So Much for Edwin Valero

Edwin Valero, 1981-2010

Though he finished his spectacular career 27-0, Edwin Valero no longer knows the word “undefeated.” Valero strangled himself in a cramped jail cell, Monday, just a day after he murdered his wife in a hotel room in Caracas. The 28-year-old Venezuelan boxer stopped each of his opponents in the ring – all 27 of his fights ended in knockouts, 19 of these in the first round – but he couldn’t stop his addiction to cocaine, nor his dependence on alcohol.

Edwin Valero made destruction his living. And destruction made Edwin Valero a dead man.

If you only know boxing by Tyson and Ali – by late night bouts on ESPN Classic – you might be inclined to overlook the magnitude of the man’s talent and the enormity of his homeland stature. Valero was nothing short of a superstar in native Venezuela. At only 5-foot-6-inches, the ferocious southpaw without fail towered over his opponents within the first three minutes of every fight. On February 26, 2006, he downed 130-pounder Whyber Garcia two minutes, 57 seconds into his 18th fight to set the record for most consecutive first-round knockouts to start a career. Exactly a month later, Genaro Trazancos ended Valero’s streak.

Trazancos lasted till round two.

Valero fought like a lion. He’d come forward. He’d come forward. He’d come forward some more – his flash of highlighted black hair swooshing back like a wild mane to reveal a terribly clinched face and eyes made of pure terror. A flag of his country stamped with the head of a dictator emblazoned his bare chest. And that the likeness of Hugo Chavez only recently appeared on his naked figure gives you some idea as to what the young hero began to mean to his people, and what his people began to mean to him.

“Venezuala de verdad,” reads a tri-colored tatoo that is now cold and pale.

Valero’s truth was an all-too-short life of monumental highs and equally devastating lows. He was born in Bolero Alto, Merida, to a father he would not know and a mother that would sell fruit from a market stand to feed her family. Poverty was a fact of life, as it was for over half of his countrymen, so he took out his frustrations in street fights against children who were painfully unaware that they were standing toe-to-toe with a future champion.

Edwin Valero was homeless by 12, but as is the case with most rags to riches stories, on the brink of a run-in with destiny. He finds a job with a bicycle repairman. The repairman is a boxer. By 19, the boy of skin, bones and fury is a three-time national amateur champion and the reigning Central and South American title holder.

Valero against Antonio Pitalua

Crouching on the cusp of international fame and his first professional fight, Valero fell prey to his own reckless nature in early 2001 when he lost control of his motorcycle without a helmet. His skull cracked. His blood clotted. His camp waited another year for clearance to fight.

In time, Venezuelan doctors gave him a clear bill of health. Sanctioning bodies commissioned his pro career. And Edwin Valero charged out of the gates like a caged animal, finishing opponents in the ring as if making up for lost time – as if stringing together fight after fight of 41 seconds (Jose Hernandez), 20 seconds (Aram Ramazyan) and 75 seconds (Esteban de Jesus Morales) would somehow compensate for long years of waiting.

On August 5, 2006, Valero knocked out Vincente Mosquera in the tenth round to claim the WBA super featherweight title, a belt he defended four times before bulking up to lightweight. He became champion in a second weight class in April of ’09 when he demolished Antonio Pitalua in front of a wild Texas crowd, his first American audience in 6 years.

After two more successful defenses of his WBC supremacy, Valero vacated his belt at the suggestion of promoter Bob Arum in a suspected attempt to intercept Manny Pacquiao before his next big payday. Arum also promotes the Filipino star.

Valero spent March beating his own body and his 24-year-old bride.

On March 25, she “fell down the stairs,” puncturing her lung and covering her body with black and blue. Valero insisted on his wife’s clumsiness, but the nurses’ suspicion of domestic abuse grew more acute each time the former champion unleashed vicious barrages of swear words in the waiting room. He had fought rage before he’d ever fought in the ring. The drugs didn’t help.

He stabbed his wife three times on Sunday – it was me, he told hotel security – and hours later he twisted his sweatpants into a noose. Cooly and calmly, Edwin Valero hung himself from the ceiling of a barred room.

His death is the fourth such boxing suicide in the last 12 months. We know about corrupt promoters and divisive governing bodies. We know about Don Kings and cash grabs. But the haunting story of this young man is a chilling reminder that boxing is killing itself in more ways than one.

- Robbie

A Different Breed of Braves

FILL THINE HORN WITH OIL!

The 2010 Atlanta Braves: more fun than a night on the town with Julio Franco and Eddie Perez.

The Braves got put through the ringer this weekend by the best team in the NL West during a jet-lagged three-game series at Turner Field. Colorado should have won the series – you should win every series in which you have a lead going into the ninth of one game and your ace hurls a freaking no-hitter in an entirely different game. And yet Atlanta avoided a potentially demoralizing nutkick to the confidence to notch a 2-1 series victory and improve to 7-5 on the young season. As Tony Kornheiser might say, that’s resiliency, holmes. You probably say I’m making too much of this. I say you can never make too much of meaningless late April baseball… Here’s where we stand after 12 games. 

What I Like Uh, Jason Heyward – or simply, The Destroyer, as we here at Sports Casualties are inclined to tag the young Braves phenom who’s still months shy of legally purchasing his first beer. It’s been a monumental three weeks for the kid from Ridgewood. He goes long in his first Big League at bat, gets his mug commemorated on the Wall of Giant Heads over at “Pardon the Interruption,” and racks up enough clutch hits to stand second in the league in RBI. Of course, everybody’s losing their collective sh*t over Sunday’s opposite field walk-off single… and well they should. According to the Alias Sports Bureau, the Braves haven’t had a 2-out, 2-strike, down by a run, game-ending base hit since Franky Cabrera’s “Bream Special” in the 1992 NLCS. Somewhere, Sean McDonough’s voice is cracking.

"And he is s-AAAAFE! Braves go to the World Series!"

After that game, Cabrera memorably said in his broken English, “My father told me to be a hero. And today, I am a hero.” I feel like this is where we’re going with Heyward. Improbably, he looks just as special, just as composed, just as supremely talented as everybody promised he’d be. And as evidenced by Sunday afternoon’s mob scene, the guy really loves baseball. This isn’t business as usual for a team that’s prided itself for the last 15 or so years on calm, cool and collected. You can tell already that the Heyward Buzz is rubbing off. Now if he could only cut down on the strikeouts…  

I also like Jair Jurrjens’ 8-inning, 108-pitch outing Sunday. If you’re like me, you broke into cold sweats during spring training at the thought of losing the 24-year-old to the Dreaded Elbow Inflammation. The nausea returned last week when the Padres thumped him to the tune of 3 1/3 IP, 8 earned. His fastball topped out in the high 80s and his change was more ineffective than saying “no” to Ben Roethlisberger. Against Colorado, he looked like the Jurrjens from last year – the off-speed pitch was dancing, he kept the ball down (didn’t phase Ian Stewart), and his second to last pitch touched 94. He needs to stay healthy this year because, regardless of what Frank Wren tells you, Melky Cabrera can’t pitch.

Melky, is that you?

What I Don’t Like Melky, obviously, but we’ll get to him in a second. The Braves backed up their sans-batting practice nine-run outburst Friday with – count them – zero hits on Saturday. The worst part about it: Ubaldo Jimenez walked six guys. I mean, it wasn’t even a particularly memorable no-no so much as a 9-inning exercise in impotence. When my team goes down, I want them to go down in flames (see: Johnson, Randy, 2004 at Atlanta. First televised perfect game in history. Now that’s my kinda beatdown). Something tells me there’s a correlation between first-ever-victim-of-Rockies-no-hitter and Nate McLouth/Melky Cabrera’s combined .130 batting average. Nine for 69, in case you’re curious. How’s that for a centerfield platoon? How’s that for a combo that cost you a frontline starting pitcher and half your farm system? And Mclouth… good lord. He’s like the guy in the “Alien” movies that volunteers to go first into the dark abyss. Just a lamb to slaughter. In fact, after Saturday, the Braves ranked dead last in the Majors in leadoff batting average (.065, 3 for 46). Professional raker Matt Diaz matched those three hits on Sunday. Matt, by the way, still does not have a full-time job despite a .314 BA (373 for 1188) since joining the team in ’06. Meanwhile, Cabrera sports a .388 OPS. Until this weekend, I didn’t even know there was such thing as a .388 OPS.

Suggested plan of action: Get rid of Nate McLouth. I don’t care if you trade him, sell him, knock him off in a back-alley. Just get rid of him. He’s always hurt, he doesn’t hit for average, and he struck out 99 times last year. No thanks. Give Diaz the starting job in left, bat him 1-2 with Martin Prado and sacrifice a burnt offering in hopes that Cabrera starts hitting. While we’re at it, move Heyward up to the fifth hole and start Hinske at first/clean-up until he cools off. As far as I can tell, The Ghost of Troy Glaus is no longer a productive Big Leauge player, and his 26 games of sub-.200, 1 HR, 8 RBI baseball since 2008 back me up on this.

Diaz: Like many Americans, still without a stable job.

What I’m Scratching My Head Over Pretty much every single one of Frank Wren’s decisions, but particularly the move to pass on 30-year-old Rafael Soriano and his $7.25 million salary for $10 million of Wagner/Saito. Combined years of life experience: 80. I have absolutely no idea what to expect from this bullpen. Takashi Saito’s been surprisingly fantastic in his setup role – 5 IP, 1 H – and Billy Wagner still takes to the mound like he’s got a vendetta against the radar gun. He imploded against San Diego 10 days ago, but the fastball routinely hits 98. Eric O’Flaherty’s getting lefties out, which is what Eric O’Flaherty does (besides drink Guinness). And I assume Cox and Wren will call up right-hander Craig Kimbrel come June, both because he’s dominating in Gwinnett and because I wrote about him in March… Okay, just because he’s dominating in Gwinnett.

I really want to talk about Heyward some more, but I’ll spare you. With 150 games left, I’m content to soak up a memorable weekend – a weekend that makes me think that this team is like a gamer toddler who smacks his head on a coffee table, picks himself up, dusts himself off and says with resolve, “Let’s do this.”

- Robbie

Mullets and Krispy Kreme: An Unfocused Look at the Past Week in the World

"This will be good for my physique."

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. To read Robbie Hilson’s far more thoughtful take on the week, click here. It’s a tear-jerker.

There are random notes and folders scattered all over my room, professors are just as stressed as students and earlier today I woke up hungover (okay, that kinda happens a lot). This can only mean one thing: Spring semester here at the University of Florida is coming to a close. Yes, this could possibly be the last time that a Week in Review is ever written from the confines of my Gainesville apartment. One day we’ll look back on this with great nostalgia.

Not too much else to say on the introduction side of this. Get me some Advil. Let’s do this.

Earlier this week, a cell phone video of Jerry Jones having a drunken football conversation at a bar was released on Deadspin.com. The conversation included a debate over whether or not Bill Parcells is “worth a s**t,” and a staunch declaration by Jones that he would not draft Tim Tebow in the third round.

In other news, Jerry Jones is the freaking man.

ESPN featured some of its most entertaining programming to date this week with the “Jon Gruden QB Camp” Sportscenter segments and “The Trial of Allen Iverson.”  Gruden’s segments were legendary. He basically sat down with each of the top quarterback prospects in this year’s draft and tore them to pieces. He was seen making Colt McCoy hold onto his belt loop just before he took Jimmy Clausen’s shoes and threw them against a wall.

Welcome to Gruden QB Camp

The golf world taught us two things this week: Phil Mickelson has guts. Phil Mickelson loves Krispy Kreme. Alright, the second one isn’t exactly shocking news.

Mickelson, or FIG JAM as he is known at the 19th tee, became the hero of the Anti-Tiger world on Sunday when he won his third career green jacket at Augusta National. Mickelson seems to be oozing with everything that Tiger Woods is not. FAMILY, FAMILY, FAMILY. Media is picking up on this rivalry with sociological undertones more and more this week. I was watching Sportscenter on Wednesday, and when the news was announced that Tiger had filed his U.S. Open paperwork, a large image flashed up on the screen featuring Woods and Mickelson.

“They will meet again,” said John Buccigross, as if we thought they would never be featured in the same tournament again.

N0w, if Phil really is the wonderful guy that the fan-friendly half of his image shows, then I can see the motive behind backing him. But to me, a cynical college student, this sounds a lot like when Alex Rodriguez was praised as the clean slugger that would legitimize the home run record again during the whole Barry Bonds saga.

It took great will power this week for me to refrain from posting a column featuring fake text message transcripts from Mickelson’s sure to be upcoming sex scandal. Never one to refrain for long, here is a brief sample of what you would have seen if I didn’t suddenly grow a conscience while watching Phil and Amy after Sunday’s win.

WARNING: What you are about to witness is country club white dude in action. Cue the Michael Buble.

• Sent 6:05 P.M. 7/20/2009 “I’m gonna make you watch ‘Tin Cup’ over and over and then give you wine coolers until you think I’m Kevin Costner.”
• Sent 10:13 P.M. 8/2/2009 “C’mon baby, Tiger already took another girl upstairs. It’s me or nothing.”
• Sent 11:05 P.M. 8/16/2009 “Alright, the coast is clear. Come to room 505.”
• Sent 11:08 P.M. 8/16/2009 “That was awesome. Goodnight.”

Speaking of sex scandals, what would a Week in Review be without a discussion about Ben Roethlisberger and his illustrious hair. This week, it was confirmed that there were small amounts of male DNA (read by Lil’ Jon: skeet skeet) found in the Milledgeville ladies bathroom stall that is in question. It was also confirmed that the girl in question was in the, and I quote, “brownout and/or blackout stage” at the time of the alleged actions.

Now as a college student, I may or may not be familiar with the curious sensation known as “blacking out.” But brownout? That is a new one for me. A brownout sounds kind of like busting open a big 70-yard run only to get tackled at the two yard line. Much like when you’re making your decision between grilled Double Down or fried Double Down, go big or go home, America.

Blackouts: Cooler than brownouts.

Comedy Central is officially bringing the Onion Sports Network into its programming beginning in 2011. My thoughts: “Uh, job?”

The NBA Playoffs begin this weekend which means that NBA players will be going against their usual policy of not playing hard. Boy, I love how the intensity picks up in the postseason.

Hendrick Motorsports took yet another step toward taking over the universe when it was announced that they have signed Kasey Kahne to replace Mark Martin when he steps down in 2012. Rick Hendrick is permanently stamping his legacy as the Steinbrenner of the South. Good luck, small teams.

Also, I would like to formally announce that, after finally struggling to listen to the Jim Nantz/Bill Simmons podcast today, I completely side with Robbie in his damnation of all things Nantzy. To quote the great Robert Duvall, Nantz is a first-class ass-sniffer.

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. Today’s Special: Great Moments in Angry Tiger Woods History

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zw83P2zkfbE]

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-Wg3K0KzQPs]

Tweet of the Week

Because too much television makes you fat and undesirable, but too much Twitter just makes you unproductive and socially awkward. Follow SC on Twitter, the awesomeness of your life depends on it.

This week’s Tweet of the Week comes to us courtesy of one Jonah Keri, baseball writer extraordinaire. Keri is currently writing a book about the Tampa Bay Rays which makes him cool by me. He also operates a Twitter page that is often very entertaining. In honor of the Jim Nantz boycott, I will introduce this tweet with a personal anecdote that will entertain no one but myself. I was at Game 6 of the 2008 ALCS when B.J. Upton opened the game with a first inning home run to center field. As Upton trotted back out to take the field in the top of the 2nd, the outfield stands broke out into a loud chant of “B.J.! B.J.! B.J.!” This was of course the perfect scenario for a dirty old man outburst from the dirty old man sitting in front of me. “Did you ever think you’d hear that? This is my kind of crowd,” said the man who would later discuss the fact that Coco Crisp shares his namesake with his favorite stripper at The Tango Lounge. Now to the tweet.

jonahkeri Don’t know what kind of clever giveaway they have planned at the Trop if BJ Upton has a breakout season, but I’m excited to find out.

Have a rockstar kind of weekend.

-Bryan

"Jim Effing Nantz" and Other Google Trends: The Week in Review, Redux

"My sh** does not stink."

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.

I can see the light, Casualtists. And not the kind of light Larry King and Hubie Brown will be seeing any second now. No, I’m talking about that blazing beacon of freedom that is April 26, my first official day of summer. Starting two Mondays from now, Sports Casualties kicks into high gear for an endless stretch of globe-spanning, kick-ass coverage. And when I say “endless stretch,” I of course mean “about 10 days” – at which point I go back to school and Bryan goes to work. The life of a college blogger is a hard one, friends. The hours are long and it’s only socially acceptable to drink six nights out of the week. Alas. But my promise to you is also CC Sabathia’s take on barbeque: I’m gonna suck it up. And in all seriousness, thanks for reading – the progress we’ve made over a mere semester is enough to give Bryan the inkling that we can actually cover beer money with this thing. And Bryan’s not a lightweight. Your clicks mean the world to us – even if you’re a 12-year-old looking for hot pics of Kate. 

Enough empty praise. Let’s do this, Casualtists… before I go all Dick Vermeil on you.

__________

Though finishing fourth at Augusta after a nearly 5-month layoff, Tiger Woods noticeably struggled with his swing and short-game touch all week. After carding a 70 on Friday, Woods told media members of his post-November practice routine, “It’s very similar to what Hogan was going through coming off the accident.” 

Totally agree… Was Hogan driving an Escalade, too?

The way to stop the jokes.

On Sunday, new Phillies acquisition Roy Halladay pitched 9 innings of 7-hit ball to edge the Astros 2-1. “I don’t think about going the distance,” Doc told reporters afterward, adding, “I don’t think about anything. At all. Ever. I’m actually a cyborg sent from the AL East to destroy the National League.” When asked whether he’d ever consider switching leagues again, Halladay said simply:

“I’ll be back.”

Also on Sunday, home run king Barry Bonds was set to attend San Francisco’s day game with Atlanta to commemorate the 10th anniversary of the Giant’s 2000 team. Bonds, however, showed up later than expected after experiencing difficulties fitting his head through stadium gates.

At the time of writing, ESPN is reporting that Tracy McGrady will not play unless he can “regain his form.” T-Mac is of course referring to “make eight figures by sitting on the bench in street clothes” form.

Rentals of “The Longest Yard” skyrocketed in Pittsburgh after Steelers WR Santonio Holmes’ trade to the Jets this week, as cheated fans turned to fictional criminals Paul Crewe and Deacon Moss to give them some idea of what the Roethlisberger-to-Holmes connection would have been like. 

Upon news of the trade, Manhattan night clubs collectively filed a motion to insure all glassware. 

Sticking with Pittsburgh, in his first public appearance since involvement in an alleged sexual assault, aforementioned Steelers QB Ben Roethlisberger announced to national media Monday that he has hired ESPN analyst Barry Melrose to cut his hair.

Melrose or Michael Bolton. One or the other.

Milledgeville police – who suspected that assault did indeed occur – weren’t able to prosecute Big Ben because the DNA sample was too small. But look at the bright side, Smalltown Georgia: at least you don’t have to pronounce “Roethlisberger” anymore.

Black Monday was also the day the Texas Rangers demoted 30-year-old closer Frank Francisco after an underwhelming first week. On Monday night, the Alias Sports Bureau confirmed that this was the fastest anybody had ever lost his job without the help of theft or alcohol.

Turning now to celebrity news, Conan O’Brien’s surprising move to TBS figures to shuffle the station’s late night lineup, as Frank Caliendo will most likely move to the 10 p.m. slot and George Lopez will most likely move to Mexico.

In non sequitur news, are we 100 percent sure that Mike Holmgren isn’t the forbidden lovechild of William Taft?

Like son...

...like father?

Commercials airing this week for SC’s favorite new sandwich the KFC Double Down unveiled that the fast food chain is offering the item as a grilled option… the ordering of which is like splurging on a four-carat diamond with a plastic band. 

Go the extra mile, Fat America. Go the extra mile.

If there was ever any doubt that Jeremy Shockey wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, this week the colorful Saints tight end asked for personal video submissions via Facebook of women who would like to win a date with him. If this kind of ingenuity isn’t a plug for University of Miami education, I don’t know what is. Take note, Donna Shalala.

On Tuesday’s “Pardon the Interruption,” new Redskins acquisition Donovan McNabb told Mike and Tony, “Initially when the trade happened – and I had the opportunity to be here with [coach Mike] Shanahan – I thought it would be an outstanding thing because of his track record and the things he’s been able to accomplish with young quarterbacks, as well as older quarterbacks.”

McNabb added, “And he had one year of uncanny luck with a flyer sixth-round pick that turned into a 2,000-yard runner.”

TD: Mike Shanahan's one-time meal ticket.

Wednesday morning, Dolphins fans rejoiced as the team landed star receiver Brandon Marshall in a trade with the Broncos. Some Miami natives think Marshall is the straw that breaks the camel’s back – the camel being the New England Patriots, not the South Florida penal system.

Marshall 2010 fantasy prediction: 84 catches, 1290 yards, 1 DUI.

Turning briefly to politics, Michelle Obama this week chose Mexico as her first destination abroad as first lady. No truth to the rumor that the White House is looking for a new secretary of landscaping.

Just joking, Mexico. We kid because… we figured, hey, already pissed off Canada. Might as well polish off the continent.

After cell phone cameras captured Cowboys owner Jerry Jones besmirching Tim Tebow’s good name in a bar, SC co-author Bryan Holt tweeted, “Jerry Jones still has his heart set on drafting Johnnie Walker in the third round.”

I know this was meant as a shot at Jones, but as a longtime Cowboys fan, I think Bryan’s definitely on to something. Walker would be a much better investment than Roy Williams. The difference between the two is cut and dry: Williams gets knocked on his ass. Walker knocks others on their asses.

And now, without further ado, it’s time for the hit feature that’s sweeping the nation… 

RIPPING JIM NANTZ A NEW ONE

Formally banished from SC.

On April 13, Nantz joined Bill Simmons on the hit ESPN podcast “The B.S. Report,” a courageous move considering Keith Olbermann had just poisoned him with Ego Juice. Here’s what we learned from the conversation: CBS’s head announcer is an enormous dick, and not in the Greg Oden sense.

Nantz railed on Tiger Woods for his alleged poor behavior, his “ungrateful” post-tournament interview with Peter Kostis, his frequent use of the four-letter word “damn,” and a host of other perceived disgraces to the game.

“He unfortunately reverted back to the old Tiger,” Nantz said.

When asked about his pointed Woods commentary on Saturday, he told Simmons, “He let loose some profanity on the sixth tee and I reacted to it. That’s what I was gonna do. I was gonna tell people what I saw.” 

Nantz added, “You know, because the vast majority of golf fans are deaf and blind.”

Jimmy went on. And on. And on. And on. Cliff Notes version: Jim Nantz thinks Jim Nantz is the greatest announcer to ever live. Jim Nantz does not rank Tiger’s 1997 performance in his top 3 Masters (’86 Jack, Phil, Phil). Jim Nantz thinks himself an exceedingly grateful individual, but said of CBS’s massive weekend audience: “It means nothing to me.” Nantz on Tiger’s language: “He’s so conditioned to be able to say anything he wants.”

Jim Nantz is no longer a friend of this half of SC, and much like FSU and baggy jeans, has been permanently Anti-Hilsoned. 

This buzzer beater-free conclusion brought to you in part by The SC Announcer Boycott.

- Robbie

SC 2010 NFL Mock Draft

This shirt is available in Sports Casualties' imaginary online pro shop.

With the NFL Draft one week away, SC has decided to go with the latest “cool kids” trend and hold a mock NFL draft. Yes, if the “cool kids” jumped off a bridge, we would too. Head freaking first. However, to set ourselves apart, this will not be a regular “Bradford, Suh, McCoy” kind of mock draft. No, in the SC mock draft, teams will be drafting a company that best fits their needs. Neither Robbie (the illegitimate father of this brain child) nor Bryan (the person writing it) are business students in any way. Nobody quite knows how this will go. Oh well.

And with the first pick in the Sports Casualties 2010 Mock NFL Draft, the St. Louis Rams select…

1. Home Box Office (HBO) St. Louis Rams

Hard Knocks...All season long.

The Rams are hopeless.  They are a team so bad that it is difficult to find something that says “Hey, that could help.” From their Steven Jackson + a bunch of nameless people offense to their abysmal defense, the Rams are the most deserving recipient of a No. 1 overall draft pick this side of the 2008 Detroit Lions. There are bad teams that are fun to watch implode. These teams can make money. Then there are bad teams that no one cares about enough to even garner a laugh. These teams do not make money. The Rams fall into the latter category.

The solution?

Make people care. Draft HBO and turn the entire season into the greatest reality show ever. I can see it now, “Hard Knocks: The Life and Times of the NFL’s Worst Team.”  Because the only thing better than a train wreck is a televised train wreck. Just ask Hulk Hogan and family.

People will want to tune in and see the team go unrecognized at bars, pretend to be real pro football players and give it their not-quite-all in front of hundreds of crazed fans. If “24/7″ can really make somebody other than Max Kellerman care about boxing, then HBO could have a smash hit in introducing America to the now-lovable losers.

Mel Kiper’s Take: “I really think this is a strong pick-up for St. Louis. I’ve always thought that Danny Almendola kid was one television spot away from making it big.”

2. Trojan Detroit Lions

Here's to you, Matt Stafford.

Yes, this pick was made primarily so that I could make a middle school P.E. locker room kind of joke. Protection?!?! Get it!?!?

Regardless, this pick is very necessary in both a symbolic and literal manner. In 2009, the Detroit Lions offensive line was statistically one of the worst groups in the league. While their run-blocking had improved since 2008, pass protection was an issue as Detroit Lion quarterbacks spent more time on the ground than Southwest Airlines. A strong message of “protection” could be just what the Lions need to revamp for 2010.

Also, in a little more literal translation, I think it is safe to say that in the female-luring rankings of the Detroit sports teams, the Lions are probably in a tie with the Pistons for third. Now I’ve never been to the Motor City, so all the knowledge that I have of Detroit was gathered by watching the movie “8 Mile,” and I’m not afraid to admit that. So with that in mind, the Red Wings and Tigers probably aren’t bringing in too many quality cleat chasers as it is. No telling what is getting brought back home with the Pistons and Lions.

Mel Kiper’s Take: “My parents should have drafted Trojan in 1959. Not a glamorous pick, but definitely a necessary one.”

3. E-Trade Financial Corporation Tampa Bay Buccaneers

Shankapotamus

The first surprise pick of the draft comes from the Buccaneers, who give no real reason for picking E-Trade. It is only after hearing coach Raheem Morris refer to them as “my guys” 35 times that you realize that E-Trade was founded by William A. Porter, a proud alumnus of Kansas State University. As most Bucs fans know, Morris can’t resist bringing in players from the school that he coached at in 2006. First, it was Josh “Tito Jackson” Freeman, then it was Yamon Figurs and now it’s the company most famous for its baby commercials.

This will not improve the team or make anyone excited about attending Bucs games this season. However, word spread that E-Trade is an “inexpensive option” which made the EPL cash-strapped Glazers all the more enthusiastic about the move. Rumors that the Bucs will soon be changing their colors to purple and silver may or may not be true.

Mel Kiper’s Take: “Those commercials are adorable.”

4. ING Group Washington Redskins

ING Group Headquarters, A.K.A. coolest building ever.

Redskins owner Dan Snyder is worth an estimated $1.3 billion, a ticket to a game at FedEx Field costs approximately one arm and two legs (with a capacity of  91,704) and Snyder has been known to sling his fortunes around like Ben Roethlisberger at a sorority house. So how in the hell are the Redskins so bad? Sounds like we need some financial planning.

The fact that the 2010 NFL season is uncapped means that Snyder and his Redskins should be set for glory. Apparently unable to handle the financial aspect of running a football team himself, ING will assist Snyder in his every move making the Redskins the elite spending force that they have the finances to be. Donovan McNabb is a nice start, but how about bringing in a ridiculous amount of weapons to surround him?

Maybe ING could even teach Snyder something about customer relations as the only times that the ‘Skins made the news in 2009 were when fans were angry about something.

Mel Kiper’s Take: “Excellent pick. Some guy from Pakistan owns the Rams now, why not include the Dutch?”

5. Lockheed Martin Kansas City Chiefs

Defense wins championships...and looks awesome.

The Chiefs have a young offense full of promising potential. So why did they go 4-12 in 2009? Defense, defense, defense. The Chiefs had none, and by none I mean that they were ranked 30th in the NFL in total defense. Not good.

So who better to being in than the ultimate bad asses in defensive operations. Lockheed Martin has been blowing things to smithereens from the air since 1995. After slipping to pick No. 5, a shocking revelation as most were expecting them to go top three, Martin will soon be applying the same pressure to the AFC West.

Mel Kiper’s Take: ” What a steal! I had these guys cemented at the top of my defensive board, and I cannot believe that they fell this far. Great pick for the Chiefs.”

6. The Boeing Company Seattle Seahawks

New team charter plane.

The Seahawks go with the fan-friendly option and keep the hometown boy in Seattle. Also in need of defense, the Seahawks get the benefit of bringing in a prospect that is efficient in both combat and recreation. Can you say awesome new team jet?

It’s almost common sense that the Seahawks try to build up a strong defensive presence in this draft. They have all the intangibles of a dominant defensive-minded team minus the talent. They have the loud stadium, bad weather and a surplus of angry grunge rockers left over from the early 1990s (read: Robbie Hilson). Plus with Julius Jones at running back and that guy that’s related to that guy that’s married to that kinda hot girl on “The View” at quarterback, a well-rounded defensive presence would serve them well. Boeing also has nearly 80 years of experience on Lockheed Martin which could be crucial in December playoff pushes.

Mel Kiper’s Take: “Solid pick-up by the Seahawks. I’m sure that they were hoping that Martin would drop back to them, but I also wanted Todd McShay to be my friend. Life is cruel.”

7. KFC Cleveland Browns

Eyes on the prize.

In a stunning move, the Browns, who were expected to trade up to acquire some offensive help, have instead made the most useless pick of the draft. KFC will do nothing to help the Browns, and will likely kill the entire team by the end of training camp.

“Lifetime supply of Double Downs? I’m sorry, but this prospect was just too good to pass up,” said Browns president Mike Holmgren. The NFL Draft: Where fat team executives happen.

Mel Kiper’s Take: “I’m not sure what just happened. I had KFC as my prediction for Mr. Irrelevant.”

8. McGraw-Hill Oakland Raiders

Read up, kids.

In a move of desperation, the Raiders came to an unsettling conclusion on who they would pick as their aloted time was about to expire. Al Davis went with McGraw-Hill, the company that is most famous for publishing school textbooks. Although Davis’ grumbling explanation was not completely audible, most are reporting that McGraw-Hill has a new book on “How to Learn the West Coast Offense” that he thought could be an asset to Jamarcus Russell.

When asked by Adam Schefter what he thought of the deal, Raiders coach Tom Cable yelled “Books suck!” and punched Schefter in the face.

Mel Kiper’s Take: ‘Strange pick here. I guess anything that associates Oakland with literacy can be a positive for American society.”

9. CBC Television Buffalo Bills

Good afternoon, Canada.

In a startling move, the Bills have altered the very fabric of NFL television by bringing in Canadian station CBC Television to further promote themselves in Canada. The Bills, a team that represents one of the NFL’s most quaint markets, are likely crossing lines of legality here as they have stated that all of their games will be shown solely on CBC (that’s CBLT Channel 20 for our friends in Toronto). This almost certainly adds truth the recently held rumor that the Bill will soon become the first Canadian NFL team by moving to Toronto.

When approached for comment, Bills QB Trent Edwards said “Alright, Toronto. They’ve got bars there, right?”

Marshawn Lynch is excited about extending his long string of illegitimate children to an international level.

Mel Kiper’s Take: ” Pass me a Molson!”

10. U-Haul Jacksonville Jaguars

Bye Jaguars.

It’s never good when an NFL team that only plays 10 home games per season has to tarp off large amounts of seats at its stadium. For nearly as long as the Jaguars have been a team, there have been talks about moving them out of Jacksonville. With this rather cold draft pick, it is now a certainty. Where they are going no one can be quite certain. Maybe Los Angeles, San Antonio or Las Vegas. Wherever they go, we now know that it will take place inside of a bright orange truck that may or may not break down halfway.

The Jaguars have always had attendance problems. Their market has failed to support them on a consistent basis. This peaked in 2009, when the Jaguars averaged just 73.9 percent attendance over eight regular season games.

Reasons for the struggles are plenty. I’ve never been to Jacksonville, so I cannot really judge, but I’ve heard many people say it’s a fun place. I’ve also heard others say it smells like urine. Tony Kornheiser hates Jacksonville, but he also hates Tampa because it has nothing but “Waffle Houses and strip clubs.” I see nothing wrong with that. Waffle House is a necessary late night food option that occasionally lets you make your own food which seems awesome when you’re intoxicated, and the only people that strippers have ever hurt are old rich guys that hate their families. I love Tampa, so Kornheiser’s theory is not included.

Mel Kiper’s Take: ” It’s a sad day in Jacksonville, I guess.”

Random Toothless Homeless Guy that Rides My Bus’ Take: “I don’t even care if they leave. I f***ing hate the Jaguars.”

-Bryan

Pictures of The King

Takes longer to load than it does to read.

Billy Jean: "You're wasting your time, Bill."

Tyra, lookin' fine.

The Smugglin' King

FCC on standby.

Chef: "You're SURE you can eat solids?"

Get it?

Waiting his turn.

Regard for terror, not foul balls.

My kinda king.

Bryan Holt's kinda king.

Fan of ill communicating, sabotage, skinny ties.

King sandwich.

First coffee, then sex on fire.

Solely for Alan Flaten and the 8-year-old version of myself.

Jerry Lawler at 27. Take note, aspiring wrestlers.

The forbidden lovechild of "Vendetta's" V and Flavor Flav.

"Hmm... If Macaulay isn't doing anything... and Bubbles isn't busy..."

King James, 150 pounds and a can of Afro Sheen ago.

Pre-CGI King.

King of longball, strikeout, questionable facial hair.

From Right to Left: Carole King, Inside Trader.

"A better grip? Anything to fix Iraq."

Felix: "Ken Griffey!? No sh*t! You were my favorite player in kindergarten."

- Robbie

"Lost": Season 6, Episode 12 Recap

Dammit, Kate! We said business casual.

Much like Damon Lindelof and Carlton Cuse six months ago, I have absolutely no idea where this show is going.

Thanks to you, the loyal Casualtist, we’re now six algorithm-busting “Lost” recaps into the season. As your unfettered enthusiasm inspires me to new literary heights, you can be reasonably assured that Sports Casualties will be the go-to destination for all your Jack and Kate Plus Eight news for the remainder of the season. Here’s what “Lost” Recap fans are saying:

“You’re ripping apart so much that I hold dear, Robbie. So. Much. Fact checking. Needed.” ~ Sarika

“Seriously, though, ‘Not Penny’s boat.’ Nothing? How do you not remember that?” ~ Amber

“Everything the above said.” ~ Tom

“That was the most stupid bunch of cr@p I ever read! Why do you bother?? You are clearly not a fan, and no one is interested in you making fun of a show you can’t possibly comprehend, you obviously are not intelligent enough to understand any of it!! ROFLMAO!!” ~ Dee

“If you dig the main chick from ‘V’ you should check out Firefly/Serenity. The show was cancelled after one season because Fox decided to air the episodes out of order. But she looks a lot better with long hair and she plays a prostitute. So, um, yeah.” ~ Kyle

As you can see, SC “Lost” coverage has been an unqualified success, no thanks to the 13-year-old perverts who frequent our site looking for soft-core pics of Kate (click here). Island time. Let’s do this.

___________

We know right off the bat that Hurley is a huge fan of the KFC Double Down. In fact, he’s something of a fried chicken visionary, or so we’ve been led to believe by the opening Colonel-inspired slide show. After being honored, Hugo’s hot latino mother, Madre Hugo, scores Big Hurley a date. I hope it’s with Karen O. That always been my dream – for my mom to score me a date with a hipster princess.

That was the side flash. Now we’re on the island where we find out that Karen, or whomever the date would have been, uh, is dead. But good news, Diversity! You’re lone black character is back to save the Islanders! That would of course be the star of “Matrix Revolutions,” Link. Or as he’s known to me and you, Harold Parrineau.

Apparently Harrold – or Michael Dawson as he’s known to Jack – is a figment of Hugo’s imagination, much like my arts position paper is still a figment of my imagination. Remember that total out-of-his-league blonde from the island? She’s back, and her name is Elizabeth. She’s jabbering on like Gilbert Gottfried at a Comedy Central Roast and, just like GotFried, is an inmate at the Santa Rosa Mental Hospital. That’s “Santa Rose” Mental Hospital for all you non-Miami natives.

"This post is a bigger disaster than 'Problem Child 3'"

After a huge explosion rocks the island while I was trying to figure out how to translate “Rosa,” Smoke Monster Locke, Sayid, Kate and Sawyer privvy us to a group powwow, after which Sayid leads SM Locke to the sixth member of Pearl Jam, Desmond Hume (in the foreground). Unfortunately, Sayid couldn’t find a better man, so he tied Des to a tree. You know what I always say, “It’s better to be tied to a tree than to smoke tree… before writing a ‘Lost’ Recap.”

Commercial break shoutouts: chin up, Ben and Alan. Our Methods paper isn’t nearly as disastrous as this post. 

Back on the island, I’ve found out that Ilana just blew up in the massive dynamite explosion. To celebrate, Hurley orders a bucket of Mr. Clucks chicken in the sideflash timeline… and washes it down with a conversation with Desmond.

I’m going to offer something groundbreaking right now: Des is totally the new Jacob. He’s fulfilling all of Jacob’s roles, except with a deep baritone and better looks… so I’m told, by the ladies. I personally have zero preference. Zero.

Seriously. Not that there’s anything wrong with having a preference.

In the island timeline, we find out that Chuck Widmore zapped Des “with experience.” I wish Bobby Cox could do this to Axl Rose lookalike Tommy Hanson. Of more importance, we find out that Smoke Monster Locke might actually be Locke Locke (as in the guy that did more for the Shaved Head than Michael Jordan and Bruce Willis combined, not the philosopher). Also, something else just blew up – and given that this is circa 2004, I’m guessing it was either Usher’s “Yeah” or the Yankees bullpen in the ALCS. One or the other.

"Actually, Hilson, we're not in 2004. But yeah, we totally choked."

More shoutouts: Taylor, if you’re still reading, you have a higher pain threshold than I do. Kudos.

Michael told Hurley to detonate the remainder of the dynamite so that the rest of the islanders couldn’t blow up the plane. Strong move. “Dead people are more reliable than live people,” Hurley says. Especially if the live person is John Edwards and the dead person is Lou Gehrig. Back in the mental hospital, the hot blonde tells Hugo that she dreamed of a plane crash, that they were in love, that she’s seen the future. If Tom Hanks would have had this same dream, he probably wouldn’t have gotten on that doomed FedEx flight… and you wouldn’t have had to sit through a 2 1/2-hour movie with Helen Hunt. 

Good for Hurley. He totally mans up and asks the crazy woman out on a date. I’ve done this several times. 

“There’s nothing special about me, brotha,” Des says to Locke. “This island has it in for all of us.” Then, out of nowhere, a ghost boy appears. Is that you, Jeffrey Maier?

Meanwhile, Hurley lays down an ultimatum for the Ageless Wonder “Not Diane Lane” Dick Alpert: Blow stuff up or come with me. Jack’s got Hurley’s back – they’re going to find Locke. The 13-year-old version of me opts for blowing stuff up.

Old... And hot.

Says a green M&M during a commercial, “Boys, it’s all about the poles.” That sounds dirtier than a Longoriaism.  

Sun and Frank are also in the Hurley/Jack entourage, and Sun still can’t speak English after a vicious bump to the head. Jack tells Hurley that he can’t ever fix Juliet’s death. This is exactly how Leonardo DiCaprio felt just a handful of films after “Basketball Diaries.”

To obscure?

After a heartfelt talk between Michael and Hurley, we’re jettisoned to the sideflash timeline where Hurls and the blonde are having lunch on a sandy beach. SOUND FAMILIAR!?! Foreshadowing, Casualtists. Or backshadowing. Sideshadowing. Whatever.

Hugo: “Why do you want to be with me?”

Blonde: “Because I like you.”

I’m sorry. We were looking for “because you’re rich.” But in all seriousness, an intimate kiss brings back all kinds of alternate universe dreams. “If you die in your dreams, you die for real,” says a character in the “A Nightmare on Elm Street” trailer. Does this apply to “Lost” as well? Much like the number of licks it takes to get to the center of a Tootsy Pop, the world will never know.

Bad job by you, J.J. Abrams.

Now then, Locke escorts Des to a well – the same hand-dug well that causes compasses to spin in circles. “Why aren’t you afraid? You’re out here in the middle of the jungle with me, the only person who knows you’re here,” Locke tells Des before pushing him into the well. Geeze, most unceremonious canning since Josh Homme dumped wildman Nick Oliveri from Queens of the Stone Age. Brutal. 

Moving on… I just got chills. Hugo calls his friends out of the woods. Jack confronts Locke face-to-face for the first time in weeks. And Jack looks pissed – much less generous than when he offered to pose for the cover of the Arctic Monkey’s debut.

During the sideflash, Des mows down a crippled Locke in a brand new 330i. How’s that for product placement? BMW is not happy. Neither is Ben Linus, who just got blood on his new V-neck vest. See what I did there? “V”? 

Cheers, Kyle.

Please send questions, complaints, hate mail and Covering the Arts position papers to robbiehilson@yahoo.com. The latter would be much appreciated.

- Robbie

Longoriaisms

Evan Longoria's smile has been known to make girls melt and pitchers defecate.

Like Tebowisms, except better.

• Evan Longoria was born on October 7, 1985. In less important news, inferior third baseman George Brett won a World Series ring 20 days later.
• Announcers have been told not to use the term “routine” when describing Longoria defensive plays as this quickly leads to redundancy.
• On Opening Day 2010, Longoria hit a 473-foot home run off of Kevin Millwood. This feat was deemed even more impressive when Longoria later admitted that he was actually attempting a bunt.
• Longoria is a native of Downey, California, which is also the hometown of MMA fighter Dan Henderson.  Longoria once fought Henderson. Henderson hasn’t returned to Downey since.
• How do you watch football games? This is how Evan Longoria does it:

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9uhFSoFROKE]

• Rays television announcer Dewayne Staats has repeatedly compared Evan Longoria to Phillies great Mike Schmidt. This idea is preposterous. For comparing Longoria to any mere mortal, Staats was quickly disciplined for his blasphemous ways.
• Evan Longoria played for the Chatham A’s in the Cape Cod Summer League in 2005. One can only assume that Jessica Biel was involved.
• Longoria’s first two career playoff at-bats resulted in home runs. This is in contrast to Alex Rodriguez, whose first two playoff at-bats required two seperate pairs of pants.
• Longoria’s New Era commercial is marked with a “dramatization” disclaimer. The reason: The only person to ever attempt to steal Evan Longoria’s cap did not intitiate a massive chase scene. He instead was immediately struck down by a mysterious shower of hard-hit line drives.
• When asked “How do you keep Longo from going longo?” for an MLB 2K10 promotion, Josh Beckett responded: “You pray that we can buy him.”
• Since entering the big leagues, Evan Longoria has used “Down and Out” by Tantric as his walk-up song. This song choice is ironic because the title illustrates a feeling that Longoria has never had.
• Evan Longoria shares a bond with actress Eva Longoria because of their identical last names. After the Rays’ last Anaheim road trip, Evan now also has something in common with Tony Parker. Eskimo brothers.
• Jonah Keri extra: Done eating planets, Longoria will now birth new universes with his mind. Because he’s that good.

Suggestions welcomed. The best (read: any) will be added.

-Bryan

What We Learned from the Masters

The next great rivalry? Uh... No.

Much like a Tiger Woods round, this post could be all over the place.

To The Winner Goes the Spoils I’m done cracking Phil jokes. No more “Phillis” barbs, no more “Philsbury Dough Boy” jabs, no more goofs about his sagging C-cups, no more snide commentary about how his wife dresses him like a European catalogue model. Mick’s earned the right to look like a clown and “ahh-shucks” his way through his every adoring gallery. He dominated over the weekend with back-to-back 67s to hold off three of the world’s best players in Woods, Westwood and Kim. And he did it with style. I never thought I’d use “style” and Phil in the same sentence, but then again, I never thought I’d see Lefty dawn a third Green Jacket. His Saturday eagle-eagle-bird charge up the leaderboard on 12, 13 and 14 was nothing short of iconic – an ESPN Classic-worthy stretch the likes of which was only topped Sunday by that ballsy, “you stupid shiOHMYGAAAA!” long iron out of the woods on 15. He then throttled all challengers with workmanlike pars on 16 and 17, and polished it all off with a cake-icing three on 18. I say All-Time stuff, stuff that makes you change your mind about Phil if you weren’t already part of his massive legion of idolizing fans. He did everything that Tiger usually does over the weekend, only he did it with humility. That’s the highest compliment I can give.

A sight for sore eyes.

The Cat’s Still Got It Golf Channel analyst Brandel Chamblee is an anti-Tiger propagandist that would make Joe McCarthy blush. On Sunday night, my post-Masters conversation with my father was monopolized by I-can’t-believe-he-said-that Chamblee one-liners including, among many more, “Tiger’s game has slipped considerably.” Think of Chamblee like you would Keith Olbermann, except his Democrat is Phil and his ‘Pub is Tiger…

Block out what the blowhards are telling you. Tiger Woods did absolutely everything you could have asked of him short of winning. And you probably shouldn’t have asked for that. The guy looked unstoppable on Thursday and then defiantly fought back the rust over the weekend with enough spectacular shots to play -5 golf with 10 bogeys. Ten. His game was erratic, no doubt about it. Those two duffed drives on the back nine Sunday looked like Robbie Hilson Specials circa eighth grade. But to rebound from that disastrous start on the final day with a hole out for eagle on 7 and subsequent birdies on 8 and 9… Nobody does that. Nobody. Just like with the ’02 PGA when Tiger told Stevie he needed to birdie the last four holes to catch Rich Beem – and did - this is a tournament that will add to his mighty legend even in defeat.

I’m telling my kids about this one. I’m telling them how Tiger wore red Nike on Sunday, how he carded two eagles when his swing was going to hell, how he shook off a month of feebleness by almost wrapping his putter around Peter Kostis’ neck in the post-round interview. And by the way, he’s healthy. We didn’t hear one peep about the once-ailing knee. In fact, the biggest revelation was that he was playing all of ’09 with a torn achilles. Absolutely incredible. Chalk up the double-crosses, the block-handed short game, and the traitorous putter to a winter of chaos. Because if you’ve ever played golf – or really, if you’ve ever used common sense – you know that a five-month hiatus in which you were embroiled in an apocalyptic sex scandal, spent 30-plus days in rehab, and, in general, saw your whole world come crashing down around you has a tendency to get in the way of practice time. Kostis asked Tiger walking off 18 how he felt he performed. “Well, I finished fourth.” Translation: “I did’t win. And I always play to win. Always.” Sounds to me like a man who knows he’s still got a full tank.

Forgiven.

America Still In Love with Greatness Not a heckle. Not one word. Not a whisper. Here’s the dirty little secret about the United States: we have a lot of dirty little secrets. So when somebody crashes and burns so monumentally – when they f*** up so colossally – we take the guy under our wing, we feel for him, we thank our lucky stars that it didn’t happen to us. The gallery at Augusta shot the collective bird to every holier-than-thou moralist brazen enough to get up on his squawk box in the last 130 or so days. They loyally cheered him Thursday on that most awkward of first tees, and they continued to cheer him 71 holes later. That’s Southern Hospitality for you – that’s a crowd that’s well aware that immaculate golf is the only reason they ever pulled for him in the first place. America loves flaws in its perfection, and it seems to this observer that we’ve found our new tragic hero… Sunday gave me the feeling that Phil wins because he’s got better things in his life to take the pressure off. Sunday, too, gave me the feeling that Tiger wins because the Burning Desire to Be Great is the only thing he’s ever had.

Until Pebble.

- Robbie

Sunday at Augusta: A Tradition Unlike Any Other

Third time's a charm.

They say the Masters doesn’t start until the back 9 on Sunday. Thatta way to get viewers, CBS!

Since he’s really the only guy I have any interest in, we’re going to pick up with Tiger Woods on 9 and hope that last night’s combination of KJ Choi troublemaking and Washington Road didn’t sap his legs. Let’s do this.

The first I hear from my father this morning… 11:34 via text: “B Chamblee is an idiot.” I can tell he’s already in fine form. I can also tell that’s it going to be a challenge to type with a phone in hand all afternoon.

4:30 Tiger at -8 thru 8; Leaders Westwood and Mickelson at -12 thru 8

After an utterly disastrous first 6 holes played at 3 over par, Tiger rebounds with a fairway hole-out on 7, a birdie on 8 after a worm-burning 3-wood from the primary cut, and is sitting two on the par-4 ninth with a 15-footer to move to -9. For the first hour or so of coverage, this tourney looked like it could be more anticlimactic than a night with Larry King. No more. KJ Choi’s been on the leaders’ heels all day and Fast Freddie Couples, still sporting hipster shoewear at 50, is doggedly trying to one-up Phil for loudest gallery roar. 

4:35 Tiger at -9 thru 9; Leaders at -12 thru 8

Jim Nantz: “That’s an amazing turnaround.” He’s speaking of course of one Tiga Tiga Woods, Y’all who just moved to -9 and puckered the sphincter of everybody on the leaderboard. Meanwhile, Phil sprayed his drive on 9 into the left side trees, laid up to 30 feet short of the green, and flopped a 64 degree wedge up to about four feet. Ballsy. There’s a reason the man has two Green Jackets and his own short game video.

4:44 Tiger at -9 thru 9; Leader Mickelson at -12 thru 9

Englishman Lee Westwood, who’s got a career 76+ scoring average in the final round of the Masters, yips a 5-footer on the low side for par. First chink in the armor all day. Also Mick’s first outright lead of the week. Nance: “Now the tournament really begins.” I think I called that about an hour ago… On cue, Phil hits a power shank off the 10th tee that lands somewhere in Atlanta and Choi drains an 8-footer 300 yards up ahead to move to -12. Augusta Vice Chair Joe Ford reminds us that we’re getting 56 minutes of coverage every hour. Three thousand miles away, Robb Hilson is smiling.

4:57 Tiger at -9 thru 10; Leaders Mickelson and Choi at -12 thru 10

Mickelson, perhaps drawing strength from the all-black wardrobe that proves a tremendous upgrade from Friday’s Oreo outfit and yesterday’s Leprechaun garb, knocks a 35-yard pitch from in front of the 10th green to 6 inches. Disaster averted. Same for Westwood, who squeaks in a 4-footer to stay at -11. Up ahead, Tiger’s stuck in Sherwood Forest on 11 after a typically errant drive. A shot later, he’s still in the pine needles… And then sticks a wedge over the trees to six feet after Nick Faldo – winner of six majors – says he’s got no chance of getting up and down. Good call, Nick. No seriously, good call. Tiger slides to -8 after missing the putt.

Searching for the pot of gold.

5:09 Tiger at -8 thru 11; Leaders Mickelson and Choi at -12 thru 10 and 11, respectively

Text message from my father on Friday night: “I don’t understand what’s so hard about 12.” Couples puts a wedge into the water. Double. Tiger lines a nine iron – or as he likes to call it, “Smash” – into the back bunker, and then almost knocks the comebacker into the water. Pops is shaking his head. Or he will be – he’s on DVR in San Francisco. Unacceptable. I blame him 100 percent for Tiger’s lackluster performance. Just bad vibes. Bad, tape-delayed vibes… Tiger drains his par putt from the fringe to stay at -8. Choi holes a 4-foot tester to hold the co-lead.

5:18 Tiger at -8 thru 12; Leaders Mickelson and Choi at -12 thru 11 and 12, respectively

Young gun Anthony Kim is putting together a round more sneaky than a Tiger Woods, all of a sudden moving to within one of the lead after a birdie, birdie, eagle stretch on 13, 14 and 15. Meanwhile, Tiger Woods hits it CC Sabathia off the 13th tee (Read: fat). Really fat. Tiger’s driver has been astray all day… Wait, can I say that? Also of note, Lee Westwood’s blazing yellow UPS logo looks ten times more offensive stitched to a bright red shirt. Of greater import, Mick just buried a 20-footer on 12 to take the outright lead. He gives a Tiger-esque fist pump. Sadly, if he wins his fourth major, my father will have to cut back on Phillis man-boob jokes. You know, out of respect.

The fairway: yet to forgive Tiger.

5:38 Tiger at -8 thru 12; Leader Mickelson at -13 thru 12; Anthony Kim at -12 thru 16

A year after Anthony Kim put together 11 birdies in one round, the kid makes a bomb at 16 to move to -5 in his last four holes. I’ve done this twice, both times in the same dream. Meanwhile, Tiger, who “has no tempo and no rhythm right now” claws back to -9 after almost holing his third from the fairway on the par-5 13… I should probably mention Lee Westwood right now, if only because if he wins, I’d look pretty stupid for neglecting him. And then there’s Phil, who just hit the shot of the tournament and, according to Peter Kostis, “the shot of his life.” Remember Sergio at Medinah? Pretty much the same thing, except this one means something. Phil splits two pines on 13, rolling his miracle to three feet for eagle. In typical Phil fashion, he whiffs on the putt, settling for bird.

5:50 Leader Mickelson at -14 thru 13; Westwood at -12 thru 13; Kim at -12 thru 17

Tiger takes the wind out of my sails by three-jacking from six feet on 14. My allegiance has shifted to Anybody Not Phil, except for Westwood – I can’t root for a guy who wears white shoes on Sunday. That’s an affront to manhood… Kim’s drive into the right fairway bunkers on 18 and subsequent beach play on the next shot means that this tourney is Mick’s to lose. 2006 Winged Foot, anyone? Phil shudders as he envisions his drive on 18 finding a garbage can.

Englishmen: struggling on American soil since 1770s.

6:07 Leader Mickelson at -14 thru 14; Kim clubhouse leader at -12; Westwood at -12 thru 14

Tiger drains his Tiger-record fourth eagle of the tournament on 15, which bodes well for his bank account, but not for his putter… which I imagine he chucks into a pond as soon he signs his scorecard. Say what you want about Woods, but the guy has no quit in him. While Phil measures his second shot on the par-5 15, Kim buries a long par putt to stay at -12. Probably a moot point – Mickelson knocks an ice-cold long iron to about 20 feet for eagle, cozies up the putt, and moves to -15. Westwood checks up short on a pitch from behind the green – and in typical Brit fashion – chokes mightily on a 5-footer. David Feherty says something about “snatching defeat from the jaws of victory.” I’d make a joke here, but Phil looks like a rock. I mean, not physically… You know what I mean.

6:20 Leader Mickelson at -15 thru 15; Westwood at -12 thru 15

Phil makes a workmanlike three on the par-3 16th. I’m rather devastated, but perk up a bit with this text message from Bryan: “New bloggy post idea for the week. Fake text message transcripts from the sure to be upcoming Phil Mickelson sex scandal.” Gotta admit, the kid’s creative.

6:32 Leader Mickelson at -15 thru 16; Westwood at -12 thru 16

Jim Nantz: “It proved to be the right decision to come to Augusta.” Agreed, Jimmy. Tiger walks up the 18th fairway to – I never thought I’d say this – an underdog’s applause, and curls in a 10-footer for birdie to a standing ovation. He finishes one off the clubhouse lead, but I say this is a victory any way you play it. No other man on Earth could do what Tiger did this weekend. Nobody. And you know he feels good about the next two majors – U.S. at Pebble, British at St. Andrews.

Making a Phil fan out of me one ballsy victory at a time.

6:40 Leader Mickelson at -15 thru 17; Westwood at -13 thru 17

Mickelson holes a clutch 5-foot tester on 17 to stay two clear of Westwood. He then pulls an Anti-Phil, going with three wood off the tee and sticking his second from the right fairway rough in tight. Meanwhile, Tiger in his post-round interview after being questioned about his typically fiery on-course demeanor: “I think people are making way too big a deal about this thing.” Translation: F*** you, Peter Kostis… Amy Mickelson, looking typically fine, escorts the kids greenside. Phil cruises to a third Green Jacket, cooly burying a birdie on 18 to finish at -16.

“That’s a win for the family,” says Nantz, in a transparent bid to stir about 100 different conflicting emotions. Ouch. Mickelson sleeps like a baby tonight. You wonder if Tiger sleeps at all.

- Robbie