Hey I Made It, I'm the World's Greatest

All we ever do in sports is rank things. The best pitchers of the 1960s (#1 Bob Gibson), the best dynasties in college football (obviously the 1930s Golden Gophers), and the greatest sports moments in 1985 (who knows, I'm making this stuff up off the top of my head). We make top ten lists, we argue who belongs where, we use statistics to back up our amateur analysis, and we feel indignant when someone disagrees. The internet has only made it worse with idiot bloggers who think they know something about everything, making mundane posts about pointless topics and self-serving rankings of the most unimportant things.

The Dog Days of Summer

In the last few weeks in sports, we've crowned champions, drafted a Dunking Ninja, watched Roger Federer do something he's never done (and it wasn't good), and seen two leagues' negotiations progress with the kind of monotony only reserved for root canals. After the dust kicked up from Wimbledon's courts settles, we will be left with a seemingly barren sports landscape in the middle of the hot and humid summer. Of the four major professional sports in the US, only one dares to march through the hottest months of the year. The two best (in my opinion) golf tournaments of the year have already happened, the US men's soccer team will go into a long hibernation, and the last tennis major won't be played until Labor Day.

Wimbledon Fantasy Draft: Pre-Quarterfinal Results

Bold indicates player is still in tournament

John Men's


Djokovic (2) - Won through Round 4 - 4x16 = 64
Soderling (5) - Won through Round 2 - 2x16 = 32
Tsonga (12) - Won through Round 4 - 4x16 = 64
Monfils (9) - Won through Round 2 - 2x16 = 32
Mezler (11) - Won through Round 2 - 2x16 = 32
Gasquet (17) - Won through Round 3 - 3x16 + 16 (bonus for 17-32 seeded player advancing to 4th round) = 64
Dolgopolov (22) - No wins - (-16)
Isner - Won through Round 1 - 1x16 = 16

John's Men's total through the Fourth Round = 288

The Levels of Movies

If I asked you, out of the movies that you have seen in your lifetime, what percentage you would give at least a 6 on a 1-10 scale (of likability), what do you think that number would be? A really stuck up "movie connoisseur" kind of person might say 15%, an average person might think around 75%. Myself, well I try to limit the number of movies I watch that I think look bad from the beginning so I would say my number is around 63.5%. But that's just liking a movie, which isn't too hard to do. It doesn't necessarily imply you'll buy it on Blue-Ray, watch it over and over, and be the person every looks to to know the answer to every trivia question about Big (or whatever the movie may be).

What about if we upped the stakes and said it had to rate 6.75-8.25? Obviously the percentage would shrink significantly (for me around 25% but only because I filter the movies I watch vigorously). Let's say that at about a 6.75, a movie becomes a "good" movie. Not a "great" one like Apocalypse Now or an "ok" one like X-Men (original, haven't seen the new one yet), but a "good" one like Old School. We can already see that a 1-10 scale is probably over simplifying our movie assessment and designating a single number to a movie is foolish, uneducated, and down right insulting to everyone involved in that movie (unless we're talking about Faster, in which case it can be simplified to a number, 0).

The Minnesota Misery

Bill Simmons loves to talk about tortured fan bases and franchises. It's actually really interesting to fully immerse yourself in the history of other cities and franchises. You begin to understand how lucky you are if you happened to have been a fan of a championship team. I consider myself lucky to be a fan of two champions: the 2000 Super Bowl Champion Rams (the most fun I've ever had watching a team and probably one of the most fun teams to watch ever) and the 2006 World Series Champion Cardinals (my favorite team on top of the world). Seeing a team raise its sports' respective trophy above their head in absurd jubilation is one of the best feelings a sports fan can ever have. It is the ultimate prize in fandom.

But there are some who have never felt the glory, or at least haven't for a generation (or two or three). There's Buffalo (1965) and Cleveland (1964) and Seattle (never). That's right, Buffalo's two teams haven't won a championship since the Bills won one before the Super Bowl existed, Cleveland's three teams have had a similar streak of futility, and Seattle has lost a franchise to a prairie town and never won any kind of professional championship. Those are definitely the three cities (if we are talking about sports cities, which we are) that currently should top the tortured list.

Wimbledon Fantasy Draft: First Round Results

Fantasy Results After Wimbledon Round One

Men’s Draft

Team John and The Wozniacki Wannabes

Djokovic (2): 16 pts

Soderling (5): 16 pts

Tsonga (12): 16 pts

Monfils (9): 16 pts

Melzer (11): 16 pts

Gasquet (17): 16 pts

Dolgopolov (22): -16 pts

Isner: 16 pts

TOTAL: 112 pts

The Darkness Before the Dawn

Bare with me and allow me to be the 132704th person to write about the Cardinals heading into the Albert Pujols-less portion of their schedule. When a friend of mine received the bad news a few days ago, he sent me a text that read a little something like this: "Shit shit shit shit." Those words only ran through my head as I watched Pete Kozma get a little too ambitious with a throw from the middle hole of the infield and Pujols get his arm slightly snapped by Wilson Betemit running to first base. But as the news set in that Albert would be missing 4-6 weeks, my anxiety levels weren't all that high. Cardinal Nation began to become a worrisome bunch, especially since this news was following a recent 7-game skid that included getting swept by the under-whelming Washington Nationals. However, to steal a few words from Pink Floyd, "I have become comfortably numb," - though in this case it's without all the hallucinogenic drugs - with the Cardinals' situation. I have felt no panic or worry about the team. Let me give you a few reasons why.

Wimbledon Fantasy Draft: It's on Like Donkey Kong

With Wimbledon upon us, so are 2 weeks of unbelievable tennis. If you missed the Australian and French Open make sure you tune into Wimbledon and the U.S. Open. Unlike the golf majors the last two tennis slams escalate in stature and are shaping up to be dandys. With tennis on the brain as the NBA and NHL have faded away, Mark and I decided to partake in a bit of a competition; the first ever Wimbledon fantasy draft. May the best man win.

Here’s how it works. Each of us drafted 8 men, and 8 women. 5 were allowed to be ranked in the top 16, 2 in the top 32, and 1 that was unranked. Nadal and Federer were off limits in the men’s bracket, however were eligible in the “predicting the final” section. Scoring will be applied as follows:

When In Doubt, Root For History

Not long ago Mark and I stirred the pot with a “Rules of Fandom” podcast. If you weren’t listening we basically gave our arrogant opinions on who people should be “allowed” to be a fan of. In short, if you’re born in a city, then that city’s professional sports team is yours. No hopping on or off any other teams, unless you want to become a bandwagoner and be outcast from society…or just from Mark and I. As usual it was a complicated and controversial subject that actually got more than 2 comments. Now I’m not here to get in that whole debate again, but the subject happened to creep into mind yet again due to the U.S. Open.

How so? Well that requires some background information. I’ve been a fan of Tiger Woods since I really got into golf, probably around 2006. Naturally your next question is why? If you’re gonna have all these crazy “rules” then how does an individualistic sport like golf work? In my opinion, as long as when asked “why do you like _____?” you have a well-thought out answer. For me, when it came to Tiger, he was smooth. Of course he won and was better than everyone else, but if asked that question I would have probably said something like, “his swing is aesthetically pleasing to watch, drama and excitement follow him wherever he goes, he’s humble, great with the media, from the U.S., and is well on his way towards the Golden Bear’s record.”

Now everyone and their mother knows that Tiger’s in a bit of a different situation these days. That 2009 November night changed people’s perceptions of Tiger, his golf game, and possibly his chances of reaching Jack’s record. However I still am a fan of Tiger. I have no problem with people hopping off the train because of character/moral values, but to me Tiger is still all that is golf. I have his best interests in mind and pull for a Woods victory in all Majors and rare non-Major tournaments he’s in. I even put him my fantasy lineup more than I should (yes fantasy golf is just as fun as baseball or football).

Rory McIlroy is a different story. Rory is a 22-year-old Northern Irishman that has rubbed me the wrong way since he began his rise in 2009. Why? He seemed cocky and arrogant when he first began playing. He was anointed the next upcoming star before he took a shot. He’s had Tiger comparisons after a few good outings. He’s from Europe. He has weird hair. He struts and walks like there are mini trampolines on his shoes. And he’s 22 while I’m 19, I’m straight up jealous of his skills and place in life compared to mine when we’re 3 years off, that’s right I’m not ashamed to admit it. Now you don’t have to agree with those opinions or even respect them. But know I cheer against Rory in order to cheer for Tiger. Rory winning one Major makes me worried that it’s one closer to Tiger. I’m not stupid, I know McIlroy has potential and is a great golfer.

So herein lies the problem, here is why the Rules of Fandom have resurfaced again. When in doubt, I root for history. I want to see history unfold in front of my eyes. I want to see Roy Halladay throw a perfect game in the playoffs. I want to see the historic Lakers vs Celtics matchup. I want to see Federer set the all-time record. I want to see Tiger break Nicholas’s record. And tomorrow, I want to see Rory put up a massive red number. I want to remember watching a near flawless tournament from beginning to end on one of the toughest stages. And I want to see Rory’s record breaking rounds in 10 years on a Sportscenter flashback.

The truth is Rory isn’t so bad after all. The cockiness has slowed although not vanished; it’s just about earned now anyways. The hair/strut have become his trademarks. And the future of golf remarks are beginning to look pretty accurate. I still wont cheer for Rory, there’s only room in my heart for Tiger. But unfortunately Tiger’s not playing this U.S. Open. So maybe I can make an exception for history.

So happy Father’s Day to any fathers out there. I hope you have a good one. Maybe Rory can make it one you’ll remember.

10 Reasons the Cup Is Close - Blues Edition

The 2010-2011 NHL season is officially over. Congratulations to the Bruins and their stuck up, spoiled Boston fans for winning yet another championship. It’s good to see guys like Timmy Thomas, Mark Recchi, and Zdeno Chara get their first rings. But as usual I couldn’t help but think about the Blues, their failure to reach the playoffs this year, and how I wish I was seeing a normal sized David Backes hoisting the Cup rather than Big Z Chara.

So naturally I began to wonder if the Blues have what it takes to get to the Cup (in the next 5 years-ish). It didn’t take me long to decide that the answer was a definite yes, and here’s why (in no particular order):

1.) Doug Armstrong – Blues GM

This past season was Dougie’s first year as Blues GM, and did he ever have the big shoes of Larry Pleau to fill. Pleau was the longest tenured and possibly most successful GM in Blues history from 1997-2010, posting a 260-153-63-16 record in the six year span between 1997-2003. Larry was involved in acquiring players such as Keith Tkachuk, Brad Boyes, Doug Weight, Scott Mellanby, Dallas Drake and Andy McDonald. If you’re keeping track, that’s two Hall of Famers, one assistant coach, one obnoxious backstabber, one net-missing Sabre, and one future Cup winner (fingers crossed). However Mr. Armstrong sees that list and raises it one Chris Stewart and Kevin Shattenkirk. There is no doubt he has the leadership, commitment, and straight up guts to lead this team. There’s no one that fits better with this team or I’d rather have runnin the ship. Doug’s cooler than the other side of the pillow and will make sure the Blues have the parts and pieces to make a Cup within reach.

2.) John Davidson – President of Hockey Operations

If you have actually followed the Blues since at least 2005-2006 then you know that they went from miserably bad to promising/contending within very little time. You can thank John Davidson for that. He helped St. Louis out of the dumps rather than let them rot for a few years. Personally, I’m thankful that he just signed a multi-year extension. Now the perfect combo of Armstrong-Davidson is set for years to come. You can also thank these guys for the fan friendliness of the Blues organization. They’re truly classy and know what they’re doing in every aspect of the business, and if the Blues are gonna win a Cup, they’re going to lead them there.

Katy Perry and the Sons of Sam

As the United States Men's National Soccer Team (MNST) lines up to hear their country's anthem Sunday afternoon in our nation's capital against Jamaica in the Gold Cup quarterfinals, the loud speakers shouldn't blare Francis Scott Key's Star Spangled Banner. A more appropriate anthem would be Katy Perry's Hot 'n Cold.

Only extreme frustration would force me to compare one of my favorite teams in all of sports to a pop star's crappy second career single. But extreme frustration is usually what I feel when I settle down to watch the Sons of Sam play. Why do I feel this frustration? Because I know the current cast of characters (if Holden and Feilhaber are included of course) can compete with any team in the world but still has trouble playing the likes of Panama and Guadeloupe.

The 2010-2011 NBA Season in Review

As a head's up, this will probably be my last NBA-related post for a while. And depending upon the CBA situation, it could be a looooong while.

The 2010-2011 season started with a decision. It ended with redemption. We saw the defending champs get swept, the defending MVP have a better regular season than he did the year before and not even come close to retaining his reward, the Knicks become relevant again after involving themselves in the Melo soap opera, the Ubuntu fade away, and several teams assert themselves as "up-and-coming." It was the best of times (Dallas, Oklahoma City, and Chicago). It was the worst of times (Cleveland, Toronto, and Minnesota). There were tearful locker rooms mid-season, a car-jumper, and some unexpected international flair. We said good-bye to Shaq and hello to Blake Griffin. Legends walked away (Jerry Sloan) and records were broken (Reggie Miller's career three point field goals record fell to Ray Allen or, if you're a cynic, consecutive games lost by the Cavs (26)). Heroes became villains (LBJ). Youngsters become MVPs (D. Rose). Legends asserted themselves as legends (Dirk).

The NBA became what it was always capable of and should be. Engaging from beginning to end. The 82-game season seemed packed with intrigue, athleticism, and rivalry. People often say that the regular season is just a warm-up, that nobody plays defense, and the league is out of touch with its fan base. They must not have seen Dwight Howard make an atrocious Magic defense semi-respectable single-handily. Or Kevin Love lead the league in rebounds and drop double-doubles like they were lay-ups.

This season may be remembered as the year the Heat began their run of dominance in the Eastern Conference. Or it could be remembered as the year Dirk became one of the greatest of all-time. Or the year Derrick Rose started his long list of MVP awards. Or the stepping stone for the Thunder to become the new "it team." There was so much to do and so little time.

We were taught that star power wasn't everything (see: Heat, Knicks) and that Chris Paul still might be the best point guard in the league, if given the right circumstances. We saw that while you can't teach an old dog new tricks, you certainly can win a lot of regular season games with a bunch of old dogs (see: Spurs). While the "talent" may have gone to South Beach, the Kings are staying in Sacramento (for now). And poor Steve Nash continued his metaphorical drought (see: title) in a literal desert (see: Phoenix).

I'll remember this year as the year I was fully sold on the NBA again. I understand the professional game more than I ever have in all my years. I know the rosters, the standings, and circumstances. While not having a team to root for definitely decreases the fun and enjoyment, it's almost as if watching the NBA Playoffs was a relaxing break from the stress that is the Cardinals or the impending lack of a football season. It has finally been enjoyable for me to watch the NBA again. It was a long time coming and I hope that a lock-out doesn't occur or I might revert back to my old ways which would be a travesty.

If we are to remember anything from this year, it might be that there may be no I in team, but there are two I's in Nowitzki. Or that hand picking your teammates doesn't always work like it does on the playground. Or that white men may not be able to jump, but they can still rebound. Or that suffering in Seattle can lead to ovations in Oklahoma. Or that the biggest of people can have the biggest of personalities (Shaq). Or that legends (Ducan) sometimes fade out into the white noise of the league when youth decides it's time has come (the Grizzlies).

But most of all, the 2010-2011 season will be remembered for its moments. The moments when years of preparation met seconds of opportunity. And those willing and ready took those seconds and made the most of them.

A Letter to LBJ

Dear Mr. LeBron James,

I am a sports fanatic and St. Louis native. As you know, St. Louis hasn't had a professional basketball team since 1968. Due to this lack of local interest, after MJ left the league a second time in 1998, I haven't watched much professional basketball. But thanks to Mr. Bill Simmons and his Book of Basketball, my interest was reignited and I now consider myself a fan of the NBA.

Any current NBA fan has an opinion of you whether it be a negative or positive one. Your decision last summer was one of the most polarizing moments in recent sports history, and depending on what you do the rest of your career, it could become one of the most polarizing moments in all of sports history.

As I watched you take your talents away from the only state you have ever called home, I shook my head in disappointment. This disappointment eventually morphed into distaste and soon like the rest of my friends, it had become hatred. I hated you for abandoning your home state, your teammates who adored you and stood by you - though they may not have knocked down shots for you - and for throwing away the chance to bring home a championship for a cursed sports' town.

As the 2010-2011 season began, the hatred had dulled a bit. I was more interested in seeing if the grand "hand-pick your teammates to get a championship" experiment would work. While your numbers were always very impressive, the team struggled at the beginning. You were hated everywhere you went. You were met with jeers, "Witless" signs, and mockery. You received every teams' best effort night in and night out because of your decision. You paid the price to do it your way.

And while the hate continued to be heaped on your team, I began to second-guess my original assessment of your decision. I didn't like it or the one-hour special or the "welcome party" you held in Miami. But I started to like the way you played and everything that came along with watching you on the court. The unbelievable athleticism that you displayed, the effortless drives through three defenders and finishing an and-one, the explosive blocks, and the triple doubles were all good for bringing me back to fully appreciating the NBA.

With this new appreciation came a very close following of the playoffs. I watched as your Heat dispatched the 76ers, Celtics, and Bulls with relative ease (I know I am using this term loosely because both of the previous two series' were very hard fought even though they ended in your favor 4-1). And so you reached a stage you had only been once before in your eight-year career. The Finals. And while everyone was saying it wasn't as impressive because you had Dwayne Wade on your team with you, I thought that you were the MVP of the league.

So now we come to today. While I don't like the Heat and I don't think I'm willing to say I like you, I think the amount of hate towards you and your team are a little unfair. Though you "colluded" to put you and Wade on the same team, the stars who have won rings before you usually had an incredible supporting "wing man" (Pippen, Bryant, Robinson, Garnett, Shaq to name a few). You are not the first person to have a great teammate by your side. So I have secretly hoped for 7 games instead of rooting against you and your teammates. I have hoped you would finally attain the greatness you are capable of in the Finals. I hoped to watch you take your game to a level that only you are capable of reaching.

To my slight disappointment, you have fallen flat on your face in Games 4 and 5. You have played some of the worst basketball of your career at the most inopportune time. The critics are eating you alive. Columnist are heaping shit on you every where you turn. Casual NBA fans are calling you out as a choke artist, overrated, and a disgrace to the game. Though this stage is rare to you, you are the greatest athlete in the league. You are a biological freak. If you don't have the killer Jordan mentality, so be it.

But I plead you, do not go quietly into the night. Do not let the hate get into your head for a third straight game. Do not let "them" win. Rise above it. You are back in your "home" arena (it is a far way away from your true home). You have two games to set aside all the doubts of the first eight years of your career and become the player you can be. I don't think you are Jordan or Russell or Bird or Magic. You aren't anyone else but yourself. There has never been a player in the league like you before. Become LBJ. Forget about the MJ comparisons, the "can't win a title" label, and all the people who think you were too cowardly to try to win a title on your own. Become the player you were meant to be.

An NBA Fan Looking for Greatness,

MM

Super 8 and a Quick Review of the Science Fiction Genre

The first time I saw the teaser trailer for Super 8, I was intrigued. The first time I saw a full-length trailer, I was downright giddy. With whiz-kid J.J. Abrams directing and legend Steven Spielberg producing, the planets appeared to be aligning for a hidden gem to appear out of the absolute crap-fest that is this summer's lineup of movies Hollywood decided to release. Though I haven't seen the movie yet (it's released on Friday) Super 8 seems as though it has a retro Sci-Fi feel, slightly reminiscent of Close Encounters of the Third Kind, ET: The Extra Terrestrial, and Back to the Future.

While I'm extremely excited for the release of Super 8, I wanted to take time to reflect on the genre that has captured the imagination of the world through film time and time again. The genre that can take us to places we only dreamed of going. The genre where aliens are commonplace, computers have minds of their own, and some of humanity's most important questions are asked. The genre which really captures all of the greatest aspects of film: the genre of science fiction.

A Six Legged Take on Big Z

Carlos Zambrano is up to his usual antics, spreading hostile words like a plague across the hapless Chicago Cubs' clubhouse.

When you look up the term "clubhouse cancer" in the sports dictionary, Big Z's frowning face would be starring into your eyes, making you wonder if he was going to pop out of the page and kill you for even considering that he would ever throw a ball outside the strike zone. The man is infamous for his outbursts, his murdering of water coolers, his ejections, and the blame game he always loves to play with his teammates and the only franchise he's ever known.

2011 Team USA-Based Gold Cup Preview

*Disclaimer - All responses to the following questions were typed up before the Canada - US match but due to logistical problems, the post was not completed until afterward. Keep this in mind.

Sunday, the 2011 Gold Cup commenced in Cowboys Stadium with Costa Rica blasting Cuba 5-0. It will conclude with the championship game on June 25th in the Rose Bowl. This once every two years tournament crowns the CONCACAF (Confederation of North, Central American and Caribbean Association Football) champion, and in this case, clinches a spot for the winning team in the 2013 FIFA Confederations Cup. The first prize is a nice pat on the back kind of award, but the second is even more vital for the United States National Men's Team. Though CONCACAF is typically known as the weakest world region (excluding Oceania), this tournament is the closest US fans will get to important international competition for the national team until World Cup qualifying matches start in 2012. So, with this in mind, we've brought in three soccer minds, varying from somewhat knowledgeable to quite knowledgeable and asked them questions about the Gold Cup and the US squad.

Border Wars Eh(?), Red Hot Red Birds, and Tied Championships: A Crazy Night in Sports from Buffalo Wild Wings and Beyond

I knew it would be a good sports night at BWW for several reasons. One, Terrelle Pryor had just left Ohio State which I enjoyed thoroughly. I won't have to watch people over hype him this year, thank goodness. Second, a girl noticed my Minnesota Gophers hat and we had a nice, short conversation about the Land of 10,000 Lakes. Third, it was Wing Tuesdays. And so it began.

One of the perks of watching an event at BWW, besides the obvious ability to watch several games at once, is that you can see people's reactions and tell if something good or bad happened in a game. I used this to my advantage as I originally had to focus on the US-Canada Gold Cup match and couldn't divert as much of my attention to the Cardinals game as I wanted to, due to soccer's non-stop pace. So I designated the guys sitting next to me, who were enjoying a nice wad of dip throughout the game, as my "Cardinals-o-meter." They were there for the baseball game. Since both of the games got underway at 7:05, I had double action immediately. The NBA Finals weren't on until 8, so the three headed monster wasn't in effect just yet.

As the match began, the waitress took my order, and I began furiously scribbling notes in a spiral notebook I had brought, making me look like quite the nerd in my US Michael Bradley soccer jersey and my Minnesota hat. But if you aren't at BWW to watch sports, why come? The US owned possession in the first half, making runs down the flanks, challenging Canadian defenders and connecting on passing sequences with surprising ease. Obviously, Canada isn't the most talented side, but the confidence the US showed was a good sign and an encouraging beginning to the Gold Cup.

Meanwhile, Berkman went yard on his former team and the Cardinals took a 2-0 lead in the 1st, only to be counter-balanced by a Carlos Lee homer in the bottom of the inning. 2-2 and tracking...

All the chances and hard work paid off for the US from an unlikely source, as Jozy Altidore handled a nice ball from none other than Landon Donovan, showed his strength in holding off his defender, and snapping a quick shot to beat the goalie under his arm pit near the near post in the 15th minute. While the ball was quite saveable, it was still a nice showing from Altidore and good to see him get a goal. Originally, the field turf of Ford Field worried me, because the US had difficulty adapting to the turf some Central American teams use during the last cycle of World Cup qualifying but it doesn't seem to phase the Yanks too much. The midfielders are working well together, providing balls down the flank and connecting in the middle for efficient ball control. The only true trouble for the US came in the form of a ball with eyes struck by De Resario from outside the top of the box, only to be just wide of the target. And though it took him about 25 minutes or so, Agudelo seems to have found his footing and was involved in several nice chances on goal.

By the time the soccer game hits halftime, Jake Westbrook has hit a three run double (?!?!?!) and Game 4 of the NBA Finals has commenced. Sadly, Allen Craig left the Cardinals game in the first inning with some sort of knee injury and the guys beside me are up to their elbows in wings. Mine are about a fourth finished and I'm on my third Mr. Pibb. The waitress has realized I'm in this for the long haul, has stopped checking on me, and only comes by when she knows I need a refill. This is excellent because I hate sitting their with them asking, "Can I get you anything else?" And me having to reply, "No thanks I'm good," while I'm thinking in my head, "Yes, I know I'm freeloading these channels that I don't get in my apartment off of you. Sorry."

The Heat-Mavs looks like another back and forth battle from the very beginning as Dirk hits his first three shots, only for the Heat to rally via Chris Bosh. Eventually, the shooting percentages get sort of ugly, the defense somewhat solid, and the game very intense. But more on that later.

The second half opens slightly differently as Canada looks a bit more dangerous. They get into the box with less difficulty than before but real chances are still sparse. However, for the first time in the match they are beginning to make me very nervous. Sadly, my boy Bradley picks up his 137th stupid card in his international career in the 51st minute, but that could just be an approximation. He then redeems himself with a beautiful seeing-eye cross to Altidore, which he proceeds to whiff on with his head, screwing Mikey out of the praise he rightfully deserves. This is followed by Dempsey trying a "reverse bicycle kick" on a dipping cross which he almost completes in spectacular fashion. I yell in glee then disappointment and several people stare at me, as if I just punched them in the face. Sorry I'm a patriot.

The Mavs and Heat continue their battle of attrition and I look briefly at it in time to see Tyson Chandler nut on Joel Anthony's face with authority. That guy kind of scares me.

I shoot both of my arms into the air as the Son's of Sam net their second goal of the match in the 62nd minute via a nice grounded cross by Altidore, ever so slightly tipped by a sliding Agudelo in the middle of the box, and finished on a nice sliding goal by Clint "I run this town" Dempsey. He proceeds to tap the flag lightly and salute the crowd while people at BWW proceed to wonder what game I'm getting so excited about, as the NBA and Cardinals game are both at commercial. Pay attention to soccer people, it's the "beautiful game" and when you do, you seem slightly less uncultured to European people. What's not to like?

No score change has occurred in the Cardinals game and the NBA game rarely fluctuates away from a 4 point deficit for either team in the early going. Meanwhile, I can't finish all 24 traditional wings I have ordered so it looks like I'll have lunch tomorrow. Holler.

Tim Howard shows why he is a world-class keeper in the 85th minute when he saves a point blank range shot in traffic, the Canadian player falls over him, he then rushes to get up as the ball isn't cleared of danger, it finds the foot of a Canadian attacked who proceeds to launch a half-volley towards the top of the net which Howard reaches to save with reflexes like a jungle cat (jaguar, puma, leopard really which ever one you prefer). I let out another yelp in disbelief. Oops. I feel like a jungle cat in a zoo being starred at through bars. With the final whistle drawing near, Westbrook is in a bit of a jam. He puts two runners on with one out in the bottom of the 6th, then Theriot makes yet another error on the season and they are loaded with just one away. Jason Motte enters, gets the next batter 0-2 and proceeds to drill him. Not good. Luckily he settles in strikes the next batter out, and retires the side with a harmless grounder. 5-3 Cards going into the seventh.

Heat-Mavs is at halftime with the Heat up by two in a game that could kindly be classified as ugly. While no one has stood out, besides possibly Tyson Chandler and Chris Bosh, the close score makes all those non-partisan observers still interested and will probably keep ratings high. With a lull in the action, I exit BWW to rush home to see the end of both the Cardinals and the Finals games.

Luckily, I get back in time to see Pujols go yard again, with it being so bomb-like it is almost reminiscent of his homer against Lidge in Game 5 of the 2005 NLCS. Furthermore, Theriot extends his hit streak to 20 games on a last-chance ninth inning at-bat with a double, knocking in an insurance run. Simultaneously, the Heat are blowing another lead to the Mavs, who seem to love playing from behind. While LeBron has mysteriously disappeared and Dirk is playing with a fever (not even cowbell could cure this one), Wade is hogging the spot light and a scrappy supporting cast is keeping the Mavs relevant in the game.

As Salas closes out the game for the Cardinals, allowing a harmless run in the ninth, the final 6 minutes of Game 4 is underway. The Heat officially give away the lead and Dirk, with help from Terry and Stevenson extend their new found lead to six with 1:53 remaining. While I continue to search for LeBron like he's Waldo, Wade misses a game-tying free throw with 30 seconds left. Baskets are exchanged, Terry makes clutch free throws, and then a strange play consisting of the ball bouncing off Wade's leg, him lunging to stop the back court violation, tossing the ball to Miller, and ole Gator Mike air balling the following three leaves me wishing the game had gone to overtime and extended my self-enforced bedtime.The Mavs have tied the series and this puppy looks like it's headed towards seven games. Awesome.

Sadly, the crazy sports' night is over. I'm still looking for LeBron, though I feel good about the direction of the Cardinals (four game winning streak) and the US team (defeated their toughest Gold Cup opponent until probably the semi-finals with relative ease). As my wings sit in the refrigerator waiting for me to eat them at work tomorrow, I can't help but think this is why I love sports. I was entertained from 7-11 PM all by myself. And though it may seem sad to the onlookers, I thoroughly enjoyed it.

****Funny things I didn't mention: JJ Barea started?!?! Cobi Jones cannot be taken seriously in studio with his hair. Sorry I can't do it. There was a large anti-Heat contingent at BWW that constantly heckled them even though the game was occurring about 1000 miles away.

Killer Kool-Aid?

Before the beginning of this Cardinals' season, a lot of fans were in a bit of a panic mode. Adam Wainwright went down for the season, we signed an aging veteran to a one year deal to attempt to shore up our outfield, and the Reds just seemed like some sort of Red Machine Redux in the eyes of the media and the citizens of Cincinnati. Honestly, I can say I wasn't overly worried about them competing. The baseball season is 162 games long. Anything can, and will, happen in that time span. I can't say I picked the Cardinals to win the Central but I thought they would be competitive as ever. My initial prediction was a close three-team race between the Brewers, Cardinals, and Reds, with the Brewers winning at the end of the season. The main point is, sometime between when I knew enough about sports to make semi-educated predictions and becoming an "adult" (graduating college) I stopped guzzling my teams' Kool-Aid with reckless abandon.

And Now For Something Completely Different

My co-editor and I love sports, which should be fairly obvious due to the fact that we keep churning out lengthy posts and podcasts even though there are five people who read: us, our mothers, and the occasional sucker who somehow accidentally comes across this blog in a Google search entry like "Justin Beiber" or "NFL Draft". But another thing I really enjoy and am fascinated with is movies (or as a friend of mine would say "films"). Bleedblue is into movies but not quite to the extent that I am. However, we have still discussed at great length movies we like, why we like them, and argued about what qualifies as "good" and "bad". Anyways, what I am trying to say is that there will be times when I may make a post or two about movies. This is a disclaimer to our regular readers. If you don't care about movies, first of all SHAME ON YOU. (Kidding, but not really.) Secondly, you can just skip over my fairly superficial analysis of film if you so choose. It's nothing special but I know there are a lot of people out there who like movies and enjoy a nice discussion. So I'm just to giving you a heads up and introducing the first ever completely movie-related post on DRD!

Who Knew A Sweater Vest Said So Much?

I always hated that stupid sweater vest. I even told Jim Tressel in person once. Back in 2007 at the Metrodome, when my Golden Gophers were preparing to be sacrificed at the altar of the Buckeyes in a Big Ten Conference game, our slgihtly one-sided conversation went a little like this:

Me yelling from the front row at a few Ohio State coaches (including Jimbo) and straggling players passing the student section during warmups: "Hey Tressel, your sweat vest sucks! Does your mother still dress you?!"

Tressel: Turns around with raised eeybrows and a troubled look.

Honestly, I think he agreed with me. He just didn't want to give up all the advertising money he was getting from the 25 or so sweater vest shops that had set up camp around the Ohio State campus and surrounded the Horseshoe. Either that, or he really wanted to exude the good-guy persona he had so successfully fronted as the Ohio State University Head Football Coach from 2001-2010.

I say fronted because apparently, contrary to the seemingly pristine condition of OSU's football program and Tressel's image, he was just as dirty as John Calipari in a pigsty. And while this may be an over-exaggeration and it may be that Tressel himself did very little wrong and is just taking the blame for several players' wrong doings, he is still a guilty party in the ever-disappointing landscape that is currently major NCAA sports. And so I will take my frustration about this landscape out on him, one, because it is a current sports story, and two, because it just goes to prove that no seemingly squeaky clean program is ever really clean of NCAA violations.

First, I should preface the rest of this post by saying that I've always harbored a sort of distaste for Tressel, Ohio State football, and Tyrelle Pryor. Don't ask me why, all three have just rubbed me the wrong way. Tressel always seemed like he might be hiding something in that scarlet vest, OSU football always seemed to be spoiled beyond belief for no reason (and sometimes their fans quite unbareable), and Pryor always seemed like he thought he was the cat's pajamas even though he has played about two good games against good teams in his collegiate career. So, if I'm being honest, I am enjoying every minute of this fall from grace. I will enjoy watching OSU suffer under any punishment the NCAA finally does hand out. I will hope beyond hope that some how, some way, my Gophers can beat those stinking Buckeyes during a time when their program might hit a low point. I hope they get dozens of wins erased and their conference titles are tarnished forever.

You may wonder why I seem so harsh and almost heartless. It's because I am so sick of college athletes and coaches believing that for some reason, they are above the rules and regulations set forth by their governing body. People may sympathize with the athletes and say that the NCAA makes billions of dollars off of their hard work and effort, with them getting very little in return. And that makes me mad.

My response to that is that the NCAA uses a lot of its money to sponsor scholarships for lesser sports, the sports in which the future doesn't contain 8-digit paydays and massive advertising dollars. My response to that is that players choose to play sports, choose to go to college to do so, and really only have to behave themselves for two years (one in the case of basketball) before they can go their merry way into professional paydays. My response is that a college education, free room-and-board, and all the free gear and other amenities athletes get is a pretty good "payment" if you ask me. You know what other people your age are doing when you are getting catered meals and free Gatorade? They're studying their asses off to keep academic scholarship so they can finish school and one day become a doctor. Some people work two jobs to pay their way through college. They don't get time to party on weekends after the big game like I'm sure Pryor did. And sure, it's a small minority of college athletes who go on to be professional athletes with big salaries, but aren't those the only people with major NCAA violations?

I know someone will come back with some snide remark or some example of a small school with a miniscule athletic budget with several violations but that person would be missing the point. I understand the time and hard work the athletes go through. I had a semi-recent discussion about the five Ohio State players who got in trouble for selling their memorabilia with a former Divison I-FCS football player. This was obviously someone who wasn't going to get the kind of a attention that a Buckeye football player might get, making his perspective a unique and interesting one. He was sympathetic towards the players because he knows that the system is broken. He acknowledged that the NCAA and the schools get to make millions of dollars while the players don't really see any of that money. And he had some good points about the system and its flaws. There are people who can't afford college, use the athletic scholarship to get in, and still need money for food, living expenses, and other ammenities that the scholarship doesn't necessarily cover.

I can symphatize with those people because they were dealt a uneven hand. But if they complete their education, they can get a degree, get a job, pay back their loans if they needed to take any out, and be thankful for the opportunity that college gave them and the chance they got at that opportunity just because they could do something with a ball or a stick or their legs not many other people could do.

So I don't have any pity for Tressel or the players who broke the rules they agreed to follow when they accepted their scholarships. They knew what they could and could not do but they did it anyway. Rumor has it, Pryor was always driving around in different expensive cars, flaunting his status as big man on campus at clubs and VIP rooms, and basically proclaiming himself bigger than the game of college football and the campus which gave him an opportunity to play. And this is what aggrivates me the most. The ungrateful personality of a lot of college athletes who have been given such great physical skills and who believe its their right to a superior life than others.

I don't want to go on too much of a soap box rant because I'm generally quiet laid back. I love sports because they are fun, can be extremely informal, and if we're just talking about the field of play and nothing that goes on outside the games, don't really contain any great moral dilemmas. I wish the college game didn't have to struggle with these problems of dirty programs and corrupt practices. It takes away from the pure passion that is college athletics and give fuel to the fires of those who like to say athletes are spoiled and sports aren't important in the grand scheme of things.

I hate to see stories like Tressel's come out of the woodworks. It isn't good for anyone. While I may have seemed harsh on the Ohio State program earlier, I still wish it hadn't happened. I feel sorry for a dad of one of my good friends, who's favorite team has been tossed into a disconbobulated heap. I feel sorry for the Ohio State players who have done no wrong who have to deal with the media coverage. I feel sorry for the old-timer alumni because their beloved team has fallen under a dark cloud.

Most of all, I feel sorry for sports. You may say I'm a dreamer, but I wish rules violations, pay-for-play scandals, and tattoos weren't something we had to read about when we quickly scanned the headlines of Sports Illustrated or ESPN. I wish the game were clean, the NCAA system perfect, and the only thing that mattered were those kids putting their hearts on the line in arenas, fields, and rinks across the country. But sadly we live in the 21st century and it's not the case. I just hope that out of this mess we learn an important message.

Never trust a man in a sweater vest.