by Brian

• For any Philly sports fanatic, growing accustomed to the usual rotation of commercials during any game is just part of our fandom. As fans, we reserve the right to scratch our heads, throw objects at our television, or fire off hilarious text messages about these promos.  Enter the Chapman trio of idiots and the inane WB Mason mock reality show commercials.
  • Chapman—Let me get this straight. I’m supposed to be enticed to buy a car from (a) the leathery faced, smoke-stained teeth, permasmile older brother (b) the clearly strung out younger brother who chose to show off his classy forearm tattoo for the shoot or (c) the ghost of their father who suggests, on a break from his 900^th cigarette of the day, that if we don’t buy Chapman, we’re paying too much for our vehicle?
    

    What our father said 25 years ago, "You boys are winners!"

  • WB—I’m not really sure at whom this campaign is aimed? I get that reality television is huge right now, but are the same people who watch Jersey Shore or The Real World in the market for office supplies? Are they hoping that a campy premise and poor acting is going to move coffee and paper clips? I’m stumped.

• As a fan of mismatched, buddy-cop films like Point Break and Tango and Cash, I can appreciate the complexity of putting two seemingly antithetical partners together in hopes that they figure each other out by figuring themselves out in time to catch the bad guy (or in Johnny Utah’s case, letting the bad guy commit karmic suicide because said bad guy isn’t going to paddle to New Zealand!). However, I simply cannot take Comcast Sportsnet’s unlikely Phils’ post-game duo of Marshall Harris and Ricky (seriously, still using the “y?”) Botallico.  During a particularly uncomfortable tete a tete last week, Botallico was bemoaning the Phils’ offensive woes, which he is paid to do, when Harris chimed in with, “says the man with two lifetime hits in the big leagues.” Now, I understand what he’s trying to do, but that’s like the manager of your junior high basketball team yelling at the starting point guard to hit the boards more effectively. I can’t stand Botallico, but he shot Harris a nasty look before retorting with, “yeah, and how many hit do you have buddy?” Harris tried to laugh it off, but the damage to Botallico’s ego had been done.

• After the passing of Yanks’ fuehrer, George Steinbrenner this week, and Bobby Cox’s preseason proclamation that this season would be his last, is there any question the baseball gods will smile upon these two organizations and send them to the Fall Classic? If you don’t believe in the baseball gods, watch the frequency with which the baseball will find the guy who was just entered as a defensive replacement.  Obviously, this unholy union would go right up the collective nose of Phillies fans if they lose a chance at redemption against the evil empire at the hands of their very boring, very vanilla division rival from Hotlanta.

• Can someone explain how unfunnyman, Louis CK, keeps getting work? I have yet to laugh at anything he or his failed projects have elicited, yet I see he was given another shot by FX. It’s like seeing a coach or manager who has never won anything (Calipari?) keep getting opportunities to continue not winning. I guess the devil you know is better than the devil you don’t, but why not give an up-and-coming comedian a shot at stardom instead of trotting out a guy whose stock has never really risen?
  

  Look, everyone! I'm pulling my shirt up and saying something funny! Yay!

• I know the Phils’ recent sweep of first place Cincinnati before the All-Star break was exciting and uplifting, but I think it might be time to accept this just isn’t their year. Injuries, the what-to-do-with-Jayson-Werth conundrum, having 2/5 of an effective starting rotation, a schizophrenic offense, and a GM with a lot of “’splainin’” to do all point toward an early off-season. Let me throw this out there too. Is Roy Halladay the Takeo Spikes of MLB? Neither has made the playoffs, both have sought teams who they thought would help get them there, and both came to Philly with that singular goal in mind. Maybe some guys are just playoff kryptonite.

by Brian

**During one of my first ever Locker pieces, I talked about how, despite the enormous shoes he had to fill, Phils play-by-play announcer, Tom McCarthy, was dangerously close to being replaced by my iPod or the radio team of Scott Franzke and Larry Andersen. Now, a full year later, this completely vanilla robot has done nothing to change my mind. Now, I’ll admit to being partial to guys who actually played the game, but such logic doesn’t affect my appreciation for the other three major sports teams’ announcers—Merrill Reese (Eagles), Jim Jackson (Flyers), and Marc Zumoff (Sixers)—because they have some flair, some panache, some understanding of the tremendous job they have in bringing our city’s teams to our homes on a nightly basis.

While I watched yet another lackluster performance by the Phils during which they dropped three of four to those pesky Pirates, I couldn’t help but take mental notes of McCarthy’s performance.

"I have a microphone into which I speak about baseball!"

Exhibit A: He used the word towering four times during the telecast. Now, maybe we’re all a little spoiled by Doc Emrick’s ability to use approximately 4, 567 verbs during his call of any hockey game, but I don’t think it’s too much to ask for McCarthy to come up with just one more adjective for flyballs.

Exhibit B: I realize the phrase “Captain Obvious” gets bandied about regularly, and usually with at least mild audience chuckling, but McCarthy is doing everything he can to cement himself as the “Captain Obvious.” After the Phils coughed up a three-run lead in the bottom of the 7^th, he delivered this doozie: The complexion of this game really changed when it went from a one-run game to now a three-run deficit for the Phils. I don’t require my play-by-play guy to be a sabermetrics practitioner, but I also don’t need him to fill in elementary gaps like this one.

Exhibit C: His homerun calls absolutely stink. I’d rather pluck a drunken fraternity brother out of the stands and ask him to call, oh, let’s say, Jimmy Rollins’ walkoff last week instead of listening to McCarthy’s completely uninventive, He’s baaaaaaack, in reference to Rollins’ momentous return to the lineup.

**I had the misfortune of briefly flicking past the Competitive Eating Competition on ESPN, which got me thinking about our society. Let me get this straight—Americans can’t appreciate the FIFA World Cup, deemed a game for “foot fairies” by our most clever of wordsmiths, which has been nothing short of amazing for the better part of a month (if you missed the sick Paraguay-Spain quarterfinal because you were afraid you’d catch “footfairyitis” as a result, I’ll submit that it was the second best game of the tourney behind the US win in extra time against Algeria), but we can show up in droves to watch intestinal freaks of nature devour food quickly? And don’t think for a second that the arrival and “arrest” of former champ Kobayashi wasn’t staged for publicity.

Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay better than soccer. (By Theo Zierock, AFP/Getty Images)

As a result, I will not listen to those who suggest our country isn’t getting dumber. Or dumberer.

**Wait, Mike Vick didn’t see the light behind Tony Dungy’s shadow? It turns out he really isn’t a very good dude? The Eagles made a personnel mistake? The Wildcat Formation was effective for one year, four years ago? Now I’ve heard it all.

by Brian

For my first post since my daughter was born in September, I thought I’d take things slowly, rail against the current goings-on in sports and pop culture that keep me up at night, and call it a day.

**Because I am a devoted fan of college basketball but equally as dedicated to my hatred of the NBA, I’m puzzled at what happens between the time sure-fire lottery picks sleep through the first semester of class (c’mon, you think DeMarcus Cousins is taking copious notes during College Comp 101?) during their freshman year and they walk up to the podium to accept the flat-brimmed hat of their new NBA team. My allegiance lies squarely with the ‘Cuse in the NCAA, but I couldn’t tell you what Jonny Flynn did this year in the NBA, and I’m certain the same will hold true for Wes Johnson. But, hey, at least they get to toil together as Timberwolves.

Now, as I watched the epic College World Series clincher by South Carolina last night, I had to wonder why baseball doesn’t suffer the same fate as its more athletic NBA counterpart. I mean these kids are going berserk after the third out of any inning, locking arms in the dugout during big at-bats, and donning rally caps while passing around superstitious Vanilla Wafers.

Put me in coach! I'm ready to give you 30% of what I got!

The answer really wasn’t that difficult—coaching. Without a self-aggrandizing John Calipari or Rick Pitino on the sidelines, these kids play for their coaches in college, so doing the same thing for the MLB managers isn’t a stretch. There is a respect for the game and for its elder statesmen in baseball that is conspicuously absent in the NBA. Again, does anyone think any of the players who just left Kentucky is going to miss Calipari or is amped for an opportunity to play for Stan Van Gundy? Doubt it.**

**When is Doc Halladay going to walk into the clubhouse after another start that only asked for three or four runs of support, which then resulted in a loss, and start cracking skulls? This guy does his job every fifth day and is rewarded with two runs, six hits, and twelve LOB. Blech.**

**Let me tell you what I think about this LBJ, Wade, Bosh “summit” in Miami last weekend—nothing. In fact, this bullet point is as much thought as I’ve devoted to anything NBA related in nine years. Go ahead, play together. Win together. Ride around on boats together. The NBA already has watered down 94% of itself (that’s right, I did the math), so creating a triumvirate of power in Miami means the other 5% can join in the irrelevant par-tay. Have at it, boys.**

**As a follow up to my months-old contribution to the Almost Punchable Celebrity

With a face like this...

column, I was just treated with a radio spot for 7UP voiced by none other than that lovable baritone, Brad Garrett. The commercial played on the dichotomy between Garrett’s surly exterior and his hidden love for the soft drink, so he’d grunt in his trademark voice and then take it up an octave to express his pleasure. If you’re bored by this bullet, you can join the six Garrett fans who feel the same way about his work.**

            Rockies at Phillies

            With some playoff history in their very recent rear view mirror, these two teams will try to summon the ghosts of playoffs past.  For the Rox, their ascension to post season relevance is nearly as remarkable as their historic September of 2007 when they went berserk and stormed into the playoffs on the way to a first round sweep of the Phils.  The defending world f@*king champs, who admittedly lost some of their swagger in the final week of the season, aren’t looking as far back as Colorado, instead focusing on last year’s relatively easy run to the crown.

Without last year's swagger, this scene may not be 'repeated.'

            So, who do we like?

            Why the Phils will win

            It’s hard to overlook what this team did last year, going undefeated at home and losing only three games in the postseason.  Such experience can’t be overvalued, and though the team has some noticeably different parts (Cliff Lee, Raul Ibanez, J Happ), few teams get to boast the bling they earned in baseball’s second season. 

            With a lineup that’s almost video game good on most days, the Phightins’ can pound pitchers from both sides of the plate with a flurry of doubles and dongs.  Couple that with one of the league’s premier defenses, particularly up the middle, and the championship recipe isn’t all that much different than last year’s blend.

            For the Rockies, a young pitching staff that is a bit banged up could cause itself problems, and while the lineup does feature a first ballot Hall of Famer in 1B Todd Helton and a young stud SS in Troy Tulowitzki, the Phils’ is simply better 1-8.

'Tulo' could have a major say in the NLDS outcome.

            Lastly, despite what critics say about Phils’ skipper Charlie Manuel’s southern drawl and limited vocabulary, he has a knack for getting his guys to play.  While Rox manager Jim Tracy is a lock for NL Manager of the Year for his team’s unprecedented success after his hiring, he lacks what Manuel has.  A ring.

            Why the Rockies will win

            I have to admit that I’m terrified of this series.  The Phils’ 2008 championship was marked by a gutty, gritty approach to a September comeback that seems all too familiar to Mets fans.  They had to play their way in.  They had to get hot at the right time. Their pitching staff, from top to bottom, gelled at the most opportune time.  They had a certain quality I think this year’s version lacks. 

            Perhaps it was leading the division for so long.

            Perhaps it’s the World Series hangover.

            Perhaps it’s complacency.

            Whatever it is, I just don’t like them in this year’s NLDS like I did in last year’s.

            The pitching staff is just beleaguered by injuries and inconsistency right now, and I’ll spare myself a diatribe on the bullpen.  Moreover, when the game one starter isn’t clear cut two days before game one, that’s a problem.

The ghost of playoffs past could haunt Lidge and the Phils.

            The lineup, as I mentioned, is very good, but it also relies far too heavily on the long ball.  Last year’s championship was marked by a lack of production with RISP, a trend that certainly cannot be repeated.  Last year’s bench was much more formidable and could give opposing manager’s pause.  I’m not sure Tracy will be concerned about Eric Bruntlett, Miguel Cairo or Paul Bako in this NLDS.

            Rockies’ closer Huston Street has undergone his own Renaissance since his trade from Oakland in the Matt Holliday deal.  Though he is oft injured, Street’s 35 saves against 2 blown saves makes the Phils’ back end look even worse by comparison.

            If the Rockies can get early leads in games 1 and 2, like many teams have done against the Phils down the stretch, they could make this a very short series for the defending champs.

            Almost Prediction

            For some reason, I just don’t like this matchup for the Phils.  Phans of the champs would have much rather faced a Dodger team whose number the Phils have and who have played equally as poorly down the stretch.  Let’s face it; no NL team has repeated as champs since the 1975-76 Reds, so history is not on our side.

            Rockies take the series in four.

            While many of us recall our sophomore year of high school with the appropriate mixture of humiliation (hormones), frustration (Geometry), or nostalgia (the ’90s), we can all agree that it was ultimately a very tumultuous year.  The proverbial sophomore slump doesn’t discriminate based on gender or genre as we have seen bands (The Killers), television shows (Heroes), and directors (Richard Kelly) who have fallen under the sophomore jinx’s fickle spell. 

            Though there are a myriad of reasons for any sophomore slump, in the case of the NFL, such a distinction may only be a state of mind.  Sure, guys like Steve Slaton and Matt Forte have gotten off to horrendous starts in part because their teams’ schedules certainly lent themselves to a lack of production (Slaton drew the Jets and Titans; Forte had to face the Pack and the Steelers).  But just ask Chris Johnson, Joe Flacco, and Matt Ryan about their early sophomore campaigns.  These guys are refusing to appear on a growing list of players who struggle during their second season, and the league couldn’t be happier to watch its new generation of stars usher out the old guard.

            Frankly, I thought the “Smash ‘n Dash” moniker and game plan was overrated, but the league has moved toward the two back system, so Titans RB Chris Johnson was forced to be the latter to Lendale White’s former.

Hey, Lendale. Keep drinking tequilia because I'm a one man show now. (Gregory Shamus-Getty Images)

After a 1200+ yard/10 TD rookie season, the East Carolina speedster figured to take a step back as teams figured out a way to contain him.  After a lackluster week one against the stifling Steelers’ defense (15/57), still featuring S Troy Polamalu, Johnson went bananas last week against the Texans (284 total yards/3 TDs).  The self-proclaimed “every coach’s dream,” who essentially broke up with White via Twitter, isn’t going to play second fiddle to the former USC fatso any longer, and Jeff Fischer (and Johnson fantasy owners) should be salivating.

            When it became apparent that both Ravens’ QB Joe Flacco and Falcons’ QB Matt Ryan were going to start for their respective teams last season, I wrote on my former site that each city was about to undergo a Renaissance of colossal proportions and neither signal caller disappointed.  Ryan made every Hotlantian forget what Eagles’ fans are now forced to remember—Mike Vick—while Flacco catapulted himself to stardom, albeit through a very conservative weekly game plan and stout defense, by taking his team to the AFC championship game.  Two weeks removed from the start of their second season, each young stud has picked up right where he left off.

            Ryan has undoubtedly benefited from the savvy off-season acquisition of future Hall of Fame TE, Tony Gonzalez.

Hello, Atlanta. I'm your savior. The pleasure is all yours.

 Though far from being simply a game manager, Ryan has done just that in the Falcons first two wins (Miami, Carolina).  The Exton, PA native has averaged 225 YPG while throwing 5 TDs against only 1 pick.  Gonzalez has done his part (72 YPG/2 TD), and the Falcons are 2-0 without standout WR Roddy White being much of a factor (47 YPG/1 TD).  With his first true test of the season, in Foxboro, Ryan can cement himself as the new face of the NFC with a win against a puzzlingly inconsistent Patriot club.

            Fans of our site shouldn’t be surprised that Flacco is getting some love.  Truth be told, it’s much easier to cover our fair town’s favorite son when he’s playing like the standout he’s always been.  There’s no question that Ravens’ coach John Harbaugh did just about everything right last year, not the least of which was naming Flacco his starter and allowing him to learn on the fly.

Yeah, I'm kind of tired of handing it off. I'm going to go ahead and air it out.

While Flacco struggled out of the gate, he put himself in extremely rare company by advancing his team to the AFC championship, and while no rookie quarterback has ever reached the Super Bowl, Flacco and his Ravens gave the Steelers all they could handle before a late Flacco pick punched a ticket to the Bowl for Pittsburgh.      Now, armed with the kind of experience some quarterbacks will never have (right, Matt Leinart? Nice work), Flacco, with the help of offensive coordinator Cam Cameron, has shed the game-manager label. 

Averaging just under 250 YPG, Flacco has thrown 5 TDs against 2 INTs in his first two weeks while the Ravens have averaged just under 35 PPG.  Last week’s shootout with the Chargers, in San Diego, ended with an all too familiar Ray Lewis tackle for a loss, but it was Flacco’s efficiency and 2 TDs that helped seal the deal for the Ravens.  Now, instead of asking Flacco not to lose the game (a la Trent Dilfer), Harbaugh and Raven Nation can relax with the knowledge that Flacco can win a game for them as well.

            So, sophomore slump? Well, it’s a long season, and there’s no guarantee that these three super sophs won’t end up running gassers in practice for poor play, but there’s no question that for the Titans, Falcons, and Ravens the slump is far more theoretical than practical.

            For each of Eagles’ coach Andy Reid’s eleven years at the helm of a team incapable of winning a championship, fans have sat on a proverbial fence painted midnight green and not-so-pure white.  Some laud the oratorical master for his steadfast devotion to his players while simultaneously spitting on the media members paid to cover his team.  Others lambaste the coach for his pass-happy offense predicated on an adherence to the West Coast offense as he desperately, and quite pathetically, tries to unseat former Niners’ great Bill Walsh as the progenitor of the scheme. 

            However, as the Birds look toward week three and the Kansas City Chiefs, Reid can bask in his new role as the 21^st century’s first three headed monster of head coach/general manager and…

Come one! Come all! Ladies and Gentlemen, your 2009-2010 Philadelphia Eagles!

            Vaudeville director.

            With an eclectic, and admittedly criminal, collection of quarterbacks from which to choose each week, Reid and his pocket-protector brandishing sidekick, Joe Banner, can sit back and pull the strings on the most dysfunctional quarterbacking quartet in NFL  history.

            Ya’ gotta be proud.

            Popularized in the late 19^th and early 20^th century, Vaudeville acts roamed parts of the US and Canada while boasting a virtual smorgasbord of entertainment.  On any given night, revelers could expect to see a magic act, trained animals, wandering minstrels, overthrown receivers…oh, wait.  Vaudevillians didn’t make much money but became a part of the cultural landscape nonetheless and many of our modern day variety shows owe their platform to their nomadic predecessors.

            Never, however, has such a platform lent itself to the most important position in all of sports. That is until Big Red put his stamp on it. 

            The Players

            1. Donovan McNabb—Playing the role of the “star” of the show is our fair city’s adequate-and-that’s-all-he-can-be starting quarterback.

That's right, y'all. I'm the star of this soap opera.

Able to smile on cue, tap dance out of the way of would-be tacklers, alienate himself and teammates, and vomit for dramatic effect, D Mac has earned his position as this Vaudeville’s headliner.  With flashes of brilliance peppered with a touch of inconsistency and topped off with an air of entitlement, McNabb scoffs at any suggestion that any of his castmates is hot for his spot.  After all, chicks only dig the star of the show, right?

            2. Kevin Kolb—Every act has to have its straight man (and according to TO that can’t be Jeff Garcia), so Kolb has blossomed nicely into his role as the protégé of McNabb’s mentorship.  Fans will come to the show equipped with as many boos as cheers and as many tomatoes as roses in hopeful anticipation of seeing what the understudy has up his sleeve each week.  Will he take the old “break a leg” adage too literally and find himself on the outside looking in or is it his hand that’s ready to pull the string that sends a bucketful of hammers onto his mentor’s head?  Hilarity is sure to ensue whenever these two professionals are on the stage at the same time.

            3. Mike Vick—Of course, no act would be complete without the mustache-twisting villain who comes equipped with his own evil soundtrack.

Don't hate the player. Hate the horrendous human being I am despite what Tony Dungy says. And hate the game.

However, like any good villain (think the Joker without intellect, ingenuity, wit, charm, you get the point) worth his weight in arrest warrants, Vick will garner the support of that bizarre faction of people who actually wants to see the villain tie the damsel in distress to the train tracks and slink away unnoticed.  The only problem for Vick is he’s already been noticed by local and state authorities, so the chances of seeing him get away as the Eagles’ starting quarterback are pretty slim.  Regardless, Vick’s yin to McNabb’s yang is certainly worth the price of admission (ticket prices for this Vaudevillian masterpiece start at only five sawbucks).

            4. Jeff Garcia—Aw, the loveable loser.  In several past performances, this also-ran player probably won over the crowd with his tough-as-nails approach to the game and his effusive excitement for every touchdown pass.

Why am I smiling? Because somehow I'm still allowed on set.

Sadly, performers like this are often trying to suck the marrow out of a bone long since run dry, and despite the fact that the audience will still pay to see him, everyone in attendance knows he’s only on stage to remind us of his alternatives.

            Luckily for Birds’ Nation, this traveling band of miscreants, ne’er-do-wells, and Prince Charming-in-trainings can be appreciated for free from the cheap seats inside our living rooms.  Now, we can all just kick back, wait for the players to hit their marks, and revel in the comedic stylings of this century’s foremost Vaudevillian genius, Andrew Walter Reid.

           Vindication.

            For years of arguments fallen on deaf ears.

            For what I was convinced was compelling evidence for my case.

            For what I knew to be an immutable fact about Michael Jordan.

            MJ is an awful person.

Mirror, Mirror on the wall...

            My deep-seated loathing for the NBA’s greatest player is so multifaceted, so layered, so complex that I could never do it (or my readers) justice by laying it out in full on our modest little blog, but suffice it to say that no matter where Jordan’s ego takes him next, or more appropriately, where it takes him from, I’ll always have his Hall of Fame induction speech to remind me that I was, for once, completely right.

***********************************************************************************            

             As a ravenous fan of the NBA in its relative heyday, 1980-1994 (RIP NBA), I, like all youngsters, had to make difficult choices about my team allegiances, my favorite players, and my love-to-hate ballers.  For whatever reason, I never gravitated toward Jordan despite the fact that such a show of fandom would have been so easy given that any hot-blooded American kid, who loved hoops, loved Jordan.  But even at age 12, I knew that something about the guy just wasn’t for me, so I found myself aligning with the Detroit Pistons and their heralded leader, Isiah Thomas.  To this day, I don’t know what drew me to Zeke other than that he was not MJ.

            Hell, maybe it was just the tongue.

            Fast forward to 1994 when assembly of the world’s finest International Basketball team, aptly dubbed “The Dream Team,” was just wrapping up with one insanely obvious oversight. 

            Hall of Fame point guard, Isiah Thomas.

Thanks to MJ, Zeke was "frozen out" of the original Dream Team.

            Isiah Thomas, who was widely considered the best point guard in the league at that time and for most of his career.

             Isiah Thomas, who led his team to back to back championships in 1988-1989 and 1989-1990.

             Isiah Thomas, who scored 25 points in a quarter in the 1988 Finals while playing on a severely sprained ankle.

             Isiah Thomas, who had a very public feud with MJ for most of his career.

            But this isn’t about Zeke, whose post-playing career has taken on a very sad life of its own, because as Jordan himself will tell you, and he did during his speech, it’s always about Jordan.

********************************************************************************

             In the interest of full disclosure, I didn’t even watch the inductions.  Later, I felt a bit guilty about letting Jordan get in the way of enjoying the moment for two of the game’s most dignified ambassadors, David Robinson and John Stockton, both of whom served the league with grace, and for Stockton, with an insistence on making other players around him better, an ironic dichotomy to Jordan’s career.  But as I started to hear about the speech and field emails from friends who know how I feel about Jordan, I couldn’t resist the morbid curiosity any longer.

            The following is a brief breakdown of the most narcissistic speech in Hall of Fame history:

           1. Of course I can’t be certain, but when Jordan mentioned that he “shocked the shit” out of David Thompson by asking him to stand up for Jordan during the ceremony, we may have heard the HOF’s first swear word during an induction speech.

            2. By inviting Leroy Smith, the player kept instead of MJ during his sophomore season in high school, Jordan reminded his old coach that “you made a mistake, dude,” while simultaneously diminishing anything Smith has ever done because, let’s face it, he’s not Jordan.

            3. After bitterly rehashing his high school career, it only made sense to move chronologically to his next victim, Dean Smith. Only the second most lauded coach in college hoops history (Wooden), Jordan undressed Smith for not naming him as the fifth starter during a Sports Illustrated interview in 1981.

            4. Next was his tirade against the Bulls front office, in particular former GM Jerry Krause with whom Jordan had a very contentious relationship despite the fact that Krause built what many consider the greatest team of all time, the 1996 (72-10) team, around MJ even after he abruptly retired in 1993.

            5. At one point, Jordan reminded the audience that he “played with the flu” in Utah and sucked it up on various other occasions to play while hurt.  I won’t bring up Isiah Thomas’s foot injury in the playoffs again, but clearly Jordan feels he’s the only player in the game to have played under adverse conditions.

            6. After just about twenty minutes of bitterness, Jordan finally addressed his children and, only by association, his ex-wife.

            7. Next, Jordan took a potshot at rising ticket prices for the HOF inductions.  He does so by complaining that the $1000 price per ticket was exorbitant because he had so many people to bring in for the event.

            8. He would clearly be remiss not to mention the now infamous “freeze out” in the 1984 All-Star Game.  Allegedly spearheaded by Thomas, several Eastern Conference All-Stars vowed, silently, to not pass Jordan the ball in a passive aggressive show of disapproval of the attention Jordan commanded.  Jordan went on to say that such a tactic really didn’t bother him.

             9. Up next on Jordan’s radar was Hall of Fame coach, Pat Riley.  Author of several scintillating Lakers teams in the ‘80s, Knicks teams in the ‘90s, and, most recently, Heat teams in the ‘00s, Riley and Jordan’s history goes back to Riley’s time with the Knicks during which he publicly proclaimed that he would do whatever he had to to stop Jordan, and MJ felt in necessary to remind Riley that he failed.

             10. After a totally unnecessary and petty shot at former Knicks coach Jeff Van Gundy, Jordan reminded people that he would do whatever necessary to win, including “playing a team game,” which begs the question, “what else would he do in a team sport?”

Hey, if I'm in your way, just go ahead and move me, MJ.

             11. At the end of his now almost 30-minute speech, Jordan saved room for an anecdotal jab at former Jazz player Bryon Russell.  Russell, who was famously cleared out of Jordan’s way during a game winning shot in the 1997 Finals against Utah, commented during Jordan’s retirement that if Jordan ever were to put on a pair of shorts again, Russell would stop him.  Again, Jordan felt his HOF speech was the most appropriate time to remind Russell that he was, in fact, wrong.

             12. Jordan bookended his speech by quipping that he confided in friends that he was going to accept his enshrinement by simply walking to the podium, saying ‘thank you’ and sitting down.  Whether intended as a joke or not, such arrogance seemed all too fitting for “his Airness.”

 **************************************************************************

             Of course, what was left out of any speech, any interview, and any video montage of Jordan’s career was the sordidness that his astounding talent helped overshadow.  No mention of his admitted gambling addiction, something which ESPN’s Bill Simmons attributes to Jordan’s first retirement by asserting that league commissioner, David Stern, urged Jordan to walk away from the game before he dragged it down with his gambling problem.  No mention of his, by all accounts, absentee parenting (as evidenced by his children being an afterthought in his speech).  No mention of his womanizing and subsequent bribe of $250,000 to keep such an affair quiet.

             Now, I understand that the HOF induction ceremony is no place to air dirty laundry about Jordan.  So why was it so difficult for Jordan to make the same distinction? Ultimately, underneath the veneer he’s worked so hard to establish (and then whore out to any endorsement deal that came down the pike), Jordan is a completely insecure, egomaniacal (yes, they go hand-in-hand) child who just happens to be the greatest basketball player of all time.  After this speech, what he’ll be remembered for most will remain forever blurry.

Any fan of Mike Judge’s now not-so-cult hit Office Space can rattle off lines from the film like they are reciting their social security number:

             *(Peter) Lawrence, what would you do if you had million dollars?

              (Lawrence) You mean besides two chicks at the same time?

             *(Bob Slydell) Peter, what would you say you do here?

            *(Michael Bolton) PC load letter? What the [heck] does that mean?

But perhaps today’s athletes are taking one famous line from the film in reference to work, I’m just not going to go anymore, just a bit too far. 

Both Jay Cutler and Brandon Marshall were cornerstones of Broncos GM Brian Xanders’ master plan to reassume control of the AFC West like they did for years in the late 80s and 90s, but somewhere between Mike Shanahan’s dismissal in January and Josh McDaniels’ hiring shortly thereafter, the top two offensive stars for the Broncos decided they were just going to stop going to work.

In Cutler’s case, the gateway out of Mile High was a perfect storm of a bruised ego, a fierce loyalty to Shanahan, and a little bit of good old fashioned sour grapes.  Upon hearing of Shanahan’s dismissal, Cutler wasted little time in reacting.

“I hope it all works out. But I know I’m disappointed, I’m not happy, and it’s a lot to think about. I just want to continue the things we were able to do this year on offense and get better all the time,” said Cutler.

Cutler has never been one to shy away from a mike shoved in his face, just ask new teammate Devin Hester, but I think his loyalty to Shanahan was genuine and because the move was widely considered so shocking, Cutler had a right to stick by the man who drafted him to succeed Jake Plummer. 

What came next was even more blindsiding. 

Cutler’s short career has featured a Favre-like penchant for forcing balls into rapidly closing windows, but his arm and ability to make plays out of nothing, also much like a young Favre, have garnered him respect around the league if not in his own locker room.  His 54 TDs against 37 picks isn’t exactly the model of consistency, but he has averaged over 200+ yards in the air per game, though most of that is a result of having to come from behind thanks to a perpetually laughable defensive unit. 

Despite what he’s done and many believe he will do, new coach Josh McDaniels was thoroughly unimpressed and looked to trade for fellow soon-to-be ex-Patriot, Matt Cassel.  What once was a slightly bruised Cutler quickly became the male equivalent of every girl who’s ever been cheated on and Cutler wanted out. Hell hath no fury like a quarterback scorned.

Fast forward three short months and the Broncos dealt the petulant Cutler to the Chicago Bears for career zero, Kyle Orton.  Much like our Office Space hero, Peter Gibbons, Cutler was ostensibly rewarded for deciding to do nothing.

Hey, have you seen my stapler?

Still, the Broncos had a bevy of talented running backs, a standout young burner in Eddie Royal, and one of the league’s few legit game changers in Marshall, right?  What has followed Cutler’s departure has made Philly fans realize we didn’t have it all that bad with our former star receiver doing situps in his driveway. 

Because Brandon Marshall is out of his mind.

Refusing to learn the playbook, personifying passive-aggression, deliberately dropping balls (actually it’s more like smacking them down), and even punting footballs away from unsuspecting ball boys have all been par for the Marshall course as he does everything he can to get traded. If you haven’t seen the video, check this out.

Now, let’s not forget that this is a guy who’s been suspended for several off the field dust ups, most notably an ironic seven police related matters involving alleged domestic abuse, before being suspended for the remainder of the this preseason.  Though his numbers last year were astounding (104 catches/1,265 Yds/6 TDs), it’s hard to imagine any team in desperate need of a WR (Baltimore, NYG, NYJ) taking a chance on this guy, but, then again, Mike Vick is back in the league.

Ok, but if you guys don't trade me, I'm going to burn this building down. (AP Photo/David Zalubowski)

If Office Space has taught us anything about the “real world” it’s that sometimes work sucks.  But resorting to passive aggression, infantile behavior, or destroying the company Xerox machine is not always going to be rewarded with a trade ticket out of town or forgotten because of a fortuitous arson.  Sadly, people like Cutler and Marshall can actually answer Peter’s million dollar question while the rest of us can only dream of earning the kind of money they’re so willing to take for granted.

Hey, Peter, what's happening? I'm gonna need you, Jay and Brandon to come in on Saturday? Thanks a bunch!

• If the Rockies pull another late season rabbit from their hat and overtake the Dodgers, who everyone assumed would snore to the top spot in the NL and home field advantage throughout the playoffs after being up an astounding 15 ½ games early in the season, that would put the Phils in the middle of three of MLB’s greatest collapses—their own in 1964, the 2007 Mets’, who were done in by the Phils, and the 2009 Dodgers who would become the Phils’ first round opponent.
  

  Don't worry Amazins'. You're about to have some company.

  One thing’s for sure though—Phils fans should be rooting for the Rockies.  A first round matchup with the Dodgers is clearly in the Phils’ favor, not just because of the Phils having the Dodgers proverbial number but because such a series would come during a monumental LA freefall.  Moreover, a Cards-Rox first round matchup favors the Cards, believe it or not, who boast two of the top five pitchers in the NL in Adam Wainwright and Chris Carpenter. Ultimately, I just don’t want to play the league’s hottest team in the first round again.

• Speaking of the Dodgers, I remember watching game two of the NLCS last year at a friend’s house and yelling, “Chad Billingsley? I’m supposed to be afraid of Chad Billingsley?” And right on cue, he blew up and the Phils cruised to an easy 8-5 win.  This year, as the Dodgers were rolling to a seemingly insurmountable lead in the NL West, I sort of repeated my sentiment, more in reference to the entire team than to Billinsgley, because LA feasted on an awful division, which would have been the worst in baseball if not for the Rox current resurgence, with a team that really wasn’t all that much different from the team that bowed out with little more than a whimper last fall.  The Phils may have their problems this year (read: the artist formerly known as Brad Lidge) but the Dodgers aren’t one of them.
• If John Smoltz does come back to the NL and dominate like he did in his first start with the Cards (5 IP/3 H/9 K), he should send a bottle of NannyNannyBooBoo to the Red Sox.
  

  Hey Boston...You are so dead if I face you in the World Series.

  Not only is Smoltz a warrior (despite being a human Ambien during his brief color commentary career) but he was not going to limp into a forced retirement like his good buddy, Tom Glavine.  Whether Smoltzy was tipping his pitches in Boston or not, and that suggestion was served with a side of sour grapes, he could be a major factor in the NL playoffs.

• To borrow from SNL’s Seth Myers and Amy Poehler during their Really? With Seth and Amy segment—Billy Wagner…Really?  You want to put the screws to the team who is going to save you from your current Metropolitan Malaise…Really?  You considered not playing for the Red Sox even though it gives you your best and last shot to win, something you said is one of two things keeping you going at this point…Really?
  

  If you guys don't give me what I want, I'm taking my ball and going home.

  You made public your desire to get to 400 career saves…and you want to do it for the Nationals because it’s close to your Virginia home…the Nationals…Really?  You said you couldn’t envision going back to Philly because the Phans “expect too much?”…Really?  Hey, Billy.  Just put a plug of Red Man in and retire…really.

Sieck and Brian had their fantasy football draft last weekend, and while the draft board strategy was a departure from years past, the tomfoolery and skullduggery remained hopelessly in tact.  

by Sieck and Brian

Ah, fantasy football. There’s perhaps no other pastime during which a group of grown men can get together in a room to play a silly game and act like bigger buffoons. Well, at least such was the case this past Sunday when my esteemed colleague Brian and I got together with our friends for our annual fantasy league draft.

This year our league was righteously and poetically dubbed “The Eric Bruntlett Memorial Fantasy Football League,” so eloquently labeled by our commissioner (and my cousin) Lew (who will probably wind up being the focus of this article, but we’ll see). Yes, we know, Eric Bruntlett isn’t a football player, therefore:

Triple play or not, that is one outstanding beard.

A little background on the Eric Bruntlett League: OK, I’ll try to make this brief. Last year, during the World Series, our dear friend Kevin claimed that Phillies utility player Bruntlett was a better player than starting left-fielder Pat Burrell. Now, most of us WERE NOT huge fans of Pat “The Bat” even though he was an integral part of the team. However, we all pleaded with Kevin to wake up and smell the facial hair, as that is the only real good thing about Bruntlett. Of course, fast forward to this year where Kevin’s beloved Bruntlett has only played sparingly and carried a .129 batting average into Sunday, August 23. So, Lew in all his wisdom came up with this name for our fantasy football league to simply give Kevin a little playful ribbing…

HOWEVER, is it a coincidence that on the day of our draft, Bruntlett got a start at second base (giving all-star Chase Utley a day off), went an astonishing 3-4, and ended the game with an UNASSISTED TRIPLE PLAY that hasn’t happened since 1927? I think not, therefore maybe Kevin has gotten the last laugh. Incidentally, Kevin also got the first pick in our draft and correctly (in my humble opinion) selected Adrian Peterson. Oh, and btw, Eric Bruntlett’s middle name?… Yep, “Kevin.”

Now, let’s get on to other matters. Any time a group of friends gets together and combines football talk with alcohol, some truly interesting things are going to be said, and by interesting I mean completely disgusting, awful and offensive. But hey, that’s what friends are all about, right? Now, this is a “professional” site so I’ll spare all of the gurus out there some of the gorier details, but a fine example would be a few choice things said about a former girlfriend of a certain running back from New Orleans. (OK, I’ll admit it, that one was me, but I wasn’t alone in the sentiment). Furthermore, a heated argument broke out concerning the choice to draft a defense in the 10^th round. Now, in the grand scheme of life, I really don’t think this is a big deal, and if there’s any kind of supreme being, no matter who or what anyone believes in, if that being was looking down on this particular conversation, said being would simply be shaking its head. For the record (to give everyone an idea of what Brian and I were dealing with), I tried not to get involved in the argument, waited until the 12^th round (out of 14) to select a D, and still ended up with the New York Giants…      

A few more quick observations: Amongst our crew, there’s a lot of pot calling the kettle black that goes on. Sure, some folks may not have come to the draft physically prepared (lists, etc)—remember “TG,” next year print out lists by position—I would argue that others weren’t mentally prepared, but they’ll remain nameless… for now. Also, to our good friend Mike: I know you like to drink scotch, but if you’re going to curse out gentlemen who take a long time to make their picks, you may not want to take a half-hour yourself… I, for one however, am glad that he did.

Finally, we must touch on our sweet commish, Lew. I’m quite proud to share blood with this man. Could it be because he pawns off half of his responsibilities to others? (He actually paid very little attention to everyone else’s picks after round 11). Well, that’s part of it, but the reason I’m most elated is because he easily had the best lines of the day.  A few of the cleaner examples:

• After I selected Pierre Thomas, he exclaimed, “You should only be named Pierre if you are French and make pastries.”
  

  Funny, this guy doesn't look French.

• Upon seeing the team his brother picked for one of our friends who couldn’t make the draft, “Ryan, why don’t you take this team, and give him yours?”… Priceless.
• On his observations of the chatter in the room: “The next person to say ‘good pick’ is banned.”
• Upon hearing the plight of a certain unfortunate individual: “Would it have been so bad if this person had killed himself?” (Paraphrased).

Lew, we salute you, oh fantasy gridiron king of the one-liners, and long live our league, Eric Bruntlett, and his fabulous beard!  

*************************************************************************************

Though only five years into our 10-team A-Town fantasy football careers, our league has seen little change.  The same three or four teams are drafted horrendously and do not make the playoffs, the same three guys have won all four championships, including two out of three for Brian, and the same drafting schemes have been employed. 

Fantasy pundits will preach drafting a RB in the first two rounds to ensure you don’t get stuck with a backup or stiff and to, in theory, garner the most points because of the frequency of RB touches and TDs.  However, this year our league featured a departure from that model (3 of the top 10 were non-RBs) and an overwhelming desire to draft in the middle slots instead of the top three.

Without analyzing every move of the draft, suffice it to say that WRs were a much more posh early pick than were RBs.  Larry Fitzgerald went #8 overall (Sieck) and Calvin Johnson and Randy Moss were the two top picks in round two.  Andre Johnson and Reggie Wayne soon followed in round two while Steve Smith (the good one) and Roddy White were taken #1 and #2 in round three.  Clearly, drafters in our league, and presumably nationwide, are seeing  a seismic shift in point accumulation led by those talented wide outs.

The return of Tom Brady did not last long in our draft, going 9th overall but after Drew Brees was selected 6th overall.  Peyton Manning, Philip Rivers and Kurt Warner followed shortly thereafter as GMs have finally accepted the fact that RBs by committee are here to stay, so grabbing a top flight QB early is a necessity.

Hi, I'm Drew, and I love to throw the football. Pick me!

Again not surprisingly Tony Gonzalez was the first TE taken (round 5) though many draft boards had him as low as 4th on the TE list.  A proven point producer, Gonzalez owners should be salivating at how wide open the middle of the field is going to be for Matt Ryan darts to the first ballot Hall of Famer.  Personally, I don’t value the TE nearly as much as most GMs, having never drafted one earlier than the 11th round (which is where I got Vishante Shiancoe this year), but I understand that many GMs treat their TE pick in the same way they treat their WR pick.

Sieck referenced the Pittsburgh Defense going far too early (round 10), which sparked a lively exchange between that GM and me, but, again, I never choose a D until one of the final two rounds (where all K should be selected as well) and I have two “rings” to show for such patience.

I’ll spare the reiteration of the worst picks in the draft because Sieck took care of that, but I will add that Saints K Garrett Hartley, he of the four game early season suspension, was chosen in the last round, which is on par in terms of oddity with 49ers WR Josh Morgan being taken in the 8th round. Ironically, the same GM gobbled up both players.

So good luck fantasy gurus.  

Except for the other nine hammers I have to deal with in my league.