this whole Internet thing is WAY BIGGER than you think, Dan. It's not just the dorks using computers. I hear it's like a series of tubes. Anyway, it's not just the geeks and the dorks consuming this content. And last, as a person who is now, technically, a blogger (albeit not professionally) and a person who used to work in sport communications (as a newspaper writer and sports publicity contact), let me tell you, those press boxes are not filled with athletic, confident, socially comfortable people. Dan, you need to look in the mirror before you point fingers.

Of all the stuff I've read about this today, I like TheBigLead.com take the best:

What’s the over/under on the day athletes stop speaking to print media, and instead head home and post their thoughts on a blog? Barry Bonds, Gilbert Arenas, Curt Schilling, Curtis Granderson and Paul Shirley, among others, are already there.

Beware, CHB. Be. Ware.

More Poor Performances Like This Please

Forgive me reader(s), it has been over a month since my last post . . .

Since the Red Sox signed Daisuke Matsuzaka - their $100 million dollar man - this past off season, I've been trying hard to temper my enthusiasm. I keep telling myself, experience in the Japanese League or not, he's still a rookie. He will be facing consistently better hitters day in an day out than he ever has before. And, of course, given all the hype, he could be an All-Star and still not live up to his billing.

I paid attention when he dominated a college team, experimented against the Orioles, and then seemed to find his groove. All good things. But I think last night was the best indication of future success yet.

Watching/listening to SportsCenter last night, you heard phrases like "struggled with his control" and "Matsuzaka's dissatisfaction with his performance." I heard Stuart Scott say that Matsuzaka only threw 59 strikes on 103 pitches against the Reds.

So what happened? A disaster right? He got shelled? Gave up a bushel of runs? Got chased from the game?

Nope. He threw 5 no-hit innings. He walked 5 but struck out 6. To see a guy "struggle with his control" on the way to 5 no-hit innings . . . well, it's safe to say that it's quite a bit tougher to contain that enthusiasm this morning. Could the next 7 seem any further away? Let's play ball!

Craigslist . . . The New Frontier

If you haven't already heard, an alleged Cincinnati Reds player, has allegedly posted an alleged personals ad in the casual encounters area on Craigslist.

I am here for two months before i head back up north. I have this morning before practice.....looking for a woman to enjoy the morning with. Can be married or single, disease free is important. I am 5'9" 180 short hair and blue eyes, in shape, of course.

It may or may not be Ryan Freel, who does fit the description. Of course, it could be a prank played by one of his teammates in which case they should win some kind of award - this is no shaving cream pie or hot foot.

Anyway, it got me thinking that Craigslist and personals ads could be an effective way for a variety of athletes to find what they are looking for. Here are some examples.

=======================================================

SBM, 23, is seeking fine ass bitches to dance on my at-home stripper pole while I "make it rain" (with Monopoly money - I learn from my mistakes muthfucka). See, I got to do it at my pad because I think I might be wearing some ankle jewelery real soon. Oh, and you need to like saliva too. That shit's gotta turn you on.

Hit me up: wakawakawaka@pacman.com

=======================================================

SEWMM (single-eyed white male member) belonging to semi-famous football "anal-yst" . . . looking for a SF to tell me I look good and bald is beautiful . . . I have a flexible schedule - hit me up and I'll rise to the occasion.

E-mail me: littlesean@espn.com

=======================================================

BM late 30s . . . I recently had an "incident" that was very embarrassing for my family . . . I said I hated all gay people. I feel like I've learned something and I really want to meet some butt pirates and learn about their culture. But let me tell you queers something. I'm not a flamer and I don't want any of you homos touching me. If any of you fairies try to go brokeback on me, I'll kill you. I really feel like I can grow from this if just meet some real fudgepackers.

Email me: TinRunTMC@Lebatardbaitedme.com

=======================================================

MWM seeks woman who . . . COULD! GO! ALL! THE! WAY! You prefer leather apparel of all kinds and like having coke snorted off your ass.

Email me: BoomerBerman@alumni.Brown.edu

Isn't that fun? Collect them all. Feel free to add your own in the comments.

The Unpopular View

I realize that I'm putting my man card on the line here, but I have something to say.

I hate the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition.

I know is sounds completely crazy but it's true.

I'm 34 years old and I've been Sports Illustrated subscriber since 1981. My first issue was sometime in February and it was the one with the basketball hoop filled with cash. It was about the Boston College point-shaving scandal. Not the last time it would happen.

But I digress. Since then, SI has been part of a weekly ritual. It has been modified at different points in my life. When I first started getting it, it would thumb through looking at the pictures, cutting out the ones I really liked. Later in life, it was a quiet hour or so spent on the couch reading the articles that seemed interesting. Now it's a worth a couple train rides on my way to or from work. All that is very interesting, I know.

I subscribed to SI because 51 weeks a year, they deliver interesting stories about actual sports. Then for one week a year - admittedly a slow one sports-wise - they bag the sports coverage for women in swimsuits.

Now, I'm a red-blooded, American male, and I love me some porn. In fact, I've been a consumer of porn for longer than I've been an SI subscriber.

An aside: I think it was 1979 or 1980ish when my friends Brian and Scott swiped an issue of Playboy from their Dad or older brother's collection. We looked at it and then we buried it. Yes, you read that right, we buried it. To this day I don't really understand it although in looking back, it seems like a protection instinct. Like a dog burying a bone.

Anyway, where was I? Oh right, I was loving me some porn. While the women in the swimsuit editions are certainly attractive, they have way too many clothes on so qualify as good pornography.

So I believe in specialization. Do what you do well. Sports Illustrated, you keep delivering interesting sports news. And take it easy on the NASCAR, will ya? And porn, you keep doing what you do well - showing me hot naked chicks and innovating in the online marketplace.

And . . . I'm spent.

What Just Happened?

I will admit that I spend a fair amount of time complaining about ESPN and how they cover certain events. Maybe it doesn't seem like a lot but let's just say I only post about fraction of the things that drive me crazy. So I'm watching college hoop (Big Monday), Villanova vs. Pitt, and I find myself applauding something ESPN has done (not literally, I'm alone in my living room so that would be weird).

In their studio show, in addition to capable Reece Davis and aged, mildly insane Digger Phelps, was Stacey Dales (what happened to Schuman?). It's never been out of character to have a male analyst for women's basketball but this is the first time I can recall a female analyst for men's basketball.

Now, if I were your typical, sex-driven male, I might comment on how hot Ms. Dales is. Or how sexy basketball skillz are in a woman. Or maybe I'd comment on how the ESPN camera is position tantalizingly close to her rack. But no, I'm not going to say that (even if it is true).

In all seriousness, I think this is fantastic. Dales, like any quality analyst, has experience both as a standout college player and a solid pro, and she knows her stuff. That gives her more game experience in her field than Mel Kiper Jr. - or Sean Salisbury for that matter.

And speaking of The Steak, I'm 99 percent sure that Dales isn't going to start taking cell phone pictures of her cooter.

What's That, ESPN? Vick Had Pot? No Way!

It's not like I need another reason to be annoyed with ESPN but I got it regardless. I had a three-hour traffic-filled drive between the unfortunate hours of 4-7. I attempted to listen to ESPN Radio during that stretch but I am always bored when radio hosts are flying solo and do 12-minute monologues which is exactly what Jason Smith was doing.

But I did listen long enough to hear - again - how stupid Mike Vick is (I'm paraphrasing Smith here) for getting caught trying to board an airplane with a water bottle that had a secret compartment containing what appeared to be marijuana residue (see the 55 Problems re-enactment of the scene, above).

I changed the station because, among other reasons, I'd already heard about this about 8 hours earlier. But I flip back later to see if the if they are talking to anyone interesting and Smith is still on the same topic. Then I flip back again and he's talking to John Clayton about it. Again later . . . still going. All in all, I flipped to ESPN Radio 6 times and save for 45 seconds mocking Barry Bonds transparency in saying Mark McGwire and Pete Rose should be in the hall of fame, every time, Smith was talking about Vick. And while I'm sure Smith felt like one of the popular kids while he displayed his knowledge of drug paraphernalia from his high school days, he sounded like a complete blow-hard when characterized Vick as QB who gets 95 yards passing and two picks every game. Vick, much to the establishment's chagrin, has not turned into Steve Young, but he is still an amazing football player. More on that in a minute.

This story is mildly interesting, especially given some of the other comical (depending on your point of view) transgressions by Vick in the past but Smith calling for his head - he said Matt Schaub should be competing for the starting job next year - over this, is ridiculous.

Not that I would expect perspective from ESPN or its personalities. I'm sure that they lead with this on every show - SportsCenter, Mike & Mike, Colin Cowherd, Dan Patrick etc. I'm sure if I turn on ESPN Radio right now, whoever is on now will be talking about it. Enough already. There are playoff football games this weekend. Why are we talking about this? Even if there weren't playoffs games this weekend, this shit doesn't even rank compared to other "crimes" committed by NFL players or throughout the sports world.

All that aside, the secret compartment is an intriguing idea. I looked around online and found the water bottle safe pictured here. But Vick wasn't limited to water bottles. Maybe some of these other options will work better in the future (depending on the situation).

Back to Vick the player. . . I don't have any particular love for Vick but when I look at his career, I see it more as a failing of his coaches than his failing. Maybe he could work harder, maybe he could study harder. I have no idea. I'm not saying he is perfect. But what strikes me is I see coaches trying to fit him into their system. Let's have Vick be like John Elway (Dan Reeves). Let's make Vick a west coast QB like Steve Young (Jim Mora). Here's an idea - one I bet Bobby Petrino used to get him the job - let's stop trying to jam the square peg into the round hole and build an offense around Vick's strengths as an amazing football player. I'm not going to start rooting for the Falcons any time soon but I think it will be good for the league if Petrino and OC Hue Jackson can put together an offense that is not against the grain of Vick's skills.

Michael Vick's water bottle raises suspicion at Miami airport [Sun-Sentinel.com]

I'm Just Sayin' . . .

Like any Eagles fan, a feeling of satisfaction swam over me as I watched the Iggles knock off the Cowboys - in Dallas - 23-7, on Monday night. It was extra comforting that the game was never really in doubt. Looking at a week 17 match up that is far from a gimme, it's still pretty amazing that a playoff berth has been clinched and a win will give make the Eagles the winners of the NFC East - a turn of events that didn't seem possible when Philly lost Donovan McNabb for the season, and badly to the Tennessee Titans, to fall to 5-5 for the season.

Maybe I'm a pessimist or the historical failings of my favorite franchises - Eagles and Red Sox - kicked in, but when McNabb went down, I started thinking about next year. The loss the following week to a then-powerful Colts teams only cemented my feelings. And then a funny thing happened . . .

Missing its franchise and the primary participant of 65 percent of its plays, the Eagles' offense diversified. After throwing nearly 2 of every 3 snaps in games 1-9, the pass-rush ration settled in much closer to 1-to-1. Obviously, Jeff Garcia has been fantastic, averaging over 200 yards per game and throwing 10 touchdowns against just two interceptions. And he's been helped because with McNabb out, Brian Westbrook immediately became the most dangerous person on offense and the player opposing defenses keyed on. In a classic symbiotic relationship, Garcia has feasted on teams trying to stop Westbrook, forcing them to pay attention to him, which in turn, frees up Westbrook. I won't say the offense looks unstoppable, but they have done their job - get ahead so Jim Johnson's D can blitz, blitz, blitz.

Despite my breathless praise of this team above, what I've really been thinking about is the other two times McNabb has missed significant time due to injury. Along with 2002 and last year, 2005, this marks the third time in five seasons that McNabb has missed significant time. I'm going to leave the "is he injury prone?" conversation alone for now and focus on this: What happened after McNabb got hurt.

2002 and 2006 are reminiscent of one another. In 2002, McNabb injured his ankle toward the end of a 38-14 route of the Cardinals which, incidentally may have been his best passing performance at that point in his career. Like Garcia, who has won four straight games (after finishing a losing effort against the Titans and losing to the Colts the following week) to lead the Eagles to the playoffs, A.J. Feeley (currently Garcia's backup) stepped in in 2002 and did the same. The Eagles went on to appear in their second consecutive NFC Championship game (losing to Tampa Bay, 27-10) and would appear there again in 2003 and 2004, advancing to the Super Bowl only to lose to the Patriots in 2004.

As has been well-documented, 2005 was a completely different story. For starters, the injury was different. In 2002 and 2006, they were specific, acute injuries that were a result of a specific violent act. The 2005 edition was a sports hernia, an injury that could have happened at any time, and that allowed McNabb to play through the pain, albeit badly. Secondly, the backup quarterback play, from Mike McMahon and Mr. Neckbeard, Koy Detmer, was atrocious. And finally, a certain hall-of-fame wide receiver was tearing apart the team from the inside out over a couple million bucks.

Now let me state my position on Terrell Owens clearly. I am pissed about the way he acted in 2005. I think it was childish, greedy, stupid, and, ultimately, orchestrated by his agent. I also think he is an amazing talent. It was great watching him and McNabb, especially when they were on the same page, but even when they were "fueding" - they put up great numbers. All the chatter about Owens' drops this season are a red herring. He may be dropping more balls this year but the guy is playing with a wrecked finger and, more importantly, Owens has made his name by catching a ton of balls and what he does afterwards, not catching every single one. I think he was absolutely robbed when he was passed over for the Pro Bowl. Dude has missed two plus games and he still has nearly 80 catches, 1100 yards and, most importantly in the bottom line world of the NFL, 12 TDs. But most of all, I feel sorry for Owens. I feel sorry for him that he is so insecure, so eager for approval, wants so much to be liked, that he rejects and repels the people who can (and have tried) to give him the very thing he wants.

Say what you want about McNabb, but I look at him in stark contrast to Owens - not in on-field performance, but in his status as a leader and a team player. I'm not ready to give up my agent-orchestrated theory but Owens claimed that the source of his friction with the Eagles and specifically McNabb, was the quarterback's comments that the team didn't need Owens (after he broke his leg in 2004) to win. When I heard this, it smelled like revisionist history and was the served as the seed for my agent theory. Anyone who watches sports can spot a cliche or see through what an athelte has to say. Was McNabb supposed to say, "Shit, we're screwed" or "I give up, there's no way we can win without TO?" Of course not. He is the leader of a T-E-A-M. And as such, he had to pump up the guys who had to fill in for their injured star. Would he and every other Eagle rather have TO lining up? Hell yes, but that wasn't an option.

Meanwhile, McNabb has been hurt three times. And each time, the tea - as any team in that situation must do - tried to figure out how to overcome losing its best player. Do you think McNabb was upset to see Feeley and Garcia succeed? Do you think he felt threatened? To be fair, I have no idea. But I don't see McNabb stepping out and telling the media how the Eagles need him. I don't see his feelings being hurt when his teammates talk about moving on without him. And I don't see him demanding a new contract as proof that the team loves him best.
Whether he feels those things or not, he's not saying them. At least not publicly. And isn't that the point?

TO Needs a TO [55 Problems]

Sex and Sellouts: My Arena Football Story

Upon hearing the news yesterday that ESPN had purchased minority ownership of the Arena Football League, I rolled my eyes thinking of all the AFL content that was going to be jammed down my throat on SportsCenter, ESPN.com, ESPN The Magazine etc., etc. I have nothing against arena ball really. In fact, I'm sure I've been to more live arena games than your average football fan. More on that later.

Well, I didn't have to wait long for my fear of blatant cross-promotion to come to pass. While driving in to work today, I was listening to Mike & Mike (but with Eric & Stink - whatever) and they had none other than the esteemed co-owner of the AFL's Philadelphia Soul, Jon Bon Jovi, on to discuss ESPN's exciting new relationship with the Arena Football League (you can find the clip here). Eric Kuselias, playing the part of Greenberg this morning, gushed about how ESPN was going to have Monday Night Football almost all year round, as if the AFL somehow compared to the NFL. The good news is that Bon Jovi was likable and funny. They asked him if he was planning to see Rocky Balboa and his answer was that all he wanted for Christmas was for his dad to take him to that movie and buy the popcorn like he did in the 70s and 80s. I mention only because I'm preparing myself for this aging rocker to become a near ubiquitous presence at the WWL and maybe it won't be so bad (for a while). At least until they start showing AFL highlights to pick-your-Bon-Jovi -tune. And they will. Bastards.

So what's my problem here? Well, I can think of two bigs ones. First, aside from maybe highlights of the Arena Bowl, and an occasional mention in Top 10 plays etc., arena ball has been pretty much absent from ESPN and it's various multimedia platforms since the last time the network aired games 10 or so years ago. You could probably dig around and find something about it on ESPN.com but it didn't rate for a story in the magazine and I never hear it mentioned on ESPN radio. Now, less than 24 hours after the agreement is announced, the AFL is suddenly deemed interesting to the WWL and the consumers of their content? I don't buy it.

Second, this is a league where real football guys are owners or investors with teams. The list is impressive: Mike Ditka, John Elway, Joey Galloway, Ron Jaworski, Tony Boselli and it goes on. I only checked a few of the teams too. So with that much real football cred in your arsenal, you bring on Jon Bon Jovi to talk football? This is the same cross-over appeal thinking that has led to gems like Christian Slater in the MNF booth.

Anyway, on to my vast AFL experience. Right after college - 1994/1995ish - my former roommate started working for the then Albany Firebirds (when they had the old school logo you see above - they now have a fancy cartoonish one). I spent a few years in Iowa during that time and frequently met up with my when they traveled out to Des Moines to play the Barnstomers. Of course, I didn't know or care at the time, but I actually saw Kurt Warner play before he was a super-bible-thumping-MVP. In fact, [SimmonsAlert]my buddy likes to tell the story of when the Firebirds and Barnstomers went to Spain for an exhibition. This was before Mr. Brenda was born again and my friend was trading shots with him watching him get completely shit-faced. Good times. [/SimmonsAlert]

A short tangent . . . Des Moines is not a great party town. While we made out best effort to find something fun to do after the game, the real fun was the night before when we went to a AAA Iowa Cubs game, got loaded on cheap beer (at a ballpark, imagine that!) and bought two of those classic replica helmets (one Cubs, one Phillies), which we then wore on our entire drunken walk back to the hotel despite various Des Moinians honking at and mocking us. More good times.

Anyway, I also caught a couple games in Albany. The football isn't bad and they sure do score a lot, so there's that. I even have a real, live Firebirds jersey (shut up, I didn't pay for it - it's good to know people).
But my best brush with Arena Football royalty came after one of those games. I've heard here and there that, occasionally, professional athletes (even poorly paid ones) have been known to go "off the Rez" and have consenting (if you're lucky) sexual encounters with women who are not their wives or girlfriends. Well, going to these games made for a long night. There was the block party before, where there was much drinking. The game, where there was much drinking. And then hitting the bars afterwards, where there was much drinking. Needless to say, by about 2 or 3 AM, I was feeling no pain and decided I should go to bed before I threw up (ah, those were the days). So I was sleeping in my buddy's guest room - not sure how long - when I was awoken by a certain wide receiver who shall remain nameless (if you can identify him in the picture you win . . . something. Hint: It's neither of the two white dudes), with an apparently lubricated (with alcohol) woman in tow, saying "Dude, you have to go sleep on the couch."

So here I am, confronted by my very own White House situation. Granted, I was drunk and groggy, but I was aware of what was taking place here. If I had been a visionary like Bryant McKinnie or Fred Smoot, perhaps I could have gotten involved. Maybe this young groupie had a friend? Or should I warn this young lady that it was possible that this particular wide receiver already had a wife (or girlfriend, I don't remember) and that was why he had brought her to some random (to her) house for sex? What should I do, I wondered?

What I did, was sleep just fine on the couch. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is my Arena Football League story.

Arena Football, It Is Now That You Kneel [Deadspin]

Johnny Damon Needs To Shut His Cake Hole

I loved having Johnny Damon as the Red Sox centerfielder and lead-off hitter. I even understood when he left. It's a business - he got a much better deal from the Yankees and he took it. I even understood it from the Red Sox perspective - the way Damon plays, he will break down due to injuries at and increasing rate. Do they really want to be paying him $10,000,000 a year when he's 36? I was one of the fans that gave him a standing O (amongst the boos) when he returned to Fenway in pinstripes (although I was in my living room, watching the game on TV - don't judge me).

Anyway, I got it, and we lived in a state peaceful co-existence.

And then this morning I see this in The Boston Globe (scroll down to the second entry):

"That's water under the bridge," Damon said. "I got a great offer and a great contract from the Yankees and I'm happy. Maybe [the Red Sox] learned a lot from what happened last year. They finished in third place. They definitely needed to go out and make a statement, and it seems like they're kind of doing that."

What? He didn't just say that . . . well, he did say it. And in doing so, he (unknowingly) violated our truce. I liked it when he appeared to be taking the high road. A former boss used to tell me everyone cuts their own deal. The Red Sox looked at him, determined his value to them for each of the next four years, and went with it. Damon wanted more and he got it elsewhere. So why the sour grapes? Does he really need to rub the collective nose of Red Sox Nation in it? There isn't a single Red Sox fan that would have rather had Coco Crisp instead of Damon in 2006 (Damon outscored Crisp, 115-58 and out-OBPed him .358-.317).

Crisp got hurt, then he slumped, then he got hurt some more. Not to mention, we all thought we got rid of the CF that threw like a girl, only to find out we'd got the other one who did (I'll be honest, the revelation that another major league outfielder could have an arm as bad as Damon's was a total shock to me). Meanwhile, Damon, as predicted (short porch in right and all that), hit a career-high in HRs (24) and did all the other good things like get on base, and score, and slp hits just barely over the thirdbasemen's head.

This is a whole different topic but this deal was never about 2006 or 2007. It was about what Johnny Damon will be in 2008 and 2009. when he's playing at ages 34 and 35 (his birthday is in November). And I'd like to point out that Crisp isn't the only mid-to-late-20s centerfielder that struggled in his first year with a new team. In 2001, at the age of 27, Damon had a horrific year in Oakland (.256 BA, .324 OBP) that ultimately led to his acquisition by the Red Sox.

[simmons]My buddy Rick (sorry, no cool nickname) urged calm. "Maybe he was talking about J.D. Drew."[/simmons] That calmed me down for a little while until I found a longer version of the story on ESPN.com where it is clear he is referring to Matsuzaka's new $52 million contract.

I guess what bothers me is this: Damon has always been a good player. Seamheads knew about him in Kansas City where he turned in three solid seasons and two breakout ones that led to his flop in Oakland. But it was Boston, the Red Sox, and the fans, along with his style, skill and quirks, that made him an icon. And now here he is, a day after relief rejoicing spread throughout New England, twisting the knife. Because he can.

So, as you can tell from the title of this post, I'd like it very, very, very much if Mr. Damon would SHUT HIS FREAKIN' CAKE HOLE.

Gifted Athletes: Bianca & Landon

Welcome to "Gifted Athletes," a new segment here at 55 Problems. Recently, our friends at Deadspin have posted links to the wedding registry of athletes about to get hitched. We missed the gravy boat on Tracy McGrady and his bride, but we're going to do our best from here on out. Enjoy.

Next up on Gifted Athletes, courteousy of The Big Lead, the often topless, tuetonic-hating, great-white-hope of USA soccer Landon Donovan and his fiance Bianca.


Here's the twist with this edition folks . . . I'm not getting them a present. While bueatiful couple are registered at Macy's, the options are pretty slim. While I was able to procure the infinitely useful Tools Of The Trade Commercial Measuring Cups for Dontrelle and Natalee, there was nothing on the registery A) in my price range or B) unique in any way. What? I'm going to get them one Calvin Klein Thistle soup bowl? Nah, I don't think so. And who knew Calvin Klein made dishware? Does that man's talents know no bounds? But I digress . . .

A note about the picture above . . . I don't know where it's from but it's obviously a spoof of the iconic Brandy Chastain goal celebration. A cursory search of Google Images revealed a large number of topless pictures of Donovan. If the future Mrs. Donovan follows her hubby's lead, I predict Donovan will gain quite the following among American males between the ages of 18-35.

Gifted Athletes: Natalee & Dontrelle

Welcome to "Gifted Athletes," a new segment here at 55 Problems. Recently, our friends at Deadspin have posted links to the wedding registry of athletes about to get hitched. We missed the gravy boat on Tracy McGrady and his bride, but we're going to do our best from here on out. Enjoy.

This edition of Gifted Athletes features none other than high-kicking, fire-balling, flat-brimmed, cap-askew, Florida Marlins pitcher, Dontrelle Willis and his bride-to-be Natalee.

Figuring out what to get talented, young, extremely rich people can be quite a chore. I considered seeking a solution for Dontrelle's ass-nipple (see picture below) but ultimately decided on something more conventional.

In this case, we chose the Tools Of The Trade Commercial Measuring Cups pictured above. I can attest to the high quality of these measuring cups as I happen to own the very same ones. In fact, I bought them as a Christmas present for my ex-wife. Insert your own joke here.

We hope that Natalee and Dontrelle enjoy their measuring cups and, of course, their marriage. Congratulations!

NOTE: This isn't just make believe - we really are buying these gifts. We chose the gift box option on the Macy's site and this message went with the gift:

Dear Natalee & Dontrelle,
Congratulations and best wishes!
Sincerely, 55 Problems (doublenicks.blogspot.com)

Also, now that we're buying wedding gifts for people we don't know, we're makign a solemn vow to really, really, try to do a better job getting wedding gifts for people we do know.

Hammering the Box

"Geez, (they) seem to be hammering them in the box, but nothing's going in."

If a woman said that to you, what would you think they were talking about? Is she hitting on you? A carpenter? Try this: a soccer fan. Man, soccer fans talk funny.

Speaking of man, Man U (Manchester United) - they were the ones "hammering the box" - finally did "get it in" in the 45th minute to tie the score at 1-1 in their Champions League match with Benfica (from Portuguese Liga). Benfica features many players with 3+ names and a goalie with a last name of Quim.

Not that sexual undertones should be considered odd in soccer. Europeans are far more open with this stuff than us Puritans. I guess that explains Dutch goalie Stefan Postma's prison rape scene sex tape and this.

OK boys and girls, this is about as close as a live soccer blog as you're going to get from me.

UPDATE: Man U scored twice in the second half to beat Benfica, 3-1.

Move Over, Koy Detmer, Your Neck Beard Has Been Bumped

Sometimes you see something that makes you want to get off your couch and take a picture of the TV. OK . . . actually, that's never happened to me before tonight. Or at least I never followed through.

But tonight, I'm watching the Lakers-Jazz game and TNT starts showing the obligatory celeb shots - Dennis Haysbert, Frank Robinson, Denzel Washington, and, of course, Jack Nic - what the heck is that on his neck?!!!

Now, I know Jack is getting up there in age - he'll be 70 in April - but this guy is a superstar, a legend. I'm thinking he should have a guy that tells him "Hey Jack, I think you missed a spot." How does he end up on TV with a something that looks like a ferret hiding between chins three and four?

This is why I'm terrified of getting old. When you're in your 20s and 30s, you're keeping up on this stuff, trimming your nostril hair, plucking hairs out of your ears etc. But then one day, I don't know, you stop caring, or you lose track of time, and next thing you know you look like you've got cotton balls stuffed in your ears. Or you leave a massive portion of beard on your neck and go to a Lakers game.

Who knows though . . . it's Jack Nicholson, maybe this will start a trend.

UPDATE: Here I was, thinking that Nicholson's neck beard was a horrible, horrible, shaving mistake . . . and then 55 Problems contributor, Meg-han, found this. The man is a genius I tell you!