"Evil Capitalists" and Other Google Trends: The Week In Review, Redux

"You brought me in here for THIS?"

This is part two in a two-part installment. Bryan posted this morning from The City That Warren Built, or as it’s more commonly known, “Tampa.” Click here to read it. It’s funny.

Who wears short shorts? Not me, Casualtists, but I’m feeling a bit frisky in my sans-academia state of mind. Plus, it’s the weekend, which means it prime time for me to tell you just how much school sucks and just how great my Atlanta Braves are. Unfortunately, as I alluded, school is temporarily over and the Braves have lost nine in a row. So, uh…

(*crickets*)

Uh… who wears short shorts?

(*blank stare*)

Okay, so real quickly, let me tell you the teams/athletes I like to do big things in the near future so you can bet your house, your dog’s life and your grandmother’s estate against each. Given my recent history and the SC jinx, this is a can’t miss moneymaker for you.

1) San Antonio Spurs – I wrote about them this week and got a surprisingly rabid response from a bunch of Silver and Black diehards. Major karma points for loyal fan bases. Plus, as I’m typing, they’re beating the daylights out of Dallas in game 6 and Rick Carlisle has this look on his face like he’s wondering who shot J.R. (get it?). I like them to go to the Conference Finals at the very least.

2) Detroit Red Wings – Haven’t really followed hockey at all this year, but I have a friend that likes them. Good enough for me. Every time you look up, some full-bearded Detroit defenseman is guzzling beer from Lord Stanley. Fear the Octopus. 

3) Lookin At Lucky – I’m sure there was a lot of talk about this horse when a drunken Bryan Holt sent me this text: “I have drunkenly discovered the horse racing network… and it’s strangely entertaining.” (Much like a Goldman Sachs employee, I have absolutely zero reservations about throwing somebody under the bus by exposing a private communication… Sorry, Bryan. Just know that if you keep saying funny stuff, it’s probably going to end up in a post that 9 to 23 people read.) Lucky is Saturday’s Derby favorite at 3-1 despite drawing the rail position. I like him to win pulling away, mainly because Hank Goldberg picked against him. And if you know anything about Fat Hank, it’s that he’s only right when there’s a donut on the line. We’re about to find out how the jinxing of a jinx works.

4) Angry Germans – I’m specifically speaking of one Dirkowitz Nowitzki, who I’m currently watching berate a cowering official. Dirk is on the brink of doing something special. Choke an official on live TV? Angrily belt a David Hasselhoff song? Try to plant a big wet one on Eva Longoria Parker? These are all wins in my book, and probably all prop bets in Vegas.

Angry German Dirk Nowitzki

Since I wrote No. 1, Dallas has already cut the San Antonio lead from 21 to 3. See? It’s working already.

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(Just scroll down to the huge headline at the bottom for the good stuff, or stay here for sports.)

During Monday’s draft recap on the Tony Kornheiser Show, Tony railed against former Lion’s management, saying, “Apparently, over all the years that [Matt] Millen was the general manager of the Detroit Lions, they have only one draft pick still on the team. And it’s something like 49 players… That’s terrible!”

And untrue. Somewhere Calvin Johnson and Jeff Backus are thinking, “That Kornheiser is a moron.”

Later on, Tony said, “All careers ended – careers of a million people who were sort of attractive Philadelphians – or from other cities – and could dance a little bit… who had a very clean image and who – overnight – DONE!” 

He was actually talking about the Beatles’ effect on ’60s teen idols, but you know Donovan McNabb’s ears perked up a bit.

On the 4/22 episode of “The B.S. Report,” ESPN’s Bill Simmons said to reality TV czar Dave Jacoby of Heidi Montag’s plastic surgery, “Her face doesn’t even move! Is she alive in 10 years?” Jacoby then compared her to a robot.

In fact, the pair was so simultaneously enamored and horrified by “The Hills” star’s expressionless face that they stopped just short of comparing her to Colt’s cyborg Jim Caldwell. 

This week, ESPN’s Kelly Naqi interviewed former Steelers running back Najeh Davenport for an “Outside The Lines” piece on quarterback Ben Roethlisberger. Davenport had some critical words for his old teammate.

“This new Ben is totally different,” Davenport said.

Like Naqi, I take Davenport’s comments at face value and without a grain of salt. I mean, it’s not like he’s ever taken a dump in some girl’s closet before.

Am I right?

Fun fact: “Najeh Davenport poop closet” is a Google search term. As always, go ‘Canes.

Sticking with the dirty, dirty, dirty NFL… On Tuesday, news broke that aspiring pimp/Dolphins GM Jeff Ireland asked wide receiver prospect Dez Bryant in a pre-Draft interview if his mother was “a prostitute.” 

Ireland later apologized, saying, “I certainly meant no disrespect.”

On – let’s say, next Thursday? – Dolphins GM Jeff Ireland strangely disappeared from his home. When police questioned Mr. Bryant, the Cowboys rookie told them, “I certainly meant no disrespect.”

Turning briefly to playoff hockey, on Wednesday, Alex Ovechkin’s top-seeded Capitals coughed up a deciding game 7 to blow a 3-1 series lead to the eighth-seeded (and last overall seed) Montreal Canadiens. Though this comes as a major blow to sports fans in the D.C. area, somewhere Tracy McGrady, the ’04 Yankees, the ’07 Mavericks and a pack of choking dogs are sitting at a bar thinking, “Alright! More company!”

The '04 Yankees: Falling flat on their faces.

On Wednesday, Rockies catcher Miguel Olivo passed a kidney stone during a game that he was catching. This deserves both its own paragraph and a heavy dose of italicization.

In the opening scenes to Tuesday’s episode of ESPN’s investigative reporting show “E:60,” grinder-of-nerves Jeremy Schapp asked of Twins catcher Joe Mauer, “Who, in this day in age, leaves all that money on the table and says, ‘You know what? I’m happy in Minneapolis.’”

I know! I know! Guys who understand that $184 million is enough to live on.

Now let’s talk about my freaking government.

During Tuesday’s public berating of Goldman Sachs execs, Sen. Claire McCaskill (D-MO) and Sen. Carl Levin (D-MI) said “shitty” multiple times on live TV in reference to an email describing the investment bank’s trading of toxic housing assets.

Let me lay this out in market terms for you. Congress: bullish on financial reform, bearish on the FCC.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gLx2Xc1EXLg]

Parental Digression Advised

I hope the irony of the Congressional hearings wasn’t lost on you, because it sure as hell wasn’t lost on me. Watching senators grill investment bankers on ethics and financial responsibility is like watching Mike Tyson lecture Ben Roethlisberger on safe sex.

Your taxpayer dollars were supposed to probe a potential fraud case in which Goldman traders allegedly failed to disclose a counter position after selling a tanking package of assets… but instead the proceedings devolved into political grandstanding and an uncomfortable situation in which the guys on trial had to actually explain to farmers and war heroes how their business model works.

Sure made for riveting television, though. Glued to my sofa, I bit my nails as a parade of big name politicos tore into former Goldman mortgage head Dan Sparks during the first panel. It reminded me of some of the tongue lashings I got as a child, except for a couple of notable differences: 1) I wasn’t exceedingly more intelligent than my parents and impossibly well-prepared to answer every single conceivable question they could fire at me and 2) There were actual repercussions afterward, as opposed to me just going back to doing whatever the hell I wanted.

The Smartest Guys in the Room

It was almost as if the people who organized the firing squad handed the inmates all the bullets. Seriously, I have absolutely no problem with regular joe Sen. Jon Tester (D-MT), but when you send an agriculture specialist with a crew cut to grill the sharpest guys on Wall Street, you’re going to look pretty freaking foolish… you know, especially if it’s broadcast on national television.

The hearings included several references to the esoteric “Timberwolf” CDO, and though I couldn’t pinpoint this instrument’s specifics, I can tell you that it performed even worse than the NBA’s Timberwolves. 

And, dammit, during this day-long squawkfest, it would have been nice to have a working definition of “fiduciary” other than “word used repeatedly to impress Middle America.”

Senators frequently referred to Goldman’s business practices as “gambling” and “betting,” and even went so far as to compare the model to Vegas bookkeeping.

Ready for this radical idea? If you don’t want banks betting on the economy, MAKE LAWS AGAINST BETTING ON THE ECONOMY.

If there’s a lesson here, it’s this: Congress fu**ing sucks. 

In fact, the only thing more laughable than Sen. John McCain’s (R-AZ) line of senile questioning was Sen. Levin’s logic-defying combover. Just sayin’, hope there’s not a violent gust of wind on the steps of Capitol Hill any time soon. 

Cowardly in more ways than one.

Hey, guess who’s got a vote in the upcoming election season… 

I do!

In closing, Fear the Deer. Go Bucks. Go Spurs. Go home, Senator Levin.

- Robbie

Hoodies and Hinduism: An Unfocused Look at the Past Week in the World

Ricky Williams: Here for the party.

Because we can’t cover everything, and we don’t work weekends, each Friday, Sports Casualties’ two co-authors will write two separate reviews of the past week. These startling pieces of immediate nostalgia will cover whatever topics the writers care to include. Consider this a wallet-sized picture that you can carry with you the entire weekend to hold yourself over until Monday when we will be back and better than ever.

Here we are, Casualtists. Summer break is officially here, meaning that for the first time since spring break, the Week in Review is not coming to you from Gainesville. No, I’m back in Carrollwood, Tampa’s go-to location for soccer moms and mini vans.

This is far from a short-term locale for this half of Sports Casualties. I will be here for nearly four months.

This almost feels like a new start for SC. Today, I have no classes that will cause me to rush through writing this, no apartment neighbors deciding to blast strange techno music right as I’m approaching a groundbreaking idea and for the first time in weeks, the Week in Review is being sculpted sans hangover. I feel the need to reintroduce myself.

My name is Bryan Holt, and I am the co-author that didn’t write 85,000 words on the Smashing Pumpkins. Speaking of Robbie’s epic post that is already receiving critical acclaim as the “War and Peace” of SC, what the hell is up with “For Martha” getting ranked ahead of “To Forgive?” Just kidding, I listen to country.

Jamey Johnson: More my style.

But back to my reintroduction. I’m Bryan, and I enjoy long walks on the beach, Popeye’s fried chicken and baseball games that seem like they’re never going to end. I like pro wrestling, and I cheer for the bad guys. I currently sport a cast on my left arm due to a broken scaphoid. I either broke it while saving children during a tragic white water rafting accident or by falling off of a golf cart while intoxicated. You decide. My favorite movie of all time is Forrest Gump, but I did see “Crazy Heart” last night, and it was awesome in a “wow, no matter how much I drink, I’ll never be as bad as that guy” kind of way.

But enough about me. In honor of my Spanish final exam that kept me out of SC action early in the week, vamos a hacer esto. That means “Let’s do this,” according to Google Translate.

Earlier this week, The Wall Street Journal reported a study that declared the Cleveland Indians as the most hated team in baseball. Many seemed shocked by this news, but I for one saw it coming all along. I mean Cleveland is a despicable organization. What with their average crowds of 16,033 screaming obscenities at you and assaulting small children. Or with big-time jerks like Grady Sizemore and Mitch Talbot constantly running their mouths and telling everyone how good they are. I’m sick and tired of the Indians, and I hope that you are too. I mean who else are you going to hate? The Yankees or Red Sox? So cliche.

New England Patriots coach Bill Belichick sent Tampa Bay Rays manager Joe Maddon  a personalized Patriots hoody this week after MLB temporarily banned Maddon from wearing his trademark hoody in the dugout during games. In a return act of civic grace, Tampa Bay Buccaneers coach Raheem Morris sent Red Sox manager Terry Francona the tennis ball that he squeezes when things aren’t going well.

Hoodies transcend sports.

ESPN debuted their newest “30 for 30″ documentary on Tuesday night, and it focused on running back/midnight toker Ricky Williams.

The film showed how truly bats**t crazy Williams was during his 2004 drug fiasco with the NFL. It also likely made him an idol amongst rich college kids who will now become chronic stoners and pretend that they don’t care about money or status either. In the documentary, Williams was shown purchasing small and undesirable houses, allowing rapper Master P to handle his contract negotiations and doing copious amounts of drugs.

He also converted to Hinduism and was seen sleeping in a tent in the middle of Australia. The Australia incident is proof that he is not a knowledgeable camper, the Hinduism is proof that, like the rich college kids previously mentioned, he tried to act more cultured and unique than he really is. We also learned that he has made friends with nearly every journalist that has ever covered him locally.

Speaking of weed, former Gator cornerback Wondy Pierre-Louis told Orlando Sentinel reporter and friend of Urban Meyer, Jeremy Fowler, that about 75 percent of the Gators’ 2006 National Championship team smoked marijuana on a regular basis. Wondy then added a Tebowism of his own when he stated that 25 percent of the team was actually just Tim Tebow.

Ryan Howard signed a 5-year/$125 million contract extension this week. Most were expecting a car or house as his first major purchase with the new money. Instead, he was later seen buying soap and shampoo for teammates Chase Utley and Jayson Werth.

Dirty

This is the part of the show where I remind everyone that the Rays have the best record in baseball and the Braves have lost eight nine in a row. Look on the bright side, Braves fans. At least your team will probably still be in Atlanta in 10 years.

The same might not hold true for the Rays and St. Petersburg where the Rays almost sold out Tropicana Field this week…over the course of three games. Yes, a three day total of two contests against the A’s and one against the Royals came out to a combined attendance of 34,282, 2,691 shy of what it would take to sell out one game at the smallest stadium in baseball. Go Rays!

Last night I was watching late night re-runs of WWE (OMG! He’s white trash!) when a mysterious children’s choir came across my screen. My intial thoughts: They could use a little baritone action, but they’re not half bad. It was then that I realized that this was no ordinary children’s choir.

It was Hitler-Jugend, better known to some as Hitler Youth.

The choir was the introduction to an infomercial that was trying to get me to purchase a DVD box set about the Nazis, or as my good friend Aldo Raine would call them, Natzees. What caught my attention was not what the infomercial was selling, there are plenty of Nazi DVD box sets, but rather how they were selling it.

The presentation brought clear comparisons to the “Girls Gone Wild” infomercials that once dominated late night advertising. It promised “material that was too shocking to show on television,” a voice-over that sounded far too enthusiastic to be discussing one of history’s most violent superpowers and a promise that if I called now, there would be no shipping and handling fees. Not quite a free edition of “Girls Gone Wild: College Girls Exposed,” but free shipping and handling isn’t a bad deal either.

Natzees

Before we get to the shortened weekly series, I leave you with this line from a new Eminem freestyle, gratuitous Big Ben: “Get as rowdy as Roethlisberger in a bathroom stall.”

AND NOW…(drum roll)

WHY I HAVE WRITER’S BLOCK: The Never-Ending Saga

In no specific order, and with no real explanation, this is my weekly look at some of the things that kept me distracted while I was trying to write.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cFpaqel4muc]

Kickin’ it old school.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y0349E7kFEM]

Great movie. Go buy it now. SC: Promoting things that don’t need any help since 2010.

I haven’t been on Twitter enough this week to decipher a Tweet of the week. I apologize. I know it has been two weeks in a row, but I promise that I’ll make up for it next Friday.

Have a glorious weekend.

-Bryan

The Greatest Smashing Pumpkins Songs Of All Time

From L to R: Jimmy, Billy, James, D'Arcy

A post 20 years in the making, 14 years too late.

Honorable Mentions: By Starlight, Snail, Slow Dawn, Cash Car Star, Plume, Frail And Bedazzled, Obscured, Saturn9, We Only Come Out At Night, Silverf***, Jesus Loves His Babies, Crush, Real Love, Home, Speed Kills, Try, Try, Try, Mellon Collie And The Infinite Sadness, Stumbleine, Medellia of the Gray Skies, God, Dross, This Time

52) Beautiful – Makes the list solely for the nah-nah sing-along section beginning around 2:00 on the studio version. I’m pretty sure Beck’s copied it for at least half of his late career singles. The rest is bouncy, electronic fare. Not really my cup of tea, but that catchy psychedelic turn packs a hell of a hook.

51) Ugly – Pure ’80s goth-pop. I don’t know how Corgan beat Depeche Mode and Robert Smith to this one. Synthesizer? Check. Bleak lyrics? Check. Sinister delivery and sparse arrangement? Check and check. About 100 times better than the similarly sounding “Eye” that was released just months later on the “Lost Highway” soundtrack.

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50) Behold! The Night Mare – The quintessential cut from “Adore”: pretentious but quiet, absurd and haunting all the same. One of the few electric guitar cameos at 2:51. Or maybe it’s a synthesizer. Sublime either way.

49) Transformer – Just shows the quality of the Pumpkins’ catalogue that a cut like this can’t crack a 28-song double album or the 16-song follow-up (not that it would fit on “Adore” anyway). You can find “Transformer” in the incomparable B-sides collection “The Aeroplane Flies High” box, along with all the other fantastic “Mellon Collie” leftovers. Great driving bass line, typically awesome drum work and a flawless chorus… except for the “happy as a turtle” lyric. What the hell does that mean?

48) Vanity – This list’s lone representative from the digital-only “Machina II” release tells us two things: Corgan 1) still had his musical wherewithal intact when the band broke up 2) had absolutely lost the rest of his freaking mind. The problem with the “Machina” era isn’t that the band started sucking, they just could no longer sort the wheat from the sh*t. How “Vanity” and “Slow Dawn” and “Real Love” and “Dross,” etc. didn’t make the original album is one of the great mysteries in life (to me, anyway), especially when you’re releasing crap like “Heavy Metal Machine.” Here’s a hypothetical “Machina” tracklist for kicks… In no particular order: “This Time,” “Stand Inside Your Love,” “I Of The Mourning,” “Slow Dawn,” “Real Love,” “Dross,” “Let Me Give The World To You,” “Innosense,” “Cash Car Star,” “Satur9,” “Age of Innocence,” “Wound,” “Try, Try, Try,” “Home,” and “Speed Kills (But Beauty Lives Forever).” That looks like a fourth classic album to me. Morons.

47) The End Is The Beginning Is The End – Corgan’s purgatory. Still wanted to make loud rock ‘n roll, but didn’t have the drummer to pull it off. Chamberlin could have made this song a classic. Negative points for its association with the disastrous “Batman and Robin” film.

46) Ava Adore – The lead single off “Adore” and the one that gets closest to realizing Corgan’s electronica ambitions. Cool song, and even better video filled with gothic robes, heavy makeup and filmed in one continuous shot. This track could have been on “The Downward Spiral” if not for the gorgeous chorus melody. Too bad the follow-up single (“Perfect”) sucked.

The Adore Era... A perfectly well-adjusted bunch, no?

45) To Forgive – “MCIS’s” first breather. Sounds like it’s about being dumped by your parents, but maybe I’m making that up. Sad either way. The buildup around 2:40 could make you a little misty if you’re a sucker for emotional chord progressions.

44) I Of The Mourning – Even a blind squirrel finds a nut every once in a while. The “Machina” sound is laughably overproduced thanks to British bigwig Flood (U2, Depeche Mode, Nine Inch Nails, Nick Cave, etc.), but Corgan and Co. absolutely kill the guitars on this one. In a good way. The lyrics run the gamut from corny to you-can’t-be-serious, but that wall of fuzz just keeps building and building. A lone instance of the late-period excess paying off. The part at 2:40 gives me goosebumps, and the battering ram drumming reminds you just how much they’d missed Chamberlin in his drug-addled absence.

43) Set The Ray To Jerry – Another “Mellon Collie” b-side that I’m sure was a legit candidate to make the album proper. Some people think that this is one of their very best. I’ll go so far as to say that the D’Arcy/Jimmy battery has never been more impressive. The quietly propulsive bass line only pales in comparison to the restrained punch of the percussion. Some of the vocal grinds on my nerves, but no other complaints.

42) Thirty-Three – The last “MCIS” single paved the way for the softer, more introspective tunes on “Adore,” which is a little ironic given it was the first song Corgan wrote after the “Siamese Dream” tour. It’s also notable for Chamberlin’s absence both on the song (it’s a drum machine) and the video. Months earlier, he’d been kicked out of the band after overdosing on heroin with touring keyboardist Jonathan Melvoin, who died. Still, impossibly beautiful melody that would have been the next album’s best… It was the beginning of the end in hindsight, which makes the “And you can make it last forever” line sad and nostalgic for people who care about this kind of stuff.

41) X.Y.U. – A song this punishing has to make the list out of novelty alone. Straddles the thin line between appropriately acerbic and plain ugly. Up there with “Tales of A Scorched Earth,” “Glass’ Theme,” “Aeroplane,” and “F*** You” for pure metal appeal, and the fluency of the time shifts is almost startling. What other ’90s bands had the chops to pull this off? Soundgarden, maybe? Metallica?

40) For Martha – Really the only song of its kind in the Pumpkins catalogue – an understated piano epic that goes from being a really good song to something just short of ethereal at around 4:20. Makes you wonder what “Adore” would have been like with those signature Pumpkins guitars. Should have canned the pointless coda and made this the album’s bookend. (Bonus points for Soundgarden association – Matt Cameron plays drums).

39) Once Upon A Time – An absolute gem on an album that could have been a classic if it was chopped down by 20 minutes. Sad and beautiful and melancholy. This song has a “Martha” in it, so I assume it was written about Corgan’s mother… Probably the only SP song my mom would like.

38) Zero – Spawned a classic riff and the classic t-shirt… Billy’s big, bald head was getting to him at this point as evidenced by lines like, “Emptiness is loneliness/and loneliness is cleanliness/and cleanliness is godliness/and God is empty just like me.” Okay. Somehow that stupid a cappella break didn’t seem so stupid in fourth grade.

Admit it, you have a Zero T buried somewhere in your closet.

37) Galapogos – A hybrid of “To Forgive” and that oceanic, space vibe of “Porcelina.” Shows more than anything the extent of Chamberlin’s talent – he was heavier and more muscular than any of his peers, but had deft touch as well. Here those subtle cymbal splashes? That’s world class restraint. If there’s a lesson for the kids, it’s this: if you want to be a famous drummer, better hone your jazz chops… If you’re lazy, just cut to the 3-minute mark and let it go from there. That epic buildup is quintessential Pumpkins. “To make the turn back now…”

36) Rocket – Another soaring rocker on “Siamese Dream.” I almost never listen to this song, but when I do, I think that I should more often. It’s not as good as the four songs that precede it or the three songs that come after. That it sustains the momentum is a testament to its greatness, I guess. And the last 20 seconds of feedback is a glorious mess.

35) In The Arms Of Sleep – How freaking beautiful is this track? If Billy sang this way from the beginning, he wouldn’t have had to constantly fend off the “nasally” criticisms. The supposed concept behind “MCIS” was that the first disc was supposed to be “Daytime” and the second “Night.” This is one of the only songs where I totally buy into it. Definitely has a starry, late night feel to it. Play it under the moon for your girlfriend, or in the car as background music. Great stuff, especially that “And I always need her more than she can ever need me” line… Admit it, you just teared up a little.

34) Marquis In Spades – A crunching rocker that should have replaced “Tales of A Scorched Earth” as the 3-minute metal track between “1979″ and “Ruby” on the second half of “Mellon Collie.” The pummeling riff is more impressive than the melody, but that final solo at 2:25 pushes this song to another level. A succinct classic that exists in the SP universe only as a castoff demo. Most bands would make a career out of this song.

33) Bullet With Butterfly Wings – A song played frequently at the Miami Arena during the year of the rat. Appeals to nostalgia more than anything, but I bet it means something special to Scott Mellanby. Spectacular video and the first cameo for the classic Zero t-shirt that would, in short time, be a fixture in the pop culture lexicon. Sinister and loud, just how I like my Pumpkins.

32) Wound – A dreamy pop nugget buried underneath a bunch of garbage on the second half of “Machina.” Higher on this list than it has any right to be – Corgan’s voice is grating in the verses… But, damn, those two vocal hooks are ace. The “if you wait/I will wait” melody is great. The “last night I turned around…” is nothing short of perfect. Would have fit snuggly on side five or six of “MCIS,” and there’s something sad and ironic in the line “So take it all/I doubt if we will know it’s gone” considering Billy’s penchant for defiant self-sabotage.

The Machina Era... And no, that's not D'Arcy.

31) Where Boys Fear To Tread – Good lord, can you say “groove”? So you’re 15 years-old, you go out and buy “Mellon Collie,” you’ve just listened to the best 60 minutes of music you’ve ever heard in your life, and you pop in disc 2 expecting a letdown, or at the very least, a bunch of soft acoustic music… Wrong.

30) Love – Gets bumped even higher up the list if it’s really about former Corgan/Cobain flame Courtney Love. Kind of reminds me of her – scuzzed up, druggy, corrosive, beautiful in a dirty way. Shouldn’t function – in this case, just a bunch of heavy synths and feedback – but it charges forward almost despite itself. A truly great song, and different than anything else in the Pumpkins’ catalogue. It’s a precursor to the next album’s “Ava Adore,” and if this was the electronic direction Corgan was talking about, I would’ve been totally down.

29) Disarm – The BBC banned this song because of the line “cut this little child.” The BBC sucks. String arrangements, on the other hand, most definitely do not suck. Not here, anyway. If you’re having a bad day, jump straight to 2:30. Catharsis.

28) Tristessa – The second record the band ever released right after “I Am One” sold out it’s limited edition pressing in like 10 minutes. Somehow, Seattle indie juggernaut Sub Pop got a hold of this one, which is kind of funny if you think about it. Yeah, you like us? You think we’re great? You want to sign us? SEE YAH, SUCKERS! The Pumpkins bolted for Virgin subsidiary Caroline right afterward, before re-upping for millions with the parent label… “Tristessa” has that familiar “Gish” tone i.e. faintly psychedelic and heavy as hell. A great rocker that gives the album’s second side a much needed kick in the ass.

27) To Sheila – Written right after Corgan declared rock was dead. For 4 ½ minutes, you think maybe he was on to something. Stunningly pretty. A song for overcast autumn days and 3 a.m. wanderlust.

26) Luna – Shoutout to high school friend, Sara. I used to badger her in Yearbook about all the new music I’d just “discovered.” I’m sure I was insufferable. She loved this song… It’s pretty much “Mayonaise,” except softer and prettier. Minus points for dearth of guitar squall. But great way to close an incredible album (“Siamese Dream”). Think of it as a sleepy, late-night beer chaser.

25) Bodies – So there’s this meaty, metronomic dual-guitar riffing at about 1:15 in “Gish’s” “Bury Me.” “Bodies” is four minutes of that, except Corgan, Moulder and Flood had concocted some freakish algorithm that turned those two guitars into dozens. You can hear it. Layers and layers and layers of heavy. The production never got any better.

24) Hello Kitty Kat – Ridiculous title. Ridiculously awesome everything else. This one’s a barnstorming rocker with big melody buried deep in the mix (where Billy’s voice should be; the “New Pumpkins’” songs put his nasal whine right in your earhole. Vanity, man). The guitars have that signature “SD” crush and the drum track is just as ferocious – the fills at 1:27 and 1:36 are some of Jimmy’s finest. It’s got all the pieces to be a classic Pumpkins track, and probably would have been if not for the B-side status… The coda is a clusterf*** of awesomeness.

23) Mayonaise – Everybody loves this one. I should probably like it more than I do – when I made the original list, this didn’t even make the cut… which is probably blasphemous in some Gen-X circles. At the end of each chorus verse, Corgan takes his hand off the guitar neck for a split second and just lets the feedback ring. That stuff takes a certain kind of genius… Okay, fine. I love it.

Billy still has hair, so I'm guessing '93 or '94.

22) Siva – Singular to the Pumpkins’ canon in its gothic darkness. They’d dabble in the same bleakness later on, but by then it was sterilized with electronics and crappy production. “Siva,” on the other hand, has an ’80s garage feel to it – like a re-imagination of The Cure with balls, and teeth to match all that sappy sadness… Perfects the soft-loud dynamic that they’re known for and, really, takes the two spectrums to their logical extremes. You have to turn your speakers up just to hear the interlude from 2:50 to 3:30… and then brace yourself for the ensuing heavy metal onslaught.

21) Tonight, Tonight – A stone-cold classic forever banished to modern-rock radio hell. The guilt-by-association is a shame because this is the only Pumpkins cut that ever one-upped the orchestral arrangement on “Disarm” (Chicago Symphony Orchestra, anyone?). You know the rest because you’ve heard it a billion times. Great video. My Dad’s favorite. Cemented the Corgan legacy. Etcetera. Etcetera.

20) Today – Apparently written during a particularly gloomy day in Atlanta, “Today” funneled all of Corgan’s suicidal thoughts into a tune that Blender says, “achieved a remarkable status as one of the defining songs of its generation, perfectly mirroring the fractured alienation of American youth in the 1990s.” Whatever. “Today” transformed the band from indie buzzword to honest-to-goodness superstars. You’ve probably heard it 100 times. It’s also big in Japan.

19) Muzzle – “I fear that I am ordinary just like everyone.” Seriously, what teenager can’t relate to that? This song was somewhat of a battle cry for all the kids that were just a bit too late for the grunge scene and wanted something to be pissed off about. Most of the lyrics are a little cheesy in hindsight, but I think there’s a lot of truth in words like, “I knew the emptiness of youth.” If I ever make it big, “Muzzle” will be my victory cigar.

18) Jellybelly – Oh, HELL YEAH! Pure audio adrenaline shot with a 1,000 volts of electricity and pumped through the jackhammer drumming of The Great Jimmy Chamberlin. Enough metaphors for you? Because I have more. This song is just over the top. Great melody. Great squealing guitar – about 100 of them. Great everything. Corgan said during a 1999 radio interview that he wanted to release this as the lead “MCIS” single, but was talked out of it by producers Alan Moulder and Flood. Bastards.

17) Cherub Rock – The opening salvo to one of the five best albums of the ’90s. It has to be great, right? Right. The opening drumroll is almost as famous as the searing solo at 3:09, and the lyrics are a biting putdown to the indie scene that had discarded them for “selling out.” This album and the next went on to sell 13 million copies in the U.S. alone… Hey, but Stephen Malkmus still has his street cred.

16) Bury Me – Blew me away the first time I heard it, mainly because it’s not frequently mentioned among the great Pumpkins songs. If you’re keeping track, this follows “Gish’s” opening trinity of “I Am One,” “Siva” and “Rhino” and, as such, fills the cleanup hole for arguably the finest quartet of tracks the band’s ever strung together (“MCIS” and “Siamese Dream” both have multiple contending sequences). I still have no idea what James (?) is singing between verses around the 1:30 mark, but it’s insanely catchy, and I, like my mother, have no problems making up lyrics. The doubled-up riffing at 1:15 on the studio version creates this perfectly thick tone and the scratchy wah-wah before the solo is flat brilliant. Corgan’s tyrannical practice regimen obviously payed dividends early on because these guys were tight as hell.

On the way to the tanning salon.

15) Quiet – The aural equivalent of high-wire acrobats. Rumor was Corgan and producer Butch Vig layered dozens upon dozens of guitars to build “Siamese Dream’s” “wall of sound.” One listen to the brutal ascending riff and the freakout soloing suggests that this is indeed the case. The quintessential pre-”Mellon Collie” rocker.

14) I Am One – Like with Nirvana drummer Dave Grohl, Jimmy Chamberlin’s first appearance on an album proper turns out to be something of a game-changer. The three rounds of soloing showcase the Corgan/Iha interplay at its finest and D’Arcy’s chugging low-end (probably Corgan’s, actually) gives the hazed psychedelia some muscular girth… But, damn, that hard, simple drum intro makes everything that follows.

13) Porcelina of the Vast Oceans – Impossibly soft (so much so that you can’t hear the first 35 seconds of the studio version), impossibly heavy (the 2:12 mark blows many a speaker), impossibly pretentious, and, yes, impossibly awesome. Pretty much mid-’90s Smashing Pumpkins in a nutshell. And how many 9-minute songs justify their running times?

12) Here Is No Why - Would’ve killed at radio had Virgin execs had the guts to confront Corgan about it. That opening riff is lush and fluid, but this is without question an air drums song despite what the towering solo (which sounds like it was ripped from “Plume,” by the way) would have you believe. I also love the uplifting vibe, a major bonus when you’re sandwiched between “Zero” and “Bullet With Butterfly Wings.” No flaws here. Just a huge, crunching rock song with an even bigger melody.

11) Starla – Here’s the ideal tracklisting for “Siamese Dream”: “Cherub Rock,” “Quiet,” “Hello Kitty Kat,” “Today,” “Hummer,” “Rocket,” “Obscured,” “Disarm,” “Soma,” “Geek USA,” “Mayonaise,” “Luna,” “Starla”… That looks like the greatest rock ‘n roll album ever to me. This song’s over 10 minutes long. The bongo interlude is dreamy, and the surging final 5 minutes make me shiver. The template for Zwan’s excellent “Jesus I/Mary Star of the Sea” and probably all the soaring “MCIS”-era epics as well.

10) Hummer – My high school buddy Gus said that he’d die a happy man if he ever heard this song on the radio. Ditto. I would have been fine if Corgan chopped it at 4:30, but that spacey coda is pretty gorgeous. Also, now is a good time to point out that Corgan, Vig and Chamberlin made this album (“Siamese Dream”) by themselves because James and D’Arcy couldn’t stand each other’s company after a brutal breakup. Billy was depressed. Jimmy would disappear for days at a time on smack binges… And this is the product. Amazing.

9) Stand Inside Your Love – Everything a rock ‘n roll song should be – melodic, melodic, heavy, driving, melodic. Looking back, it’s almost hard to believe that this got bumped as the lead “Machina” single for “The Everlasting Gaze”. Think about it. You have a shrinking fan base turned off by all the anti-rock music on “Adore.” You’ve decided you’re going to bite the bullet and give the people what they want – RAWK! – and, bonus, you just reinstated the greatest drummer of all time. You have a perfect song in the can – a song that reminds people of your glorious yesterdays… And instead you release “The Freaking Everlasting Gaze.” So much for reclaiming the throne… “SIYL” is the last truly classic Pumpkins artifact and the one that proves that Corgan still had plenty in the tank when the band broke up in 2000. He’d chucked quality control out the window, shot the production to hell and lost control of his ego. But the tunes. Damn, the tunes. The surge of guitars around 3:30 gives me chills every time.

8) F*** You (An Ode to No One) – “Destroy the mind/ destroy the body/ but you cannot destroy the heart.” Pseudo-philosophical bullshit? Yeah, probably. But backed by a swirling maelstrom of dual-guitared riffing and those firing-squad drums turns these lines into something just short of apocalyptic… There’s a live version of this (linked) from the band’s last show at the Metro on 2/12/2000 that is so fast and so heavy that it’s a testament to James and (D’Arcy stand-in) Melissa Auf der Mar that they could simply keep up. A small part of me thinks the Pumpkins were always meant to be a heavy metal band. Here’s the proof.

7) The Aeroplane Flies High (Turns Left, Looks Right) – How Billy had the willpower to leave this monstrosity off of “MCIS” I’ll never know. Clocking in at just over 8 1/2 minutes, it’s the last great Pumpkins epic and maybe the best of all. It’s for sure the heaviest. The chord progression is simple and sinister. The crushing tone and corrosive soloing impressively match the drumming. It’s just really, really heavy… Heavy.

From L to R: The balding one, the hot one, the ethnic one, the backbone.

6) Soma – My favorite Pumpkins song in 10th grade and still my favorite solo. Something about these 7 minutes appeal to the pissed off teenager in me. “So let the sadness come again”? “I’ll betray myself to anyone”? Geeze. Somebody grab the eyeliner and black hair dye… I’m not going to spoil the surprise for those who haven’t heard it, but let’s just say I owe the majority of my premature hearing loss to this song. Remember Marty McFly’s Van Halen mishap in the opening scene of “Back to the Future”? No comment.

5) Drown – Originally appeared on the untouchable “Singles” soundtrack. It’s both the album closer and the only song from a non-Seattle band. I think there’s something to be said for that – this shaggy group of hippies from Chicago upstages the vaunted likes of Pearl Jam and Alice In Chains… “Drown” is most impressive in it’s 8-minute incarnation: a wave that builds and crashes and builds again on a surge of epic Chamberlin drumming. The final crest leaves you awash in four minutes of distortion and lurching bass lines. Nirvana can’t touch this.

4) Rhinoceros – The absolute apex of their early-’90s psychedelic phase. “Rhino” is basically two songs in one: first the three-minute, Velvets-inspired pop song with the classic “She knows” refrain, and then – liftoff – the screaming fretboard workout egged on by more classic drum fills. Did they ever top this? Maybe. We’re kind of splitting hairs at this point.

3) Geek USA – From the intro to the “Mashed Potatoes” bootleg version: “ARE YOU READY TO FU**IN’ ROCK?!” Well yes. Yes I am… I’d call this song perfect, but “perfect” would be a major slight. The drum ‘n guitar onslaught after the dreamy psych interlude is the stuff rock gods are made of. File the coda under “Incendiary Post-Sabbath Dirge.” I dare you not to play air guitar on this song. Got long hair? Even better.

2) 1979 – The band’s only top 20 hit. Trying to describe it further would be demeaning. It’s an immaculate pop song… You’ve heard it before, but if you haven’t, brace yourself for the section beginning at 2:28. Flooring.

One big happy... Nevermind

… And your No. 1 song is …

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(*Drumroll*)

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(*Michael Buffer announcement*)

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(*more drumroll*)

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1) Thru The Eyes of Ruby - Show me a better rock song. Not a better Pumpkins rock song. Just a better rock song, period. A part of me thinks this is the best track of the last 20 years. The other part of me is wrong. It’s hard to say whether the freight train drumming tops the crashing walls of fuzzed guitar or vice versa, but I can tell you with absolute certainty that everything from 2 minutes on belongs in some lionized rock ‘n roll canon with “Dazed and Confused” and “Sunshine of Your Love” and “Voodoo Chile” and all the other genre staples. Here’s my favorite part: “The night has come to hold us young/the night has come to hold us young…” THWACK, THWACK. A cascading barrage of riffing – rising and falling, falling and rising – plays perfect foil to transcendent soloing and Jimmy’s legend-making performance. And to think, it’s all bookended by these two gorgeously frail acoustic melodies. Best played loud.

- Robbie

Tampa: A Bipolar Sports Town

In Memory

It’s summertime, and I’m back in the city of cigars, Cuban sandwiches and Florida Championship Wrestling. Let’s talk Tampa sports.

October 19, 2008.

Most any Tampa sports fan will forever remember that day as one of the most triumphant dates in the history of the Tampa Bay area. It can also be called a night of closure.  Two games were played in the Gulf Coast’s Bay Area that night. One of them a Sunday Night Football game between the Tampa Bay Buccaneers and the Seattle Seahawks. The other was an ALCS Game 7 between the Tampa Bay Rays and the Boston Red Sox.

On that night, both games were sold out, both Tampa teams were full of promise and fan enthusiasm for both was at a high. The Rays were one win away from a World Series appearance that would complete a historic franchise turnaround. The Bucs were 4-2, celebrating the career of “The Ultimate Buccaneer” Mike Alstott and Al freaking Michaels was calling the game.

I can remember it vividly. Sitting in my overpriced seat that becomes a second home during the Fall. Section 134, Row U, Seat 12 at Raymond James Stadium watching the Buccaneers ease through another rather routine victory. Remember those? I had decided that if the ALCS went to a Game 7, there was no question of whether or not I would attend the Bucs game. If the series went to Game 7, it was over and Boston had won.

After all, this was a Rays team that took a 7-0 lead into the bottom of the seventh inning in what should have been a series-clinching Game 5 at Fenway Park. They lost 8-7. This would surely make any team tense and cost them the series. But these were the lighthearted, too-young-and-dumb-to-know-better Rays, and the night before Game 6, a large portion of the team was spotted drinking and dancing the night away at Jackson’s Bistro, a swanky nightclub on Harbour Island. The team was loose, but also unsuccessful. They lost Game 6 4-2 while I watched in mourning from right field. The dream season was over.

So you can imagine the surprised buzz that grew through Raymond James Stadium on that Sunday night as the Rays winning Game 7 became more and more of a reality. It would start with someone watching on television in a suite or listening to the radio in the stands. Their section would celebrate after word came in that the Rays had scored a run. Quickly that celebration would spread through the stands, and by the time the PA announcer began to utter “Ladies and gentlemen, in the fourth inning of the ALCS,” the crowd had already broke into raucous chants of “Let’s go Rays!” Bucs quarterback Jeff Garcia was forced to burn a timeout at one point when a Rays run coincided with a crucial third down play.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SEABQrBWfU4]

From the club section at Ray Jay.

But I called this night a closure earlier, and that is where my nostalgic ramblings end (I’m sorry), and the point of this post begins.

That was a night when people legitimately felt good about the two teams that play the two sports that Tampa cares about the most. In case you’re wondering, sport No. 3 is a three-way tie between NASCAR, hockey and pro wrestling. Since that night, things have been very different for the Bucs and the Rays.

No, the Rays did not win the 2008 World Series. That honor went to the Philadelphia Phillies and a Harry Kalas sound clip that will live on for generations. But what the Rays did that year, and more specifically that night, changed the entire way that people looked at their franchise.

The Bucs carried a 9-3 record into December only to drop their last four games and miss the playoffs. Jon Gruden would soon be fired, and the Manchester United-spun financial problems of the Glazer family would quickly be exposed when they gave secondary coach Raheem Morris a double promotion from secondary coach to defensive coordinator to head coach over a one month time-span.

Today, there are few cities with two teams more clashing in vibes than Tampa with the Bucs and the Rays.

The Rays currently carry the best record in baseball at 16-5. Much like the Glazers, Stuart Sternberg, owner of the Rays, is somewhat cash-deficient. Attendance figures that dip down to 10,000 on week nights with ticket prices as low as $8 will do that to you. However, unlike the Glazers, there are no excuses made public. Though light on cash, Sternberg is able to put up more than a fight in the richest division in baseball.

The Rays are able to do this through both intellect and an occasional desire to spend way more than they should be spending. The 2010 season is an example of the latter. Sternberg admits that the Rays are currently about $20 million over budget with their payroll of $72,323,71 and that is likely an understatement. This season they are paying $10 million to Carl Crawford and $10.125 million to Carlos Pena. It is being assumed that neither will be back with the Rays in 2011. Early trendy AL MVP favorite Evan Longoria will make $950,000 this season.

Unlike Ted DiBiase, not the Million Dollar Man.

So the Rays are “going for it” this year and no one can really blame them. Most small market teams would consider it suicide to let guys like Crawford or Pena walk out with no major prospects to show for them, but most small market teams aren’t legitimate candidates for a championship run. Most owners would cringe at the thought of losing the kind of money that Sternberg will lose this season, but he is determined to put an entertaining and elite product out on the field.It is logical to assume that a team with the Rays’ means cannot be fully competitive on a yearly basis, so opportunities like this must be embraced.

The same cannot be said for one Malcolm Glazer.

The man who once smirked as ticket prices skyrocketed and posted billboards all over town of how expansive the Bucs’ season ticket waiting list was in a Boratesque “you will never get this” fashion, is now desperate. Low on funds and enthusiasm, the Bucs marched out one of the least intriguing teams in football in 2009 and will be doing the exact same in 2010. Fans have grown apathetic, and this season the Bucs will offer “child prices” on tickets. Yes, kind of like Busch Gardens.

Add this in to the fact that the Glazers have long ignored the interests of the fans from a personnel standpoint, and you have a recipe for disaster. As Bucs fans, we’ve seen local heroes with names like Lynch, Sapp and Brooks, be dismissed without any form of respect or honor. The loudest I’ve ever heard Raymond James Stadium was the day that John Lynch was introduced as a member of the Denver Broncos. “And at strong safety…” were the only words that one could possibly hear. Both a “thank you” to one of the greatest Bucs ever and a giant “f*** you” to an inept front office.

On Monday, they released Chris Hovan, the only man to provide any kind of spark to Buccaneer games over the past few years.

The one area where the Rays and Bucs will stand alongside each other is attendance. This season there is very little chance that any Buccaneer home game will be a sellout, meaning that games will be blacked out on local television. Don’t even ponder the thought of national attention or primetime telecasts. Since that 2008 Sunday night game against the Seahawks, the Bucs have played two games on national television, one of them being a primetime broadcast. That means much more Ron Pitts and Tim Ryan than Al Michaels and an endless array of blistering hot 1 P.M. kickoffs.

The Rays attendance woes are very well documented. By well documented, I mean that you can read articles that have been written about it this week here, here and here. I could rant on and on about attendance at Rays games, but you probably don’t want to read it, and I don’t really care to write it. I believe that location plays a major part in the ordeal, but I don’t agree with all of the excuses either. Let’s hope things pick up because like I’ve said before, Charlotte would really like a baseball team.

Here’s to you and your polar opposite sports teams, Tampa. I look forward to spending the summer with you.

-Bryan

Minus One: The Story of Amy Palmiero-Winters

Just like you and me. Except not.

Amy Palmiero-Winters is a pretty impressive woman. Single mother of two, former welder, 37-year-old running thousands of miles a year. These things in themselves deserve a hardy round of applause – probably worthy of a human-interest write-up in the Hicksville, N.Y., community paper.

That she does it all with half of a left leg earns her full-page features in the New York Times, a slew of awards and the unwavering pride of any and all with I-think-I-can attitudes. Her competitive feats, on the other hand, have little to do with the prosthetic limb hinged to her kneecap. She’s not a sprinter like slighted almost-Olympian Oscar Pistorius. Not a marathoner either. Instead she runs “ultra distance,” a form of semi-masochistic, 100-plus mile endurance trekking that would kill serious runners, let alone weekend treadmill stars.  

Palmiero-Winters manages distances that tire most drivers. On Jan. 1, she banged out 130.1 miles in the 24-hour Run To The Future in Glendale, Ariz., and by so doing, cemented a spot on the U.S. Track and Field team for the 24-Hour Worlds in mid-May. Come dead of summer, she’ll traverse three mountain ranges and Death Valley during the Badwater Ultramarathon, a 135-mile race that abuses entrants with 130-degree heat and asphalt made of fire.

Courtesy of USA Today

Things that explicitly namecheck “Bad” and “Death” don’t generally appeal to 5-foot-8, 117-pound women – or anybody with sanity, really. For Palmiero-Winters, these to-the-brink challenges are the facts of life. She sticks it to her doubters. She sticks it to her once-broken body. She sticks it to the conventional limitations of the cardiovascular system. A hundred thirty miles? No problem.

Well, except for the plastic blade macerating the skin and bone where real meets faux. That’s gonna burn like hell. She ran the Badwater last year, too, but had to call it quits after 100 miles because the heat from the pavement had turned her prosthetic into something of a frying pan.  

On April 14, she landed the Sullivan Award, grafting her name to the immortal likes of Bobby Jones, Wilma Rudolph, Mark Spitz, Carl Lewis and a historic slew of other outstanding amateur athletes. She’s been nominated for an ESPY, selected Runners World Hero, named USATF athlete of the week, and on and on – achievements that rank, regardless of what prestige might suggest, nowhere near the triumphs that got her here.

Not close. No way. Not with this life story.

Amy begins running at age 8. She enters her first race with shoes that don’t fit, so she stuffs them with toilet paper. She finishes dead last. Because you now know what she’s capable of, you also know that “last” doesn’t phase Amy. “It sparked something inside of me,” she told USA Today.

Amy runs because her brothers run. She runs on the job, as a delivery girl. She runs track in high school. She runs everywhere. And she keeps running, until some hotshot guns a stop sign. Amy, 21, is on a motorcycle. The car wins, flattening her left foot and ankle like a griddlecake. 

She’s gonna keep running. Screw the doctors – 25 surgeries on and they still haven’t fixed her mangled limb. The arteries aren’t taking. Bones are fusing. One leg is a size 7 1/2. The other is a 4. This is a mess, and there’s only one thing left to do. Amy’s going to run her leg off. 

Actually run her leg off.

So she enters a marathon in Columbus, Ohio. Four hours later, she knows for sure that it’s time to part ways with what’s left of her lower leg. She goes under the knife because, quite frankly, four hours isn’t gonna cut it. This is 1997. Nine years later, she destroys the Chicago Marathon. 3:04:16. Personal best.

She wins a marathon while pregnant. Her children are 4 and 6.  

Now Palmiero-Winters works at a high-tech prosthetics maker, A Step Ahead, but she’s really in the business of making jaws drop. Last year, she started and finished 10 ultra distance competitions. She does Ironmans, triathlons, 50 Ks, 100 Ks. She does Ks so long you have to stop measuring. Marathons aren’t really her style anymore – 26 miles? Please - so when she does run them (usually six times a year), she makes sure to push a wheelchair the whole way.

People in wheelchairs deserve to run, too.

Courtesy of USA Today

As you can imagine – you can’t imagine, but try – Amy Palmiero-Winters’ right leg takes an ungodly beating. Most ultra distance runners jog 20 to 50-mile training routes on back-to-back days, but the pressure generated from such a regimen would crush fibers in her residual limb. Instead, once a week, she knocks out 80 miles in her sleep. Or rather, in her kids’ sleep. She puts them to bed, she heads for the front door, she runs until sunrise. And then she showers for work. 

She says that going without sleep will pay off come Worlds in France.

Palmiero-Winters has been compared to Jackie Robinson. Her friends think of her as something of a superhuman, an “ultra human” maybe. But Amy still sweats like the rest of us – in fact, it accumulates in her artificial socket. So she pours it out every couple miles. And keeps running.

- Robbie

The Usual Suspect: San Antonio's Improbable Drive for Five

Look familiar?

Death. Taxes. Mavs-Spurs. 

These are the givens in life, and if you happen to have any passing interest in basketball, only two of the above leave you short of breath. On the night of Tim Duncan’s 34th birthday – 48 minutes in which the all-time forward was reduced to nothing more than a Hall of Fame cheerleader – the team that many had anointed sexy preseason sleeper and summarily discarded a month later climbed right back to where it belongs come late April.

Pops and Timmy have a 3-1 lead on one of the best teams in the league. What else is new?

If you weren’t watching Sunday night, you missed more than a basketball game. You missed a heavyweight fight. A battle of wills. You missed, as Dirk Nowitzki called it afterward, a “street brawl.” The box score says 92-89, combined 43% shooting, 26 turnovers, 42 fouls, etcetera, etcetera. But one look at Manu Ginobili and his fifth limb of a broken nose swelling like a balloon animal from a spasm of bloodied bandages tells you all you need to know about this game and about this decade-long rivalry. 

It hurts like hell.

Choke Job: Eduardo Najera's flagrant-2 on Ginobili

At one point in the fourth, TNT’s Kevin Harlan let loose a climactic howl after George Hill’s fifth corner three touched nothing but string to put his team up eight with eight to go. “He has been an ASSASSIN tonight for the San Antonio Spurs!” Harlan roared. And because of the three hard flagrants that preceded it, because Hill had just notched his ice-cold 27th point, because of Rick Carlisle’s look of resigned dejection on the Mavs bench, Harlan’s language and delivery was not wholly inappropriate. George Hill was killing the Dallas Mavericks because guys like Jason Kidd live for this kind of stuff.

Four quarters pitted against a group of all-stars and future Hall of Famers can tell you a lot about a team, especially when this team’s best player goes 1 of 9 from the field, spends 25 straight minutes of real time on the bench in the second half, and doesn’t hit his first bucket until a key tap-in with four minutes left. And that Tim Duncan wasn’t the best player on the floor after three straight 25-plus point performances gives you the all-too-familiar irking that Gregg Popovich, per usual, was right: seeding is for suckers, peaking at the right time is what counts.   

The Spurs squeaked out Sunday’s victory with crackdown defense and a kamikaze resolution on 50-50 balls. Twenty-year-old rookie DeJuan Blair – all 6-feet-6-inches, no ACLs of him – out-hustled and out-banged a cavalcade of 7-footers down low. He owned the offensive glass, scored on key put-backs, and knocked around the likes of Brendan Haywood and Erick Dampier in scrambles for loose balls. It was Blair, not vets Duncan or Antonio McDyess, who put Jason Kidd on his back after Eduardo Najera’s vicious retaliatory clothesline on Manu Ginobili minutes before. 

When Dallas held San Antonio’s Big Three to 31 points total on 9 of 34 from the field, Popovich banked on a quartet of mercenaries and playoff neophytes looking to cement their reputations as guys to want in the crunch-time foxhole. The ageless McDyess hit a slew of crucial 17 footers in the third quarter with the Spurs’ lead vacillating between 13 and 4. More impressive was his throttling D on Nowitzki, who didn’t take his sixth shot until 10 minutes left. Blair, for his part, bounced back from a forgettable game three in which he logged only 4 minutes. The much-maligned Richard Jefferson seemingly awakened from a season-long coma to pour in 15 big points on 6 of 9 shooting.

McDyess: Gut check.

All of which brings us to George Hill, the second-year kid out of IUPUI who more than made a name for himself in game four and left TNT’s Doug Collins speechless in the process. “Wow. I don’t even know what to say,” Collins managed after Hill buried a jumper from the free-throw line to put the Spurs up 81-71 with 6:40 left in the fourth.

Hill outplayed every Maverick on the floor in the third quarter. With Duncan resting, he matched Dallas’ entire offensive output with 11 huge points to transform a deficit of 14 into a lead of 7. From his five cold-blooded threes from all corners, you couldn’t tell that this was a guy who couldn’t throw it in the ocean during Rookie Summer League. Apparently forcing oneself to make 8,000 24-footers in the offseason pays dividends in the long run.

Would you expect anything less from a Spur?

Hill was a fiend on defense as well, matching daggers on one end with equally exceptional perimeter stands on the other. He made Kidd look old. And face-to-face with a guy 14 years his junior, the point guard of his generation couldn’t penetrate to the top of the key – let alone the hoop – with any semblance of effectiveness. The Mavericks offense went to hell during a stretch in which the team starved for over 7 minutes without a field goal. 

Fifteen-0 run. Building rocked. Tide turned. 

We’ve seen this kind of effort from Popovich’s Spurs on several occasions past, each of them culminating in Tim Duncan’s embrace of Larry O’Brien. This time is different. Or maybe it’s not different at all. 

Ginobili afterward: "I couldn't make anything." Until it mattered.

They have flaws. No doubt about it. They’re terribly undersized in the post after Duncan and McDyess. They’re prone to old age and dead legs. They’ll end up giving Pops an ulcer with their free-throw shooting. Matt Bonner is part of an eight-man rotation and Richard Jefferson is still a corpse of the player they thought they’d signed. Guys like Roger Mason might as well dress in street clothes.

They’re a seventh seed and this series is far from over.

And yet, when Ginobili countered Jason Terry’s fourth quarter scoring barrage with an improbable fall-away three with 1:45 left, the resulting fist pumps, the glint in Duncan’s eye and that devilish smirk on Tony Parker’s mug suggested to all watching that this city known for last stands has a team good for one more run.

- Robbie

Tim Tebow and Tim Tebow: An Unfocused Look at the Past Week in the World

Excuse me while...I...HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

Because we can’t cover everything, and we don’t work weekends, each Friday, Sports Casualties’ two co-authors will write two separate reviews of the past week. These startling pieces of immediate nostalgia will cover whatever topics the writers care to include. Consider this a wallet-sized picture that you can carry with you the entire weekend to hold yourself over until Monday when we will be back and better than ever.

False alarm last week. This will actually be my final Week in Review column written from the friendly confines of my Gainesville apartment. Everything I have is now stuffed into a small square in the middle of my living room. The walls are now bare, making a once cozy abode look like an insane asylum.

It has been a rather dull week. The miserable nature of final exams gave way to an awkward freedom that I was not quite sure how to receive. Most importantly, the NFL Draft began last night giving the sports portion of my brain (roughly 92 percent) meaning again.

Plenty to discuss. Let’s do this.

Yes, the first round of the 2010 NFL Draft took place on Thursday night, and for once, I have no complaints. I’m not sure if I could have scripted a first round any more perfectly. Well, I could have, but it would have involved the Bucs invading Detroit and forcefully kidnapping Ndamukong Suh.

But aside from that, as a loyal Bucs fan, I was happy to finally see them make a smart draft pick and bring in DT Gerald McCoy. Seeing him get drafted was awesome. You could just tell how much it meant to him. He also is already proving his worth as a press conference quote machine. When asked by a sportswriter if he planned to take it easy on former teammate Sam Bradford in the pros, McCoy quickly responded, “No, he’s gonna get killed.”

Welcome to Tampa, Gerald.

To continue the awesomeness of the 2010 draft, Joe Haden was taken with the seventh pick, Jason Pierre-Paul is now a first-rounder after only seven games of major college football and Jimmy Clausen will never be drafted, ever.

Yes, Clausen was completely snubbed by the first round which made me extremely happy. For those of us who have hated Clausen ever since we first saw him take a snap on ESPN as a senior in high school, this was a rewarding moment. Even more rewarding was watching Mel Kiper, Jr., known to some as the Antichrist, bitterly piss and moan the entire night about Clausen.

Kiper had Clausen ranked as the fourth best overall player in the draft on his all-powerful “Big Board.” The Big Board is never wrong. Whenever a team makes a pick that doesn’t agree with Kiper’s Big Board, it almost always initiates verbal tears from Kiper until the next pick is made. “What are they doing? Don’t they know I’m always right? AAAGGGGHHHH!!!”

So you can bet that the Kiper shot daggers full of piss and vinegar when my personal favorite moment of the first round occurred, “With the 25th pick in the 2010 NFL Draft, the Denver Broncos select…Tim Tebow, QB from the University of Florida.”

But he’s a third rounder at best, but he has bad mechanics, but he’s unproven under center, but he doesn’t curse and I can’t trust a man that doesn’t curse. But, but, but. Nobody cares, Mel.

I usually try and keep my status as a student at UF and a life-long Gator fan somewhat subdued when writing on SC, but I admittedly went nuts when this pick was made. There’s so much bitterness toward Tebow that I’ve never been able to understand. Yes, he gets tons of media coverage, and yes, he has the kind of flawless persona that makes cynics want him to screw up. But he’s real. He smiles, he prays, he cries, he wins.

And he could probably play through a light sprain in a championship game, just saying.

In my opinion, last night came down to intangibles and character, the two things that score highest on the Tebow draft resume. If Tebow was a slouch that got in trouble off the field or didn’t play with some of the wildest tenacity that the game has ever seen, he likely would have been a third-rounder, tops. But he isn’t. He’s Tim Tebow, one of the greatest and most intriguing college football players of all time. And he is the second highest quarterback taken in the 2010 NFL Draft.

Congrats, Denver. You just got this (and a giant new fanbase in Florida).

I was planning on doing a rant on how many terrible cities there are in the NFL, but I’ve gone long enough on the draft. Consider this marketing for a post to be written next week.

The Yankees turned their first triple play since 1968 on Thursday in a loss to the Oakland A’s. Well, let me rephrase that. Their first triple play that didn’t involve Alex Rodriguez and two middle-aged women.

Speaking of A-Rod, he got into a bit of a verbal boxing match in Thursday’s game with A’s pitcher Dallas Braden when he trotted across the pitcher’s mound on his way back to first after a foul ball. Cameras clearly picked up Braden telling Rodriguez to “Get the f**k off my mound.” He would later say that A-Rod was “too busy tasting himself to apologize.”

Cheers to you, Dallas Braden. SC salutes you.

In other Thursday baseball news, the Brewers beat the Pirates 20-0 Thursday afternoon to close out a sweep at PNC Park. And no, I did absolutely not write a column during spring training saying that Lastings Milledge and the Pirates could be tough this year…

Speaking of revealing previously subdued fanhood, Steve Spurrier celebrated his 65th birthday on Tuesday. Happy birthday to the Ole’ Ball Coach. Tonight, I drink in your honor.

Man

Washington’s Alex Ovechkin stirred a mild controversy when he slung ice all over a young boy that was part of Montreal’s pregame ceremonies on Wednesday night. Americans and Canadians alike flipped out when they saw the video. What neither know is that much like saying “If he dies, he dies,” slinging ice all over small children is a traditional sign of respect in Russia.

In a curious move, Lou Piniella moved former Cubs ace, Carlos Zambrano, to the bullpen this week where he has now become an $18 million set-up man. This is kind of like paying Brooklyn Decker millions of dollars to live with you, and then forcing her to sleep on the other side of the house.

Don't worry, Brooklyn. I set up the guest room for you.

AND NOW…(drum roll)

WHY I HAVE WRITER’S BLOCK: The Never-Ending Saga

In no specific order, and with no real explanation, this is my weekly look at some of the things that kept me distracted while I was trying to write.

FINALS: In a perfect world, college would just be one long social event.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ncb2utsouZY&feature=player_embedded]

Somebody has to make the NBA entertaining.

Sorry to admit, there’s no time for  Tweet of the Week. I have to get to Tampa.

Happy Draft Weekend.

-Bryan

"Big Ben" and Other Google Trends: The Week in Review, Redux

Ben Roethlisberger and friends, Wednesday night at Gator City

This is part one in a two-part installment. Much like when “Sunday NFL Countdown” airs on a Saturday, I stubbornly refuse to pull the “redux” from the title. Stay tuned for Bryan Holt’s irreverent commentary on real sports and faux sports. It will be typically glorious.

As you know, I like to “set the scene” for you – more to burn words and fill space than anything – but this time… is absolutely no different. So here we go: I’m sitting on an old bench at a bus stop on the UF campus next to a horny couple making out. I have splinters penetrating three different sections of of my butt and my hair is darting in all kinds of directions because of the plastic seat backings in the library. Static, as you lady Casualtists can attest, is a bitch. I’m currently subconsciously calculating this week’s pros and cons to see what level of pissed off/ecstatic I am, and this is what I have so far:

Pro: Spurs steamroll the Dallas Cubans Wednesday. The Big Fundamental posts a vintage 25-17. Says Duncan afterward, “What now, Holt?!”

Con: Roy Halladay, en route to the first 30-victory season since Denny “The Penitentiary” McLain’s epic ’68 campaign, shuts out my Atlanta Braves just 4 days after Ubaldo Jimenez no-hits them… suggesting Atlanta’s offense sucks epically. 

Pro: Just finished the incomparably tedious essay section of my Research Methods take-home final.

Con: Spent four hours in the library finishing the incomparably tedious essay section of my Research Methods take-home final…

Pro: …and checking out hot brunettes. 

Con: Ventured to one “Gator City” on Wednesday. Contracted three different forms of skin rash to match the three “Roethlisberger Situations” I walked in on. Two of these situations actually involved Ben Roethlisberger.

Pro: Barry Sanders’ afro.

Con: Darrell Waltrip’s afro. 

Pro: ESPN’s coverage of the NFL Draft features my two favorite people: Gator Dazzler Erin Andrews and future Miami Hurricanes head coach Jon Gruden.

Con: Thinking of future Miami Hurricanes head coach Jon Gruden reminds me of the Miami Hurricanes.

So, as you can see, I’m about level right now. But I’ve also milked 300 words out of this gimmick. Pro.

Let’s do this.

__________ 

On April 22 – of 2001 – Dolphins fan Robb Hilson says that the franchise is stupid if they do not take projected second-round pick Drew Brees with the 26th overall selection. The Dolphins select Wisconsin defensive back Jamar Fletcher. Exactly 10 years later, the Dolphins pick 12th in the NFL Draft.

Robb Hilson is no longer a Dolphins fan.

Not Drew Brees

During a furious week of mock drafts, pro career projections, and Kiper/McShay debates over elite prospects… zero Miami Hurricanes were discussed.

On the 4/14 episode of “The B.S. Report,” TV critic Tim Goodman told Bill Simmons, “Man, if you want to talk about somebody who’s right in the nation’s wheelhouse for available audience, 100 percent penetration and big time dollars…” 

Wait just a second… This is the EXACT pickup line Ben Roethlisberger uses in Milledgeville nightclubs. It usually doesn’t work. 

But that doesn’t stop Ben!

Look, jokes aside, I don’t see why Steelers fans and ownership are raising such a big fuss about this. Pittsburgh prides itself on tenacity, persistence and a don’t-take-no-for-an-answer attitude… Yeah, and?

As you’re no doubt already aware, NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell suspended the Steelers QB on Wednesday morning for six games, or 10 fewer games than he suspended troubled defensive back Adam “Pacman” Jones. On Wednesday afternoon, Harlem rioted.

The black person in me thinks that Roethlisberger got off easy. The white person in me likes organic food and snowboarding.

And books that tell me what I like.

If you’re keeping track, Ben’s record now includes two Super Bowl rings, one near-fatal motorcycle accident, two alleged rapes and one poster still hanging on the office door of diehard Steelers fan/Research Methods professor Dr. Armstrong.

Fun fact: Dr. Armstrong is a woman.

On Sunday, Braves right fielder Jason Heyward hit a walk-off, bases-loaded single with 2 outs, 2 strikes and down by a run to beat the Rockies 4-3. Jim Nantz, however, was weary of calling the highlight during CBS’s Sunday Sports Update. As you know, Nantz does not use the Lord’s name in vain.

In more “B.S.” news, ESPN analyst John Buccigross joined Bill Simmons on April 15 to discuss the NHL playoffs. “I’ll give it a hit in my hockey column, so you might get a lot of traffic,” Buccigross told Simmons of the podcast.

“The Bucci Bump,” he continued, referring to Chris  McKendry’s favorite move. 

On Sunday, Miami Dolphins running back Ricky Williams embarked on a European vacation. On Monday, NBC News reported that the massive smoke cloud over Europe was lingering longer than expected. 

Ricky Williams, on his way to Taco Bell

As is the case with most college students, finals week distracted me from keeping up with important world news. On Monday, however, I turned on a Wolf Blitzer-less “Situation Room” and learned that fill-in Suzanne Malveaux has grown exponentially more hot in the last three months… and is now a legit candidate to sign with CNBC.

Keep it going, Suzy. Great tan.

Also on Monday, No. 2 overall pick and former Nebraska defensive tackle Ndamukong Suh donated $2.6 million to his alma mater in an effort to clean up the carnage from the 2002 Rose Bowl. 

In stats-have-gotten-out-of-hand-news, SportsCenter told us Tuesday that Jason Heyward tied Ted Williams for most RBI (16)… by a player under 21… in his first 13 games… since 1920. My contract with the Atlanta Braves prevents me from further commentary.

Reds starting pitcher Edison Volquez was suspended 50 games by Major League Baseball on Tuesday for his illicit use of fertility drugs. On the plus side, he and Manny are gonna have some talented children.

MLB: Replenishing the talent pool one little blue pill at a time.

"He'll be about this tall."

In non sequitur news, are we 100 percent sure that Jack’s kid on “Lost” isn’t the lovechild of Cameron from “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off”?

Like son...

...like father?

On Wednesday, Mexican golfing star Lorena Ochoa retired from the LPGA Tour at the age of 28. This comes just days after word that Conan O’Brien would replace George Lopez on TBS late night. 

Now the hopes and dreams of a nation rest on the shoulders of Estaban Loaiza.

This week on “Pardon the Interruption,” co-host Michael Wilbon compared Heat guard Dwyane Wade’s fashion sense to that of Al Capone. Wilbon said nothing of Wade killing his teammates after game two of Heat-Celtics. 

On Wednesday’s “Fresh Meat Challenge” on MTV, teammates Luke and Evelyn hiked around a mountain faster than Jeff and Paula after several days of partying and laziness. A victorious Luke said afterward, “I’m excited. It’s time for glory.” It was then that it occurred to me that Sports Casualties has the same standard for “glory” as unemployed reality TV personalities.

The Miami Dolphins were pleasantly surprised to learn this week that offseason acquisition G Richie Incognito is in fact G Steve Hutchinson.

I leave you with Gratuitous King.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3fD1MNjkPFs]

Like NASCAR, except a billion times better.

- Robbie

Lonestar Hoops: Spurs-Mavericks, Game 2 Log

Mark Cuban: Because I know who he is.

Because the Rays are winning by nine, there’s no other baseball games on and I need to write something before Robbie replaces me with Kyle Rancourt, here is my semi-live coverage of a league that I don’t watch. This would be like Tim Legler analyzing Tim Tebow’s NFL potential. Oh wait, he did that this morning.

9:56 We pick this up with nine minutes left in the first quarter and the San Antonio Spurs leading 7-0. Shutout still intact! Dick Stockton is on commentary along with some guy that kind of looks like me if I was 50 years older and from the Northeast.

9:59 Bad news, the shutout is already gone as the Dallas crowd rises to its feet for the first time. I’m already losing my shallow stock of newsworthy things to talk about here, dammit.

10:01 Just a preface for this game that you probably already knew, but I did not: Dallas is leading this series 1-0. Mavericks owner Mark Cuban apparently made news earlier when he simply said “I hate the Spurs.” Cheers to you, Mark, I admire your sense of hatred.

10:04 Caron Butler of Dallas just went for the first power dunk of the night. He was fouled and did not make it, but if he had, people would surely have gone crazy acting like they’ve never seen a dunk before for the next three minutes (read: until the next one happens).

In case you’re wondering, the Rays are now winning 12-0 in the 6th inning and a Chicago reliever just got a sarcastic standing ovation for throwing a strike. Sarcastic standing ovations are awesome.

Epitome of sarcastic standing ovations.

10:08 Back to And-1 Streetball land, the Spurs are up 18-11, and we just got our first zoom-in reminder of the night that Greg Popovich is the ugliest son of a bitch on the face of the earth. Seriously, most people look at Pearl Harbor and 9/11 as days of national tragedies. Popovich is still devastated by the day that high definition television coverage was introduced.

10:13 I interrupt these rambles to bring you this amazing piece of information that is shocking to everyone, and by everyone I mean me. Matt freaking Bonner, everybody’s favorite ex-Gator basketball-playing ginger is actually included on the Spurs roster. Whether or not they pay him real money, I’m not sure. There is a solid chance that he is compensated for his services in cheap whiskey and J. Crew clothing. Either way, he is a pastey white dude from New Hampshire, and he is a professional damn basketball player.

10:17 At the end of the first quarter, the Spurs lead the Mavericks 24-20. Not that I wouldn’t rather be watching meaningless April baseball, but that was rather painless.

At the end of each quarter, I’m going to go all [CBS golf announcer who shall not be named] on you and throw out a personal anecdote about my experiences of attending NBA games. I’ve attended three, so this is perfect.

• Lakers-Magic in Orlando (Heads-up: I don’t remember any of these dates or seasons): I went with my Dad to see these two teams when the Lakers were at the height of their dynasty, and Tracy McGrady actually played basketball. It was freaking sick. McGrady and Bryant went at each others throats all night, and Rick Fox got hurt in the first quarter. It was a good night. The Magic won and I was hooked. I wanna go to NBA games all the time! That was a blast! This story becomes incredibly less charming in one quarter’s time.

10:25 Jason Heyward just pulled off a monstrous dunk to bring the Mavs within one of the Spurs. You’d think baseball would be enough for the kid, but it’s starting to look like he plans on taking over all of sports. Okay, so it’s really some other guy named Heyward, and I’m pretty sure he spells his name differently. In fact, that’s not even his last name.

10:30 Tim Duncan, who has been sitting with two early fouls is about to enter the game. One can only assume that ratings are about to drop.

So good, yet so boring.

10:32 After a foul, cameras picked up Bonner uttering a four letter word that is as abrasive as his hair color. It also rhymes with truck, duck and luck.

10:38 New stat for sports nerds to look into: Ratio of white people (crowd:court). My reason for this? This is one of the pastiest audiences that I have ever seen at a sporting event. It is legitimately difficult to find one person who might be some form of a distant relative of any of the players sans Matt Bonner. Also, the arena is filled with more pastel-colored shirts than Sunday at Augusta National and a Sigma Chi Fall Rush party combined. Hardly an intimidating atmosphere.

10:44 Aside from ginger outbursts and a raging frat party in the stands, there is a real-life basketball game going on, and the Spurs are beginning to regain use of the kick-ass button. They lead by 12 with one minute left in the first half.

10:46 End of the second quarter, and the Spurs lead 58-46.

• Bucks-Magic in Orlando (Same season as the Lakers’ game): I went to this game with my cousin Jen (shout out!) while our families did something at Disney World. I promised her the world. I’ve been to a Magic game! It was the best thing ever! This game sucked. It was here that I learned that live NBA games have two levels: great and terrible. When an NBA game is bad, it is painful to sit through in person, and I used to happily go watch the purple Devil Rays and creamsicle Bucs play.

10:53 Just a halftime note, there are two reasons why I am ever drawn to NBA programming. Those two reasons are LeBron James and Charles Barkley. This is probably where I would say something about “the NBA needs to do a better job of promoting its stars,” but it would probably be wasted on me anyways. I listen to Merle Haggard and enjoy a nice sale on Guy Harvey T-shirts at Bealls from time to time. Not sure if I’m their target demographic.

Represent

11:08 We’re back to the game, and the first quote out of Dick Stockton’s mouth is “Jason Kidd has yet to leave his mark on this game.” That explains why I haven’t written his name yet. Thanks, Dick.

Rays game is over, and they won 12-0. This basketball game now has my undivided attention. Okay, not really. As long as there is Facebook and cell phones, few things will ever have my undivided attention.

11:14 Random observation: Jason Terry does not really look like an NBA player. Kind of goofy looking. I do appreciate his desire to keep tall socks going, though. He’s like 2010′s Keith Van Horn.

11:19 Another random observation brought to you courtesy of a game quickly becoming uncompetitive: It would kind of suck to be a professional athlete in Dallas unless you are a member of the Cowboys. Obviously playing for the Cowboys is one of the greatest gigs in sports, but playing for any other team in Dallas likely means that you’re taking major leftovers in the ladies department. Three for Mike Jenkins, one for you. Five for Tony Romo, one for you. Two for Mat McBriar, none for you.

11:25 Manu “can a playa get some Rogaine” Ginobili hits a three to make this a 15-point game with four minutes left in the third. Relax, Mark Cuban, you’re rich.

11:28 Dirk Nowitzki gets a technical foul while Haywood chalks up a foul of his own to further suck any life out of this Easter basket of an arena. Easy now, Dirk. Nobody likes an angry German.

11:32 While I sit here watching an uneventful game in my least favorite league, I just received a little encouragement from fellow co-author/boozer Robbie Hilson who I can only assume is raging all over Gainesville as I write this. “I’m gonna call you drunk in about 35,” read the text. Here’s your official theme song for Thursday morning, Robbie. I’m sure it will fit right into your musical pantheon of Radiohead and Smashing Pumpkins. Okay, probably not.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q4mf8S8bM3I]

11:37 The Mavs make a bit of a run to end the third quarter. They now only trail by a score of 82-72 heading into the fourth. “You can make your way back from 10 points down,” said Stockton’s sidekick. Translation: PLEASE KEEP WATCHING!!! WE NEED RATINGS!!!

• Heat-Pistons (a preseason game in Tampa): This game honestly did not make enough of an impression on me for memory. I remember that I was there and that I was sitting second row behind the hoop, which probably would have seemed much cooler had there been a crowd larger than 6,000 in attendance.

11:42 The fourth quarter is under way, and according to Stockton, the Mavs are off to an ice-cold start. Well, that’s not all bad. I mean, it is the only thing cooler than being cool. If TNT has anything to say about it, this game will soon become a classic. Why? Because they know drama, that’s why.

11:45 Just saw another commercial for the KFC Double Down, and I know what you’re wondering. Bryan, did you have your first Double Down today? Hell yes I did, America. My thoughts: It is excessive. It is much larger and more intimidating than it seems in commercials. It is delicious for about the first half, and then you begin to feel like a bad person. Kind of like a drunken hook-up with a less-than-fortunate looking girl. Regardless, it is a necessary experience.

11:48 After two Butler free throws, the Mavs are now only down by six, and white people are going wild, like “OMG we’re on our way to the Kenny Chesney concert” wild.

11:52 “The Spurs are trying to hold onto this game and head back to San Antonio with home court advantage,” says Stockton. Yes, The Heartbreak Kid Shawn Michaels is a loyal Spurs season ticket holder. Home court advantage is even more advantageous when it includes the possibility of a devastating Sweet Chin Music. Watch out, Kidd.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-YOKpiSUymc]

11:57 Duncan drives the lane for two to give the Spurs an 11-point lead with four minutes left in the game. The Mavs immediately call a timeout. This is one of the places where basketball bothers me. Dallas, you’re not going to come back. I appreciate your effort, but you are about to draw this game out for 30 minutes longer than it should actually take. For this, I hate you.

12:01 All-time personal hero Troy Aikman was just spotted by cameras and looks like he’s had one or two [cases] of Bud Light. Good for him.

12:05 Terry misses a three with two minutes left. Stockton says that the crowd would have erupted if he hit that one, but he didn’t. Ginobili goes right back and hits a three to further dig a grave for the Mavs.

12:07 Maverick fans are leaving the building at a rapid pace with just under two minutes remaining in the game. That’s good enough for me. I have somehow overcome my lack of enthusiasm and written over 1,800 words on an NBA game (and Shawn Michaels, KFC, country music, gingers, Guy Harveys, etc.), but who’s counting? Thanks for pretending to read.

-Bryan

Strasburgisms

Stephen Strasburg, with personal assistant Ryan Zimmerman.

Like Tebowisms, Heywardisms and Longoriaisms, except better.

• Stephen Strasburg once struck out former San Diego State coach Tony Gwynn… in 1993.

• In his final collegiate home start, Strasburg fanned 17 Air Force batters en route to his first no-hitter, or as Strasburg likes to call them, “Strasburgs.”

• Stephen Strasburg’s name once appeared in the same sentence with Braves phenom Jason Heyward. It was a typo, but still.

• Stephen Strasburg doesn’t always drink beer, but when he does, he prefers Dos Equis. 

• As a junior in college, Strasburg threw a pitch 103 mph, joining relievers Matt Anderson, Mark Wohlers and Joel Zumaya as the only men to do so. Strasburg said afterward that he was experimenting with a circle-change. 

• Known for an explosive fastball, Stephen Strasburg also throws two kinds of breaking pitches – one that curves and one that breaks the catcher’s hand.

• At 6’4″, 220 pounds, Strasburg has a commanding presence both on and off the mound, so much so that he once resisted the advances of a drunken Ben Roethlisberger. 

• As a sophomore at West Hills High in Santee, Calif., a 16-year-old Strasburg tried to sneak into a bar with a fake ID. The bouncer asked him for a second form of identification, but Strasburg said he did not have a passport. Days later, the Montreal Expos moved to Washington. 

• In his first start in the ’08 Olympics, Strasburg held the Netherlands to 1 hit over 7 innings. Citing an unfair advantage, the IOC voted baseball out of the 2012 games.

• Strasburg experienced mild tightness in his shoulder this spring during a bullpen session at Nationals Park. In a panic and unaware of his $15.1 million contract, Congress resorted to reconcilation to pass universal health care. Said President Obama, “It’s better to be safe than sorry.”

• Though a native of San Diego, Strasburg never took up surfing, indicating tendency to “walk on water” as a major impediment.

• Though many assume it was Nationals brass who decided to start Strasburg’s 2010 campaign in Double-A Harrisburg, his demotion was in fact the work of Major League Baseball, which banned the pitcher for 50 games after he tested positive for awesomeness. 

Suggestions welcomed. Any and all will be added.

- Robbie