King Myno's Court

The magic of the Royal Rumble.

2012-01-25T13:28:00.002-05:00

Pro wrestling is for children.

Perhaps not like the cartoonish 1980s and early 1990s were, but the amateurish acting and simplistic storylines should make this clear to anyone over the age of 15. It's a fun bit of entertainment to overanalyze, especially if you're a long-time fan who understands how its backstage politics work, but I find it difficult to sit through even an entire episode of Monday Night Raw without scoffing and reaching for the remote. Perhaps that's why my roommate has perfected the "15-minute Raw," a masterfully navigated fast-forwarding of all the awful-looking segments and matches.

To me, though, the one thing that'll always cut through the treacle is the spectacle. The big, flashy events that, through either hype or history, seem a little more special. Unfortunately, beyond WrestleMania (which offers very little distinction and rarely lives up to the hype anyway) the WWE doesn't do spectacle like they used to.

Once upon a time there was the King of the Ring tournament, which typically featured eight to 16 wrestlers battling it out for a sort of nebulous supremacy. Whoever was dubbed "king" at the end of the night would often adopt some royalty-themed gimmick and occasionally earn a title shot at SummerSlam. It was a great way to turn a mid-carder into a main eventer, memorably perfected by "Stone Cold" Steve Austin. And, as WrestleMania IV and March Madness have proven, everyone loves tournaments.

And then there was the Survivor Series, an event that teamed up wrestlers with similar goals (sometimes "us guys hate those guys," other times "we're good and they're bad, let's fight") in eight-man, four-on-four elimination matches. The apex of the Survivor Series occurred early, in 1990, when the heel and face "survivors" all joined forces against each other in a "grand finale" match. The 1995 Survivor Series also featured a memorable Wild Card Match; the two teams featured a "random" mix of heroes and villains, which meant that tensions (and the inevitable double-crosses) were ample.

But all that magic is gone now. The last King of the Ring pay-per-view was in 2002 (though it occasionally resurfaces as a TV-only event of far less acclaim) and the WWE threatened to drop the Survivor Series name entirely in early 2010. It's still around but hasn't focused on strictly Survivor Series-style matches in years.

The Royal Rumble, however, has stood the test of time.

Every year since 1988, a predetermined number of wrestlers -- usually 30 but occasionally 20 or even 40 -- come down to the ring in two-minute intervals and battle for their shot at a championship belt at WrestleMania. Sometimes the finishes (Lex Luger and Bret Hart tying, Shawn Michaels holding onto the top rope) can be truly inspired; in fact, Michaels' victory is the moment when I became a true wrestling fan.

Watching the Royal Rumble is never boring. The traditional matches leading up to it might be subpar, but the main event is always at least an hour of entertaining spots, carefully plotted storyline tweaks and a few surprise entrants (like Booker T and Diesel last year) that enjoyably invoke nostalgia.

It also remains the most effective way to raise a middling wrestler to the top of the charts (which, from a business standpoint, is probably why Vince McMahon and company have kept it around for so long). There was never any real value or reward associated with being named "king," but the Rumble winner is automatically guaranteed a title shot at the biggest pay-per-view of the year. Not only that, but he can claim to have survived the onslaught of his numerous muscular peers; in the wrestling world, this means something.

More than anything, it's different. Wrestling promotions occasionally do battle royals, but not on the scale or scope of the Royal Rumble. This is all your favorite wrestlers, in the ring at almost the same time, competing in a match that comes with a surprising amount of unpredictability. If there was ever a time to bet on pro wrestling, it's the Rumble; narrowing the winner down to one of four or five guesses is simple, but then it gets hard to choose. There's really no mystery in pro wrestling these days, but you can argue that this particular night in January is the only time that comes close to recapturing it.

Maybe that's what really sets the Rumble apart. From week to week, Raw and SmackDown tend to run together. Most of the monthly pay-per-views are just extended, expensive replicas of their televised companions. There's just one event left with the potential to provide both the nonstop entertainment and peaked curiosity that used to be the industry's bread and butter. Long live the Royal Rumble.

A look at Bruce Springsteen's latest single.

2012-01-19T11:39:00.002-05:00

This is the first single off Bruce Springsteen's soon-to-come album, which is unfortunately titled Wrecking Ball. Yes, after that crappy song he used to close down the Meadowlands last year. The one everyone in attendance had to pretend they liked. Not a good start.

It's also not great when the notable musicians your new producer has previously worked with are your wife and Sixpence None the Richer. It's nice to see Bruce mixing it up a little -- Working on a Dream absolutely should've been the end of Brendan O'Brien -- but nothing I'm hearing about this new album inspires much confidence. Especially without the reassuring presence of the Big Man.

They say Wrecking Ball is to be Bruce's "angriest" work to date, but that's not evident on "We Take Care of Our Own." Instead it's another of Springsteen's "listen closer, gang" tunes, where he buries the meaning behind a chant-worthy chorus and arena-rousing beat. The problem is that when he's done this before, in songs like "Born in the U.S.A.," they were fiendishly catchy and fiendishly clever. The lyrics had something to say. This one sounds like a John Mellencamp outtake that should be playing over a truck commercial.

Other than that, it's standard latter-day Springsteen. It'll go over well in packed stadiums -- if only because it's the single and most people will ignore the rest of the album -- but when it comes to crowd-pleasing post-reunion anthems, "We Take Care of Our Own" comes nowhere near "Radio Nowhere," "Livin' in the Future," "My Lucky Day" and pretty much everything rousing on The Rising. If this is the best he's got, most serious fans are gonna be left wanting.

I do not have high hopes for Wrecking Ball, although song titles like "The Depression," "Shackled and Down" and "Death to My Hometown" sound just desperate enough to get everyone hoping for another Darkness on the Edge of Town. But this is 62-year-old billionaire Bruce, not the angry, weary post-litigation Springsteen of 1978. We know "Wrecking Ball" and we've heard "We Take Care of Our Own" and I doubt anyone's pants have been blown off by either.

Best case scenario, we get another Working on a Dream: Three great songs, a few decent ones and a lot of tacked-on crap. At the end of the day, adding a few extra hits to my Bruce playlist and getting another tour should be all that matters. But I really enjoyed Magic and thought Springsteen still had more to say. Another stinker here would be proof that all we've got left is nostalgia.

The evolution of pro wrestling entrance themes.

2012-01-14T15:08:00.001-05:00

Once upon a time, professional wrestlers entered the ring to simple, instrumental entrance themes. Only real stars like Hulk Hogan and Ted DiBiase were granted theme music with lyrics; even then, the songs were cartoonish and silly. As pro wrestling became flashier, catering to both children and television audiences, these themes added a bit more spectacle to those previously bland few minutes when the wrestler walked down the aisle. If your senses weren't being assaulted at every moment by blaring music or some kind of visual stimulation, whoever was producing this particular wrestling event wasn't doing his or her job.

This continued, relatively unabated, until the Attitude Era of the mid-90s. That was when themes started getting a bit more serious. "Stone Cold" Steve Austin came out to his glass-shattering intro, maybe the most recognizable entrance of all time. The Rock's music helped him become a all-time legend. Themes began to focus on riling up the crowd; a catchphrase or recognizable cue in the first few seconds got fans to their feet, cheering or booing their favorites. It was a kind of Pavlovian response that the WWE became extremely proficient at inducing.

But at the end of the day, these entrance themes were still instrumentals, remarkably appropriate but relatively forgettable tunes put together by legendary WWE composer Jim Johnston for the sole sake of introducing wrestlers. Sweeping changes didn't really occur until the introduction of D-Generation X. WWE hired a real band, The Chris Warren Band, to record their theme; a trend had begun. Vince McMahon adopted "No Chance in Hell," the 1999 Royal Rumble theme, as his own. Triple H's solo efforts received the awful "My Time," also by The Chris Warren Band. The wheels were in motion.

Chris Jericho's debut in August of 1999 was also a watershed moment for wrestling themes; "Break the Walls Down" sounded like a real song that Jericho co-opted as his own. Themes were getting a little more serious, a little more real. WWF The Music, Volume 4 included a few more themes that could've doubled as popular music. Soon there were efforts like WWF Aggression, an album of theme covers featuring Run-DMC, Method Man and other famous rappers.

And then there was Lemmy. I know he doesn't deserve to be lumped together with the other, far crappier rock and rollers that turned entrance themes into what my friends and I like to call "butt rock," but Motörhead's new Triple H theme, "The Game," really changed the course of wrestling themes forever. All of a sudden, real musicians, real purveyors of butt rock, started contributing music to the WWE. Vince McMahon had begun to outsource entrance theme production.

I suppose some people might not use the term "real musicians" to describe bands like Alter Bridge and Downstait, groups that aren't exactly beloved or critically acclaimed. But they are real-life bands with record deals and thousands of fans, and by using them to put together new themes, the WWE was taking advantage of an already-existing market. Somewhere along the way, McMahon and his music team realized something: Pro wrestling and butt rock go together perfectly. Wrestling wasn't a real-life cartoon anymore; its fans had grown up, and the target audiences for the WWE and hard rock clearly had some crossover. Hence, the "legitimization" of wrestling entrance themes.

It proved to be a great economic decision for both the WWE and the bands themselves: Produce a bunch of recognizable themes that could also exist as standalone music, sell the songs on iTunes, keep pumping out theme compilation albums, strengthen the link between hard rock and sports entertainment. And, occasionally, suck in casual fans like myself. Normally I would never listen to the bands WWE brings on for these entrance themes, but I do admit to enjoying some of the songs they've produced. I add them to my running mixes, I listen to them at work. They're legitimately catchy. It might not be good music, but it's certainly butt rock done right.

Now even the shittiest wrestlers have real entrance themes. And on occasion, McMahon and company are willing to take the entrance theme business to a whole other level. Late in 2011, CM Punk debuted a new theme: "Cult of Personality" by Living Colour. Punk had used this as an entrance song in his earlier indie wrestling days, but it fit his current WWE character so perfectly that the music department ponied up the cash to buy the rights. This was the old ECW method: Find an existing song that suits your wrestler perfectly and link the two. And to his credit, McMahon went against his usual entrance theme principles and shelled out.

Pro wrestling is silly in many ways, but the dynamics that go into planning and executing the development of storylines can be surprisingly detailed and complex. Entrance themes have become a big part of how characters are defined; tracking the evolution of those themes, from cheap synthesizers to epic butt-rock anthems, offers real insight into the how the WWE climbed to the top of this billion-dollar industry.

Any room left on the Sixers' bandwagon?

2012-01-11T13:06:00.002-05:00

From the recap of last night's 27-point thrashing of the Sacramento Kings: "The Sixers are one of theNBA's up-and-coming teams; they've won five games by at least a20-point margin."

Steve Kerr: The Philadelphia 76ers are "probably the best story in the league to this point."

Dei Lynam: "The Sixers have won six straight for the first time since January of 2009."

My roommate: "Should we get NBA League Pass?"
Me: "....maybe."

What the hell is happening in Philadelphia?

I'm a well-documented basketball frontrunner; when the Sixers aren't competitive, I could care less about the sport. Until last week, the only remotely recent 76ers game I'd seen was the return of Allen Iverson. And even then, I tuned out after the first quarter; they lost to the Nuggets by 10.

But these Sixers appear to be competitive and then some. Third in points per game. Second in rebounds per game. Seventh in assists per game. First in points allowed. MVP chants for Spencer Hawes. Yes, the season is only nine games old, but you can make a legitimate case that the Sixers have been the best team in basketball thus far.

I can state this with relatively certainty because our free preview of NBA League Pass just ended, and I actually sat down to watch a few of these games. Before the season, I read a whole bunch about the Sixers and coach Doug Collins expected continuity to serve them well in this shortened season; so far, that does appear to be the case. They look like an extremely functional unit, playing smart team defense and spreading out the scoring (six players averaging 10 or more points a game, not including Elton Brand at 9.6 PPG).

Yes, the seven teams they've beaten have a combined record of 25-41 (Indiana being the one shining win), but you won't get anywhere if you don't smack around the bad teams. And "smack around" is putting it mildly; they beat Phoenix by 20, Golden State by 28, Toronto by 35. That sends a message to the league, and to fair-weather fans like me: This team could be for real.

Tonight's match-up with the 5-4 New York Knicks will be telling, especially because it's the Sixers' third game in a row. This season is jam-packed into four months, which means that injuries and fatigue will start to play a big role in deciding a team's fate. Will it help that the Sixers are so young (according to Henry Abbott of ESPN.com, they're the third-youngest team in the NBA) or will such a baby-faced squad fall apart under this kind of oddly scheduled grind?

All I know is that, for now, I'm sold. I'll be front and center (albeit in the cheapest possible seats) at the Verizon Center in DC this Saturday night for Sixers vs. Wizards. And if they keep this up, maybe we'll spring for the NBA package after all.

My 10 favorite movies of 2011.

2012-01-08T10:00:00.000-05:00

A time-honored tradition on King Myno's Court, and one of my favorite posts to write, is this list of the year's top 10 movies. Keep in mind that these aren't the ten best; that word implies some level of objectivity, which I'm not offering here. These are just the ten movies that I enjoyed the most in 2011, for reasons that I'll try to explain in conjunction with each choice.

(Editor's note: I haven't yet seen Carnage, We Need to Talk About Kevin, A Separation, Certified Copy, Attack the Block, Tabloid or Project Nim. And probably a few others. I hear they're all varying levels of good. Please don't verbally bludgeon me for missing them.)

The Artist - I don't quite understand why this movie, so anticipated in the build-up to its release, is now being bombarded by heaping amounts of scorn. Is it just the inevitable post-hype resentment, the "ov-er-rated" chant that follows a lengthy period of being underrated? I sure hope so, because I'm not sure what else is wrong with this charming little callback to the days of the silent era. Especially when you factor in the virtuoso starring performance from Jean Dujardin (my pick for Best Actor) and a few other big Hollywood names (John Goodman! James Cromwell! The coach from Not Another Teen Movie!).

It's funny, it's sweet, it's extremely well-made. It's also the work of a European director and two foreign stars, lending an air of authenticity to what would probably be a clunky mess had it been produced through the Hollywood system. Because of that, and because everyone involved seemed to be having a whole lot of fun while making it, I never took The Artist as anything but an homage, a loving tribute to a genre that only old-time cinema fans and film students appreciate these days.

To me, it's nostalgia done perfectly right -- a simple story that purposely forgoes nuance -- and writer/director Michel Hazanavicius and Dujardin, who I can't praise enough, make it all shine. I have a feeling that when the backlash subsides, critics (professional and otherwise) will see The Artist for what it truly is: a captivating picture that's deserves all this praise. People are really fucking nitpicky sometimes.

Drive - If Drive was a high school student, it would easily win "Most likely to be a cult hit." The funny thing is, this is a movie that shouldn't appeal only to a cult audience. It stars Ryan Gosling, one of America's sexiest stars, and Albert Brooks, one of cinema's most beloved neurotic Jews. It also features Walter White, Hellboy, Joan Holloway and that sexy British girl from Never Let Me Go. What's not to like?

Something, apparently, because Drive only made $35 million at the American box office. But when it comes to movies like this, box office totals aren't everything. I imagine that the dark, drawn-out style of director Nicolas Winding Refn turned a few people off along the way, not to mention the David Cronenberg-esque violence that seems to pop out of nowhere every 20 minutes to shock everyone's pants off. It's a movie that can be remarkably blunt at times, maybe a little too aggressive and realistic for even the staunchest lovers of smashing and crushing of heads and other body parts.

But I haven't been more captivated by a film all year. From the heart-pounding introduction to the pitch-perfect score to the sparse, understated dialogue that adds a bit of mystery to the proceedings, it's shocking, satisfying cinema with real thrills and a smooth twist of art-house sensibility.

Hugo - When I first heard that Martin Scorsese was directing an movie based on a children's novel about movies and robots and train stations, my first thought was "Huh?" I instantly disregarded it as a sort of director-for-hire decision, maybe in order to make Kundun 2 in 2012. Luckily, however, a series of good reviews raised my interest back up to optimal levels. There's already a great Hugo debate up on the hit website The A.V. Club; suffice it to say that I agree with Scott Tobias, who found Hugo to be "enchanting" and a "whimsical vehicle through which [Scorsese] expresses a serious love of the movies."

It's been said a bunch of times already, but Scorsese's use of 3D is nothing short of marvelous. It's immersive without being intrusive; the best thing a good 3D movie can do is make you forget you're wearing the stupid glasses. James Cameron used Avatar to bring a magical world of giant blue creatures to life, and Scorsese uses it to slowly draw you into his fantastical, alternate-universe version of Paris.

It's not a film without flaws: The subplots involving all the regular patrons of the train station are mildly entertaining but largely underwhelming, mostly serving to pass some time in between Hugo's adventures. But the movie looks marvelous and unexpectedly sucked me in; I cared about the relationship between Asa Butterfield's Hugo and Ben Kingsley's Georges Méliès, I loved the casting of Michael Stuhlbarg as the cinematic scholar (more Michael Stuhlbarg in everything, please) and I was impressed to see Christopher Lee still acting at the age of 89. 89! I don't expect to be alive at 89, let alone starring in a Martin Scorsese movie. Get that guy a Lifetime Achievement award.

Meek's Cutoff - It's easy to call Meek's Cutoff a Western -- the entire movie takes place during a quest to move out West -- but I don't think it's accurate at all. Westerns are traditionally about gunfights and blustery heroics, but Meek's Cutoff has no interest in those kind of pandering-to-the-audience moments. Big chunks of this movie are spent watching the party's wagon travel from one side of the screen to the other. Michelle Williams, who continues her quest to become the ultimate indie darling, pulls a gun once. That's it. My dad typically loves Westerns, but this is one I probably wouldn't recommend.

Meek's Cutoff is about what it must've really been like to travel across America in 1845: boring. Really, really boring. Several thousand miles across fields and desert and hills and waves of grain and other repetitive landscapes. Sure, there's the occasional threatening Indian, and sometimes your guide can be a charming rapscallion (in this case, Bruce Greenwood's Stephen Meek, and it's safe to say that Greenwood has never, ever been better), but for the most part, you're going to trudge slowly for months on end. Some of you will get lost. And many will die.

That's what lies under the surface throughout Meek's Cutoff, a contemplative look at the struggles of 19th-century Americans pursuing the unknown. No one in the traveling party really knows what awaits them in Oregon; they don't even know if there's a tribe of savages just over the next hill. It takes a lot of hope, faith and courage just to trek forward day after day, when even the best intentions and most rational bouts of courage don't mean shit and the bland, dry passage of time can end your life just as prematurely as a gun or a tomahawk. Not many films would attempt to convey a series of bleak ideas like that, and few could ever do it as well as Meek's Cutoff.

Moneyball - Bennett Miller and Brad Pitt took one of the world's biggest questions -- "How do you make a nonfiction book about a baseball team that never made it out of the first round into an entertaining movie?" -- and, pardon my shitty pun, knocked it out of the park. It was easy to make fun of Moneyball in the months leading up to its release, especially since it went through years and years of development hell, but the end result was a simple, smart movie that impressed some baseball people (if not Keith Law) and enjoyed a solid amount of mainstream appeal (broke $100 million at the worldwide box office).

Maybe it's Pitt's magnetism as Billy Beane; if Tyler Durden was the part that 35-year-old Pitt was born to play, Beane is picture-perfect for a mellowed Pitt who's now nearing 50. Maybe it was helped along by the unexpected calm, cool and collected work of then-fat Jonah Hill. Or maybe it's the clever, quick-talking Aaron Sorkin touch-up of the screenplay, which isn't as in-your-face as The Social Network but still gives Pitt and Hill some witty banter to work with. Plus, how can you not love a movie that boasts an intense scene where Billy Beane, after months of trying, finally acquires the great Ricardo Rincon?

To make a movie that's at least partly about an ALDS-losing team work, Miller, Pitt and the writers (Steven Zaillian and Sorkin) smartly tone down the baseball-oriented tension and crank up the character-based drama. It's not about whether the Oakland Athletics will win the World Series (which would be considered a pretty lame movie by everyone except Peter True) but whether the intensely competitive Beane will finally prove his doubters wrong. Sure, there are some inaccuracies, but the only people who seem to give a shit are the ones who were extremely biased against the movie version in the first place. As for me, I don't think it matters if you're a baseball fan or a cinema buff; if you go into Moneyball with an open mind, you'll find something to enjoy.

Submarine - I've seen this referred to in several places as "Wes Anderson lite," probably due to its off-beat humor and the Max Fischer-esque qualities of its protagonist, Craig Roberts' Oliver Tate. This isn't a bad thing; in fact, it's what convinced me to rent it in the first place. But Anderson's style is far quirkier, and his dialogue more dramatized and stilted, than writer/director Richard Ayoade's. Wes Anderson never lets you forget that you're watching a movie, but that's not the goal of Submarine, which makes Ayoade's insights into the slightly twisted universe of a 15-year-old boy a bit more poignant.

Submarine takes place in Wales, which is a place I've actually visited while studying abroad in London. Now, I was climbing rocks and going on hikes, not living next to a spiky-haired Paddy Considine and pursuing an awkward childhood romance, but based on how people in London spoke of Wales (and vice versa) I can see its residents being as dreary and filled with yearning as the movie depicts. Young Oliver Tate copes by storing his successes away like completed film scenes, but the piled-up troubles of his immediate family and friends serve as a reminder that life can be more complicated than art.

A terrific score by Alex Turner of Arctic Monkeys and a quietly adept performance from Noah Taylor (another Wes connection, I suppose) as Roberts' oft-depressed father give the film more depth than your typical "coming of age" story. And any movie that effectively uses the line "My mum gave a handjob to a mystic" in a key moment is alright by me. Shit, a handjob reference! Maybe Submarine is more Wes-like than I'm willing to admit. Or at least paying lots of homage to Rushmore. Either way, it's an unexpectedly refined and hilarious film debut from first-time director Ayoade.

Take Shelter - I covered my thoughts on Take Shelter in relatively comprehensive detail back in early December, but I'd like to take a moment to say that Michael Shannon really, really deserves an Oscar nomination for this movie. He probably won't get one, not after missing out on a Golden Globe nom (and going up against supremely handsome luminaries like Pitt and Michael Fassbender and George Clooney and Leonardo DiCaprio), but it's time to give him his due for being far more than just a supporting-cast star and one of Hollywood's premier crazy dudes.

Seeing Shannon put a genuinely human twist on the "devolved psychotic" character he's played over and over was truly a delight, one that raises this movie above being just the study of a delusional man. I don't know if Shannon is right about it taking "a bit of guts to go see our film," as the content isn't as shocking as Shame or as inaccessible as The Tree of Life, but it's certainly a small, haunting picture that I didn't fully appreciate until I started to further evaluate certain themes and scenes.

But, by virtue of being excellent and thought-provoking, the movie remains easy to revisit. It's unfortunate that it couldn't draw a larger audience (only $1,674,839 in domestic box office as of January 2), but it is one of those films that maintains a never-ending sense of dread throughout; I kept waiting for the shit to really hit the fan. That's not the stuff of mainstream film and mass appeal, but the ability to rise above that aura of reserved creepiness is an important part of what makes Take Shelter so special.

Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy - A bit of a letdown, if only because I was hoping it would be the greatest spy movie of all time. Instead, I got a quiet, contemplative look at the harrowing but often nondescript life of a secret agent. Director Tomas Alfredson, who also helmed the tremendous Let the Right One In, paints a dreary picture of a world where treachery lurks around every corner, only the corners are dark and shabby, and your adversaries are often pudgy Brits.

I greatly appreciate a film that requires the audience to keep up, but Tinker Tailor, much like The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, tries to pack too much into an already ample runtime. The pace is consistently brisk throughout, which is not something Dragon Tattoo can boast, but such continual progress makes it difficult to process everything that is happening, especially when it comes to eliciting an emotional response. The grand finale, in particular, came about while I was still piecing together just how Gary Oldman's George Smiley (who was terrific, by the way) had gotten from A to B to C and solved the whole damn mystery in the first place.

And then there's the ending itself. The trouble with this kind of movie -- and this applies to any film that relies on a big reveal -- is that audiences these days are very smart. So when Smiley is told that one of four men is the spy nestled high atop British intelligence, and only one of those characters has his backstory developed, it's not hard to guess which one is the culprit. This isn't a knock against the movie; I realized that this was how whodunits always worked around the time I saw The Recruit and fingered Pacino as the bad guy about an half-hour in. It just makes it tough to stick the landing, and Tinker Tailor was a movie that propelled you forward right from the start. Still, this kind of ambitious project, despite some rockiness, ended up being well worth the ride.

The Tree of Life - My long-time associate (and future comedy superstar) Rob Turbovsky and I had a discussion earlier this week about what the Oscars (and other year-end cinematic awards) really mean. I mentioned how I thought Avatar and The Social Network should've won Best Picture; despite what I think about them (loved the latter, was relatively entertained by the former) they were certainly the defining movies of their year. Even cinephiles who loathe big-budget Hollywood claptrap probably gave Avatar a chance in 2009, and I don't know anyone, even uppity jerks, who disliked Social Network. So when it comes to 2011, even though the actual Best Picture winner will be something solid like The Artist or The Descendants, the most memorable movie of the year is The Tree of Life.

It didn't make much money at all, but it got people talking. Even people who aren't bloggers or Internet-based film nerds; I think even my mom knew what it was. It was provocative, it blew minds, it spurred movie theaters to provide odd pre-film warnings for some of their stupider patrons.

I know that, not too long ago, I compared this movie to Thor. In retrospect, perhaps that was a little harsh (even though the goal wasn't to be harsh, just to point out how both movies had no real interest in being overly comprehensible or catering to an audience). I still think The Tree of Life keeps you at arm's length, but it dazzles in the process. It may be difficult to get inside Terrence Malick's films (or his head) but he's a master artist with a specific, precise way of telling his stories. Maybe his work is best examined months after being viewing, when it's had time to simmer in your brain. Either way, when you spend as much time as I did mulling over this movie, it's hard not to include it as one of your ten best.

Win Win - As evident by his Best Original Screenplay nomination from the Writers Guild, writers enjoy and appreciate the work of Tom McCarthy. I fancy myself a writer as well, even though I think McCarthy's greatest contribution to the world of cinema is as Amanda Peet's smarmy boyfriend in 2012. Either way, I think McCarthy is a genius. The Station Agent and The Visitor were both gems, and he struck gold again in 2011 with the thoroughly enjoyable Win Win.

McCarthy makes character dramas about quietly tortured souls. He's not very flashy, which makes it very odd that HBO originally tapped him to direct the eventually scrapped Game of Thrones pilot. But his style is perfect in Win Win, a film about a struggling lawyer who comes to nurture the amateur wrestling career of a client's grandson. When casting a cinematic couple, you can't do much better than Paul Giamatti and Amy Ryan, two inherently likable actors who have an air of "meaning well" about them. This sort of instant credibility allows McCarthy to dig Giamatti's character into a bigger and bigger hole, knowing full well that we'll be rooting for him to come out whole at the end. Add in Jeffrey Tambor as Giamatti's assistant coach and the great Bobby Cannavale, who turns in his best performance since either The Ten or this Louis C.K. Internet video, and you've got it made. There's gotta be a meaty leading role (one that's not a shitty ABC sitcom) in Cannavale's future.

And all the rest: Three of my favorite lead performances of the year came from Brendan Gleeson, George Clooney and Michael Fassbender in The Guard, The Descendants and Shame, respectively, but the movies themselves were all a bit too flawed for the top ten. If you loved the witty banter between Steve Coogan and Rob Brydon in Tristram Shandy: A Cock and Bull Story like I did, then you'll love The Trip. Our Idiot Brother was a wonderful little comedy, despite the fact that I didn't laugh outloud once. War Horse would be a much better movie without Steven Spielberg constantly implying that horses are people, too! Rooney Mara sure was weirdly sexy in The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, even if the movie's pacing wasn't. And Mission: Impossible - Ghost Protocol was maybe the best action movie I've seen in years. My greatest regret is not getting it onto the top ten. It's tremendous, really. Stop reading this and go see it, preferably in IMAX.

Worst movie of the year: Midnight in Paris. God, this was awful. Woody Allen no longer has any idea how regular people talk, and I imagine he doesn't want to know. If he ever deigns to gaze upon normal folk, he will view us through a powerful telescope. And in between these very occasional viewings, he'll make dangerously terrible movies about rich people being pretentious and then suffering from the kind of lazy malaise that only rich and pretentious people will ever know. Plus, time travel! Just die already, Woody Allen. Your best days are long gone. Stop suckering in morons with your elitist bullshit.

Ain't no goalie conundrum in Philly.

2012-01-04T13:20:00.000-05:00

Don't buy into all the bullshit; there is no goalie controversy in Philadelphia.

You know why? Ilya Bryzgalov signed a nine year, $51 million contract in June.

Yes, Sergei Bobrovsky has the better numbers this season. But it's foolish to worry about stats (or even quality of play) in the winter when Stanley Cups are won and lost in the spring. The most important part of the regular season is solidifying an invite to the big dance and making sure that, when you do arrive, it's with a hot goaltender.

That means the Flyers have 45 games left to get Bryzgalov back into top form, which won't happen if you're rolling Bobrovsky out there 2-3 times a week. It's not just about a financial investment in Bryz; it's about the skill that earned him all those bucks. He's a top-10 goalie, and with the second-highest scoring offense in the league around him, he has the potential to be so much more.

Now, Bobrovsky is a darn good backup who could certainly become a top-tier starting goaltender in the NHL, and I'm very pleased that general manager Paul Holmgren held onto him in the offseason (for a while there, a trade and Michael Leighton call-up seemed like a reasonable plan). The Flyers wouldn't be 22-11-4, good for fourth in the Eastern Conference, without Bob (8-3-1, 2.56 GAA, .914 save percentage).

But he's a spare part, and a enticing one at that. According to capgeek.com, he's making $1.75 million per year through next season, after which he'll be a restricted free agent. That means he's a reasonably priced asset that a young team without a franchise goalie might consider building around. As Eagles fans who've seen Andy Reid ship off backup quarterbacks for a king's ransom over and over again, we know that the most tantalizing trade chip is a flavor-of-the-month reserve with (presumably) vast hidden potential.

As I said earlier, there's certainly an argument for rostering two top-caliber goaltenders. Especially when you employ an emotionally fragile starter who's struggling, a slightly unexpected turn of events that makes Holmgren's trade restraint look quite prescient. But if Brayden Schenn's goal in the Winter Classic is a sign that he's ready to contribute in the NHL, suddenly you've got a slight logjam at forward and a talented, cheap young goalie who's mostly sitting on the bench. You've got options.

And you've got the lack of Chris Pronger starting to become an issue. I like Marc-Andre Bourdon and I'm looking forward to the return of Erik Gustafsson, but this team isn't a real Cup contender without another veteran, top-four defenseman. If the Flyers want to win this year -- and I think they do -- at some point you need to pull the trigger on a blockbuster, especially if it ends up not really weakening the starting lineup.

I doubt the Flyers have got the goods to pry someone like Shea Weber loose from Nashville, but another going-nowhere team might pay top-dollar for a James van Riemsdyk/Sergei Bobrovsky package. I hate to give up on JVR at age 22, but the Flyers have enough forwards. They've got the offense. And JVR certainly seems to be in Laviolette's doghouse this season, injury or no injury. Preparing in full for life without Pronger might be the smartest move they can make, especially if it means shoring up the defense in front of Bryzgalov.

Bryz's mental state is always going to worry some people, especially since the beat writers monitor him like a hawk and devour every morsel that emerges from his mouth. Even if he's winning games, the silly things he says are going to make headlines. I still find them endearing, but I also think it would have helped his psyche and the fans' if Peter Laviolette had played Bryzgalov in the Winter Classic. I figured the enthusiasm of getting the call for such a high-profile game would have outweighed the kick in the butt provided by a benching. He chose otherwise, however, and now we'll get to see how Bryz responds on Thursday versus Chicago.

No matter what your thoughts are on the first few months of Ilya in Philly, we all know that Bryzgalov is not the train wreck he's appeared to be. John Vanbiesbrouck thinks it's largely mental -- the pressure of living up to a giant contract in a hockey-crazed city -- and I've heard some theories about it being practice-related: Bryz just needs to focus more on the basics with goalie coach Jeff Reese.

Either way, now that 24/7 has wrapped and the hubbub surrounding the Winter Classic is fading away, it's time for Peter Laviolette to throw Bryz in net for 6-7 games and let him tend some goal. For better or worse -- and I remain convinced that it's "for better" -- Ilya Bryzgalov is the starting goalie for the Philadelphia Flyers. Any speculation otherwise is a waste of breath, and the time may be coming for the Flyers to make this inevitable commitment to their goaltender (and this year's team) painstakingly clear.

Bringing 'em all back home.

2011-12-27T16:16:00.001-05:00

The Philadelphia Eagles will close out the 2011 season with a win over the Washington Redskins on Sunday, and Andy Reid will return as head coach in 2012.

These may not be certainties, but I feel pretty comfortable in making both assumptions.

The real question will be what to do with the rest of the team in 2012. Resign DeSean Jackson? Trade Asante Samuel? Buy into the maturation of Kurt Coleman and Brian Rolle?

And, of course, bring back Juan Castillo as defensive coordinator?

The facts are these: The Eagles are now eighth in yards allowed and tied for 12th in points allowed. Back on November 28th, the Eagles were 15th in yards allowed and 21st in points allowed. Pretty big jump. They've allowed only 67 points over the last four weeks, and that's including the debacle in Seattle.

They're first in sacks with 49. They've given up the sixth-most touchdowns through the air (26) despite holding teams to only 210 passing yards per game (eighth overall). Their 23 takeaways (14 picks, 9 fumbles) are middle of the pack, while their 36 giveaways on offense are tied with Tampa Bay for worst in the NFL.

This tells me a few things: The Eagles' defense -- despite early-season, late-in-game struggles and some poor work in the red zone -- is above average. You could even argue that it's good. The offense, on the other hand, which was supposed to be the team's strength, has faltered at key times. More than faltered, even; they've given the ball back to the opposition more than anyone else in the league, creating a strain that'd crush even the best teams.

Simply put, Juan Castillo seems to be running a damn fine defense these days. And maybe the Eagles should give him the chance to prove that the last few weeks are no fluke.

There are a few intelligent arguments against this idea. My dad and I got in one such debate recently; his take is that a easy late-season schedule has made Castillo's defense look better than it really is. A mirage, so to speak. But Miami was on a roll when the Eagles came to town (27.8 PPG over their last five games), and the biggest non-New England defensive hiccup of the last two months was the result of Seattle feasting on Vince Young's mistakes (two TDs off interceptions, another returned for a touchdown).

And now the inevitable Steve Spagnuolo talk has begun. In a vacuum, no one with a brain would argue for Juan Castillo over Steve Spagnuolo. In fact, Spags seems like the perfect candidate: history with Andy Reid and the Eagles, Super Bowl ring, etc. But you have to admit that Juan's defense has improved in pretty much every aspect of the game. If Spagnuolo is looking to strip down and start over, is it worth suffering through another bout of growing pains for a former head coach who's probably not looking to settle down in Philly too long? Not sure if going with a hired gun, even one that's a known quantity, is wise in what very well may be Reid's last season.

Unless, of course, upper management would consider Spagnuolo a possible replacement for Reid down the line. But that's a whole other can of worms that we'll have the pleasure of opening if/when the time is right.

Honestly, I didn't want to bring Juan Castillo back. I thought it was a fun experiment that had flopped in embarrassing fashion. But if you believe in the strides that the team's been making, if you buy that Juan's finally earned the trust of his defense, if you think Jim Washburn's pass-rushing strategy is doing its job, then don't blow it up. Don't bring in another coordinator who might want something totally different, even if he does come with a link to the glory days of Jim Johnson.

Give Andy and Juan a short leash; one more season to show what they've got. Juan was Andy's call; let him make or break Reid's tenure. I don't want to see another maddeningly inconsistent year of football, but I like what I've seen over the last few weeks. I think it's for real.

I was all ready to go cold turkey on this team after the Seattle game, but they haven't quit on themselves. With a few smart personnel moves, some continued improvement from young players and seriously cutting down on turnovers, there's no reason the Eagles won't bounce back in 2012. Don't throw out the baby with the bathwater until you're damn sure it can't be cleaned.

In praise of The Tobolowsky Files.

2011-12-20T14:26:00.000-05:00

Until recently, I wasn't much of a podcast listener. And I'm not sure why The Tobolowsky Files became my gateway into the world of long-form digital chatter.

My only guess is that I love character actors. Harry Dean Stanton, James Rebhorn, Fred Ward, Richard Jenkins. Some are a little more well-known than others, but they're all adept at making even the smallest part seem important. Casting Frank Vincent as a mobster can give the role a little more gravitas than going with some unknown Italian guy. In many ways, they end up having far more interesting, and lengthier, careers than big-time blockbuster stars.

Stephen Tobolowsky, of course, is quite the character actor; one of the most prolific of all time. I knew him chiefly from memorable roles in Memento and Groundhog Day, but also from guest spots on Seinfeld, Heroes and Deadwood. He's one of those performers who always looks happy to be there, even in a do-nothing part or a lame children's movie.

And that's probably because he is pleased to be there, pleased to be working, no matter what thankless task he's assigned. Stephen Tobolowsky isn't quite rich, and he's only mildly famous. He's not exactly handsome or dashing. He's a professional actor, yes, and a successful one, but he's also very much a human being. He's not disengaged from reality, and he suffers from the same kind of loss and heartache as we do, the kind that we don't always associate with Hollywood folk.

Even though I don't know the man personally, I can say all this with certainty because I'm 38 episodes deep into his wonderful and illuminating podcast series. In it, Tobolowsky talks candidly, sometimes remarkably so, about his ups and downs in "life, love and the entertainment industry." Listeners who're just starting out may only know him from a movie here or there, but Tobolowsky does not hesitate in welcoming you into his own little world.

Every episode is a new story from Stephen's life. Some are pleasant and occasionally eye-opening tales from his many films and TV shows: the complications of guest starring on a melting-down Heroes, the antics of Bill Murray on the set of Groundhog Day, the joy that comes with being cast on a future hit show like Glee.

But it's not all about the work. Stephen also discusses lost loves, the deaths of friends and family, those dark moments when you can barely get out of bed, let alone go star in movies. He's not afraid to delve into his previous problems with drugs and alcohol, the difficulty of finding a job in an industry built on saying "no," the horrors of having your dreams nearly dashed by a vengeful peer or superior. He's an expert storyteller with tremendous skill at relaying roller-coaster-like tales of the past, and the podcast is a perfect vehicle for these kind of 40-minute, multi-part narratives.

What's most impressive, however, is the clarity with which he describes the events of his life. One of his stories touches on how Jane Lynch, star of Glee, has a supernatural ability to detach herself from personal disasters when relaying them in anecdotes. Tobolowsky's certainly not emotionally detached from his past -- he's been known to break down a bit when relaying a particularly heartbreaking tale -- but he seems to have figured out how each of his life's major moments fits into the giant puzzle of human existence. He can find lessons in both the good and the bad, and illustrate to his listeners how they made him, if not a better person, at least a more complete and satisfied one. At age 60 Tobolowsky boasts a pretty firm, and rare, grasp of the big picture, and an understanding of how each of his many years helped to paint it.

Not only is Tobolowsky still hard at work on The Tobolowsky Files (the latest episode dropped in late November), but he's also writing books, giving live performances and using pretty much every available medium to bring his stories to life. It's been a pleasure to see this truly charming actor -- a classically trained thespian with more range than people give him credit for (here's hoping some talented indie director crafts a Tobo-based lead role in the near future, a la Jenkins in The Visitor) -- tap into yet another creative outlet at this point in his career. The world is a better place for it.

If you're interested in breaking into The Tobolowsky Files, start with The Voice from Another Room. Or check out Stephen Tobolowsky's Birthday Party, which is the feature film that sparked the podcast. Since you've taken the time to read this blog post about a podcast in the first place, I suspect you won't be disappointed.

A buncha movie reviews.

2011-12-07T09:57:00.001-05:00

As my esteemed life partner Kat Devlin pointed out to me last night, writing up a batch of movie reviews only a month before my top 10 list comes out might be a bit repetitive. But I've seen four movies lately that have piqued my interest and deserve some attention. Plus, I don't have much else to write about (unless Ruben Amaro trades for Gio Gonzalez later today), so here we go.

Shame - The film I've seen most recently, and the one I was most excited for. I loved Steve McQueen's feature debut Hunger, about the hunger strike of IRA member Bobby Sands, and I was extremely excited to see what the great Michael Fassbender could do with the role of a New York City sex addict.

Well, Fassbender did not disappoint. By following up his scene-stealing performance in Inglourious Basterds with both X-Men: First Class and now Shame, he's shown an ability to throw himself into any performance, even if it involves wearing a big anti-telepathy helmet. Not only is Fassbender asked to perform a series of degrading, shocking acts in this movie, he's also forced to keep those tensions, that inescapable desire for filth, bubbling just below the surface while his character inhabits the real world. His disconnected demeanor may seem intriguing to some, but to an audience that has just seen him masturbating in the work bathroom, it betrays a twisted individual within who needs help.

But McQueen, in only his second feature film, comes up a little short. I loved how narrow and dark he made New York seem; every storefront Fassbender walks by seems barren; every bright light is either in the distance or obscured by a window. The movie, and the world of the movie itself, is unquestionably Fassbender's alone. But for all of his visual acumen, McQueen sets a very slow pace. Scenes and conversations are drawn out, ostensibly to heighten tension or increase intensity, but they tend to drag on a bit too long in the process.

And most of these lengthy moments are surprisingly limiting, offering little-to-no character development or plot detail. I usually enjoy when a filmmaker offers the viewer an opportunity to fill in a few of the blanks, but you have to present the blanks in the first place. Sometimes this movie felt aloof for the sake of being aloof, as if providing no backstory was a necessary part of making a provocative independent film.

Shame looks great and its lead performance is dynamite, but in the end it was more of a vehicle for those excellent elements than a complete work of art.

Martha Marcy May Marlene - Another movie, like Shame, that could have greatly benefited from a bit more backstory.

Elizabeth Olsen, the youngest (and by far the most talented) of the Olsen children, plays a young girl who's just escaped from a cult (run by the quietly creepy John Hawkes). She moves in with her sister, who's married a well-to-do businessman from the city and vacations in a home not far from the cult's headquarters. And, of course, scary dreams and mental breakdowns ensue.

I don't mean to shortchange the film too much; it's the first feature from director Sean Durkin, and Olsen should get an Oscar nomination for displaying such a healthy mix of both helplessness and combativeness.

But if Durkin had provided a bit more clarity, maybe Olsen's distraught behavior would carry more weight. Instead, in the end, we're left with the memories (or nightmares) of an untrustworthy narrator. While this comes with an implied sense of curiosity and dread, it also leaves the door a bit too wide open for my tastes. Was it all exaggerated, or even imagined? Is she going to live the rest of her life in fear of something that isn't even there? The possibilities offered up are intriguing but not enthralling. I was left wondering what more was there; how much impact a few more defining scenes would have added to the movie.

Martha Marcy May Marlene is a damn fine debut for a young filmmaker and actress, but it feels incomplete and lacking the follow-through on what felt like an incoming knockout punch.

The Descendants - And now we get to the crowd-pleaser.

Even though George Clooney's movies don't gross as much as everyone thinks, he's one of our most beloved actors. Which is weird, when you look at his track record. I love Fantastic Mr. Fox, Burn After Reading, Michael Clayton and Good Night, and Good Luck as much as anybody, but they're not exactly moneymaking hits. In fact, minus Up in the Air and the Ocean's movies, Clooney's been practically an indie darling for the last decade.

But I'm not arguing with the guy's choices, especially his increasingly obvious desire to snare roles that aren't right in his wheelhouse. After supposedly campaigning hard to play Thomas Haden Church's character in Sideways, Clooney finally gets his leading gig in an Alexander Payne movie. And he knocks it out of the park.

This is frumpy, conflicted Clooney, not dashing spy Clooney. This is the kind of Clooney whose wife cheats on him with Matthew Lillard, as inconceivable as that may be. This is the Clooney who runs around corners at full speed in flip flops, the kind of Clooney who's best buddies with Mary Birdsong and Rob Huebel. He's still charming and smooth-talking, but you can see the handful of hardships he's suffered in his face.

What at first confused me and now interests me about this film was its relative lack of narrative structure. Things don't exactly fit together. There are emotional moments and the story flows along, but no one really learns anything. No characters go through big internal changes. They find out a little more about each other, and then they all eat ice cream together.

This threw me for a loop at first, mostly because I was expecting a conventional film with a beginning and an end. But it did feel more real, how a family might actually react to tragedy and controlled chaos. People are who they are, and in The Descendants, said people are a well-to-do "Hawaiian" family with issues like internal communication and not enough attention being paid to certain details. In this neat little slice of their lives captured on screen, they figure it all out well enough to function as a slightly tweaked version of their same selves.

I'm still not sure why this is garnering so much award show praise, but it is probably Payne's least quirky and most accessible film to date. Add in a little Robert Forster and a pinch of Judy Greer and you've got a somewhat perplexingly enjoyable movie.

Take Shelter - The first film I saw starring Michael Shannon was Bug, William Friedkin's adaptation of a play in which two people slowly go insane in a motel room. My brother loved it; I did not, but I was definitely intrigued by Shannon and his increasingly unstable performance. He played an excellent psycho.

And now here we are, after Revolutionary Road, Boardwalk Empire and a handful of other career-propelling roles, and Michael Shannon's finally a "leading man." Perhaps surprisingly, after so many movies where he's unquestionably mad, Take Shelter offers a nuanced take on Shannon's onset of mental illness and how it affects his family and the people around him.

In Shame, Michael Fassbender's character is developed through brief glimpses into his private life, offhand gestures and snippets of information. His dialogue is minimal and his backstory is basically nonexistent. As I said, this can be a fine way to make a movie: allowing an intelligent audience to fill in the holes as they see fit. But it doesn't always hold up when you're also asking us to emotionally invest. It makes it easy to detach.

In contrast, Take Shelter offers numerous scenes with Michael Shannon's wife and child, scenes where you can see how much he cares about them and how his descent into madness is tearing them apart. It makes what's happening onscreen less clinical and more affecting. Conversations with his coworker (Eli from Boardwalk Empire!) and his brother (the reverend from Deadwood!) make Shannon's character more than just another psycho, and they make his illness more than just a plot point that gives Shannon free reign to scream and flip over tables. This is a person with connections, and those might be taken away by forces out of his control. That's some heartbreaking stuff right there.

Maybe the point of Shame was to make Fassbender's character unreachable, to keep his twisted desires away from the audience and induce either pity or disgust. He had no connections, because he couldn't emotionally form them in the first place. No matter the case, I preferred Take Shelter's method. I cared about what I saw on screen, and when the movie ended with a curious final scene, I was compelled to discuss it with my friends and work out its meaning. As either a metaphor or reality, it captured the hell that his family would continue going through.

Take Shelter was an unexpectedly moving look at a simple man combating demons brought about by genetics and bad luck. Shannon's face and features have been long associated with a dignified sort of creepiness, but hopefully this movie will make it clear that his range extends beyond the neatly tortured souls he's specialized in up to this point.

Coming apart at the seams.

2011-11-28T10:23:00.001-05:00

A college friend of mine used to have a saying that we all loved. Maybe it was the way he said it (or the frequency of use) more than the saying itself, but every time something would go awry or someone would get a little too graphic with a story, he'd yell, "That shit is gross!"

Those words kept ringing in my head throughout yesterday's Eagles game.

I've alternately cast the Eagles aside and believed in their potential to bounce back, but now we know for sure. This is a bad football team, one that's coming apart at the seams.

I don't think the Eagles will fire Andy Reid. He's got two years left on his contract, and the players still seem to have his back. Plus, there would have to be a sterling replacement lined up: Jon Gruden, Jeff Fisher, Bill Cowher. No matter what you think about Reid and his 2011 season, he's proven himself many times over as a successful head coach; it wouldn't make sense to replace him with anyone less qualified.

But if Jeffrey Lurie and Joe Banner come to a lesser conclusion -- that Juan Castillo must go -- I don't see how they can relieve him of his defensive coordinator duties and keep Reid onboard. Castillo is Reid's guy. Andy stuck his neck out for Juan, and so far, Juan has not delivered.

Maybe Reid and Howie Roseman didn't supply Castillo with the defensive personnel necessary for success; he didn't have much to choose from in the linebacker and safety department. But the facts are the facts: After 11 games, the Eagles have given up 251 points (21st in the NFL) and 344.6 yards per game (15th in the league). Sean McDermott's defense allowed 321.1 yards per game in 2009 and 327.2 yards per game in 2010. And that got him fired.

You don't need numbers, only eyes, to know that Tom Brady picked the Eagles defense apart last night. They're not the first team he's torched, nor will they be the last, but the disorganized mess that spent three hours chasing after Deion Branch and Wes Welker did not inspire any sort of confidence or hope for the future. This wasn't another blown fourth-quarter lead, but it was the worst home loss since 2009 and the fourth-most points allowed at home in 13 years under Andy Reid.

And now the fans are calling for not only Juan's head but Andy's, too. Will that sway Lurie at all? Will the sight of thousands of ticket holders streaming out of Lincoln Financial Field in the third quarter have any impact on the owner's state of mind regarding his floundering franchise?

Eagles fans have always been both passionate and reactionary -- present company included -- but an adjective no one's ever used to describe them is "apathetic." Yet I suspect that's how most fans will feel in the weeks to come; the season is cooked, the coach has all but worn out his welcome, every player not named LeSean McCoy (and maybe Jason Peters) has underwhelmed in one way or another. Perhaps an abundance of apathy, not rancor, will inspire change.

At this point, it's all but impossible to argue with the growing disinterest. This was, and I guess still is, one of the more overhyped, disastrous seasons in recent sports history, Philly-based or otherwise. There's no easy way to right the ship; the talent is (arguably) there but the results are nowhere to be found. Maybe the only real question going forward is, massive overhaul or tweak and pray? Either way, the skies over Philadelphia football seem to keep on getting darker.

The value of value.

2011-11-12T11:46:00.001-05:00

Every fantasy league has that guy who's constantly trying to one-up everyone else.

You know who I'm talking about. The dude (or dudette) who needs to come out on top, no matter what. He'll open negotiations by offering LeGarrette Blount for Ryan Mathews and Greg Jennings, and then call you names when you counter with something reasonable. He doesn't just want to help his team; he wants to squeeze you dry, and he wants everyone in the league to know just how smart and savvy he is in the process.

Lately, many Philadelphia Phillies fans have become that kind of guy. It's not enough for the team to make noise, sign some good players and compete for a championship year after year, which they do. To them, the Phillies need to win every trade; they need to get maximum value from every signing; they need to be the most well-oiled, smoothly operated machine in the history of baseball. Some folks make it seem like treason to expect any less.

And yet, it used to be that the Phillies didn't sign anyone of consequence. Once upon a time, they gave Rheal Cormier three years and $8.75 million; players like him were the best they could do. They operated on the periphery, occasionally thinking big with guys like Gregg Jefferies and Andy Ashby, only to see these attempted forays into respectability blow up in their faces.

Now, they're able to sign respected veterans like Raul Ibanez, Placido Polanco, Cliff Lee and Jonathan Papelbon at the drop of a hat. It's no big thing to spend $120 million on an ace or $50 million on a closer; it's what a competitive team in a big market does. You'd think that long-time Phillies fans would be ecstatic; look at all the money they're spending! And almost all of it on talented players who, in one way or another, can help the team. But you'd be wrong; every signing (sans Lee, of course) is nitpicked to no end. It's not just about bringing in good players anymore; it's about getting fan-approved value.

Is this justified? With all this cash being thrown around, is the team consistently getting its money's worth? There is a way to calculate this sort of thing, at least when it comes to numbers. According to FanGraphs, Raul Ibanez returned $18.1 million of "value" in his three years with the Phillies (compared to his $30 million salary) but that was lowered considerably by the left-fielder actually "costing" the team $6 million with his disappointing 2011 season. But he did return $17.4 million in 2009 alone, when the poor play of Brad Lidge and Cole Hamels, not Ibanez, cost the team its second championship in a row. If Raul had ended up being a key cog in another title run, do we really care how much he "lives up" to his deal?

Contracts in sports are based on performance, sure, but in the end they're all business decisions. The Ryan Howard extension might end up being a mess in terms of value on the field, but if they get a few more years of Howard's recognizable presence at first base, along with 30+ dingers a year and some mashing of right-handed pitching, maybe the bucks all even out. And hopefully, the other perks of employing Howard and Roy Halladay and Papelbon -- name players who'll sell jerseys, ticket packages and other revenue-generating goodies -- mean that the team around them will continue to improve. Even if Howard isn't worth $25 million on the field, the money can be made up elsewhere. And if the Phillies recognize Howard's on-field limitations and allocate the rest of the payroll wisely, the team stays competitive.

I'm not saying we need to agree with every move Ruben Amaro Jr. makes, and I don't think we should rationalize each signing by saying, "But think of how many tickets he'll sell!" But I am saying that the team won 102 games last year and will almost certainly contend for a title again in 2012 and 2013. And there's no way Amaro thinks Papelbon is the last piece of the puzzle; he wouldn't blow his last $12.5 million on a closer. In the end, will Jonathan Papelbon earn his inflated salary? Probably not. But will he increase the team's chances of winning in the near future? Yes.

The Phillies don't have to win every move they make; that's short-sighted. They need to bring in veteran personnel that can help them compete for a championship while also developing (and eventually, relying on) cheap young talent like Antonio Bastardo, Dom Brown and Trevor May. A solid mix of both is key, along with ensuring that the big contracts you do offer up aren't back-breaking. Is blowing $50 million on a closer smart? I'd say there are better uses for the money, but if Amaro still has a big chunk of cash to spend on the Michael Cuddyers and Jimmy Rollinses of the world, why not?

In the end, I respect his give-to-get, rolling-the-dice style of aggressiveness, and I remember the days when that kind of fire, and especially the kind of dough to bankroll said fire, weren't a part of baseball in Philadelphia.

Blind faith in Happy Valley.

2011-11-10T12:26:00.000-05:00

From 2004 to 2008, I attended Boston University. Many of my fellow students fell in love with the oft-competitive hockey team, and a few even got into Terrier basketball. But college athletics have never been my bag, and that didn't change just because I was now in college. I went to maybe three hockey games in four years and never really regretted a thing.

So I don't understand how the students of Penn State University, past and present, feel about Joe Paterno and the Nittany Lions football program.

And frankly, I don't want to understand.

I get that this scandal is swirling up boatloads of emotions -- mostly anger at the accused perpetrator and compassion towards the victims -- and I know that many of the people who care the most are those who have attended, taught at or otherwise supported Penn State and the school's football program.

But when Joe Paterno was fired last night, an uncomfortable amount of emphasis was placed on his legacy, his own personal struggles over the past week, his previous battles with PSU's Board of Trustees and other matters that have nothing to do with the current situation.

Even if Paterno is innocent of all legal wrongdoing, even if he followed procedure to the letter when dealing with rumors of Jerry Sandusky's foul play, the fact remains that a pedophile spent years in a position of power, legitimate or implied, on the Penn State campus, many of them coming after investigations were launched into his wrongdoings with young children. If that shouldn't be rectified with a complete ousting of all of the university's leading personnel, football or otherwise, then I don't know what should.

I tweeted earlier this week that Joe Paterno, like Jon Arryn of Game of Thrones, has been Lord of the Eyrie for far too long. For those non-nerds out there, the Eyrie is an impregnable fortress on top of a mountain, one that often chooses not to get involved in matters of worldwide importance. And quaint little State College, Pennsylvania, while not perched high in the sky, is equally as isolated from the rest of college athletics. Once a bastion of respectability and honor, we now see that foul play at Penn State was not only prevalent, it was swept under the rug when deemed inconvenient by coaches and administrators alike.

Since his promotion to head coach in 1966, Joe Paterno rose to become king of Happy Valley. He was beloved by the students and revered by former players. Did all this power cloud his judgment when it came to Sandusky's transgressions? Did it lead to Sandusky's abrupt "retirement" in 1999, an event that many have linked to an investigation into his behavior in 1998, a sort of "out of sight, out of mind" policy that may have saved the university the "trouble" of increased snooping and, eventually, legal liability?

Either way, Joe Paterno has been relieved of his abilities to directly influence matters at Penn State. He's now an unemployed, disgraced old man, one who has made at least a few dubious ethical decisions over the last decade; decisions that may have led to the continued molestation of numerous young children. And to look upon that with anything but scorn and dismay blows my mind.

To anyone with common sense, Joe Paterno's time as a respected leader of young men is at an end. And good riddance. For some, though, he's still their coach, one who won a bunch of football games, donated a bunch of money, and then was caught up in a whirlwind that only included him tangentially and therefore shouldn't land on his plate.

But as Bruce Springsteen once said, "Blind faith in your leaders, or in anything, will get you killed." Sandusky may be innocent until proven guilty, but the facts have been pretty neatly laid out: He did wrong, and Paterno was aware. Blind faith in a football coach may not get you killed, but it will make you truly blind to what really matters.

Andy's adaptation abilities.

2011-11-04T11:40:00.000-04:00

Andy Reid has his flaws. Extremely frustrating failings that'll make you want to rip your eyes out or, more reasonably, flip to another game.

Clock management is one. Stubbornness is another.

Like the time he assigned the completely untested Greg Lewis and J.R. Reed to return punts. It cost the Eagles the game and forced the hopelessly mediocre Reno Mahe back into our lives.

Like his refusal to spend on linebackers and safeties. Maybe we shouldn't lament the loss of Stewart Bradley, but I wonder how the Eagles defense would have looked earlier this season with Quintin Mikell in the defensive backfield instead of Jarrad Page.

A few weeks ago, I would have also added "like the time he hired offensive line coach Juan Castillo to be the new defensive coordinator." But a funny thing happened along the way; the Eagles defense started to improve.

They've allowed only 127 rushing yards over the last two games. Nnamdi Asomugha looks increasingly comfortable in Castillo's schemes. The wide nine has apparently been tweaked (or maybe better grasped by the players), rookie Casey Matthews has been banished from the starting lineup, and the Brian Rolle/Jamar Chaney/Moise Fokou trio has shored up a previously detrimental linebacking core.

And therein lies Andy Reid's genius: His ability to adapt. He's one of the best coaches in the league, maybe in the history of the game, at rolling with the punches.

He's 13-0 after the bye, and he's 62-33-1 in the second half of the season. Take out 2005, which turned into a lost season, and the handful of late-December losses that came after the Eagles had already locked up a playoff spot, and you've got an almost-immaculate record from November on.

Some coaches wither and die after being dealt a bad hand. To his credit, Andy Reid is not one of them.

His in-game decision-making isn't always top-notch, but give him a bye week -- or even sometimes just an intermission -- to get situated and you'll often see the play-calling or the scheme do a complete 180° flip. The team that destroyed Dallas on Sunday night was not the team that pissed away wins in Atlanta and Buffalo. That's Andy Reid out-coaching Jason Garrett and Rob Ryan, that's coaches flip-flopping starters and building up the confidence and capabilities of rookies like Danny Watkins.

Unfortunately, making midseason changes isn't always enough; despite two very strong games in a row (and the promise of more to come) the Eagles remain two wins behind the New York Giants with only one head-to-head match-up remaining. They'll have to take at least 6 of their last 9 games to have any chance at the playoffs. Luckily, they have the personnel to pull it off.

I really thought this might be Andy Reid's last hurrah. Turnovers abounded, and the defense and offensive line took some time to get going. But Castillo's straightened his boys out, and Howard Mudd looks to be every bit the Hall of Fame line coach they said he was.

With the NFL's leading rush attack, a healthy Michael Vick and a boatload of everyone's favorite intangible, momentum, the pieces are there for another dominant season-ending stretch. If the Eagles are able to rebound from 1-4 and live up to the preseason hype after all, this just might be Andy Reid's masterpiece.

Jimmy Rollins or Ryan Madson?

2011-11-01T14:56:00.000-04:00

In roughly 34 hours, Major League Baseball free agents will be allowed to sign with whichever team they please.

For the Philadelphia Phillies, this'll require saying goodbye to players like Raul Ibanez, Brian Schneider, Roy Oswalt and Ross Gload. For the most part -- or, in Oswalt's case, for the money it'd probably take to keep him around -- they won't be missed.

And then we come to Ryan Madson and Jimmy Rollins. The general consensus is that one of these two guys will be back for 2012 and beyond; figuring out which one it'll be has been the tough part.

I've advocated resigning both of them in the past, but I also recognize that doing so might be a financial stretch. The Phillies are a big market team, one that shouldn't have to cut too many corners, but even the richest teams have a breaking point.

So if it comes down to one or the other, bring back Jimmy Rollins.

I know that Ruben Amaro Jr. has already expressed his desire for a "proven closer," and Madson certainly fits that bill after last year's 32 saves and 2.37 ERA. But I think bringing back Madson -- or blowing a bunch of bucks on a name guy like Heath Bell or Jonathan Papelbon -- would be a poor allocation of resources.

Is it really wise to go big (and long) for a closer? The Phillies locked up Brad Lidge after his epic 2008 season and were rewarded with a disastrous 2009 and only 65 innings in 2010-2011. Maybe if they had made the smart business decision and turned to Madson in 2009, Amaro wouldn't have been forced to trade Cliff Lee in December of that same year for quick salary relief and (as of right now) a bunch of prospect-shaped doorstops.

Granted, there's no Madson-esque arm-in-waiting for 2012. Antonio Bastardo's numbers might suggest that he's ready, but the way he faltered down the stretch (and his left-handedness) probably convinced Amaro to look elsewhere. Phillippe Aumont is a fun name to throw around, if only to prove that the aforementioned Lee trade wasn't a total disaster, but he have to perform at the Major League level before they hand him any important innings.

If the Phillies insist on signing a veteran, I pray that they think old and cheap. Joe Nathan and Francisco Cordero are long-time closers, and their age (37) would, presumably, increase their interest in a shorter, simpler contract. Guys like Jon Rauch and Frank Francisco have closed before -- albeit relatively unimpressively -- and they can also slot into a setup role if one of the young guys decides to step up after all. And if you really want to roll the dice, the bloated corpse of Jonathan Broxton is also available. Just keep him away from Matt Stairs.

Meanwhile, there are two Type A shortstops on the market this offseason: Jose Reyes and Rollins. And although it would be a sportswriter's dream, the Phillies are unlikely to spend the nine figures necessary to snare the 29-year-old Reyes.

So if not Rollins or Reyes, then who? Rafael Furcal? Alex Gonzalez? Of all the names on this list, they're the only two even remotely "worthy" of starting on a legitimate contender. I'm really not interested in either one, and I highly doubt they tickle Amaro's fancy.

The solution could end up being Freddy Galvis, the 21-year-old prospect with the supposedly dazzling glove. But, as more than a few commenters on Beerleaguer have noted, a team with World Series aspirations and a league-average offense probably shouldn't turn to an unproven rookie with a weak bat.

Plus, there's the intangibles-oriented argument: Jimmy Rollins is the Phillies, he's meant so much to this organization, etc. I don't know how you'd quantify that, but I do agree with the idea that the devil you know is better than the devil you don't. I'm not sure Jimmy "deserves" one more big contract from the Phillies, but I'm not sure I'd want to roll the dice with anyone but him.

Some fans are probably (justifiably) nervous that Rollins will break down by the end of any deal (he's 33), and I know that there's a lot of rumbling about whether players can truly "live up" to extravagant deals like the ones Rollins and Madson are sure to sign.

But most free agents (or players in their 30s that choose extensions over free agency) rarely perform at the level, or for the length, of their new deals. The key, especially if you're a team with a massive payroll, is to limit your mistakes. Organizations like the Phillies and the Red Sox can survive a Geoff Jenkins, a J.D. Drew, even a John Lackey or (gulp) a Ryan Howard. But bury yourself under too many massive deals (like the Yankees may have done in a few years, as Alex Rodriguez, Mark Teixeira and CC Sabathia continue to age) and you might find your window of championship opportunity has suddenly slammed shut.

The Phillies aren't even close to in trouble. Whether it's Dom Brown or John Mayberry in left field next year, the end result will (finally) be a cheap, young, competent bat to go with the old, expensive ones. As for their long-term financial interests, the only Phillies signed beyond 2012 are Howard, Lee, Roy Halladay and Chase Utley. And even after the Hunter Pence trade, the team's farm system should still be ranked as (at least) average.

Simply put, signing Jimmy Rollins won't cripple the Phillies. Neither will bringing back Ryan Madson. But when it comes to what they need, what they should really be willing to spend for, the stud shortstop trumps the stud closer.

The Walking Dead is not as good as you think.

2011-10-25T22:14:00.000-04:00

If you're a male between the ages of 18 and 45, you probably spend an hour every Sunday night watching The Walking Dead on AMC. This is not the worst way to end your weekend, as it prominently features gratuitous zombie killing. But is The Walking Dead "good television"? Is it deserving of all the attention it's gotten?

In my opinion, it's actually pretty darn mediocre. Borderline bad. The concept's top-notch, it's beautifully filmed and the zombie makeup deserves a boatload of awards. But once you get past all that, the gore and the occasional moment of well-plotted tension, there's not a lot of substance there.

Ostensibly, the show is about a group of people attempting to band together in a post-apocalyptic, zombie-infested world, but you wouldn't know that they're banding together or that the world has ended by listening to some of the petty arguments between assorted characters.

The writers have focused on how human interaction -- the "core" of society -- continually frays under the pressure of the end of the world, but the characters aren't constantly hovering at the edge of sanity, like you or I might be. Instead, they blindly trudge through a desolated landscape, wasting precious minutes deliberating about the most inane things.

For example, Shane drunkenly tried to rape Rick's wife near the end of last season, but instead of it being a horrific moment that defines their relationship going forward, she mostly ends up perturbed that Shane has begun treating Carl poorly. He tried to rape you! Who cares if he's also being cold towards your son? (For more wonderfully apt observations like these, consult the mockery-heavy weekly reviews at videogum.com.)

They extend discussions for twice the reasonable amount of time, usuallyjust enough to fill out an episode, while continually refusing to respond like actual human beings up against such a terrible, mind-shattering scenario. One of the things my dad hated about Lost was that no one ever asked the right questions; the writers had everyone dance around the real issues to keep the mystique of the island alive. Well, on Walking Dead, no one ever does the right thing, which is "stop blathering, gather weapons and run like hell, the zombie army is all around you." This may keep the show on track, but at what cost?

So the characters are poorly written; they're also not particularly memorable. I think we all know Rick, Shane and Carl (may he, hopefully, rest in peace), but what is Rick's wife's name? I only found out two days ago that it's Lori. What about the old guy who drives the RV? The black guy? The racist hick with the crossbow? The attractive blonde girl who wants to die? The mom with the lesbian haircut? The stupid daughter who has gone missing?

I have no idea who any of them are. And this isn't because the show is overly complicated like The Wire; it's because they're all bland, stereotypical, and irrelevant. You don't need to learn their names because it's not worth the effort; most of them are only interesting when they're running away from undead creatures, and even then it's fleeting.

The old man is given a few good lines an episode, but he's mostly there to be wise and offer counsel. The daughter disappearing was meant to create tension, but I don't think anyone's overly concerned with her survival. Carl getting shot was mildly interesting, but after the original shock it was just another plot-forwarding element.

Basically, the show works when the characters are encountering/evading zombie attacks. Or when they're learning more about the zombies. Or when someone's stabbing a zombie in the head with a screwdriver. Moments like that make The Walking Dead a fun show to watch.

But when characters are talking, or arguing, or engaging in a drawn-out love triangle that'll seemingly never end, The Walking Dead's flaws are exposed. And they are ample.

This isn't to say that people shouldn't watch the show; just don't pretend like it's God's gift to television. There are plenty of wonderful shows on TV nowadays, but The Walking Dead isn't one of them.

Bill Simmons went to a hockey game and a basketball lockout broke out.

2011-10-19T21:01:00.000-04:00

Bill Simmons is now a hockey fan. Hooray?

For all of Simmons's flaws, he's a very knowledgeable basketball fan and an excellent writer on the sport and its inner workings. But hockey? Him? I don't see it.

So let's examine Bill's first "hockey-oriented" piece of the season. Join me, if you will, for yet another Fire Joe Morgan-esque adventure on King Myno's Court.

During the NBA's latest "crucial" labor meeting in New York City yesterday, I was attending the home opener for the Los Angeles Kings 3,000 miles away.

Only a true hockey fan would skip out on, uh, tweeting about a labor meeting for the first regular season game of the year. Good start, Bill.

Let's leave the idiocy of the lockout aside for a second.

Oh, wonderful. Simmons and his lockout rants are certainly entertaining, but it'll be nice to read his opinion on a different subject, one that he can really sink his teeth into. The Kings are certainly an interesting team to write about: studmuffin Anze Kopitar, the trade that brought former Flyers captain Mike Richards to LA, Dustin Penner's struggles, Drew Doughty's post-holdout injury...

(one paragraph later)

Of course, I never would have bought Kings tickets without a lockout. And that's the part these NBA numbskulls are missing.

Fuck. Let's fast-forward a little here, as you probably know the drill by now:

(strained reference to new favorite television drama)

(attempt to speak for a sport's entire fanbase)

(brief anecdote involving chat with super plugged-in source)

...you know how in hockey when two guys screw up the faceoff - either they keep jumping the gun, or they keep hitting each other's sticks - and the official finally gets pissed off and kicks them out of the faceoff? That should have happened with this lockout weeks ago.

And there we are, back to hockey. Sort of. It's actually just a brief comparison that immediately leads into almost 1,000 more words on the lockout. This piece is entirely about the goddamn NBA lockout!

The fact of the matter is, he's probably right on all points. The leadership of both the NBA and the NBPA sound like they're being shortsighted and idiotic; there are no winners when a professional sports league cancels games; and only the NFL could survive a drawn-out work stoppage, because they're that big and powerful.

But if you say you're gonna write about hockey, Bill, write about fucking hockey. I bet a decent amount of people were intrigued by how you'd respond to being forced into a chilly arena, attempting to enjoy a sport that you've publicly sworn off in the past, but you spent maybe two sentences on the game itself.

Fans adapt. Habits change. People like me say, "Screw it, I'll give hockey a real chance."

You wouldn't be able to tell by reading these last 2,000 words.

Right now? The door has swung wide-open for the Kings.

It may have, for the Kings and every other prominent NHL team. Not since 1994 has the league had this kind of moment in the spotlight. Hockey leadership seems to finally understand how to market the sport; the rule changes post-lockout emphasis offense and talent; stars like Alex Ovechkin, Ryan Miller and Sidney Crosby (if he ever plays again) are ones that every sports fan now knows.

But, by using hockey mostly to talk about basketball, Simmons offers up the real issue: People won't start watching and discussing hockey, they'll just talk about how the possibility of watching and discussing hockey. For whatever reason, hockey isn't for everyone. Even if the NBA shuts down forever, I imagine hockey would get the same solid ratings on the same mediocre cable channel and draw the same 18,000 fans every single night.

This doesn't bother anyone who truly likes hockey; the sport and all its major teams aren't going anywhere. But to act like its about to explode, that America is going to embrace hockey, is just silly. I'm glad that it'll have a little more time on SportsCenter, and maybe a handful of fans will be quicker to recognize names like Henrik Lundqvist and Claude Giroux. For now, though, it'll remain more a talking point and less a surging enterprise.

Keep up the good work, Bill. Your first hockey piece was everything we expected and more.

There's gonna be no dancing.

2011-10-10T10:55:00.000-04:00

Honestly, it's been three days and I'm still not sure what to say. So I'll just ramble, which is pretty much what I do anyway.

I imagine this is how some of the more levelheaded Boston Red Sox fans felt after their team crapped the bed in the last game of this year's regular season: A grim realization that, even if they'd made it to the dance, they weren't staying out too late.

Because at the end of the day, even if Raul Ibanez's shot in the fourth inning gets over the outfield fence and Roy Halladay helps to steal a win, the Philadelphia Phillies weren't getting by Zack Greinke, Shawn Marcum, Yovani Gallardo and the Milwaukee Brewers in the NLCS. Blame it on injuries, bad approaches at the plate or just a general, team-wide awfulness; this pitiful, beaten-down Phillies offense was out of gas.

Six runs in the final 34 innings of the series, three of those on an out-of-nowhere Ben Francisco pinch-hit home-run. That's not gonna beat the hapless San Diego Padres in spacious Petco Park, let alone the Cardinals, a team that led the National League in runs scored.

And, to a lesser but still valid extent, let's not ignore Cliff Lee and Roy Oswalt coming up very small in Games 2 and 4, respectively. This team won plenty of 1-0 or 2-1 suckfests in the regular season, but only Halladay and Cole Hamels threw like the aces we expected -- and desperately needed -- in the playoffs. This, unfortunately, will be Roy Oswalt's legacy in Philadelphia: "Not quite good enough anymore."

As always, the Phillies will remain competitive next year. Halladay, Lee and Hamels remain the most talented starting pitcher trio in baseball, and the always-aggressive Ruben Amaro Jr. saw, just like the rest of us, that sometimes "veteran hitter" is just code for "old guy with slow bat." He has to know that trotting this same offense back out there in 2012 isn't going to work.

But how much magic can he really perform? The team's already got an extremely high payroll; how flexible will ownership be when it comes to upgrading this increasingly elderly group of bats?

Since 2007, the year of their first National League East title, Jimmy Rollins, Shane Victorino, Ryan Howard, Chase Utley and Carlos Ruiz have been the cornerstones of the Phillies offense. All of them are now at least 30 years old, and considering that Victorino just wrapped up a career year that he'll probably never match, all of them have seen better days.

Does the offense need an injection of youth? A better approach at the plate? Or just more talented hitters in general?

Is Howard, the renowned slugger whom Tony La Russa and his pitchers challenged without fear after Game 1 of the series, as replaceable as certain sabermetricians would have you believe? (I say no, but for the sake of argument...) Considering that he'll probably be out until at least the summer with a torn Achilles tendon, I guess we'll find out once and for all.

Is Placido Polanco finished as an every-day player? His defense at third base remains sterling, but his bat has worn down almost to a nub by the end of the last two seasons. If Amaro chooses being realistic over counting dollars and cents, Polly should probably act as the most expensive ($6 million in 2012) utility man in baseball next year.

Bring back Rollins? Resign Ryan Madson? I'm onboard with both, if the years are right and if Amaro has no better use for the money. Bring in a stud third baseman somehow and I'm suddenly OK with the two guys walking.

Start Dom Brown every day in left field? Start Dom Brown every day in left field. Or trade him for Logan Morrison. Either way, lower the age of this starting lineup and start trusting in some young players.

It's a lot of questions for a 102-win team to answer. But all I know is that I spent all of Friday night screaming at the never-ending stream of ground balls weakly hit to the right side -- I'll have nightmares about those softly rolling baseballs for years to come -- so just imagine how nuts they must've driven Amaro and Charlie Manuel. It's one thing to lose; it's another thing to come up unspeakably feeble against a team you could've easily beaten. To paraphrase Harry Doyle, "one goddamn run." That's all they needed.

I believed in this team; I told everyone not to worry a boatload of times. But it turned out that a Halladay gem couldn't save them after all; it turns out everyone else was right. Maybe for the wrong reasons, but in the playoffs, a win's a win and a loss is a loss. I never expected to say this, but the Phillies really and truly choked on Friday night; only the goodwill left over from 2008 kept us all from going mad in the process. Let's hope we don't suffer the same fate in 2012.

This one's on you, Doc.

2011-10-07T11:03:00.002-04:00

Why did the Philadelphia Phillies battle for 102 wins and home-field advantage throughout the postseason?

For a game like tonight; to host a deciding showdown at Citizens Bank Park with their ace on the mound.

Am I nervous? Absolutely. All of a sudden it's do or die, and I'd hate to see a team this skilled (not to mention beloved by me) go out so early.

But am I worried? No. Roy Halladay's on the mound. 43,000 screaming fans will have his back. It's the best-case scenario for the Phillies.

Sure, they could lose, and that would be disappointing. But the Major League Baseball playoffs often turn out to be a crapshoot. Maybe you run into a scalding-hot team, like the San Francisco Giants last year. Maybe you burn out after a grueling regular season, like the Phillies in 2007.

Only eight teams out of 32 make it to the big dance, which is awesome, and so much unlike how basketball and hockey do it. The regular season holds purpose; you can't sneak in as an eight seed with a record under .500. After 162 games, any franchise that makes the postseason should pat themselves on the back for a successful year.

Obviously, you'd love to win it all. Unfortunately, only one team gets that privilege, and it's not always the most talented one. Should Cody Ross and Edgar Renteria have carried the Giants past the Phillies and Cliff Lee's Rangers last year? Not on paper, but they did. And at the end of the day, they deserved it.

The teams that don't take it home, however, are often unfairly and derogatorily labeled as losers by fans and the media. As an astute commenter put it on Beerleaguer early this morning, the slogan for the MLB postseason might as well be "8 TEAMS-7 CHOKERS-1 LUCKY SURVIVOR." When Alex Rodriguez and Ryan Howard end a playoff run by striking out, it doesn't matter that they've each brought their teams a World Series trophy and hit hundreds upon hundreds of home runs. They blew the big game, and that's the narrative that sticks.

In a sense, I understand; the 2011 season won't be a true success unless the Phillies win the World Series. But after making the playoffs five years in a row and winning only one championship, I think most Philadelphia fans realize how hard it really is.

So then we come back to Roy Halladay. I've thought a lot about how I'd love for the Phillies to "win one for Doc" or "win one for Cliffy," but it's only recently, after watching the starters struggle through a few games of this series, that I realized the team isn't gonna win one for them. They need to win for the team.

Roy Halladay's getting paid a lot of money, mostly to win Philadelphia at least one more title. Cy Young awards are nice, 20-win seasons are neato, but championships are the ultimate goal. Halladay and Lee and Cole Hamels and Roy Oswalt are here to out-pitch the other team's best starters, whether the Phillies offense puts up zero runs or a hundred. So far, Halladay and Hamels are the only ones living up to their end of the bargain.

With that in mind, tonight is Halladay's chance to add one more notch to his lengthy belt of a career. I can't tell you whether the Phillies offense will wake up and hit Chris Carpenter again, but I do know that another gem from Doc will make moving onto the next round that much easier. The Cardinals are a pesky offensive team, but that didn't stop Harry Leroy Halladay from mowing them down six days ago.

If he can do it once more, and give Lee a chance to redeem himself in the NLCS, maybe baseball's most talented team can live up to the promise, and the hype, that they earned with those 102 wins.

The haphazardness of Anytober.

2011-10-05T11:30:00.000-04:00

I'd like to extend Major League Baseball a rare "thank you" for scheduling its postseason games so haphazardly.

For most people, the random start times bring nothing but consternation and frustration. But for me, it offers up a bit of strategizing that's been severely lacking since fantasy baseball ended.

"Alright, the game's at 5," I'll think. "That means I need to get out of work precisely on time, grab food, maybe pick up some beer -- if I can fit it in -- and get onto the couch by at least five past five." Because it's the playoffs, you guys, and missing something crazy like a leadoff homer might mean missing the game's most crucial play.

Luckily, yesterday unfolded just as I hoped. I busted out of work at 4:28 PM (cushy life, I know) and the race was on. A quick walk to Subway for a footlong (it's Anytober!), a dash to the Metro when I spotted my train pulling into the station, a very brief stop at the market attached to my apartment complex for a six-pack of beer, and bam. Home at 5:05 PM on the nose, ready for the game.

And what a game. Jaime Garcia mowed the Phillies down, just like everyone expected, but Cole Hamels battled through 117 pitches and kept the game at zeros until Ben Francisco's miraculous homer. Cole had a bit of trouble putting some Cardinals hitters away, but so have a lot of the pitchers in this series. The most important thing was limiting the damage; giving the Cardinals a lead, with Garcia rolling and the ballpark going wild, might have crushed any team's spirit. Luckily, the battle-tested playoff ace gave them no such chance.

But he did only go six innings, which the Phillies need to avoid as much as possible throughout this postseason run. Vance Worley, Antonio Bastardo and Brad Lidge don't inspire much confidence; Worley's stuff isn't exactly perfect for the bullpen, Bastardo still looks a little shaky, and Lidge walks that tightrope every single time he steps onto the field. One day, all those runners won't end up stranded.

I don't want any of the three on the mound for any more than one inning with anything less than a two-run lead, and they're our best non-Madson bullpen guys by far. Luckily, the Phillies have enough stud starters to limit that concern.

Tonight, that "pitch long and well" responsibility falls on Roy Oswalt, who is gonna be asked to give the Phillies at least seven innings. And you know what? I think he will. I know his numbers against Albert Pujols are pretty darn awful (26 for 86 with 5 homers, a more-than-reasonable sample size), but I doubt many pitchers could force one by big Albert at this point. His slash line for the series, .538/.571/.769, is "Manny Ramirez in the 2008 NLCS" all over again.

The key is controlling Allen Craig before him and Lance Berkman/David Freese after him. In 2008, Manny was smashing doubles off the wall and dingers into the seats with nearly every at-bat, but he never had anyone on in front of him or hitting behind him. One slugger -- unless you're Ben Francisco -- rarely wins a baseball game by himself. And while Albert is mashing, he has only two NLDS runs and one RBI to his name. If Oswalt can keep that up, he'll bring home the game and the series.

I told Phillies fans not to worry two weeks ago, I mentioned it again yesterday afternoon, and I'm telling you once more right now: Do not worry. When the Phillies get into an elimination game, I'll get a little nervous. But even the best teams don't always sweep their opponents, especially when they're as pesky and talented as St. Louis.

It shouldn't matter after tonight anyway, as the Phillies have their foot on St. Louis' throat. Every ball the Cardinals put into play drops for a hit; every ball the Phillies smoke gets snagged by a Cardinals defender; their "ace" for the series absolutely decimated the Philadelphia offense for six innings yesterday...and they still lost. Their would-be savior is Edwin Jackson, but his career xFIP isn't much better than Kyle Kendrick's (4.38 versus 4.65). He's a back-end rotation guy, and a righty to boot. He can get wild; he can be knocked around.

A good team (and the Phillies are a very good team) will smell blood in the water and feast. This isn't like facing the Giants last year, a buzzsaw of a team with a hot offense and aces on the mound. This is a solid foe that's just a little bit worse than the Phillies, and it's starting to show. I predicted the Phillies in 4, and I'm still very much expecting some champagne to be sprayed tonight in St. Louis.

Leaving the Eagles behind?

2011-10-04T11:26:00.001-04:00

I watched the Philadelphia Eagles on Sunday at a sports bar in Boston. The bar had two giant TVs, one showing Steelers/Texans and the other showing Lions/Cowboys. The Eagles game was off to the left, on a screen one-fourth the size. But rather than ask to switch seats or change channels, I kept getting caught up in the other games, forgetting to look over and check the score. I ended up leaving with 12 minutes left in the fourth quarter to catch a flight back to DC.

Granted, it was one of the worst games of the Andy Reid era, an unmitigated disaster that has even the most level-headed Eagles fans up in arms. But as recently as a few years ago, this would have felt like an act of treason.

Late in high school and throughout college, from August to January I would live and breathe Eagles football. I was at the Vet for the Wild Card game in 2002 when the Eagles took down the Buccaneers 31-9, and I witnessed the backbreaking loss to Carolina in the 2003 NFC Championship Game with mine own two eyes.

Nowadays, though? I'd just as soon sit down with Scott Hanson and his wonderful NFL RedZone channel than suffer through a boring Eagles loss. If that makes me a traitor, well, I apologize for preferring a better form of entertainment.

For example, the Eagles melted down in the fourth quarter of a Week 3 showdown with the Giants and basically handed them a victory. Normally, this would be enough to ruin my day. But instead, my roommate and I switched over to RedZone and watched the underdog Bills battle back to defeat the hated Patriots. Rather than bitch and moan about the Eagles all afternoon, I savored the great ending of this meaningless (to me) game.

If I was watching a random football game and it stunk, I'd change the channel. I'm just now expanding that idea to include my own team.

A few years ago, I saw a guy in an NFL Starter jacket walking down the streets of Boston. No team; just NFL colors and a giant league logo on the back. I instantly texted this information to a few of my friends and we made fun of him for a while; why didn't he just pick a franchise to root for? Did he just cheer for every game to be fun and every player to have a good time? What a weirdo.

But now, I think I understand where he was coming from. For whatever reason, I can't get into the Eagles like I used to. And it's not because I'm frustrated with Andy Reid or the defense or Mike Vick or anything having to this with this particular Eagles squad; I felt this coming on way before Week 1, which was back when this year's team was still full of promise and not leaking gas at a tremendous rate. I'm just low on Eagles passion, and I don't know if it'll ever return. I must begrudgingly admit to becoming more of an NFL fan and less of an Eagles fan. Someone buy me a new jacket.

I still love the Flyers, and especially the Phillies, with all my heart. When they lose a big game, I'm crushed. But when the Eagles lose, I can just flip the channel. I won't sit through Brewers/Diamondbacks or Blue Jackets/Coyotes, but I do get a great deal of pleasure from Packers/Cardinals. And even though it sounds weird to admit, this doesn't bother me anymore. I guess I'll find out down the line whether this is really time to move on.

Don't worry about the Philadelphia Phillies.

2011-09-23T11:21:00.001-04:00

Yes, the Philadelphia Phillies did just get swept in a four-game series by the Washington Nationals.

Yes, Beerleaguer pointed out earlier this week that over the last 10 years, "only two teams have struggled down the stretch and gone on to win the World Series."

And yes, famed Phillies blogger Zoo With Roy's (possibly incorrect) playoff calculations have John Bowker's squad being unexpected eliminated from postseason contention after last night's stinkfest. Good year, gang.

This is all causing some fans to remove their belts and set up chairs under low-hanging ceiling beams. But I'm here to tell you that, this year, late September baseball and early October baseball could not be more different, and the Phillies know that as well as anybody.

Almost everyone on this team's been to the Big Dance before; a lot of the core already took home rings in 2008. They all understand the importance, and the urgency, of every playoff game, and I can't imagine that they'll come out slacking when it's Division Series time.

So what if the hitters can't hit right now? They're running Pete Orr, Ross Gload, John Bowker and the walking, talking corpse of Chase Utley out there every night. I'm amazed the Nats didn't shut them out for the series. Meanwhile, Jimmy Rollins is (hopefully) getting his swagger back, Hunter Pence is finally enjoying some much-needed rest and Ryan Howard should be ready to go after that nice big cortisone shot was jammed into his injured ankle.

Anyway, this team is built around starting pitching. Roy Oswalt said last night was the "best he's felt all season," and Cole Hamels, Roy Halladay and Cliff Lee all appear to be healthy. With the steady Vance Worley and Kyle Kendrick strengthening Ryan Madson and his suddenly shaky bullpen cohorts, innings 1-9 should be in good shape.

Utley (.174 in September with 1 home run) and Antonio Bastardo (6 earned runs in 8 September appearances) are certainly question marks, but those are individual issues, not team ones. We can only hope that Utley's issues at the plate are mechanical, not injury-related, and that someone like Joe Savery can unexpectedly contribute in October if the previously wonderful Bastardo continues to falter.

Basically, this "slump" is being blown wildly out of proportion. As the Philadelphia Flyers have proven in the past, being talented isn't a cure-all when your team's in shambles. The Phillies aren't in shambles, though; they -- probably inspired by their manager and his "whatever" lineup choices -- are choosing not to show up for utterly meaningless regular season games. It's not exactly what we'd like to see as fans, but it's also not indicative of what this team is really all about.

Charlie Manuel apparently plans to play his starters starting Saturday, which will give them five games to get their sea legs back and five days to calm the stomachs of overreacting fans. Then they'll run into the Milwaukee Brewers or the Arizona Diamondbacks in the NLDS, two top-heavy teams that shouldn't pose too much of a challenge to the deeper, savvier boys from Philadelphia.

And if, God forbid, they do lose in the first round, it'll be because of Prince Fielder, Ryan Braun and Zack Greinke. Or Ian Kennedy, Justin Upton and Miguel Montero. Not because the Phillies backups couldn't hit Brad Peacock on a Thursday night in late September.

So far, the Phillies have spent 2011 proving that they're a veteran squad with a burning desire to win and a taste for the theatrical. If it turns out that they have somehow lost their competitive fire after scuffling through a week of irrelevant baseball, well, they didn't deserve to win a championship in the first place.

Kershaw, Halladay or Lee?

2011-09-19T13:54:00.001-04:00

19-5, 2.30 ERA, 0.98 WHIP. 236 strikeouts. 159 ERA+, 5 complete games, 2 shutouts.

18-5, 2.34 ERA, 1.04 WHIP. 211 strikeouts. 165 ERA+, 8 complete games, 1 shutout.

16-7, 2.38 ERA, 1.02 WHIP. 223 strikeouts. 163 ERA +, 6 complete games, 6 shutouts.

Clayton Kershaw, Roy Halladay, Cliff Lee. Who's the NL Cy Young?

You could make a case for any of them. Kershaw's numbers are just a smidge better overall, but Halladay's adding yet another excellent season to his veteran resume (and holds the lead in Baseball-Reference.com's WAR for pitchers statistic) and Lee's enjoyed a few lengthy stretches where he's absolutely unhittable.

There's been a lot of talk this fall about what "most valuable" means, but -- for whatever reason -- the Cy Young award isn't handed out like the MVP. It goes to the best pitcher, not the most important to his team's success.

With that in mind, does the winner have to be Kershaw? He's allowing 6.8 hits per 9 innings, behind only Justin Verlander and Josh Beckett for tops in baseball, and he'll end up winning 20 games and taking home the National League strikeout crown. Hard to argue with numbers like that.

But will Halladay's veteran presence sway voters? He's not as flashy as Kershaw, Lee or even Cole Hamels, but he's consistently excellent every single year. There's something to be said for leading the National League in complete games at age 34, having a few Cy Young awards already on the shelf and owning unquestioned "head ace" status on baseball's best team with the best rotation, even if that kind of stature is unquantifiable.

And how about Lee's brilliance? Shutout streaks of 34 and 31 innings, not to mention his 10-0 record and 0.33 ERA in the months of June and August combined. And that all, of course, came after a rocky April that left Lee's ERA at an un-Cliff-like 4.18. It's been sinking like a stone since. Talk about a good free-agent signing.

It has to be one of the closest races in recent memory. Here are some of the statistics where Kershaw, Lee and Halladay all rank in (at least) the National League's top 5:

WAR for pitchers, ERA, wins, win-loss percentage, WHIP, innings pitched, complete games, shutouts, K/BB ratio, ERA+

And that's not even counting adjusted pitching runs, adjusted pitching wins and a boatload of other fun sabermetric statistics that I don't quite understand.

Still, at the end of the day -- and barring an epic collapse tonight versus the St. Louis Cardinals -- Roy Halladay will win his third, and probably final, Cy Young. Even if Kershaw ends up first in numerous categories, the voters won't ignore Doc's contributions to both a sterling Phillies team and baseball in general. This'll be one last hurrah for one of the best pitchers of the last two decades.

The future belongs to Kershaw, Hamels, Tim Lincecum and maybe even Ian Kennedy. They've got a bunch more award opportunities ahead. But 2011? This is one more year for the Doc.

Debating the American League MVP race.

2011-09-01T15:03:00.000-04:00

I'm a National League man. Always have been, always will be. As a Philadelphia Phillies fan, it's pretty much the only way to go.

But I'm also extremely intrigued by this year's American League MVP race. You can make a case for a half-dozen players, and there's one horse in particular that I feel should be an out-and-out favorite. But what do I know?! I don't really watch the other league's games.

So I started up a little email exchange with my good friend Matt Kakley -- diehard Boston sports fan and award-winning reporter at the Sun Chronicle in Attleboro, Massachusetts -- to get his take on who really deserves the award. It's kinda like what Bill Simmons and Jonah Keri did on Grantland a few days ago, only...better.

King Myno: So, young Matthew, I think I can guess which direction you'll lean in this email exchange. As a Boston Red Sox fan, there's no doubt in my mind that you feel Dustin Pedroia and Jacoby Ellsbury are the leading candidates for 2011 American League MVP.

And you might not be wrong; Ellsbury and Pedroia are second and third in Baseball-Reference's WAR for AL position players. Ellsbury's second in baseball in runs, fourth in steals, fourteenth in average and fifth in hits. Meanwhile, Pedroia's .867 OPS is barely underneath the .869 OPS that won him the MVP award in 2008. In fact, his OPS+ is even higher this year (135 versus 122).

But if you're gonna choose either of them based on numbers, then it's crazy to ignore what Jose Bautista has done in Toronto. First in WAR. First in OPS (by a mile). First in homers, first in slugging percentage, first in on-base percentage.

Obviously J-Bats isn't powering a World Series contender like the Red Sox, but I don't think that should count for too much this time around. When a hitter puts up an amazing year like Bautista's, he deserves to take home the trophy.

Matt Kakley: Am I reading King Myno's Court or FanGraphs? I should have known you'd jump on WAR and the other sabermetrics statistics, but sometimes they don't tell the whole story.

Let's do a little breakdown of your boy Bautista: 31 first half homers to go with a .334 batting average. Wonderful. But since the All-Star break, his numbers have plummeted: only 8 homers and a .256 batting average. I'd like to see my MVP show a bit more consistency. He's also way behind in the RBI race, but I'll credit that more to the terribleness of the non-Bautista Jays.

Also, can it really be ignored that Bautista is doing what he does for a fourth-place team? If a tree falls in Toronto, does it make a sound? While I don't think a player should be completely hampered by the team they happen to play for, I think an MVP needs to have incredible numbers if he's going to get past that. Bautista's numbers, while very good, are simply not incredible.

I, for one, find what Adrian Gonzalez and Curtis Granderson in the heat of a pennant race much more compelling.

KM: Adrian Gonzalez is one hell of a baseball player, but is he even the best hitter on his own team? Baseball-Reference.com has him in eighth in AL Offensive WAR, tied with Alex Gordon and behind Ben Zobrist; Jacoby and Dusty are tied for for fourth. His .953 OPS is stellar, but his teammate David Ortiz is second in the American League with a .993 OPS. Speaking of which, where's all the MVP support for Big Papi?

Gonzo's been a wonderful addition to the Red Sox -- especially when held up against Carl Crawford's lost season -- but he's not the Most Valuable Player. I think others have proven far more valuable.

Such as Curtis Granderson. You're right; if anyone's going to truly compete with Bautista for the award, it's Grandy. Going from .247/.324/.468 to .273/.375/.584 is nothing short of spectacular, and the career .226 hitter versus lefties has miraculously upped that average to .278 this season. 38 homers, 24 steals, 107 runs; this is everything Yankees fans were hoping for and more. I'll step aside from my beloved sabermetrics for a moment and say that the Yankees would not be where they are without Granderson. Does that make him MVP? You can make an extremely strong case.

And as to your point on Bautista, it is a full-season award, but I think his second-half slump just accentuates how dominating the first half really was. He was literally unbeatable at the plate, like Manny Ramirez in the 2008 NLCS, and he's still going to end the season with extraordinary numbers. Toronto is in fourth place, true, but they might be the worst team in baseball without Bautista's contributions. After all, the award isn't "Most Valuable Player on a Contending Team," although sometimes people like you make that incorrect assumption.

MK: I love that you included Zobrist as a way to put Gonzo down. If anything, his placement on the list shows the fickleness of the WAR stat. Would anyone really trade Ben's season for Gonzo's? At a certain point, you have to put aside the sabers and look at the actual product on the field. Should we get into a UZR discussion?

WAR puts too much stock in the way someone compares to others at his position; first base is, and always has been, incredibly deep. But the same way you want to discount a player's team success, you also can't hold a player hostage because he plays a loaded position. Would we be having this argument if Gonzo was putting up the numbers as a shortstop?

Is Gonzo the best hitter on the Red Sox? Absolutely. In fact, I think he might be the best all-around player in baseball right now, with Pujols finally showing signs of not being a robot. But this isn't a "best baseball player" contest, it's for this year and this year only, and maybe his "value" in 2011 is slightly diminished by the success of his teammates.

It seems like we're getting towards Grandy being the guy, though I immediately throw out any comparisons to his 2010 season. This is a yearly award, not a Most Improved Odor trophy. The numbers he's put up while essentially teaming with CC Sabathia to carry the Yankees to the postseason (hopefully as a wild card) might be the most impressive thing I've seen in the AL this year. And, believe me, that's tough to say as a Sox fan.

And I assume we're just not entertaining the thought of a Verlander MVP, because that would be as silly as Shane Victorino for NL MVP.

In any event, I think it's a two-horse race between Grandy and Gonzo, with Grandy firmly in the lead and a month left to play. Plus, shouldn't it always come down to the Sox and the Yanks?

KM: The only people that want it to come down to the Sox and the Yankees are Sox and Yankees fans. The rest of us want it to come down to the Phillies...or maybe the Rangers.

I have a feeling that, in the weeks leading up to the AL MVP announcement, Jose Bautista's campaign is going to be fueled almost entirely by the white-hot fire of the Internet. Much like Felix Hernandez in 2010, new-age baseball scholars and sabermetricians are going to trumpet his achievements throughout the land and demand that he be crowned as ruler of baseball.

And hopefully, also like King Felix, it'll work and he'll win.

I thought that Sabathia would take home the Cy Young last year. In fact, you and I made a bet over that very award. Even after Zack Greinke's victory in 2009, I didn't think baseball writers had it in them to vote for a 13-12 starter over a 21-7 pitcher, no matter how dominant.

They proved me wrong, however, and I think that it'll carry over into 2011. If it's anybody from a playoff contender, it'll be Grandy -- the Red Sox will probably all cancel each other out -- but Jose Bautista and his beefy OPS deserve award recognition. Call it a "season-and-a-half" award if you must, but I think what Bautista's done to turn his career around is going to be acknowledged. And if it is Bautista, I dare any real baseball fans to complain.

But a pitcher for MVP? Come on. No one's that crazy.

Shane Victorino for MVP? Shane Victorino for MVP.

2011-08-24T11:03:00.006-04:00

Before 2011, Shane Victorino's best on-base percentage was .358 in 2009. It's .389 this year, good for eighth in the National League. Hunter Pence's OBP, by comparison, is a mere .365. Fellow centerfielder Michael Bourn is way down at .360.

Shane's best slugging percentage was previously .447 in 2008. He's currently at .551, which is fifth in the NL. Better than Mike Stanton and his 30 homers; better than Michael Morse and his 30 doubles; better than Albert Pujols, Troy Tulowitzki, Joey Votto and Jay Bruce.

His 14 triples are a career-best, and he's 4 homers away from tying a career-best in that category, too.

And he's done it all in only 385 at-bats! Couple that with Gold Glove defense and, oh yeah, being the top hitter on the best team in baseball, and you have the resume of a legitimate MVP candidate.

Unfortunately, Shane won't win the award. Prince Fielder has a .300/.413/.552 slash line for another National League playoff lock, the Milwaukee Brewers, and his teammate Ryan Braun is sporting an equally impressive .328/.399/.586 line himself. Even if they split the vote, 23-year-old Justin Upton's .915 OPS for an unexpected contender in Arizona would probably win the day.

But Victorino deserves a top-5 finish and the kudos that comes with a top season, and only recently has the much-deserved, Shane-oriented groundswell begun. As this post from ESPN's SweetSpot blog shows, there's really not much difference between Shane's season and Jacoby Ellsbury's dynamic year at the plate in Boston. Yet Ellsbury is receiving boatloads of praise for his maturation into an all-around hitter, while Shane toils in obscurity. Well, as obscure as gets when you're the centerfielder for one of baseball's big three teams.

While 13 steals and 9 homers in only 294 at-bats is very impressive, there's no doubt that Chase Utley is on the decline. Ryan Howard's 96 RBIs don't exactly make up for an .820 OPS, the lowest of his career. Jimmy Rollins put up top-5 shortstop numbers for a few months before suffering another inevitable lower-body injury. Placido Polanco and Raul Ibanez are breaking down before our eyes.

But, almost out of nowhere, Shane Victorino has become a patient, smart hitter, powering an inconsistent Phillies offense and providing a rotation of studs with just enough runs to take a commanding NL East lead.

The addition of Pence and the emergence of John Mayberry Jr. have taken some of the pressure off, but the Phillies owe a great deal of whatever offensive success they've had this year to Victorino. If that's not an MVP, I don't know what is.

The utter irrelevance of the NFL preseason.

2011-08-19T15:52:00.003-04:00

Nothing is more irrelevant than the NFL preseason.

A bunch of Phillies fans freaked out earlier this week when Charlie Manuel's long leash led to Roy Halladay blowing a lead in the 9th inning of a game with the Arizona Diamondbacks. These folks were ridiculous; Halladay had struck out the side in the 8th inning, and he's second in Major League Baseball with seven complete games. Besides, it's only one game out of 162.

But at least they were riled up by a legitimate regular season match-up, and with playoff implications to boot. People who blow a gasket over a football team's preseason outings are considerably more absurd, and we're seeing them come out of the woodwork after the Eagles' poor showing last night in Pittsburgh.

Is it heartening to see Michael Vick flounder, to see the Steelers run wild all over Juan Castillo's defense? Not at all. But does it really, truly matter? Not in the slightest.

Preseason games are glorified scrimmages. Just because the NFL turns on the cameras, charges season ticket holders full price and ships Troy Aikman and Joe Buck out to commentate doesn't make them any more legitimate. The players hate the games, the fans are bored out of their minds, most of the coaches are just going through the motions. They're a necessary evil perpetuated by a sports conglomerate intend on wringing every dollar out of our pockets...but they mean extremely little, perhaps nothing, when it comes to your team's immediate future.

If your team looks like it stinks, that's OK. Maybe they're testing out new packages, or keeping some of the better ones under wraps until the games start to matter. Or maybe they just came off a lengthy lockout, overhauled a good portion of their defense and brought in a new coordinator who's still working out the kinks. Maybe they were playing another elite team that seems to place more of an emphasis on strong preseason play. Maybe one of their best wideouts is recovering from a health scare, and maybe the team's top two run-stopping defensive tackles didn't even touch the field. There are a hundred different variables at play here, and the only assumption I would not draw from any them is "the Eagles are suddenly not a good team."

As noted many times before, preseason record doesn't reflect regular season success. If I attended a poor Vick practice at training camp in the Lehigh Valley, I'd pay it the same mind as a poor preseason outing. There's really no difference, besides playing at a fancy stadium in another city. Now, if Vick had sucked all training camp and preseason, or if, say, the offensive line had looked gross for a month straight, that's cause for concern. But don't take anything you saw last night and extrapolate that throughout the upcoming year. That's a waste of time.

The number one goal of the preseason is to survive. Limiting injuries whenever possible is key, which is why the starters never play more than a half. If a team is lucky, they'll weed out a few valuable special teams players from the bottom of the roster. Sometimes a backup might outperform a starter and move up the depth chart. But that's about it. There's no need to compete with opposing teams, no need to try anything special. Save that shit for the regular season.

Believe nothing you see in the preseason. Enjoy the fact that real football is around the corner, but don't overreact to what's happening on the field. The Eagles may not become the team we're all hoping to see, but the time to worry about that is after Week 1, not Week -3.

What's wrong with Adrian Gonzalez?

2011-08-19T11:19:00.002-04:00

A lot is going right in Boston. Erik Bedard has pitched well, John Lackey continues to drastically improve, Jacoby Ellsbury is doing his "young Barry Bonds" impression and the Red Sox are even turning triple plays!

Yet even with these individual steps forward, it still feels like the team as a whole is taking a step back. After ending July with a 20-6 record, they are a mediocre 9-8 in August. Injuries are are sidelining or hobbling the likes of Clay Buchholz, Marco Scutaro, Kevin Youkilis and David Ortiz; Tim Wakefield has been stuck on 199 wins for weeks; and Carl Crawford apparently forgot that he is supposed to be really good. But the point of greatest concern might be Adrian Gonzalez.

Gonzo still has wonderful numbers -- he's among the American League leaders in average, hits, RBIs, on-base percentage and OPS -- but he hasn't been himself lately. From June until the middle of July, he was on an absolute tear. Pitchers would really sweat trying to get him out. And if there was a runner in scoring position? He was coming around. Adrian was the man you wanted at the dish in a key spot.

Since the Home Run Derby, however, things haven't been the same. Gonzalez has sickeningly few extra-base hits or RBIs. It's not that he isn't hitting at all; it's that he is just smacking singles with no one onboard. With other players, that wouldn't be the worst thing, but Gonzo isn't like other players: Few men in baseball are slower than him.

I'd like a dollar for every time I've heard "a long single for Gonzalez." The Red Sox have grounded into an AL-worst 110 double plays this year, and Gonzo and his lack of speed are no small part of that. Not only is he failing to slug or drive in runs, but now he's creating outs.

It's hard to say if the Derby screwed up his swing, as if often does with line drive hitters, or if an injury has been the issue. Gonzalez plays nearly every inning of the season, but he has missed a few games recently to stiffness in his neck; Terry Francona admitted that this may be sapping his power. Regardless, he doesn't look like an MVP right now; Ellsbury and Dustin Pedroia have leapt ahead of Gonzalez in the WAR rankings.

But with their recent injuries, including Youk's DL stint, the Red Sox need him to be that MVP. He's the number-three hitter, he makes the lineup work. Whatever's wrong with him needs to improve, because right now it's the offense that looks weak. And this team was built to hit; built around Adrian Gonzalez.

Would you trade Domonic Brown for Logan Morrison?

2011-08-16T13:01:00.004-04:00

Because I sure would.

And before I get bombarded with accusations of being a "Domonic Brown hater," let me lay out some facts.

Logan Morrison's about to turn 24 years old (he's nine days older than Brown). He hit .283/.390/.447 for the Marlins in 2010; he was hitting .249/.327/.464 before last weekend's surprise demotion. His career OPS is .810; Brown's is .699. And he followed up 2010's two homers with an unexpected 17 in 2011; there could be some sneaky power developing in Mr. Morrison's bat.

He started playing left field full-time this season -- the same job Brown is presumed to snag in 2012 -- and while LoMo's not the best defensive outfielder in the game, Dom's made more than a few gaffes himself out in the field.

Simply put, Logan Morrison's proven to be a very effective big league player. Dom Brown, albeit in less than half the at-bats, has not. If the Phillies recognize that striking now trumps planning for later -- and every move they've made recently indicates that they do -- swapping Brown for a smart hitter like LoMo would make sense.

It's all but a certainty that the Marlins will move Morrison in the offseason; he's too talented to stash in AAA, and he's seemingly burned too many bridges in Miami. Hell, you might be able to get him for less than Dom. But if the opportunity arises, Ruben Amaro Jr. would be foolish not to consider moving his top prospect in a one-for-one swap.

Morrison appears to come equipped with a fiery, outspoken attitude, which is often admired in Philadelphia. His love of Twitter has been well-documented, but he wisely doesn't seem nervous about taking those thoughts beyond the Internet. LoMo's fired a few (more than justified) shots at teammate Hanley Ramirez this season, even though it's not often wise to criticize the team's star (an issue that can apparently be resolved with a demotion to AAA).

Whether he was consciously trying to get out of town or merely commenting on a loafing teammate, that kind of honesty will get you somewhere in Philly. And with a bevy of veterans in the locker room, it's doubtful that LoMo would ever get out of hand. Chase Utley's dreamy-yet-icy stare would be enough to make any ballplayer put down his iPhone and get over to the cages.

If the response to Hunter Pence's outgoing personality and skilled hitting is any indication, Logan Morrison would fit in Philadelphia like a glove. Just another thing to think about when the calendar switches over to 2012.

Death to Cain and Lincecum.

2011-08-08T21:19:00.004-04:00

The Philadelphia Phillies cannot hit Tim Lincecum and Matt Cain.

To be fair, nor can most Major League Baseball teams. Lincecum has a career 2.98 ERA, 1.17 WHIP and .222 batting average against. Cain has a 3.39 ERA, 1.20 WHIP and .228 BAA. They've shut down their fair share of offensive juggernauts, and the 2011 Phillies (seventh in the National League in runs scored) aren't exactly that.

But the Phillies' woes against these two right-handers are getting to be more than just your typical struggles at the plate. An absolute gem from Cole Hamels was needed to overpower an almost equally excellent Cain on Saturday, and Lincecum easily shut them down on Sunday afternoon. It's a bummer to nitpick a 9-1 stretch and 3-1 series win over the defending champions, but this otherwise-wonderful journey to the West Coast was also a reminder that the road to a title probably goes through San Francisco's dual aces.

And what a bumpy road that'll be. Ryan Howard is 6 for 26 with 11 Ks versus Lincecum. Raul Ibanez is 1 for 16. Hunter Pence is 3 for 26; Chase Utley is 4 for 27. Howard is 2 for 16 against Cain. Shane Victorino is 3 for 13. Ibanez is 1 for 8.

Being unable to hit two of the 10 or 15 best starters in baseball is usually not that big of a deal. But in a seven-game series, as Phillies fans noticed last October, it can be deadly.

If push came to shove, I'd take Roy Halladay, Cliff Lee and Cole Hamels over Tim Lincecum, Matt Cain and the unexpectedly resurgent Ryan Vogelsong. Hell, I'd even consider Vance Worley over Madison Bumgarner. But it's not as easy as "my top four starters are a little better than your top four starters, so we win." If it were, the Phillies would take every series.

In order to beat the Giants -- unless Jonathan "Vile Thing" Sanchez or Barry Zito are on the mound -- the Phillies need to literally shut them out. San Francisco's offense is just pitiful enough to make that a reality, but a few missteps and another crazy week from someone like Cody Ross might be all they need.

We know exactly what the Phillies are: shutdown starters, strong relievers and middle-of-the-pack hitters that tag losers but wilt against studs. And we know what the Giants are: awful hitters, solid bullpen arms and a top-heavy rotation. But their heavies have Philadelphia hitters, especially Ryan Howard, tied in knots.

So how might the Phillies overcome this obstacle? Reinvent themselves as an offense...or root for the half-game-out Arizona Diamondbacks. For the next 40 days, we should all pray at the altar of Justin Upton, Miguel Montero and Ian Kennedy. Stranger things have happened, and it would certainly make October a lot easier.

All your corners are belong to us.

2011-08-01T10:14:00.002-04:00

Upon hearing that the Philadelphia Eagles had signed Nnamdi Asomugha, the first thing I thought of was Cliff Lee.

When the Philadelphia Phillies traded for Roy Halladay in December of 2009, there was much rejoicing. "Three aces," everyone thought. "No one will be able to withstand Halladay, Lee and Cole Hamels in the postseason."

But then news trickled out that Lee had been dealt to Seattle, partly to "restock the cupboard" with prospects and partly to save a little bit of money.

In moving Lee, general manager Ruben Amaro Jr. bet that two aces would be enough. He was wrong, and while he corrected that error in judgment by acquiring Roy Oswalt (and bringing Lee back in the offseason), it took a lot of time and more than a little luck to put it all back together.

And that's where Andy Reid, Howie Roseman and Joe Banner are at now. Asomugha and Dominique Rodgers-Cromartie make it three Pro Bowl-caliber cornerbacks on the Eagles roster, but you can only start two. Will the Eagles trade Asante Samuel, or will they sit back and enjoy the mess of talent they've assembled in the defensive backfield?

This comprehensive blog post from Philly.com's Sheil Kapadia outlines the value in keeping Samuel. According to Kapadia (and Football Outsiders):

The Eagles had to cover three or more receivers 47% of the time in 2010.
The Green Bay Packers played with three or more receivers 60% of the time.

So there should be opportunities to play three top corners, especially on a team with Super Bowl aspirations. And the additions of Jason Babin and Cullen Jenkins, under the the tutelage of fiery Jim Washburn, should increase the pressure on opposing quarterbacks and make the secondary's job even easier. A trio of studs would clean up back there.

Mostly, I think it's tough to end up with an embarrassment of riches at one position -- especially a key one -- and then revert back to just "very good." Amaro tried to win and plan for the future by swapping out Lee for Halladay; it blew up in his face. Do Reid and Roseman want to risk making the same mistake?

A lot can happen over the course of 16 NFL games, and the Eagles would be wise to start this march to the Super Bowl with an abundance of ammunition. You never know when you're gonna need it.

Why I'd trade Domonic Brown for Hunter Pence.

2011-07-29T11:09:00.007-04:00

Domonic Brown is 23 years old. He's batting .247 with 5 homers and 18 RBIs in 2011. His .338 on-base percentage is equal to Ryan Howard's and ahead of Jimmy Rollins'. He also sees 4.08 pitches per plate appearance, good for 34th amongst players with 200 or more plate appearances (ahead of Andrew McCutchen and the aforementioned Mr. Howard). He was Keith Law's third-ranked prospect coming into the season.

Hunter Pence is 28 years old. He's batting .309 with 11 homers and 61 RBIs in 2011. His .356 on-base percentage ranks 50th amongst qualified major league hitters, which would place him behind only Chase Utley, Shane Victorino and Carlos Ruiz on the Phillies, and he's a two-time All-Star who is under team control until 2013.

I love Domonic Brown. Not as much as Mike Meech does, but close. That being said, I'd trade him for Hunter Pence.

Editor's note: This is implying a straight-up Brown-for-Pence deal, not any of these psychotic three-for-one offers that are suddenly popping up all over the Internet.

Domonic Brown will grow up to become a successful baseball player -- probably a very good one -- but the Phillies are stuck; they need to win now. Jimmy Rollins, Chase Utley and Ryan Howard, while still productive, have seen their best days. Placido Polanco, Roy Halladay and Cliff Lee aren't getting any younger. Roy Oswalt, Raul Ibanez and Brad Lidge are all on the way out the door.

It's not an old team, but it's not a young one either, and it could use a jolt. Charlie Manuel, in particular, has been vocal about his desire to add another slugger to the order, preferably a right-handed one; the Phillies as a whole are batting .237 versus left-handed pitching and .242 as right-handed batters. Pence is probably the best bat on the market, especially considering that he's not a rental.

Ruben Amaro Jr. is not a particularly patient man. For better or worse, he tends to sets the market price for free agents by jumping on desired players like Raul Ibanez and Placido Polanco as soon as possible. He also doomed anyone interested in Albert Pujols and Prince Fielder this offseason by locking up Ryan Howard with a large, lengthy (and probably unwise) extension.

So the fact that he's waiting on Pence, that he hasn't consented to move Brown yet, tells me he's not particularly interested in the Astros' demands. He must think that Ed Wade will crack and decide that Jonathan Singleton and Jarred Cosart are a reasonable return for the outfielder.

And maybe he will; Ed Wade's made his fair share of bad trades before. But if Houston doesn't bite, I think the Phillies should concede. Amaro's aggressiveness, for the most part, has paid off thus far (Lee and Halladay have been pretty cool), and he knows Ben Francisco and John Mayberry can't be the only right-handed outfield "threats" on a championship contender.

Time to pull the trigger, Rube. Top prospects come and go, but championships last forever.

What he meant is that Dry Island is actually a peninsula!

2011-07-26T20:32:00.006-04:00

By now, most Philadelphia Flyers fans have heard about the Dry Island controversy that unexpectedly emerged in yesterday's Philadelphia Daily News.

Mike Richards said "it wasn't a big deal." Peter Laviolette admitted that he meant to focus his new team on a deep playoff run (and it worked; the Flyers went to the Stanley Cup Finals). Paul Holmgren basically told everyone to shut the fuck up. And, as it often does, talk radio rumbled with a bevy of assorted opinions.

All this begs the question, "Who cares?" The 1993 Philadelphia Phillies were beloved for their partying ways, and the Flyers of the 1970s were a rowdy bunch that drank (heavily) with their own fans.

I think it's because, in the eyes of many, Richards and Carter never "earned" that kind of respect. Even after appearances in the Eastern Conference Finals and Stanley Cup Finals, they were still seen as pretty-boy millionaires who cared more about the bar afterwards than they did about the game. While both became top NHL players, they never matured into superstars (and some would make the case that neither one wanted that kind of pressure).

Normally, I'd classify that kind of thinking as "beyond stupid." Carter was a 35-goal scorer in a league where those no longer grow on trees, and Richards was the kind of hard-nosed player that Philadelphia normally adores. Superstars? No. But incredibly valuable hockey players. It's the sort of rambling you'd expect from older, blue-collar hockey fans who can't really relate to the handsome, rich young men they're cheering for every night.

But after watching how the 2010-2011 Flyers ended their season -- with an epic collapse that still reminds me of the 2007 New York Mets -- I'm tempted to agree. Not because Richards and Carter personally ruined the team, not because their partying impacted their performance, but because there had to be scapegoats. Heads needed to roll, and it was time to blame the leaders.

The Flyers were unquestionably the best team in the league...and then they weren't. And rumors about that were what bothered me; no one really blamed Laviolette, no one really blamed Holmgren, no one even really blamed the Chris Pronger injury. Sure, the goalie controversy was a disaster, but where was the gritty play? Where was the forechecking, where were the pumping legs? Pretty much nonexistent for months on end, and that's what ultimately killed the Flyers. Either they totally ran out of steam...or it was something worse.

The mini-meltdown was embarrassing, and it wasn't unprecedented. The past few seasons of Flyers hockey have featured similarly painful slumps, just never on such a grand scale, in front of such a large audience. And with the arguably still-immature Richards and Carter about to be locked into gigantic contracts with no-trade clauses -- whether they were hurting their careers with drugs and alcohol or not -- was another disaster something you wanted to risk happening again? Were they the right guys to lead?

So now Richards and Carter ply their trades elsewhere, and we'll continue to learn about all the "horrible" things they did. They were apparently "drinking heavily on painkillers." A friend of a friend of a guy I know told me post-trade that the two "loved cocaine." Everyone with the Internet has seen photos like these.

None of it matters anymore, but it does make you wonder about what could have been. Do the Flyers win the Stanley Cup if Richards and Carter give up vodka? Will things be that much different without them? Only time, as they say, may tell.

The Sox at the deadline.

2011-07-21T18:58:00.002-04:00

With the All-Star Game behind us and the Philadelphia Phillies -- I mean, the National League -- having secured home-field advantage in the World Series, it's time for every team to prepare for the second half and muster their reinforcements.

The AL East is a two-headed monster, and it's very likely that both heads will reach the postseason. Were there a greater gap between the Yankees and the Red Sox, perhaps Boston might stand pat at the trade deadline. But the overachieving Yankees continue to play well, which may force Theo Epstein into making a move.

Interestingly, though, the Red Sox don't have a lot of weaknesses. They have baseball's most powerful offense, a strong bullpen and three top starters. The rotation would seem to be the weakest point, given that all three of those top pitchers have lost time to injuries, but Josh Beckett returned strong and Jon Lester is due back very shortly. Clay Buchholz has been out much longer than expected, but the patchwork quartet of Tim Wakefield, Andrew Miller, Kyle Weiland and John Lackey have kept the team afloat, thanks in great part to thunderous offensive support.

And who's available, anyway? Epstein and every other GM with brainwaves have been kicking the tires on Ubaldo Jimenez, but the Colorado Rockies would demand a king's ransom. Hiroki Kuroda doesn't want to leave the Dodgers, and bringing back Derek "DUI" Lowe would be silly. Jeremy Guthrie? Doug Fister? The Sox can probably do better with the pieces they already have.

Right field, however, is an interesting area. It's the only position of below-average production on the team, or at least it was until the emergence of Josh Reddick. Reddick has always been a player of high potential, but he looked overwhelmed while sucking down his previous few cups of coffee. His mental approach kept him in the minors, until this year when, as Theo Epstein put it, "the light went on." His .378/.432/.671 slash line -- with 4 dingers and 18 RBIs in only 82 at-bats -- no longer sounds like a weakness to me.

Reddick, of course, would be replacing J.D. Drew, who Sox fans have been all over since he arrived. Yes, he seems very overpaid, but I'd argue that his first few years in Boston were worthy of such a contract. Plus, his defense has always been outstanding.

But I can't defend him this year; Drew has been flat-out awful. I just wait patiently until he grounds out to second; if he comes up with men on, I pray for a walk. He has hit .223/.321/.309 with 4 homers and 22 RBIs in 233 ABs. Think about that. Reddick's batting average is higher than Drew's OBP in a fraction of the at-bats. If there was a J.D. Drew era, it's officially come to an end.

There are other options: Carlos Beltran is known to be available, Hunter Pence is a possibility (for a high price) and players like Michael Cuddyer and Josh Willingham are always on the radar. But unless the Sox actually sell a small farm for Pence, I say give Reddick the full-time job until he no longer deserves it. There are concerns that the lineup is far too left-handed, but I don't particularly care what hand a batter hits with, so long as he hits. And, although in a very small amount of 2011 at-bats, Reddick has yet to show any particular weakness against lefties.

With the deadline ten days away, the front office will have a little time to decide if the emergence of internal options and the return of injured players will be all the reinforcements they'll need. If I was the general manager, I would save all my chips for when they were really needed and refuse to overpay for anyone, even a Pence or Jimenez. If those teams intend to drain the Sox, they can try to rob someone else. Focus on the little pieces just to fill in the gaps, that's what I say, because a healthier Boston Red Sox team shouldn't have too much to worry about in the second half.

Life after the lockout.

2011-07-21T17:00:00.006-04:00

A few days from now, professional football will (probably) rise from the semi-dead. When this finally happens, we'll let out a little cheer...and then get right back to our quiet, uncomplicated lives. Nothing will change for us fans; nothing's changed this entire time. It's possible that, in a few years, we'll have forgotten everything that transpired here.

Meanwhile, a similar lockout is currently crippling the NBA's dream of a successful follow-up to the epic 2010-2011 season. And although the long-term effects of the 2004-2005 NHL lockout have been extremely positive, it took hockey quite a while to recover (at least Versus got a cool new name out of it all).

But that won't happen to the NFL. The draft went on without a hitch. No one's missing any games. Ray Lewis didn't kill anybody (else). The only downside was a late start to free agency and maybe some sloppy play for the first few weeks.

In fact, it's kind of a disgrace how many bytes and brain cells were wasted on analyzing this whole process. I think most intelligent fans realized a few weeks -- if not months -- ago that a deal was going to be worked out eventually. There's just too much money available for everyone involved in football, and no real reason to leave it all sitting on the table.

But it's the summer, when puff pieces are already de rigueur on the sports page. So we kept hearing about each side's stance on the issues, kept being buried in Peter King's love letters to Roger Goddell, kept dreaming up Kevin Kolb-to-Arizona trades while the rich handsome athletes and the rich old billionaires made faces at each other from across a long, expensive-looking table, one that was probably made of fine oak.

Sometimes it's fun to read about the economics of sports, especially when it relates to a league with a salary cap that your team has to navigate. But it's fleeting fun; there's a reason that auction drafts for fantasy sports are only a few hours long, that those stupid leagues where you have to build a team with 1,000 bucks and players valued in dollars aren't that popular. There comes a time where you just want to watch the games, and I think every reasonable fan reached that point a while ago.

But it is kinda odd that football will suffer no repercussions for this "work stoppage." It reminds me of a piece Chuck Klosterman wrote in one of his books -- I want to say Chuck Klosterman IV -- about rebelling against the American government. If, say, we could prove that 9/11 was a plot engineered by our leaders, how would the country's outraged citizens respond?

Basically, he decided that we wouldn't. At all. Where would we go? Who would we punch, or shoot? America's infrastructure is just too big and too entrenched; he made a great observation about how he's surprised they don't fuck with us more. In a certain way, we are pretty much helpless.

And that's kinda where the NFL has us all. It's by far the most popular sports league in the world's most influential country. The networks desperately need it for ratings. Certain cities define themselves by their teams, and the economic advantages of a game-day football crowd must be ample. People will never, ever turn away from the game. Hell, the league practically stabbed Cleveland in the back, but a nice new franchise was enough to re-buy most (not all) of that city's love.

Thankfully, the NFL isn't really using this power for evil (unless you count using taxpayer dollars to build massively expensive stadiums as "evil," which it probably is); they've been busy fucking amongst themselves. But now that a "potentially apocalyptic" lockout has pretty much been resolved, it's official: nothing can stop the NFL, not even itself.

(Note: Drew Magary posted a post-lockout recap today over at Deadspin, reminding us that the game will be just a little different when it returns in September. It's a great read.)

Back to the WWE.

2011-07-18T22:12:00.001-04:00

As a kid, I watched professional wrestling nonstop. But once I turned 15, like any good teenager with a modicum of self-respect, it was time to move on. It helped that the nWo, ECW and all the trendy storylines of the 90s had already petered out. By the time that the WCW Invasion was declared an unmitigated disaster, I was already out the door.

But something's brought me back. Maybe it's the Masked Man's excellent wrestling columns on Deadspin and Grantland. Maybe it's moving in with two giant fans who still love the "sport" as much as I did as a young boy.

Or maybe it's CM Punk. The Internet is aflutter about Punk's rise to the top; his victory at last night's Money in the Bank pay-per-view was one of the most anticipated non-WrestleMania matches in recent memory. The easiest way to describe what Punk's accomplishing is "Stone Cold Steve Austin for a new generation." But that's too simple, too lazy.

Punk's anti-authority, anti-establishment and anti-McMahon; those are all Austin-esque traits. But he also cuts scathing, realistic promos that purposely poke holes in wrestling's puffed-up facade. Austin might have been cool and edgy, but he was still another variation on a traditional character: the rebel. He just did it better than everybody else.

Punk's current gimmick, however, is tailor-made for the online age. Now that the WWE has transitioned back into a more kid-friendly product, fans that've been following wrestling for dozens of years are fed up. Too much John Cena, not enough of the D-Generation X/The Rock-driven ideas that put WCW out of business. They'll argue that Vince McMahon is taking the easy way out, making the quick buck, not coming up with new, groundbreaking ideas that could take pro wrestling to the next level.

CM Punk is the answer to all those complaints. He asks the questions that people want to scream in Vince McMahon's face, and he's a mouthpiece for the wrestling-related criticisms that've been posted on message boards since the Internet was created.

And, most importantly, he's making wrestling legitimately unpredictable again. The easy way out last night would have been to put Punk down, once again reassuring all the 10-year-old kids that buy boatloads of Cena-oriented merchandise. But, to his credit, Vince didn't take the bait. He seems to be powering ahead with the Punk storyline, "firing" Cena and holding a tournament for the "real" WWE Championship. Hopefully, he'll bring Punk back to RAW as soon as possible and continuing building him up into a real folk hero.

There's no guarantee that this angle will continue to please; plenty of other good ideas have fallen apart over time. But for now, I'm watching wrestling again. And as long as Vince McMahon and company continue to keep things interesting, I'll be tuning in.

One more Friday night with Coach Taylor.

2011-07-14T20:52:00.002-04:00

Tomorrow night, the final episode of Friday Night Lights will finally air on NBC.

It's going out with a bang. Critics are raving about the finale, and the Emmys have unexpectedly recognized Kyle Chandler, Connie Britton and the show itself with a bunch of well-earned nominations. Suddenly, after years of moderate neglect, a very vocal minority finally has the chance to say, "This is a great show, and we will miss it."

My thoughts on certain aspects of FNL are well-known, but disliking one or two plot elements doesn't mean disregarding the entire show. Far from it, actually; I believe that FNL ranks up there with The Wire, The Shield, The Sopranos and Deadwood as one of the best television dramas ever.

Not only did it somehow survive for five seasons, but (almost) every episode was produced with a level of emotionally jarring quality that became the show's trademark. It turned Buddy Garrity into one of the best sidekicks in TV history. It introduced a new group of main characters in Season 4 and convinced viewers to love them as much as the originals. And it brought us Taylor Kitsch, who's about to become a superstar if any of his crappy new movies hit. God knows his first real foray into cinema didn't.

But you know who deserves all this praise the most? Coach Eric Taylor, known in real life as Kyle Chandler. An oral history of FNL that came out today recalls how executive producer Peter Berg didn't think Chandler was remotely right for the part:

Berg: I said, "Kyle Chandler?" I only knew him from [late-'90s CBS drama] Early Edition. I was not a fan of that show, and I was not a fan of Kyle Chandler.

Of course, Chandler won Berg over, just like he won every fan of the show over with his gruff-yet-loving demeanor. Chandler created a Coach Eric Taylor that believed in football, in its abilities to shape young men into fine citizens with a sense of right and wrong. Sometimes he valued the team over his own family, but his heart was always in the right place, and he was quick to recognize his failings and work to make everything right again. No matter the situation, he found a way to expertly mix football with love for his daughters and wife.

And that's the real joy of Friday Night Lights, the aspect that superstar TV critic Alan Sepinwall references over and over: the relationship between Eric and Tami Taylor. No television coupling has ever been so realistically shaped by love, even in the face of adversity. Eric and Tami fight as much as the next couple, maybe more so; they're both passionate, committed individuals. But their every interaction contains at least a hint of the adoration that the two share; a reminder that the Taylors are forever a team.

Hopefully fans of FNL take that away from this wonderful show: what a truly loving couple can be. And just like Chandler and Britton perfectly capture the mannerisms of two people in love, Friday Night Lights portrays how something as silly as high school sports can bring a community together and, if you allow it, define lives for years to come. It's a very specific, very real slice of fictionalized reality, and it brings something to the table that'll never be matched. Thank you, Peter Berg and Jason Katims, for bringing us five seasons jam-packed with emotion and entertainment.

Steve Cimino's ultimate running playlist.

2011-07-12T20:32:00.001-04:00

Once upon a time, I used to run seven miles a day.

Not anymore, of course. I got tendonitis in my right ankle while training for a half marathon. It wasn't a freak accident; I was too lazy/cheap to buy new running shoes, and my legs gave out as my mileage increased. That put me out of commission for a few months, and I've never gotten back to that level again.

I still jog whenever I can, though, and I never go out without my trusty iPod. Running without music is like a cheesesteak without Cheez Whiz and onions; why even bother? So if you're looking to mix up a quick batch of tunes that'll get you through 27-or-so minutes, go no further. Here is a classic "Steve Cimino running playlist" that all ages, races and sexes can enjoy (although it will really only speak to white people between the ages of 21 and 29).

Annie Lennox - "Walking on Broken Glass" (0:00 to 4:13)

You'll want to start off your run with a little fire, which is precisely what Annie Lennox brings to the table. I know Kelly Hinde would agree with me. And the music video features John Malkovich! I know that doesn't help much when you're jogging, but it always makes me happy.

Passion Pit - "Little Secrets" (4:14 to 8:13)

The first time I heard Passion Pit was while wandering around the Newbury Comics in Harvard Square. I went up to the cashier and asked who this band, which was something I've never done before. I love this song in particular because parts of it sound like something from the Streets of Rage 2 soundtrack.

JoJo - "Too Little, Too Late" (8:14 to 11:49)

The first 90s pop tune on this playlist, and it's not the last. Save all your energy for the part at 2:40 where JoJo screams and kicks the final chorus into overdrive; you'll magically turn into The Flash.

REO Speedwagon - "Time for Me to Fly" (11:50 to 15:29)

The song I was listening to while officially driving out of Boston for the last time. REO Speedwagon's biggest hits are "Take It on the Run" and "Keep On Loving You," but "Time for Me to Fly" and "Roll with the Changes" are by far the band's best workout tracks. Keep that in mind.

The Band - "Ring Your Bell" (15:30 to 19:25)

One of The Band's funnest songs, along with "Ain't Got No Home"; no offense to Richard Manuel or Rick Danko, but I'm of the opinion that Levon Helm was The Band's best and most memorable singer.

Backstreet Boys - "Larger than Life" (19:26 to 23:19)

The best Backstreet Boys song...and that's saying something. This is also terrific for karaoke, so exercise your vocal cords and memorize lyrics while you run. Multitasking!

Bruce Springsteen - "Ain't Good Enough For You" (23:20 to 27:23)

Finally, a little Bruce to wrap things up. This is a new old song, off his outtakes album The Promise, but it's one of Bruce's bounciest tracks. Feel free to replace it with "So Young and In Love," " Be True" or even the 16-minute "Tenth Avenue Freeze-Out" from the Reunion Tour, if you can handle six or seven miles. And if you can't, well, don't blame this wonderful little playlist.

Nothing to fear?

2011-07-10T20:38:00.001-04:00

It's the All-Star break, and the Philadelphia Phillies have the best record in baseball (57-34). Can any other team in the National League compete with Charlie Manuel's boys? Let's take a look.

Milwaukee Brewers: Quietly, this might be the most interesting team in the NL. While Zack Greinke, Shawn Marcum and Yovani Gallardo are no Roy Halladay, Cole Hamels and Cliff Lee, the Brewers are one of only a few teams with the potential to match the Phillies' aces. But while Prince Fielder (.300/.417/.580), Ryan Braun (.320/.402/.559) and Rickie Weeks (.278/.348/.485) are all in their hitting primes, the rest of Milwaukee's lineup is pretty sad. Yuniesky Betancourt? Carlos Gomez? A back-to-earth Casey McGehee? If Chase Utley stays healthy and Ryan Howard heats up this summer, that's closer to a wash than you might think.

St. Louis Cardinals: Lance Berkman (.291/.405/.604) has kept this team afloat while Albert Pujols recovers/struggles, Chris Carpenter's back on track (3.27 FIP) and Colby Rasmus and Matt Holliday provide outfield offense that few other teams can match. But Kyle Lohse (3.32 ERA, 3.68 FIP) has pitched a bit over his head -- plus, he's Kyle Lohse -- and Jaime Garcia has yet to taste the playoffs. It's a good team, but they're going to have trouble winning the division, let alone taking down the Phillies.

Cincinnati Reds: The fourth-best offense in baseball is going to continue to mash all summer -- especially now that Jay Bruce (three homers in four games) is re-heating up -- but with Bronson Arroyo, Mike Leake and Johnny Cueto "anchoring" a subpar-at-best rotation, the Reds will have no choice but to out-slug everyone. Which, as the pre-2008 Phillies showed, is not the easiest way to win championships. There probably won't be many aces available in-season; the Reds might have to wait another year to make a serious run.

Pittsburgh Pirates: Yep, the Pittsburgh Pirates are only one game back in the NL Central. Led by Paul Maholm (3.08 ERA), Jeff Karstens (2.55 ERA) and thoroughly mediocre All-Star Kevin Correia (11 wins, 4.01 ERA), the Pirates have unexpectedly been surviving with their arms. Joel Hanrahan's the best reliever in baseball (26 saves, 1.34 ERA) and Andrew McCutchen is becoming a superstar before our very eyes (.289/.391/.495). I don't expect them to beat out the Reds or Brewers, but it sure is fun to have Pittsburgh looking passable again. If Jose Tabata and Pedro Alvarez live up to their potential, the Pirates might evolve into a force to be reckoned with.

Arizona Diamondbacks: Another surprising team that still hasn't faded away. Justin Upton (.297/.379/.512) has reasserted himself as perhaps the game's premier young slugger, while Ian Kennedy and Daniel Hudson (nine wins each) have really profited from trades that brought them over to the National League. Plus, Paul Goldschmidt might be the next Mike Stanton. But when it comes down to it, Arizona won't go any further than the Division Series. Nice little story, but they're a few pieces from serious contention.

San Francisco Giants: Once again, this is a team that the Phillies want -- and need -- to avoid at all costs. Jonathan Sanchez has regressed in a big way (a horrifying 5.9 BB/9) and Phillies killer Cody Ross is back to being an slightly-above-average part-time player (6 homers, 25 RBIs in 222 at-bats). Pablo Sandoval, however, is in the middle of a 20-game hitting streak, and Tim Lincecum and Matt Cain remain legit aces (2.72 FIP and 2.90 FIP, respectively). The Giants can't hit (328 runs, 27th in baseball), but on the right night, the Phillies offense can slum with anyone. Philadelphians should really start rooting for Arizona.

Atlanta Braves: The strongest competitor by far. Jair Jurrjens, Tommy Hanson, Tim Hudson, and Brandon Beachy are the only starting foursome that can compete with the Phillies. Jonny Venters and Craig Kimbrel are an incredibly fearsome late-game duo. And they've done it all without Dan Uggla (.620 OPS, 185 points lower than his previous low point) and Jason Heyward (.719 OPS, down 130 points from last year). If those two enjoy improved second halves and Chipper Jones attains even moderate health, Atlanta will be tough to beat. Hell, they're only 3.5 games back right now.

Are the Phillies a lock to win the National League? If they get/stay healthy and score a few more runs, the sky's the limit. But nothing's ever certain in Major League Baseball -- especially with 71 games to play -- and Atlanta's going to be nipping at their heels all year. All we know right now is that the Phillies are very, very good; unfortunately, they don't give out trophies for that.

Welcome, Jaromir Jagr.

2011-07-06T21:37:00.001-04:00

Adam Oates. Tony Amonte. Paul Coffey. Petr Nedved. John Vanbiesbrouck.

What do they have in common? All were very skilled NHL players; Coffey's already a Hall of Famer, and 1079 career assists lead me to believe that Oates will probably join him in the near future.

They were all also, at one point, Philadelphia Flyers. You might not know that, though, because their hockey careers in Philly were tainted by awfulness. For whatever reason, the Flyers have spent a portion of the last 15 years acquiring aged stars and watching their careers end in shame.

But Jaromir Jagr? I think he's different.

Sure, he hasn't played NHL hockey in three seasons. And some people will always hate Jagr no matter what; certain morons are already insisting that what he did to Pittsburgh this offseason was Montreal Screwjob-esque.

And his contract? That might have sparked the biggest debate, as no one really thought Jagr was worth $3.3 million. But look at what other wingers signed for: Ville Leino got six years and $27 million, while Erik Cole snagged four years and $18 million. Would you rather invest heavily in those guys or take the chance on a fun year of Jagr?

Jagr's purely an offensive player at this point, but he'll help on a power play that suffered mightily at the end of last season. He's expressed interest in playing with the right-handed Claude Giroux and Danny Briere, and reports from the recent World Championships indicate that Jaromir was one of the best players on the ice.

Has the 39-year-old learned how to maximize his remaining strengths? Can he buy into Laviolette's system more than, say, Nikolay Zherdev did? Will he contribute positively to a locker room that grew stagnant as the team started to fall apart in February?

We won't know until the season begins, but I think it's a risk worth taking. And the lines are already shaping out a bit better than they did last year:

James van Riemsdyk, Giroux and Wayne Simmonds. Scott Hartnell, Briere and Jaromir Jagr. Jakub Voracek, Brayden Schenn and Andreas Nodl.

Not as sexy as ones featuring featuring Mike Richards and Jeff Carter, but (relatively) younger and (possibly) better. Different, that's for sure, and after the total meltdown we all witnessed earlier this year, I think some changes are a good thing.

So long, Stinktown.

2011-06-30T11:54:00.002-04:00

I came to Boston in September of 2004. It was arguably the most exciting time of my young life; I couldn't wait to start exploring this new city. But then the fucking Red Sox won the World Series and everyone became insufferable. Such is life.

Life in Beantown has been...interesting. I'd wholeheartedly recommend Boston University to people with hundreds of thousands of dollars to burn, but probably not to anyone else. Let's just say that Vincent Thomas Cimino and his little brother Rudiger won't be going to BU like their pop. Could I have gotten an equally excellent education -- and had as much fun -- for much, much cheaper at a school like Saint Joseph's? Probably, but don't tell Tom Cimino that. He'll start asking for his money back.

In the end, however, Boston has been a pretty darn good place to live. I've made a boatload of wonderful friends -- including phenoms like Ryan Caswell and Conor O'Shea -- and I've eaten a lot of chowder in big, delicious bread bowls. There's nothing like a small-ish city that's easy to navigate but still offers all the amenities of a major metropolis; I have a feeling I won't be walking home to Bethesda from any DC bars at 2 AM.

I'll miss the burritos at Boca Grande, the fancy beers at the Publick House and Deep Ellum, the crappiness of the White Horse Tavern, the beauty of 125 Saint Paul Street, the elegant Liev Schreiber canvas that now belongs to Jon Cifuentes, the near-perfect movie house that is the Coolidge Corner Theatre, the hellhole that we called home at 79 Brighton Avenue.

I don't know what I'll do without Saturday nights playing caps at Ryan Moore and Jon Hammer's apartment in the South End. I loved sleeping on the downstairs couch at 38 Cherry Street. Catherine Todd's house in Cape Cod was the backdrop for some of my favorite Boston-oriented memories; I'm excited to make the trip back up hopefully every summer until we all die. And, of course, TechTarget was a great place to be employed...if you're a guy that loves to wear shorts into the office and work from home twice a week. Which I very much am.

But it's time to move on. Clarence Clemons is dead and my heart is in pieces; there's no better time to pick up my life and start anew elsewhere. Rather than deal with fair-weather Bruins fans, I'm excited to battle off fair-weather Capitals fans. Basketball is irrelevant in DC, which is music to my ears. And the Redskins are perpetually shitty, so I won't have to worry about seeing another Super Bowl parade in a city other than my own.

Of course, kingmyno.com isn't going anywhere. And my Red Sox correspondent Dave Goldstein will continue to provide all the Boston baseball info that none of you clamor for.

But to everyone in Boston, so long and thanks for all the fish. And if you're ever in the DC area, hesitate to call.

In praise of the craziest day in Philadelphia Flyers history.

2011-06-23T17:29:00.001-04:00

At one point in late February, the Philadelphia Flyers -- then widely regarded as the best team in hockey -- were 40-15-6.

But on May 6, in the midst of a painful collapse, they were swept in embarrassing fashion by the future Stanley Cup champion Boston Bruins.

And today, on June 23, the hammer finally fell. Paul Holmgren traded captain Mike Richards and assistant captain Jeff Carter to the Los Angeles Kings and the Columbus Blue Jackets, respectively.

My initial reaction, which I imagine most Flyers fans shared, was one of shock. The faces of the franchise! The gritty, two-way center and the pretty-boy goal scorer, moved out of town on the same day! A team that was two years removed from the Stanley Cup Finals and six months removed from dominating the NHL had just gutted its core in the matter of one hour. That's absolute insanity.

But as I settled down, and as the players involved were announced, I grew to love it. When a professional sports team falls apart, it's easy to fire the coach or set some fringe contributors free. The simplest solution for Flyers management would have been to trade Matt Carle or Braydon Coburn, open up some cap space for Ilya Bryzgalov and take one more crack at the Cup with essentially the exact same roster. And hey, if that doesn't work, you can always blame Peter Laviolette.

But Paul Holmgren obviously had no intention of heading down that path. We'll probably find out over the next week or so if the team got tired of the two young players and their partying ways, if Richards really was becoming a problem in the locker room, if they felt the need to move them before any no-trade clauses kicked in or if this was a pure hockey decision. Probably all of the above.

Either way, this is one of the strangest days in Philadelphia sports history. But give Holmgren credit; he didn't blame the system. He didn't throw the coach under the bus. He didn't make injury-related excuses or explain that the Flyers just ran into the Bruins at the wrong time. He kicked two of his best, most prominent players out the door and slammed it shut behind them. That takes balls, and balls are something that Holmgren has never lacked.

Don't get me wrong, I really like Mike Richards. I've got his jersey hanging in my closet, and I'll really miss goals like these. And I don't know much about the players that are coming to Philadelphia -- Jakub Voracek, Brandon Schenn and Wayne Simmonds -- other than that they're young, cheap and apparently very good at hockey.

But I can see why Holmgren and the Flyers felt this was necessary. If he really believed that these guys didn't have what it takes to bring home a championship, if they weren't going to mature into the men he thought they'd become, or if they just weren't willing to put in the time and the effort that Laviolette's system demands, then kudos to the team for getting out from under some lengthy contracts and bringing home some skill in return. As the 76ers have proven recently, there's nothing worse than being buried under big deals for expensive players that just aren't good enough to win it all.

And Claude Giroux's still in town. So is James van Riemsdyk; so is Danny Briere. Chris Pronger will get the C -- and hopefully he'll be out there on the ice to show it off -- and we can all cross our fingers that Kimmo Timonen has a little more left in the tank. Plus, a major, major influx of young talent is on the way. They might not contend for a Cup next season, but there will still a boatload of skill on the ice in Philadelphia. And they've all been served a notice: no one is safe.

Of course, as I was writing this post, the Flyers signed Bryzgalov to a nine-year, $51 million contract. You know what? Good for them. That's a reasonable cap hit, and now they've got the goalie position locked down for a long, long time. He seems like a very entertaining personality that we'll all really enjoy, and there's no doubt that he's a talented netminder. They'll regret the contract in the end, but I think everyone was beyond tired of the goalie carousel. It's officially come to a halt.

Today's been about making a statement. Two young guns, brimming with talent, were sent packing. A slightly psychotic Russian goalie was inked to a massive deal. But let's roll with this unique brand of "balls to the wall" hysteria; it's certainly unexpected in the buttoned-down, "afraid to mess up" sports world we live in.

For a long time, the Flyers operated like every year was 1975 all over again. Today, though, they went as far outside the box as any team in recent memory. When you've gone 30+ years without a Cup, maybe going a little crazy isn't the worst idea in the world.

Aches, pains and a trip through the Senior Circuit.

2011-06-23T13:21:00.001-04:00

Beware of injuries, the smothering murderer of countless potential playoff teams.

"60-day disabled list" is among the phrases most feared by fans and players, along with "tested positive for..." and "possible players strike." It's also among phrases most feared by owners and GMs, along with "$500 million lawsuit" and "represented by Scott Boras."

The Red Sox (also known as "the team with a winning percentage over .600") have been hit with a rash of dings and dents over the past couple weeks. Bobby Jenks has just begun throwing again, Jed Lowrie is off to seek a second opinion on his shoulder, Carl Crawford pulled a hamstring, and the back strain that Clay Buchholz has been fighting off for several starts has finally forced him to sit out.

That's a lot of talent eating Funyuns in the clubhouse, but it's not yet a serious problem. All those players are on the 15-day DL, and none are expected to be out all that long. Some need to rest a body part and others need rehab, but they all may be seeing action again by the first week of July.

And it helps that the Red Sox are playing gifted baseball right now. The lineup, in particular, has brought out a sense of confidence that's helped turn the Sox into a machine. Consider than, in the last 30 games, Boston has scored at least 14 runs six times. The 1-through-5 hitters have done most of that damage, and none of them have lost playing time to injuries, despite being constantly battered (see: Kevin Youkilis.)

Combined with pretty solid starting pitching and an encouraging debut from Andrew Miller, that's a recipe for taking two out of three.

If Miller's name rings a bell, it's because he is a former number one pick who was compared to Randy Johnson. Athletically, not in attractiveness. He was rushed up by the Detroit Tigers and pitched like crap, then he was traded to the Florida Marlins, rushed by them and pitched like crap once again. Finally, they traded him to the Red Sox, who finally slowly coached him with care and got some early signs of rebirth for their troubles.

The Red Sox are about to begin a nine-game road trip, which would sound daunting if two of the opponents weren't the Pirates and the Astros. Not exactly a death march.

Speaking of interleague play, it's time for another installment of "good idea, bad idea."

Good idea: Trying to get both Adrian Gonzalez and David Ortiz in the lineup for at least a few of the nine upcoming away games.
Bad idea: Moving a Gold Glove first baseman into right field and putting a designated hitter at first base for at least several of the nine upcoming away games.

Yes, they're actually talking about doing this. Normally a DH like Ortiz would be used only as a pinch-hitter in the late innings in a National League park. But Ortiz is having an All-Star season; his bat has become one of the most indispensable in the lineup. Sitting him could inadvertently cool him down, and that just wont do.

Ortiz is actually not as terrible with the glove as one might think. He is usually sound and has even been known to make a fine play here and there. In contrast, Jason Giambi was a first basemen who should have been a DH; defensively, he was just a notch below Stevie Wonder.

But what to do with Gonzo? The guy leads the AL in hits, batting average and RBIs; he's the early MVP favorite. Putting a former outfielder at first is one thing, but Gonzo in the outfield? He has very sure hands but almost no career experience in the outfield.

Even worse is his ability to cover ground, as Gonzo is one of the slowest runners in the game. Even when trucking at full steam, he appears to be practically going backwards. PNC Park, Citizens Bank Park and Minute Maid Park all have modestly sized right fields, but it isn't hard to envision a ball that JD Drew would've tracked down landing out of Gonzo's reach for a double or worse.

And what if he got hurt? It's unlikely -- and Francona probably would order Gonzalez to play it safe -- but it is still possible. The Sox can tolerate the injuries they have now, but losing their MVP would be a serious blow, not to mention an embarrassment.

Despite my trepidation, it is likely a necessary risk. You just can't sit Ortiz for nine games without throwing off his groove. Gonzalez will play right field a few times, even if Terry and I are holding our breath with every fly ball.

But if that's the biggest problem the Red Sox have now, then they can count the,selves fortunate.

Rest in peace, Clarence Clemons.

2011-06-21T13:28:00.000-04:00

My mother once danced with Bruce Springsteen.

The location? A fraternity at Lafayette College. My mom was a student, and the E Street Band had just finished up a show when the brothers invited them back to the house to drink and carouse. Being as they weren't yet revered millionaire musicians, just a young bar band from New Jersey, they were happy to accept.

To the best of her recollection, it was after The Wild, The Innocent and the E Street Shuffle. She insists that Steven van Zandt was in attendance, but he didn't join officially until Born to Run and I'm not sure that Bruce was still playing colleges in 1975.

Either way, the story goes that Bruce, possibly altered by one substance or another, came over to chat with her. He asked her to dance, and they grooved to some 70s tune. Afterwards, instead of going on to father me (like he should have), he walked away, never to be heard from again.

Cool story, right? "Bruce fan's mother dances with The Boss." But probably not enough for a full blog post.

The reason I'm writing about it is because I found out last night that Clarence Clemons was also there that night. While my mom and Bruce danced, Clarence stood next to them, definitely stoned out of his mind, playing air saxophone along with the music. She says it was a ballad, not exactly something that you can air sax to, but Clarence didn't seem to mind. Everyone apparently loved him; as anyone that has read Big Man can attest to, it sounds like Clarence Clemons was always the life of the party.

And now he's gone. I was in shock after hearing the news late Saturday night on Twitter; I knew Clarence was struggling post-stroke, but I didn't expect him to be gone so soon. I instantly fired off texts to my Bruce-loving friends, all of whom presumably felt their hearts immediately shatter.

One of them fell asleep with "Jungleland" on repeat; the other one cried while listening to "Backstreets" in the car with a female Bruce fiend. And myself? I was enjoying a beach weekend with some college chums; they put on "Thunder Road" and demanded that I sing along. I might have the worst voice in the world, but I belted out that song like my life depended on it. I had to express myself somehow; a celebrity death hasn't affected me this much since Phil Hartman died in 1998.

Every Bruce fan felt a connection to Clarence Clemons. If you saw him on the street, he'd probably be just another giant black dude that you'd never dream of messing with. But up on that stage with Bruce and the band, belting out his passionate solos, it was instantly clear that we were all in this together.

For whatever reason, Clarence Clemons wanted to play rock music. In a band full of white people. To an audience full of white people. For almost 40 years. And for that, he's a hero to countless Caucasians with beer bellies and bald heads. Thousands of guys and girls that never associate with black people probably wept like babies on Saturday night when they found out that maybe the most famous rock saxophonist of all time had passed away.

Clarence Clemons transcended race, blah blah, all that good stuff. But what he really did was make people happy. Sometimes Bruce's lyrics are meant to make you think; behind a catchy melody or chorus, there's a message that isn't always instantly apparent. But when the Big Man stepped up to the microphone, you knew what was coming. In the case of "Jungleland," it lifted you up. In "Badlands," it made you rock even harder. And in "Born to Run," it was a sign that the end was near, that you better get on your feet because the band was about to blow the roof off the joint.

It was never ambiguous what Clarence Clemons was about to do with that saxophone of his, and it was never a question as to how his fans would respond. Every time, we were in the palm of his hand; he knew it, and we knew it, and both sides ate it up. He was born to lead, and we were all born to follow.

In "Tenth Avenue Freeze-Out," the "story" of when Clarence Clemons joined the E Street Band, Bruce laments how alone he is, how he can't go on...until the change was made uptown and the Big Man joined the band. Maybe the most depressing thought is that Bruce will once again be alone, unspeakably alone, without the Big Man. We're all sad to have lost a musical and cultural legend that we loved to hear play; he's losing his best friend and his staunchest musical ally.

I think the E Street Band is all but kaput, and maybe it should be. I don't know if I'd accept anyone by Bruce Springsteen's side that wasn't Clarence Clemons. If I've seen the band for the last time, so be it. Their music, in countless forms, will last forever, and so will Clarence's influence on the world.

I imagine Clarence Clemons lived more in his 69 years than most people would do in a thousand. Although the amount he consumed in that time sounds nothing short of legendary, he seems like the rare individual who left behind a hell of a lot more than he took.

Why aren't Steve Buscemi and HBO a perfect fit?

2011-06-13T20:15:00.003-04:00

It was going to be the greatest season of television ever.

Forget about Richie Aprile. Step aside, Ralphie Cifaretto. Steve Buscemi was joining the cast of The Sopranos as Tony Blundetto, Tony Soprano's cousin, and he was primed to become the most revered guest star in the show's storied history.

Only he wasn't. And when compared to the first four seasons, which were maybe the best in all of televised drama, Season 5 of The Sopranos comes up more than a little short.

It's not all Buscemi's fault; perhaps the show was destined to decline anyway. Or maybe David Chase was in the process of segueing from "intrigue and action" to "dream sequences where Tony is a traveling salesman," and Buscemi got caught up in the crossfire. But his understated performance as a tortured ex-mobster was nowhere near as memorable, or as well-performed, as Joe Pantoliano's Ralphie or David Proval's Richie.

To me, at least, it felt like a wasted opportunity.

And then there was Boardwalk Empire. Created by Sopranos writer/producer Terence Winter, the show was supposed to be HBO's next big mob-oriented gem. The pilot was directed by Martin Scorsese. Accomplished actors like Michael Shannon and Michael Stuhlbarg were cast in supporting roles. And there was Buscemi, at the center of the stage, as criminal kingpin "Nucky" Thompson.

Boardwalk Empire was indeed a hit, racking up awards and breaking ratings records in its Scorsese-helmed debut. But, despite a Golden Globe win (which barely means anything anyway), how much of that was thanks to Buscemi? His casting seemed to be a calculated step away from the "big burly boss" type that was perfected by James Gandolfini, but Buscemi's straight-laced roles have always been more "quirky everyman" than "cunning evil mobster." Nucky is supposed to outsmart his opponents, but I never really bought that he was so very clever or crafty. He just seemed like a guy in the right place at the right time.

I'd rather have seen a creepy Buscemi, or a sinister Buscemi, someone with hate in his heart and an axe to grind. Instead, we got a glorified straight man who's been thoroughly outclassed by his fellow actors, including Shannon's unhinged Agent Nelson Van Alden and, by leaps and bounds, Michael Pitt's calculated young cohort Jimmy Darmody.

It didn't help matters that Boardwalk Empire hasn't been a particularly understated program thus far; when a character purchases a dress with "blood money," you can practically guarantee that the episode will end with actual blood being spilled all over it. It's been more than a little on the nose, and I think its unquestionably brought the show down.

In a way, Game of Thrones has been what I wanted Boardwalk Empire to be: a complicated, dense show that becomes required viewing. You feel for the characters on Game of Thrones; they make you want to watch. With Boardwalk Empire, sometimes it felt like I was watching out of obligation. It had been billed as "important television," so it was important television. But when all was said and done, I found that I didn't particularly give a crap. It definitely did not live up to the standards set by Sopranos and Deadwood, that's for sure.

Again, this isn't all Steve Buscemi's fault. He's is a terrific actor who has lent his talents to such varied and acclaimed movies as Fargo, Big Fish, Ghost World, Armageddon, The Big Lebowski and Airheads. You could make that the case that he's one of the most intriguing, or at least accomplished, modern character actors out there.

But when handed the ball, when it seems like he's finally found a meaty television role that will show off his range, it falls flat. Maybe HBO just doesn't know how to use him. Or maybe he's purposely trying to avoid the slimy, squirrely roles that made him famous, like the one he played in Fargo. Either way, I'm no longer all that excited for Buscemi on TV.

I love Desmond Jennings.

2011-06-11T12:15:00.002-04:00

I can't stop thinking about Desmond Jennings.

Besides his slash line, I don't know a single thing about him. I probably couldn't pick him out of a small crowd.

Yet there he sits, on my fantasy baseball team's bench, tempting me with every glance at my roster. I've seen the stats, and I've heard about the potential. He's even been compared to Andrew McCutchen, which is the ultimate way to get my heart fluttering.

I love him. And I want him. And the Tampa Bay Rays couldn't care less.

They refuse to call Jennings up to the majors. It doesn't matter that he's hitting .436 in the month of June, or that he's stolen 12 bases in 59 games at Triple A, or that the guy he'd replace, Sam Fuld, is stinking up the joint (.228/.279/.345).

It's because the Rays are cheap. This isn't necessarily a bad thing; the team couldn't survive without being frugal. It even pays off in other ways; they earned 11 of the first 74 picks in this year's draft, mostly by letting a bunch of free agents sign elsewhere.

But to me, Mr. Fantasy Baseball Player, that's not a good enough excuse. I want to drink Desmond Jennings' bathwater, and Rays executive vice president Andrew Friedman won't let me. Sometimes, it feels personal.

But that's the fun of a keeper league; you become heavily invested in certain guys. I traded Colby Rasmus last week, and while I liked the move, it's tough to let a young stud like that slip away. If Rasmus develops into a top-20 hitter, I'll never forgive myself.

Meanwhile, I feel like a genius for acquiring Jay Bruce right before he went on his amazing tear in May. I'm literally salivating at the idea of the 24-year-old Bruce socking dingers on my team for years to come. There's nothing more satisfying than being the shrewd manager who snags the star right before a breakout season.

Yes, I am very cognizant of the fact that I care way too much about all this. And it's even weirder now that I'm older than a lot of them. Few things are this engaging, though; I really enjoy forming a strange, one-sided, game-oriented bond with a bunch of random millionaire athletes. It works for me.

So, Mr. Jennings, keep mashing down in Durham. Soon, we will be together forever.

Asgard and Texas: Not that far apart.

2011-06-09T20:30:00.006-04:00

I saw Thor on Tuesday night.

I saw The Tree of Life on Wednesday night.

Surprisingly, they're a lot more similar than you'd think. And it's not because they both feature CGI creatures.

I know that Thor is Kenneth Branagh's quick dip into summer blockbusters, and Tree of Life is Terrence Malick's latest flora-adoring, imagery-heavy opus. Doesn't seem to be a lot of room for comparison. But there were more than a few moments in Tree of Life, usually when my mouth wasn't agape in amazement, where I thought, "Hmmm, this is rather Thor-ish, isn't it?"

That's because Tree of Life doesn't aim to make very much sense. I mean, there's a "story," but it's not told in the linear style that most filmmakers use (and most moviegoers expect). It bounces through time and explains itself mostly without words; viewers have to pick up what they can and make suppositions along the way. It's an extreme example of something more movies should strive for: showing and not telling.

But it also means that, half the time, you have no idea what's going on. Why did the little kid put the blouse in the river? Who's the person that just died? Why are we watching the creation of Earth? And, most importantly, it doesn't lend much to character development. Everyone's motivations, besides basic human desires, are either unknown or nonexistent.

And Thor, well, it's a comic-book movie. And it's one set in the Avengers universe, which means its a rush-job that's designed to serve two purposes: make money and move the larger story along.

So naturally, things happen for no reason, and with even less justification. What made Thor's brother so evil so fast? Why doesn't Thor have his powers anymore? Is that the guy who played The Punisher, dressed in a fat suit and eating shanks of meat? There's no time, and no desire, to flesh anything out. As long as you know who's good, who's bad and what got them there, the story's ready to speed along.

To enjoy either one, you're forced to suspend reality. I think the best films do this naturally; you find yourself sucked into the world of the movie, and before long, you become increasingly invested in the plot and its characters. But, by design, Thor and Tree of Life keep you at arm's length.

One's a fantasy, built to rake in big bucks and adapted from 30-year-old drawings designed for children. The other's a semi-autobiographical work of art, created by an eccentric director who loves nature and adores Zoolander. But at the end of the day, it's difficult (if not impossible) for viewers to engage with either.

Thor suffers from the usual big-budget incomprehensibility; Tree of Life, on a personal level, won't give you what you aren't looking to receive. But when they each finished, I walked out stymied, wishing I had been handed just a little more. There are apparently two very different roads to being inexplicable.

The curious case of Jonathan Lester.

2011-06-09T15:07:00.000-04:00

Jon Lester, shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Perfectly built as a power pitcher with a five deadly pitches and a poised warrior's mind.

Lester is already known as perhaps the best young left-handed pitcher in baseball. He throws a hard 4-seam fastball, a 2-seamer, a devastating cutter (his best pitch), a good curve and an increasingly effective change-up. He throws inside and out, up and down, hard and soft. He goes deep into games and stubbornly refuses to yield the lead. His focus never waivers. He is the last person another team wants to see on the mound. He is a brick wall.

His typical outing is 7 or 8 innings, allowing a run or two. Eight or nine strikeouts. And a win. He stops losing streaks, starts winning streaks and leads off the most important playoff matchups. His typical season is 200+ innings, 200+ strikeouts and nearly 20 wins, an honor he has barely missed on more than one occasion. Every year, the experts pick him to win a Cy Young. This year, I drafted him to my fantasy team.

And he is 8-2 in 2011 after beating the Yankees on June 8, a win that put the Red Sox in a tie for first place. Everything is perfect! Except not exactly, and certainly not for the perfectionist that is Jon Lester.

Nearly every year, Jon suffers through an April funk before becoming automatic from May onwards. This year, however, that didn't happen. After losing on Opening Day, Lester fired off an impressive string of fairly dominant starts; he's been no small part of the team's rapid rise in the division. But on May 10, he fired off a dud in Toronto and hasn't been himself since.

Of last six starts, only two have been quality. His ERA in that stretch is over 5.00, and his WHIP is 1.70. He has hit nine batters so far this year; he's never hit more than 10 in an entire season. He is on pace for a .256 opponent BA and 1.36 WHIP, which would both be the highest marks since his first ace-like season in 2008. He still finds a way to gut his way through each start and pitch just well enough to win, but doing that for an extended amount of time will tire out any pitcher. The season is exhausting enough.

So what's wrong, Jon? His fastball velocity, usually 93-96 MPH, is more like 92-94. His command is off, which has him either stuck in hitter's counts or unable to put someone away on a two-strike count. The walks and pitch counts rise, so he's having trouble going deep into games.

Even his body language is ugly. His shoulder flies open, he slaps at the ball as the catcher throws it back, he looks at the landing spot on the mound and works on it far too often. His shoulders slump when a pitch misses, and he screams at himself while walking off the mound.

It's possible Lester is hurt, but there has been little to suggest that so far. He still throws about the same number of pitches per outing, which the Sox probably wouldn't allow if he was injured. My theory is that he is suffering from mechanical issue. It would explain the shoulder flying open, the loss of command, loss of velocity and the general frustration Lester's been showing on the mound. He looks like a man fighting himself, desperately trying to get every part of the machine to work together.

All things considered, it could be much worse. His mediocrity hasn't hurt the one team stat that really counts; he is 4-1 since things started to go wrong. This proves both Lester's ability to bend without breaking and that there's merit to the phrase "better lucky than good." The enormous run support he has received -- over 8 runs per game -- has been the difference between between 8-2 and 5-5.

Taking two steps forward and one step back is fine for now, but this kind of support can't go on forever.

One of the Red Sox's key advantages over their AL East competitors is that they are strong in every major facet of the game: offense, defense, base running and pitching. But the pitching advantage won't hold unless their big aces pitch consistently ace-like, so Lester and the coaching staff have to work out the kinks quickly. Sooner or later, some new problem will develop, and a pennant-hungry team can't afford too many of them.

The most successful teams balance a small number of weaknesses against a large number of strengths. If Jon Lester gets back to being one of the top pitchers in baseball, the Red Sox will remain one of baseball's best teams.

Call me the Bryz.

2011-06-08T13:51:00.003-04:00

After some idle speculation about acquiring Tim Thomas, the Philadelphia Flyers have traded for yet another goaltending savior, the latest answer in a seemingly never-ending question that has been asked since the early days of Ron Hextall.

This year's contender is Ilya Bryzgalov, the 30-year-old former Phoenix Coyotes netminder. The free-agent-to-be is a name that has been tossed around a lot over the last few months, especially since he expressed disinterest in following the team to Winnipeg.

Even the most strident Sergei Bobrovsky/Brian Boucher defenders would have trouble arguing that Bryzgalov won't be a major upgrade on paper. His 2.48 GAA was 12th amongst starters, and his .921 save percentage was ninth. And he has seven shutouts, which are "games where the opposing teams score zero goals" for all those Flyers fans who've forgotten the term.

But will Bryzgalov be a fit in Philly? His agent noted yesterday that "the only Flyer goaltender to have statistics like [Ilya] was Bernie Parent," which is lofty praise for someone who hasn't even set foot in the city yet. Expectations will be high, like they always are, and there's no guarantee that Ilya will live up to them. He's 12-13 in the playoffs with a 2.55 GAA and .917 save percentage; solid numbers but not exactly a series-stealer like Thomas has been in 2011.

Plus, Tim Panaccio's already noted that Bryzgalov may not be a fit for the "Bob's mentor" role that some are envisioning. Apparently he can "get a little goofy on you," which isn't a surprise when it comes to goalies but not necessarily the most enviable trait for young Bobrovsky's role model to exhibit.

Then again, that shit is always overrated. Everyone always wants to hear that Player X is teaching all of his tricks to Player Y, and they're best friends ready to take on all comers. But Bobrovsky's already put together a very solid rookie season, and Bryzgalov is a hired gun brought in to backstop this group of players to a championship in the next year or two. I'm sure watching a good goalie ply his trade every night will do more than enough for Bob's "development," and if not, well, that's why they pay Jeff Reese: to teach goalies.

As for the move itself, I can't say I saw it coming. Paul Holmgren should be commended for his Ruben Amaro-esque aggressiveness, but it hasn't always paid off. Trading for the rights of Kimmo Timonen and Scott Hartnell in 2007 led to a nice, smooth signing, but the team also gave away assets in an attempt to snap up Evgeni Nabokov and Dan Hamhuis, only to see negotiations with both players fall apart.

And now Holmgren has to make the money work. Sam Carchidi speculated on Twitter last night that, in order to pay the Bryz, the Flyers will probably move a defenseman (Matt Carle?) and let Ville Leino walk. I won't miss Leino too much, but the team's defensive "depth" was already exposed in the playoffs. Losing someone won't help on that front; they're going to need another year of giant minutes from Chris Pronger and Timonen. Neither man, however, is a spring chicken; Pronger's health in particular is very much a question mark. As good as Bryzgalov might be, he won't take the team far without a solid group of defenders in front of him.

Free agency doesn't begin until July 1, so Holmgren will have plenty of time to lock up Bryzgalov and make the necessary accompanying moves. That will be (relatively) easy. The tough part will be battling through roughly 100 hockey games, keeping key players healthy and focused, and emerging with the Stanley Cup. If Bryzgalov can play a big part in pulling that off, maybe we will be comparing him to Bernie someday.

Don't you fret about the Boston Red Sox.

2011-06-03T15:46:00.001-04:00

Roughly one week ago, I wrote of the Boston Red Sox and their rocket-like ascension toward the glory that they rightfully deserved. And then, like an idiot, I sat underneath a ladder as a black cat walked by and forgot to knock on wood. Since then the Sox are 0-4, having just been swept at home by the pitiful White Sox.

Alfredo Aceves seems to be on his way back to being a pumpkin, and as quickly as Carl Crawford attained fiery hotness, he was dunked in a bucket of ice. J.D. Drew remains in pain, Kevin Youkilis appears to be consistently dinged up, and who's to say which John Lackey will show up when he comes off the DL in a few days. Dice-K is likely to have Tommy John surgery and be lost for the year -- which I suppose is a "bad thing" -- and reclamation project Rich Hill was kicking ass until his elbow popped on Wednesday, likely sidelining him for the season. Hideki Okajima? He wants to be traded rather than pounded by Major League hitters.

But is this cause for emergency? Certainly not. Back when the Sox were 2-10, that was an emergency. This is a speed bump on the road to an AL East title. The Red Sox may have built up some negative momentum, drifting back toward .500 and losing a bit of ground on the Yankees, but the timing of the losing streak and the injuries makes the situation look worse than it really is.

We all knew Aceves couldn't keep it up forever, and Time Wakefield has been doing an admirable job in the rotation. Lackey will be back soon and couldn't possibly be worse (I feel pretty confident in my inability to jinx this) and Hill, while great in his limited time, was ultimately just a lefty middle reliever. The team will hand his innings to someone else and survive the loss. As for Dice-K going down, does anyone really care? I don't think Tito Francona, Curt Young or Varitek will lose even the slightest bit of sleep over it.

At some point, the front office will look to improve the depth of the starting rotation, but right now that isn't the issue. If the team plays hard and avoids serious injuries to the core players, their winning percentage will to trend upward and the rest of the league will soon only be visible in the rear view mirror. Rub some dirt on it and get out there!

The Chase Utley effect.

2011-05-30T14:31:00.001-04:00

Chase Utley returned to the Philadelphia Phillies lineup on Monday, May 23. Since then, they are 5-2, scoring 44 runs and making mincemeat out of the Cincinnati Reds and New York Mets.

Coincidence? Probably. I wrote about the Phillies' hitting woes recently and noted that fans shouldn't worry too much. They'd been gross at the plate for a while, but there's too much talent around for the bats to be painfully quiet all year. An offensive explosion like this was sort of inevitable.

But I do think Chase's return helps. It has to be a comforting sight to see no. 26 manning second base, especially when the other options have been Pete Orr, Michael Martinez and pitcher extraordinaire Wilson Valdez. If Utley's really the kind of player that leads by example, then his mere presence on the field should pay dividends.

For a while there, it seemed like Chase wouldn't even play in 2011; there was talk of Grady Sizemore-esque knee surgery that would keep him out for months, if not a year. Would the team pursue Michael Young and his gigantic contract? Was it a mistake not to trade Roy Oswalt in the offseason for a bat, any bat, to fill a now-obvious gaping hole in the lineup?

But he's back, and while there's the occasional glimpse of gimpiness, he's allowing Phillies fans to believe that his old self is right around the corner, that the should-be Gold Glover and Silver Slugger we've grown to love hasn't disappeared after a good chunk of time lost to the bum knee and hip.

Coming into Monday's game with Washington, Chase is 5 for 21 with a homer. Nothing spectacular, but Charlie Manuel is on record as saying he likes what he sees. His year is just beginning, and if the past few have been any indication, maybe such a late start is a good thing.

To the naked eye, Utley seems to break down a bit at the end of every season; that's kind of an inevitability with how hard he plays. But after 50 games on the sidelines, resting not only the knee but the other nagging ailments that bother any baseball player on the other side of 30, could Utley destroy the final 100 games and truly revive the Phillies offense? I wouldn't put it past him.

And by the way, I just traded for him in fantasy baseball. It's fair to say I'm all-in on Chase Utley's well-being, and the Phillies are, too.

Everything's falling into place.

2011-05-28T14:14:00.001-04:00

The best team in baseball; that's what the Boston Red Sox are.

The 30-23 record is still a bit behind the Cleveland Indians and Philadelphia Phillies, but that's what happens when you start 2-10. Between April 16 and May 29, the Red Sox are 28-13, which is best in the majors. And the results aren't magic; the Sox are finally playing up to their talent level.

They have won six series in a row, beginning with a sweep of the Yankees in the Bronx and leading up to a series win, which should have been a sweep, in the home of the AL-best Indians. "AL-best Indians"; how did that become a phrase, by the way?

The Sox still have their weaknesses. Crappy old John Lackey is on the DL and Daisuke Matsuzaka may be out for a while, though that isn't necessarily a bad thing. Even when effective, he makes golf look face-paced. Dustin Pedroia and J.D. Drew have all been fairly cold -- though there have been signs of emergence -- and Daniel Bard has looked very human, probably due to overwork during the absence of Bobby Jenks.

But the rest of the team has picked up the slack whenever necessary, and the big three of Lester, Beckett and Buchholtz have been near-automatic wins lately. They have combined for a 15-6 record, and Beckett in particular has been devastating, sporting a .95 WHIP. If anyone says they predicted that, walk right up and knee them in the junk.

The lineup, once a demonstration in choking, has begun hammering the ball for homers and hits with runners in scoring position. Adrian Gonzalez, Kevin Youkilis and David Ortiz have turned into a 2011 Murderers' Row row (let's call it "pwners row") and the Jarrod Saltalamacchia/Jason Varitek catching duo has improved their game in every respect, bringing order to chaos.

The bullpen seemed it could be a chink in the armor, but Matt Albers and Rich Hill have been a pleasant surprise. Jonathan Papelbon has been his old dominant self, and the return of Jenks and Dan Wheeler should allow Francona to lean on Bard less often, making him more effective and keeping his right arm firmly attached to his body.

So where does all this leave the Red Sox? Well, they've already grabbed first place in their division; if they remain healthy, don't expect them to relinquish it. If the rest of the AL isn't afraid, well, they should be.

Should we be worried about the Phillies?

2011-05-19T17:54:00.008-04:00

The Philadelphia Phillies are 11th in the National League in runs scored with 170. They're 13th in homers with 32, 8th in average (.249) and 11th in OPS (.686).

This, obviously, is not a good thing. One of the most surefire ways to win a baseball game is to outscore the other team.

How big a deal it is, however, is up for debate. I would argue that Phillies fans have gotten a bit spoiled after years and years of outstanding hitting. In 2006, the Phillies led the National League in runs. Ditto 2007, followed by a third-place finish in 2008 and another top showing in 2009.

But that was a fantasy world where the 1-through-5 hitters were (mostly) Jimmy Rollins, Shane Victorino, Chase Utley, Ryan Howard and Jayson Werth. Those guys brought home two Most Valuable Player awards and a boatload of All-Star berths and Silver Sluggers, an embarrassment of riches for one baseball team. And I haven't even mentioned the great Pat Burrell!

Now that 2011 has rolled around, it's clear that those days ain't coming back. Werth is sputtering along in Washington, Rollins' power has evaporated, Victorino is streaky and injury-prone, and Utley has yet to suit up for a game. Ryan Howard's still locked into the no. 4 spot, but his current .813 OPS would be the worst of his career.

So the Phillies can't hit. But you know what? They can pitch. The staff has an ERA of 3.06 -- good for second in the National League -- along with 30 quality starts and 348 strikeouts (first and second, respectively). Even with Joe Blanton's struggles, Roy Oswalt's time off and Cliff Lee's unexpected mediocrity (3.84 ERA and 1.24 WHIP, which would be his highest since 2007), the Phillies have dominated on the mound.

To a certain extent, I think fans should accept that the Phillies will play a lot of 3-2 and 2-1 games. At the end of the day, a victory's a victory, and there's nothing wrong with coming out on top of a nail-biter.

But at the same time, let's not absolve certain players of their shitty performances. Ben Francisco, Carlos Ruiz and Raul Ibanez are all hitting under .230, and Wilson Valdez isn't much higher at .247. I don't care if the Phillies trade for Jose Bautista tomorrow, you won't score runs if four semi-regulars hit under .250 (although it would be nice if they did somehow trade for Jose Bautista).

And it certainly doesn't mean that management should stand pat. Utley's return should help, but he's just one man (with a bum knee to boot). Is Dom Brown the answer? He's probably part of it. A healthy, hype-worthy Brown could be the kind of major shot in the arm that this offense needs. But, as Amaro made clear today, Brown won't be in the Majors until the team is ready to play him full-time. If there was ever a time to get creative and/or push for a little more payroll room, it's probably now.

To be fair, no one in the Phillies organization seems particularly pacified by the team's 26-16 start. The 2011 roster is remarkably expensive (roughly $172 million in Opening Day salaries), which could mean two things: Maybe the cash register's tapped out, or maybe ownership is all in. Can they afford to watch $172 million go to waste on a team with glaring flaws, especially if a tantalizing bat becomes available?

And then there's Charlie Manuel, who loves to hit. The only thing he likes more than hitting is probably winning, but I think his version of heaven would be a combination of the two. He's not gonna sit back and suffer through a season of squeakers, not if he can help it.

So should we worry about the bats? Kind of, but that energy would be better spent praying for the starting rotation's good health. The Phillies have surprisingly morphed into an aggressive organization with a winning pedigree, the kind of ballclub that gets what it wants (and needs). If the offense still stinks in late June, I find it hard to believe Amaro and company won't recruit a savior or two from out of town. Whether it'll all be enough, of course, remains to be seen.

John Lackey sucks.

2011-05-14T12:47:00.003-04:00

A friend of mine, who shall remain nameless, recently complained that John Lackey was killing his fantasy team. I told this friend that he had no one to blame but himself; Lackey has the ability to go deep into games and get wins, but often allows a bunch of runs and records very few strikeouts. While Lackey provides some real world value, he isn't a very smart fantasy pick.

But lately, I've realized that I was wrong. Lackey has no real world value.

What happened to Lackey last year has been discussed almost to death. He didn't pitch as poorly as his numbers suggest, and he was a victim of bad luck and crappy defense. Plus, his performance improved enormously in the second half of the season.

But who cares?! That was last year, and what's happening with Lackey right now can not be explained through advanced metrics or bullshit excuses. John Lackey sucks.

After taking the loss against Toronto, he is 2-5 with an ERA of 8.01; frankly, he's been much worse than those numbers show. In his 39.1 innings, he has allowed 35 earned runs and 53 hits! Read those numbers again and think about how bad they really are. In seven starts, he has allowed six or more runs six times!

And it's not just that he's losing, it's how he's losing.

On May 4, the Red Sox played a 13-inning game against the Angels in which they burned the entire bullpen. They really needed Lackey to come up big the following day. Lackey responded by getting absolutely pounded for eight runs in four innings and forcing an exhausted bullpen to finish it up. I bet I could give up eight runs and I wouldn't have to work as hard; can I have a contract?

His May 11 start against the Blue Jays was, in many ways, worse. In the bottom of the 7th, the Sox were down 4-3. Lackey hadn't pitched particularly well, but he kept the team in the game and they were in position to make a comeback. But what followed was the worst thing to happen in Canada since free health care.

After walking Corey Patterson, Bautista hit a rocket into left field. Carl Crawford misread the ball off the bat and got turned around. The ball hit off the wall for a single. Lackey put his arms up in exasperation, obviously furious that his teammate didn't catch the missile.

But he seemed to buckle down and was just a few good pitches from getting out of the inning unscathed, until up to the plate strode David Cooper. Cooper was a rookie with only 28 at-bats, but Lackey still walked him to force in a run, then allowed a 2-run double to John McDonald. When it was all over, Lackey had allowed nine runs on nine hits and the game was out of reach.

Lackey should have seen Cooper as an out and gone aggressively after him, pounding the strike zone, rather than nibbling and handing the Jays a run. But what stood out to me was something that Lackey has shown a lot of this season; his bad attitude. John Lackey has always been a whiner who complains and barks when umpires don't think a pitch five inches from the plate is a strike. You're not Greg Maddux, John.

Pitching poorly every now and then can be excused. Showing up your teammates cannot. What John Lackey fails to realize is when you allow this many balls to be hit hard, a good number of them are going to fall in. Crawford didn't drop a lazy fly ball, he misread a screaming line drive. If I were Crawford, I might have a few words for Mr. Lackey:

"Sorry I didn't catch that bullet, John, but who allowed the other 8 hits and five walks? Wasn't me. In fact, I got two hits tonight and my numbers are gradually improving, unlike yours. Maybe at some point I will be hitting over .320, which is what batters are hitting off of you."

Asked why he was still in the game after walking Cooper, Lackey explained that he'd had good luck against the next batter, McDonald: "Everybody's had success with him in the past. You can't give up hits like that to him when you have other guys in that lineup who can hurt you."

Everybody has had success with him? McDonald had a home run and a double off you, John. Not "everybody," just everybody else.

This makes me ask: who is John Lackey? When the Red Sox signed the former Angels ace, I was excited because I knew what he brought: a good moving fastball, a nasty curve, pinpoint control and a warrior's mentality. He had pitched on the biggest stage under pressure and would take personal responsibility for the outcome of a game.

But who is this guy? A guy who nibbles at the edges of the strike zone, walking batters and wondering why calls don't go his way. Or hangs nothing curveballs to bottom-of-the-order hitters, putting men on for the meat of the lineup, at which point he decides he is a gunslinging Texan who needs to show off his big balls. It's pretty hard to challenge hitters when your fastball is 89 MPH over the middle of the plate. That, as Dennis Eckersley would say, is salad.

After the game, Lackey said, "Everything sucks in my life right now, to be honest with you." He wouldn't elaborate about what sounded like a personal problem, but rumors circulate that John's wife is undergoing treatment for breast cancer. That's no laughing matter and isn't something Lackey should be judged for, but he can not allow it to affect his performance on the field or how he treats his team mates.
John, you can either block the rest of the world out so you can pitch or, if your off-field troubles are too distracting, take a leave of absence. No one would blame you. Hell, put yourself on the DL or something, because the team favored to win the AL pennant is under .500 and they won't make a comeback if one of the starters is an automatic "L." Take a page from your ace, Jon Lester. He also lost to Toronto this past week, but he never blames his teammates and always takes responsibility for his own game.

It's time for John Lackey to pitch to his pay grade, because Bartolo Colon and Freddy Garcia, Yankees signings that I laughed at, are pitching far better. In fact, the Sox have the oldest pitcher in Red Sox history, Tim Wakefield, sitting out in the pen and dreaming of getting his job back. I always defended Lackey and gave him the benefit of the doubt, but I'm running out of patience.

I know exactly what he is. Right now, that would be the number one reason the Red Sox can't get on a roll. And also, a mouth breather.

A royal wedding: My night with Prince.

2011-05-08T15:20:00.005-04:00

On Friday night, I unexpectedly received one of life's most esteemed gifts. In possibly the most momentous snap decision of my life, I stumbled over to the holy Inglewood Forum and into the good graces of rock 'n' roll royalty. I found my Prince, and boy am I glad I coughed up those 25 bucks.

Armed with a very standard amount of Prince knowledge, I decided to attend the concert based on the idea that Prince will do everything you'd expect him to do. And if that fell through, I was at least certain I could find something entertaining about his crowd.

I turned out to be right about the Prince fans (Princettes?) in the stands, not that it mattered. Because that little black fellow with the fluffy boots, far-too-frilly collars, and killer screeching abilities really can make ya move. Everything about Prince that night was spectacular: his voice remains ridiculously good, his dance moves are still as nimble and homoerotic as ever, even his Brandon Routh-style haircut looked better than Brandon Routh's. And Prince is 52 years old! Suck on that, Superboy.

Those of you who were once like me may be wondering, "What’s so great about Prince in concert?" My response: "Where do I start?" The man carries a live show like only a handful of artists are capable of. His stage is shaped like a penis, but also like his infamous symbol, a declaration to his tenure as The Artist Formerly Known As. He rises from underneath the stage before every song and descends back under at its end.

He also invites flocks of fans up on stage for his last number and concludes the show by throwing his guitar to one lucky serf in the standing room section. He is fully aware that everything he is doing is epic, and he fuckin' loves every minute of it. The feeling is mutual, my liege.

And then there was the music. I honestly can’t remember the last time I head-bopped and thigh-slapped so hard that I woke up sore and stiff. After nearly a three-hour performance, it seemed as though Prince was going to keep us groovin' into eternity. He played everything from Michael Jackson to Prince to Kool & The Gang. At one point Prince even loudly declared, "Do you know how many hits I have?!" I don't think we've invented that number yet.

It was sometime during the fourth encore when I realized that you can’t put a price tag on live Prince. In fact, I almost feel as though I robbed him a little bit that night. To quantify the joy that Prince delivered would leave me indebted to Prince well into this string of twenty-one consecutive Prince shows in Los Angeles. So be it. I thank you, kind Prince, for your generosity.

There's something dying down on the highway tonight.

2011-05-07T15:36:00.001-04:00

"Every day it just gets harder to live, this dream I'm believing in."
-Bruce Springsteen

First off, kudos to the Boston Bruins. Save the third period and maybe overtime of Game 2, they dominated the entire series. Unlike some teams that wilt after a grueling first-round match-up, the Bruins grew stronger and more confident.

And as for the Philadelphia Flyers? Well, we probably should have seen this coming. On April 8th, I described in great detail how the Flyers were in serious trouble. But six days later, I predicted that they'd beat the Buffalo Sabres in six games.

Am I bipolar, or just naive? Anyone with eyes could see that the Flyers over the first 60 games and the team since the end of February were two different entities. The simple answer is that the defense wilted and exposed mediocre goaltending; my dad thinks the league figured out that they were weak along the wings and against the boards.

Either way, it wasn't pretty. But fans kept expecting them to flip this mystical "switch" they always talked about and turn into the Flyers of old. Which they did, for Game 7 of the Sabres series, but apparently the switch only had a 24-hour effect. Once Boston came to town, they were back to being the lackluster team of spring.

Did they tune Peter Laviolette out? Is Mike Richards not fit to wear the C? Did swapping goalies every game have an unforeseen emotional impact? Or did just injuries just wear down a team that peaked early and paid the price?

Answers should come in a few days. I expect to hear numerous concealed ailments finally announced, and it's widely speculated that Brian Boucher and Michael Leighton have played their last games in Flyers uniforms. Excuses will be made to sugarcoat this team-wide meltdown, and a few of them might even make sense.

For the most part, though, I think this group of guys gets one more chance. Management will bank on Claude Giroux becoming a full-blown superstar and James van Riemsdyk continuing to mature into an All-Star caliber forward. Nikolai Zherdev, Ville Leino, Sean O'Donnell and (hopefully) Dan Carcillo will be set free. Paul Holmgren will use that freed-up money on a goalie like Ilya Bryzgalov. We'll pray that Kimmo Timonen, Jeff Carter and Chris Pronger can stay healthy. And the Flyers will probably once again be among the favorites to win the Eastern Conference.

If that doesn't work out, however, there will be massive changes. Holmgren's seat is getting increasingly hot, and even though I think he's one of the best coaches in the league, so is Laviolette's. It's much easier to fire a coach or general manager than it is to trade locked-up players like Richards and Carter. And after a performance like this, it's much easier to justify.

By last night's Game 4, the Flyers had made it easy not to care. But we still had to show up and pretend like 2009's remarkable comeback could happen all over again. Hell, I even wore my Flyers jersey through the streets of Boston last night. And as expected, the reaction was less than favorable.

But at the end of the day, the Bruins got out the brooms and sent the Flyers packing. I'm not even remotely upset with Boston. They pounded the Flyers into submission, outskating them up and down the ice. They looked like a hungry team that wanted desperately to win, while the Flyers played like a group of guys that lost their way a long time ago.

We all thought this would be a season to remember, maybe one that finally brought home that elusive Stanley Cup. But in the end, it was nothing short of a disaster: Months of expectations shattered in one week of tepid mediocrity.

Dave's final word on the All-Star Game.

2011-05-07T11:33:00.001-04:00

Editor's note: This will be the final word on the wholly irrelevant matter known as Major League Baseball's All-Star Game. But I am a fair and just blogmaster, and I wanted to give "The Bear Jew" a chance to rebut my rebuttal.

A few days ago, I wrote a piece about the 2012 All-Star Game and my disappointment at it not being held at Fenway Park. Well, King Myno himself didn’t agree with me, and said so in his own post. The gauntlet has been thrown down and the King has challenged his lowly vassal. Prepare to be debated!

I agree with some of the King's points. The Red Sox are overexposed and still under .500 in 2011, but do you really think they will miss the playoffs? Cause I don’t. And our fans? They may be as loud, obnoxious and arrogant as any in the game, but I don’t find that trait to be unique; it's more an unfortunate aspect of the human race. Most people just suck, Sox fans included. And should we really have judgment passed on us by a Phillies fan? You guys are as close to soccer hooligans as baseball fans can come. Let’s just agree that none of us are even close to perfect.

And when I spoke of "real fans," I was not talking about those of the Red Sox. I was talking about baseball fans around the nation. A real fan loves the game and its history, not just the team they follow. If I sounded like too much of a homer before, let me put my own bias aside and note that everything I said of Fenway is also true of Wrigley Field. Wrigley will turn 100 in 2014, and it should host that year's All-Star-Game for all the same reasons that Fenway should host next year. Exceptions should be made to mark occasions like these.

Fenway and Wrigley are old and uncomfortable; I can’t refute that. But I think those stadiums have something special that makes them worth preserving and visiting. History and a sense of continuity are the key themes that make baseball great. It’s part of the game's romance. Everything will be compared to all that came before and all that will follow. I can’t make anyone else feel the buzz that I do in Fenway, but trust me, it is there.

I’ve never really seen baseball without interleague play and cable TV. Fans now can see any team anytime, so you’re right that the All-Star Game is no longer special. The last time it was, I was a zygote. But while the All-Star Game and baseball have lost a bit of their luster, I don't wish everything to revert to the past. Platform shoes and disco should stay dead, and I don’t want players to be owned by one team until they too die.

I just wish that players would occasionally choose to stay in the same place, not chase the highest paycheck. The heroes of the past had their flaws. Babe Ruth was a drunken womanizer, and he was the symbol of the game in a romantic era. But it would be nice for players today to stop getting DUIs and do a better job of embracing what could be heroic legacies. Maybe I’m expecting too much, but a girl can dream, right?

And while the Midsummer Classic will fill any park, no matter where it's held, it's hard to argue that games at Fenway or Wrigley won’t draw more viewers. The Red Sox and Cubs have large markets that are more likely to watch the game if it is in their home park. Add in people that would’ve watched anyway and anyone interested in the park's 100th anniversary, and you will probably find that the ratings are much higher than usual.

At the end of the day, should the All-Star Game just disappear? Maybe. I'd like to improve the event, but if it’s going to slide even further into insignificance, I would support dissolving it all together. It clearly doesn’t mean much anymore, and it takes up time in the middle of the season that could be reduced to a two-day break for all the players. And dropping it sure would make it easier to end the season sooner or fit in an additional playoff round, if there is to be one.

So, my good King, it seems we agree on on some issues and disagree on others. Maybe right now you don’t share my desire for more meaning and nobility in the game, but let’s see how you feel when Citizens Bank Park turns 100. Assuming, of course, that medical science continues advancing and the world doesn't come to a screeching halt.

Fenway Park is actually pretty crappy: A counterpoint.

2011-05-05T19:37:00.004-04:00

My colleague Dave Goldstein recently wrote an impassioned piece about the 100th anniversary of Fenway Park and how it was passed over for the 2012 MLB All-Star Game.

I love "The Bear Jew" and I'm tickled pink that we've added him to the stable at King Myno's Court, but that doesn't mean I agree with his every opinion. Join me now as I pick apart Dave's piece, Fire Joe Morgan-style.

You can imagine my surprise when it was announced that the 2012 All-Star Game would be held at Kauffman Stadium in Kansas City. I practically rubbed my eyes in disbelief.

Major League Baseball making an unexpected, less-than-stellar decision?! I don't believe it.

I didn't just think the All-Star Game wouldn't be at Fenway; I was sure it would be. The same way I'm sure the sun will come up each day.

If Dave had seen 30 Days of Night, he'd know that the sun doesn't always come up.

Deciding on a venue is neither random nor turn based; a prospective host team petitions a MLB committee for that privilege, and the choice is made based on how long that stadium had been waiting, how much money the organization has put into renovations and historically significant opportunities.

That seems fair and reasonable, especially since it keeps the game from being controlled by annoying, overexposed teams with insufferable fan bases. Like, for example, the Red Sox.

Since 1999, few other All-Star Games have really been memorable. 1999 was a landmark year because of the occasion, atmosphere, cast of characters and performances.

"Atmosphere," meaning that it was at the great, grand Fenway Park. It's time to dispel some myths about Fenway. I've been there roughly a dozen times now. My first visit was like a lot of people's: "Oooh, look at all the history caked into these dirty walls and those pee-soaked floors." Every trip after, I've found it to be unnecessarily cramped and outdated. The sight lines are awful, and it's difficult to navigate.

But in Boston, people will tell you that it's the best place to watch a game in the whole wide world. They act like it's character-building to be uncomfortable and less-than-satisfied while watching baseball, like an old timer who laments how easy kids have it these days. It's a baseball stadium! You're paying to watch people run around and play a sport. I'll take a nice, clean arena with cozy seats and many available amenities any day of the week.

The All-Star Game has been in general decline for many years. It was once a dramatic highlight of the baseball season.

The dramatic highlight of the season? For as long as I can remember, it's been a chore for the players and a novelty at best for the fans. Maybe it was the bee's knees 40 years ago, but computers those days were also the size of 18 city blocks. If you'd rather live in those groovier times, perhaps you shouldn't be reading my blog on the Internet.

Baseball made an effort to inject some intensity back into the game by awarding home field advantage in the World Series to the winning league, but even the tangible reward hasn't produced a clear return of drama.

Did anyone think this was a good idea? If so, do you still? How arbitrary and idiotic is it to have the championship round of a professional sports league impacted by a vaguely comprehensive collection of its semi-stars?

The appropriate response? Allow the All-Star Game to slowly fade away. Maybe it's still a cash cow and Major League Baseball's trying to wring every last dollar from it, but in about 10 years, people will give even less of a fuck than they already do. All-Star Games in general are sad, outdated commodities that even the players try extremely hard to avoid.

Baseball executives should have been drooling while they pictured it; Fenway Park, covered in bunting, filled to the bursting point with fans.

Fans, or rich assholes that can afford jacked-up prices for a mostly irrelevant exhibition game.

National networks with their cameras pointed toward a field full of baseball's best players, many coming from the home team.

The Red Sox are 14-17, tied with the Toronto Blue Jays for last in the American League East. Just four of their players rank in the top-130 in OPS.

In a cartoon, this is when your pupils become dollar signs. If baseball wants to retain viewers while overcoming the black eye of steroids and competing with the NBA and NFL, this move is a no-brainer.

Come on, Dave. Although ESPN sure has tried, not everyone is enraptured by the magical, life-altering existence of the Boston Red Sox. People sitting at home watching on TV will not give a fuck if the game is being played at Fenway Park, in Kansas City or on the moon. Well, maybe if it's on the moon.

I get frustrated with baseball because, like every entertainment industry, it is more concerned with its profit margins than with its product.

Yes, we should go back to the good old days, when the game meant something and players were basically indentured servants. The owners would save so much on salaries, tickets would be cheaper, beer would flow from the taps! I see no downside to this.

It is hard to see the romance when everything is brought to you by Coca-Cola, PlayStation and Viagra, and there are more people like Scott Boras and A-Rod than Branch Rickey and Christy Mathewson.

For all we know, Branch Rickey molested collies and Christy Mathewson strangled babies. Let's not deify people because they were good at sports and born a long time ago.

The people at Major League Baseball may not have considered this, but is it possible that all of the flashing lights, shiny objects and other gimmicks designed to attract casual fans aren't working and are instead, cheapening the game and driving away the real fans?

This could be a very legitimate point, but the undertones appear to be that Red Sox fans are "real fans" and we can only appeal to them by having a special game at their Mecca. Or, that "real fans" would nod their heads and find value in the game being at Fenway. So a long-time Cincinnati Reds enthusiast would be jazzed to see the All-Star Game end up in Boston? I think he'd be too busy stuffing his fat face with Skyline Chili to care.

It has been longer for Kansas City and granting the game to a small market city shows parity, but choosing Fenway Park is better for the game.

Again, what's good for Red Sox Nation is good for "the game." Fuck the Royals, right? Oh, and by the way, the Royals are 17-14 with super-prospect Eric Hosmer on the way to the Majors.

The Polo Grounds, Ebbets Field, Yankee Stadium, Forbes Field, Tiger Stadium; they're all scrap. But Fenway is still here and next year is her birthday. Isn't that worth celebrating?

Don't assign a sex to the stadium, Dave. And if Fenway was a 100-year-old woman, I'd push for an assisted suicide.

The 2012 Midsummer Classic will be anything but a classic.

2011-05-05T12:51:00.003-04:00

Americans opened their newspapers on April 21, 1912 to find a story gripping the nation. Earlier that week, the world's largest and grandest ocean liner, the R.M.S. Titanic, was sunk by an iceberg, taking 1,500 people with it. Through the majority of the dead were poor and anonymous, the front page was covered with the names of America's and Europe's richest and most distinguished casualties. Industrial tycoons, millionaire moguls and European nobility headlined the names and personified the tragedy.

Historians have since identified the sinking of Titanic as the symbolic end of "the gilded age," a time of grandeur in Western society: obsessions with wealth, larger than life personalities, miracle inventions and man's mastery of the universe. The world had pinned its hopes to 45,000 tons of iron, but when that symbol sank into the abyss of the Atlantic, their aspirations were curtailed, not to recover until after the second World War.

But the death of one dream coincided with the birth of another, this one more innocent, and as of today, more relevant. Bumped from the front page that same week was story about the far more successful maiden voyage of another symbol of engineering; a new ball park in the Fens of Boston.

The Boston Red Sox had opened their new home with a thrilling 7-6 extra inning win over the New York Highlanders, which on any other day would have been front page news. Since then, Fenway Park has made it into far more headlines than the Titanic. The oldest and most historic sports venue in the country has hosted some of baseball's greatest players and moments. If Babe Ruth is the most iconic personality in baseball history, then Fenway is certainly the iconic stage.

Across that stage strode Cy Young, Babe Ruth, Tris Speaker, Bobby Doer, Ted Williams, Carl Yastrzemski, Carlton Fisk, Jim Rice, Roger Clemens and Pedro Martinez. Hundreds of Hall of Famers have played within its confines in one uniform or another. And hundreds of near-mythical moments have occurred before its green monster. Arguably the greatest game ever played was Game Six of the 1975 World Series. Where did it happen? Fenway Park, of course.

And next year, this fully functional museum will be celebrating its centennial year, which is kind of a big deal. Most entertainment venues not called the Coliseum never even get one. So you can imagine my surprise when it was announced that the 2012 All-Star Game would be held at Kauffman Stadium in Kansas City. I practically rubbed my eyes in disbelief. I didn't just think the All-Star Game wouldn't be at Fenway; I was sure it would be. The same way I'm sure the sun will come up each day. It seemed to be such an obvious choice that a debate would be a waste of time.

I have nothing against the Royals home park. It's a beautiful stadium, with its worst feature being the plethora of empty seats. But the Royals could host any other year and nothing would be lost. Passing up the chance to put the Midsummer Classic in Fenway is a serious lost opportunity.

Deciding on a venue is neither random nor turn based; a prospective host team petitions a MLB committee for that privilege, and the choice is made based on how long that stadium had been waiting, how much money the organization has put into renovations and historically significant opportunities.

Kauffman Stadium recently completed extensive renovations, but Fenway itself has finished a multi-stage renovation which started in 2003 when the Red Sox were acquired by Tom Werner and John Henry; both qualify in the first category. Kauffman has been waiting longer -- since 1973 -- whereas Fenway last held an All-Star Game in 1999. But there was a reason for that, and it relates to the last point.

The '99 game was a celebration of the 20th century and gathered nearly every living Hall of Famer at the time. This All-Century team was the largest assembly of baseball talent ever, and the fact that it all happened at Fenway Park was no accident. Major League Baseball took advantage of the opportunity to highlight the greatness of the last century and it was a spectacular success, still remembered as one of the best ASGs ever. Since 1999, few other All-Star Games have really been memorable. 1999 was a landmark year because of the occasion, atmosphere, cast of characters and performances.

The All-Star Game has been in general decline for many years. It was once a dramatic highlight of the baseball season, with the heated rivalry between leagues on display for the whole country to see. The old-fashioned baseball mentality meant that despite each teams warlike competition with each other, they felt an even more raw hatred for the opposing league. It made for a single game of cooperation between the leagues players in a display of league pride. The games were brutal battles of honor and baseball fans ate it up.

But baseball has changed since the 1970's. The constantly increasing emphasis on free agency and contracts meant teams no longer stayed together for years as they once had. And if players could leave the team, they could also leave the league. With players switching things up constantly, there was no longer any hatred between squads since a rival one year could be a teammate the next. Espris-de-corps for team and league hasn't been taken very seriously in some time, and the fight was taken out of the ASG.

Baseball made an effort to inject some intensity back into the game by awarding home field advantage in the World Series to the winning league, but even the tangible reward hasn't produced a clear return of drama. The result has been a predictable drop in ratings for the All-Star Game, which has been an unfortunate trend in general throughout baseball.

Major League Baseball is a business, and even if arguments about history and the quality of the game fall on deaf ears, losing money and ratings will not. There are two ways to improve ratings: drama and large markets. MLB was smart enough to recognize an opportunity in 2008. They staged the ASG in Yankee Stadium for the ballpark's final season, tapping into both the enormity of New York's market and the historic occasion of saying goodbye to a legendary stadium. The event was a success and even featured an extra-inning thriller to live up to the hype.

Fast-forward to the present day and World Series ratings have been on a steady and disturbing decline. MLB is looking for a way to generate more interest in the game, and a chance has been served to them on a silver platter. Or perhaps a green one. The game's oldest and perhaps most loved park is turning 100 years old. Not only that, but it is in a huge market, has an immensely popular powerhouse team and is on an all-time high sellout streak.

Baseball executives should have been drooling while they pictured it; Fenway Park, covered in bunting, filled to the bursting point with fans. National networks with their cameras pointed toward a field full of baseballs best players, many coming from the home team. Maybe Carl Yastrzemski would throw out the first pitch.
Editor's note: He's not dead yet? Well, I'm sure he'll die soon.

In a cartoon, this is when your pupils become dollar signs. If baseball wants to retain viewers while overcoming the black eye of steroids and competing with the NBA and NFL, this move is a no-brainer. But instead, the 2012 All-Star-Game will be held in Kauffman Stadium. The game will be the same as it is most years; a lot of commercials and a worthless Chevy will go to the MVP, who probably already drives a Bentley. Who wants to watch that?

Money is what I would use to pitch to MLB executives, but as a fan, I think there's far more important matters at stake. I get frustrated with baseball because, like every entertainment industry, it is more concerned with its profit margins than with its product. It is hard to see the romance when everything is brought to you by Coca-Cola, PlayStation and Viagra, and there are more people like Scott Boras and A-Rod than Branch Rickey and Christy Mathewson.

When memorable moments are getting harder to find, every lost opportunity becomes severely magnified. The people at Major League Baseball may not have considered this, but is it possible that all of the flashing lights, shiny objects and other gimmicks designed to attract casual fans aren't working and are instead, cheapening the game and driving away the real fans?

It has been longer for Kansas City and granting the game to a small market city shows parity, but choosing Fenway Park is better for the game. The increased revenue and the drama of a historic moment are a much bigger draw than Kauffman Stadium, which could just host the next AL game. I haven't seen anyone drop the ball like this since Manny retired. Too soon?

The Polo Grounds, Ebbets Field, Yankee Stadium, Forbes Field, Tiger Stadium; they're all scrap. But Fenway is still here and next year is her birthday. Isn't that worth celebrating?

I fear the mustache of Tim Thomas.

2011-05-03T11:07:00.006-04:00

Monday night's Flyers/Bruins showdown had everything you'd want from a postseason hockey game.

Patriotism! Amped up on the blood of Osama bin Laden, the fans went wild for a stirring "God Bless America" duet from Lauren Hart and Zombie Kate Smith. The unbridled enthusiasm translated into a hot start for the Flyers.

Deception! Despite Paul Holmgren's repeated text messages to the contrary, Chris Pronger is not healthy. Is it his back? His hamstring? All we know for sure is that he's less than 100%, and there's no hope for a deep run without Pronger.

Intrigue! Brian Boucher left in the second period with what seemed to be a dislocated finger, although Peter Laviolette dubbed it a "malfunction" after the game. The Flyers are the kings of playoff spin, and I'm not sure I mean that in a good way.

Excitement! James van Riemsdyk continued his postseason domination with two goals and eight shots, prompting some bloggers to declare their undying love for the budding star. He's the best player on the ice right now, and it's not even close.

Disaster! Even though the Flyers put 54 shots on goal, only two snuck past mustachioed Bruins netminder Tim Thomas. Dominating the third period and overtime is neat, but you won't beat a team like Boston without taking advantage of any and all opportunities. The Flyers, now 1-5 against the Bruins this year, found that out yet again on Monday.

Boston is beatable. They're thin on defense, susceptible to lengthy outlet passes and allow more than a few odd-man rushes. They also have no answer for American hero JvR.

But they've got Thomas, the great equalizer, and he's already standing on his head. This is also a different team than last year's choke squad. The Bruins have come out with an aggressive, and justified, air of confidence around them. When they go into attack mode, the Flyers look taken aback. And Laviolette's team has turned the puck over way too much to survive being stuck back in their own end.

I still think the Flyers can win this series. And that's not even because of past experiences; home ice doesn't always mean what it should in hockey, and the Flyers have proven to be an excellent road team. Their margin of error slims by the day, though, and this handsome, terrifying face will continue to stand between them and victory.

Hey hey hey, goodbye.

2011-04-27T11:00:00.001-04:00

The Buffalo Sabres have been vanquished.

It didn't take much. Solid goaltending. Smart defensive play. Shot blocking. And the Peter Laviolette specialty: An aggressive forecheck that overwhelmed the Sabres, just like we knew it would.

The games Ryan Miller dominated, the Sabres won. But Miller's not Superman; even he couldn't withstand a 16-2 shot differential in the first period. And when he cracked, so did Buffalo.

Claude Giroux had his best game of the series; Chris Pronger strongly resembled the Pronger of old. Danny Briere and James van Riemsdyk continued their playoff domination.

Brian Boucher will remain the team's biggest question mark, but now that Michael Leighton has been shot out of a cannon into the sun, the goaltending situation is a little calmer. And frankly, if the Flyers continue to play like they did last night, it doesn't matter who's in goal.

Tampa Bay could be a serious threat, and there's obviously a lot of history between the Flyers and Boston. I'd prefer to see the Crosby-and-Malkin-less Penguins, but at this point I'm just basking in the glory of a Game 7 win. And when you get right down to it, no one in the Eastern Conference is as experienced and as talented as Philadelphia.

A few weeks ago, I questioned whether the Flyers could re-become the team we loved all through the winter. Could they really flip a switch and recapture the magic? Well, consider the switch flipped.

Bring on the Bruins.

2011-04-25T18:35:00.001-04:00

There's not much left to say about this grueling series between the Philadelphia Flyers and the Buffalo Sabres.

The hubbub over the Mike Richards hit? Idle chatter. Richards wasn't getting suspended, and Tim Connolly should learn to keep his head up. It was a two-minute minor with an unfortunate outcome, nothing more.

The Flyers goalie controversy? Nonexistent, finally. Michael Leighton's been cast back into the abyss; I fully expect to see Sergei Bobrovsky backing up starter Brian Boucher on Tuesday night. For better or worse, Boosh is the man.

Chris Pronger's return? Irrelevant. Four minutes and thirty-three seconds of playing time. Two penalty minutes. A welcome sight on the power play, but very few on-ice contributions. God only knows if he'll make more of an impact on Tuesday; he's the ultimate wild card.

All that's left is one more game, a matchup that will probably be the most straightforward of the series. The Flyers had the better regular season; they get home ice. The Sabres have the better goalie; that might make them the popular prediction.

But why would Buffalo win this game? Why should they? They've looked solid but unspectacular, hardly a combination that wins in the postseason. Riding a hot goalie has taken lesser teams further, but Miller's been decidedly mortal in every Flyers win.

Meanwhile, Peter Laviolette has swapped goalies like a drunken sailor. The power play (9.7%) has been abysmal, and the penalty kill (77.8%) hasn't been much better. Jeff Carter's missed the last two games with an injury; the only forwards that show up every night are Danny Briere and James van Riemsdyk. And yet, the series returns to Philadelphia all knotted up.

Simply put, if the Sabres were any good, they'd have beaten the Flyers already. They aren't, so they won't. Bring on the Bruins.

Luke Scott, please stop talking.

2011-04-24T12:00:00.013-04:00

ESPN.com writer Amy K. Nelson recently wrote an article called Always Locked and Loaded about Luke Scott, the controversial Baltimore Orioles outfielder. The aim of the article was supposedly to show that Scott isn't the man he's reputed to be. Nelson stated:

"...the simple assumption is that Scott is a right-wing nut, a borderline racist and a loudmouth redneck ballplayer who should keep his mouth shut. But it's not that simple."

The problem is the article doesn't seem very convincing. Scott was a fairly anonymous ballplayer until December when he spoke to Yahoo! Sports blogger David Brown about a variety of issues, one of which was our Commander-In-Chief:

"Obama does not represent America. … He does not represent what our forefathers stood for."

No one said Scott had to like Obama; I'm guessing he didn't vote for change. Perhaps it's because Obama is a noted White Sox fan; whatever the reason, Scott went on a little too long. He stated he did not believe Obama had been born in America and hinted that the President was a socialist:

"People who tell the truth, they're very easy to … their actions prove it. Something as simple providing a birth certificate. Come on. … There needs to be accountability for the truth. I don't care if you're the President of the United States, you need to be held accountable."

By Scott's standards, he too must be held accountable. In this case, he must be held accountable for his racist attitudes and remarks. As Bill Maher pointed out, "birthers" claim Obama is Kenyan because they know they can't get away with calling him the n-word. I couldn't have said it better myself. It must be said loud and clear that the myth upheld by "birthers" is thinly veiled racism. It is astounding that there is such a small outcry by Americans and the media against such a poorly disguised and backwards concept.

The Orioles issued a statement immediately after the story broke, vehemently distancing themselves from Scott. They went beyond the usual line of pointing out that Scott's opinions were his own and instead seemed to express disappointment in Scott's choices, as well they should have.

When Scott was interviewed by Nelson, he did little to backtrack:

"I felt tremendous about what I said, and I was proud of it. If I could rewind and turn back the clock and go do it again, I'd say the exact same thing. I'd go home and put my head on the pillow and feel wonderful about myself. But certain things were taken and twisted."

Ignoring the contradiction of this statement, if Luke Scott doesn't see anything wrong with what he has said, the Orioles might want to revoke his speaking privileges. Everyone may be entitled to their opinion, but that doesn't mean they are entitled to express that opinion, and that is even more true for public figures. It is sad that someone as mediocre as Luke Scott is a public figure, but that doesn't make it any less true.

Predictably, his team was quick to come to his defense. New teammate and third baseman Mark Reynolds praised Scott for being a straight shooter:

"He doesn't talk behind people's backs about anything. A lot of people have those opinions and don't say anything. Did I think he needed to go to the winter meetings and say all those things? Probably not. But he'll give you his opinion. He's a patriot. He loves America. He's one-of-a-kind."

Mark Reynolds apparently hasn't heard that patriotism and racism haven't been synonymous since the 1860's. Luke Scott isn't a patriot, he is an embarrassment. It's lucky that practically no one knows who he is.

The article stresses Scott's relationship with his teammates, particularly the Latinos and African Americans. I searched the article for the phrase"I'm not racist. I have a black friend. See?" but I surprisingly could not find them. Felix Pie spoke highly of Scott, pointing out that Scott helped resurrect his career after he was traded from the Cubs. Scott apparently told him "...he was running out of time in his career and that he lacked the qualities of a person with good character." That comes off as pretty insulting and self righteous, but maybe Pie needed some tough love. Scott's exact words were a bit harder to excuse:

"I tell him about some of the ways he's acted: 'Look, you're acting like an animal, you're acting like a savage. So I throw (plantains) in his helmet. Here are my banana chips to remind him that whenever he acts like an animal, 'Hey, that's what other people are thinking. They're just not telling you, but that's what they're thinking about. And I'm telling you so that you're aware of that so you can make a cognitive decision to not behave like that.' I would want someone to tell me that instead of letting you making a jerk of yourself."

Ummmm...insert awkward silence here. An animal and a savage; why didn't he just call him a monkey? Everyone in the Orioles clubhouse defended Scott and said that he ribs people and they rib him right back, and that may be so. But doesn't it seem odd for a man who has a race-related image problem to say those things to a journalist?

And I somehow doubt that Scott would make racist remarks out of irony. He just doesn't seem like the type to envoke racism in the hopes of exposing ignorance in society. That's something Mark Twain might have done. In contrast, Scott revealed he has a "safe room" in his home full of food, supplies and over 100 weapons with ammunition, as if he were preparing for the zombie apocalypse. Scott said he would have been a Marine sniper had he not been a ballplayer (apparently forgetting that he would need to be accepted into training) and showed off his SIG Sauer 556 assault rifle to Nelson, remarking, "That's my mom's favorite right there. She loves to shoot it." Not exactly the portrait of a societal satirist.

It's sounding more and more like "a right-wing nut, a borderline racist and a loudmouth redneck ballplayer" is exactly what Luke Scott is. And it seems the Orioles agree; during the interview, Scott had an adviser present, discouraging him from discussing certain topics. You could probably also call this person a babysitter or a muzzle. Scott apparently has to be supervised like a dangerous mental patient. At the very least, he's an idiot.

The Orioles organization can publicly say whatever they like about Scott,but if I were them, my private message would be: "Talk about anything other than baseball and you're going back to triple-A." Luke Scott was given a chance to to make clean up his image; instead, he may have dug himself into an even deeper hole.

Random Note: A tortoise walks into a police station to report he was robbed by a gang of snails. When the officer wanted to know exactly what happened the tortoise said, "I don't know. It all happened so fast."

I wonder if Luke Scott would get it.

Expanded playoffs and the state of baseball.

2011-04-23T10:00:00.002-04:00

After being hinted at for some time, our greatest fears are about to be realized: Major League Baseball is expanding its playoff format from eight to ten teams. Bud Selig has been talking about this idea for a couple of years, but he'd never give a firm indication as to how realistic it was. Now, however, it sounds like the real deal. Selig was quick to point out that nothing was set in stone and many details need to be settled, but barring the unforeseen, 2012 will be the first season with four rounds of playoffs.

The reason is simple: money. As everyone falls out of the postseason race, fans stop coming to the ballparks and turn off their TVs, thus causing a drop in revenue. By introducing an added playoff spot, teams will be in contention longer, drawing more fans to the game.

I will plainly state that I am not a fan of Bud Selig. He will soon be stepping down from his position as commissioner, and I will probably dance naked down Yawkey Way in celebration. He presided over baseball during the steroid era and enabled the worst aspects of free agency, including inflated salaries and the decreasing continuity of team rosters. Plus, he seems to be constantly fighting off a stroke. He couldn't look more incompetent if he drooled during press conferences.

That said, I can't say I hate the idea of a second wild card team. While I see no romance in the financial motivations of this notion, I do think it would attract more fans and be good for baseball. And if it's good for the sport, I'm all for it.

Detractors fear that it would lengthen the season, make it too easy to get into the big dance (see: the NHL) and dilute the overall purity of the game. It is true that, with the introduction of the wild card in the 1995 season, luck began to play a major role in winning world championships, but this realignment gives MLB the opportunity to set things right.

The wild card allowed a team with a lesser record into the playoff pool, but failed to put them at much of a disadvantage. They would have to face the team with the best record, but in a five-game series a team can get very lucky or very hot. Winning the WC these days is just as good as winning the division, and half of the wild card winners have made it past the first round. Maybe I shouldn't complain, given that the Red Sox wouldn't have won the 2004 World Series without making the playoffs as a wild card, but I can honestly say that the current setup isn't really fair to the division winners.

As long as we are changing the game a bit, let's stack the deck too. I would suggest a wild card round that's designed to be taxing on the teams. In order to keep the postseason from dragging on even longer than it already does, the first series needs to be very short. It should either be a best of three or perhaps even a one game playoff. The winner would then go on to face the division winner with the best record. Such a scenario would mean a WC team would have to go through four rounds in order to win a World Series and a division winner would play three. It would also mean that the WC team would also need to burn their best pitchers in the first round, coming into the Division Series in a less than ideal state. Advantage, division winner. Seems more fair to me, while still allowing the wild cards a decent chance and keeping more fans in the season for a longer time.

That takes care of the season length and the challenge of the playoffs but leaves the argument about tampering with the purity of the game. But frankly, I don't believe this to be a legitimate argument. Baseball has been besmirched at its own hands and those of its partners and affiliates since it's birth. Didn't steroids corrupt the game? What about $200 million contracts? How about interleague play? The designated hitter? Expansion? The 162-game season? Segregated baseball? The live-ball era? Gamblers? Mobsters? Corporate advertisers? Trust me, we aren't all that far from having the Star Spangled Banner presented to us by Viagra or Chevy.

Major League Baseball has constantly been fighting for a balance between tradition, evolution and bizarre mutation, between Babe Ruth, Hank Aaron and Disco Demolition Night. A new wild card team just doesn't seem like much or a threat next to some of those issues. It would be a welcome addition when compared to, say, a 70-homer season.

If Selig really wants to change baseball or leave a positive legacy, he needs to do something big for the game. He might claim he increased parity, financial prosperity and cracked down on PEDs, but he also looked the other way for years while players necks got wider and he seemed to be in the MLBPA's pocket. In my view, those things cancel each other out. Selig should seize the opportunity before him and make large, sweeping changes to the game. Why yes, I do have some suggestions.

1. Shorten the season
One of the ongoing complaints by baseball detractors is the length of the season. Given that I love baseball, I disagree, but I do think that when the calendar turns to November, the World Series should be over. October baseball should stay in October, and maybe shortening the season a bit is the best way to ensure it does. Restoring the 154 game season, gone since 1961, could help. So would shortening the All-Star Break and eliminating the utterly pointless Home Run Derby. Let's face it; the Derby is devoid of any competitive purpose and is essentially the baseball equivalent of watching a staged wrestling match. The season could also start a week earlier.

2. Ticket prices
If it's the American pastime, shouldn't Americans be able to afford it? This is less of an issue with the smaller market teams, but the perennial playoff contenders can average $50 per ticket. How is a working class person supposed to take their family to a ball game? If you want to sit in a suite and sip Martinis, you can pay $200, but the average price of a ticket needs to come down.

3. Contract size
If a team wants to be competitive for any length of time they need to acquire and keep great talent. How do you keep great players in your city? Offer them long, huge contracts. The problem with these contracts is the tendency they have to eventually become dead weight. A bad contract can completely hamstring a small market team, preventing financial flexibility and dragging them to the cellar of their division. The solution is a different attitude toward contracts. For one thing, contracts should not exceed a certain length. I will arbitrarily say six years. This would keep the Yankees from paying A-Rod $25 million dollars at the age of 42.

Secondly, players should never be paid for past performance, only what they will do for a team going forward. This gets a bit more complicated. One solution is for a team to negotiate two figures with a player; a minimum salary and a maximum. This way if a player is hurt or under performs, the team can only pay him so much for his services. This makes every salary incentive based and provides a team with insurance against bad contracts. If a player wants to be paid like a king he will have to play like one, and a team will always get what they pay for.

4. Relocation
If MLB is concerned about making money, they shouldn't keep teams where they aren't wanted. It takes money to run a franchise, but if no one pays to see the team play, then they should play for a more appreciative crowd. I'm not talking about the Dodgers moving from a zealous Brooklyn fan base to LA, where they would make more money because of the sheer number of people there and lack of competition. I'm thinking of the Rays, who can't fill Tropicana Field during a pennant-winning season. The Rays deserve better and should be moved to a city that wants them. I realize this is easier said than done, as most of the viable markets are taken. But there must be somewhere out there that could draw the attendance a club needs to thrive.

5. Instant replay
Right now, instant replay can be used on debated home runs only; apparently too much replay removes the human element and slows down the game. This is true, but it also makes replay too limited to be truly useful. Instead, replay should be used like a challenge. Each team could use replay once per game for anything except the strike zone. Having only one per game keeps managers from using them frivolously. Opponents of replay say it undermines the integrity of the game, but when 50 million people can see a ball land foul on TV and an umpire thinks it was fair, doesn't it make the human element seem pointless? Give managers and umpires a tool make sure the game is called as it was played. If we had this system, Armando Galarraga would have a perfect game.

6. A Rose by any other name would smell as sweet
Not if you called them stench-blossoms. If we are going to make arguments about the integrity of the game, then the all-time leader in hits needs to be in the Hall of Fame. Pete Rose didn't cheat on the field. Every hit was achieved through talent and hard work, and his off-field crimes must be dealt with in a separate arena. The Hall of Fame is not meant to judge a mans character. At least it not according to those enshrined there. Manager John McGraw supposedly carried a piece of rope with him which was used in a lynching. Ty Cobb, the man Rose eclipsed, was a violent racist who is rumored to have killed a man. The Hall isn't just a shrine to saints. So it's time to give Charlie Hustle, who played clean and hard, a plaque. Anything less is an insult to baseball.

Some of these changes are pretty easy to implement and others aren't, but the ultimate goal is to improve the quality of the game without turning it into another game all together. No easy task, given the historic resistance to change in baseball or the inexorable influence of an owners financial interests. But the game has made changes before, many far more dramatic than adding a playoff team or anything I've suggested here. It's adapting and it would be a good idea to keep adapting.

Random note of the day: Ken Burns' "Baseball" is now available on Netflix Instant. Since Ken Burns is one of the few people capable of reminding me that America truly is a great country, I highly recommend his work.

Counterpoint from a drunken Buffaloian.

2011-04-22T11:47:00.002-04:00

As tonight's Sabres/Flyers Game 5 showdown gets closer and closer, tensions are high. With that in mind, here is a word-for-word counterpoint from my Buffalo-bred soul mate, Michael McLachlan. It was originally printed as a comment on this post, but I thought Mike's thoughts were meant to be viewed by the entire world.

Why Steve and the Flyers will Fall to the Elation of the Gentleman Thief from Tuffalo,

I cannot begin to describe the profound respect and adoration I have for the talents, hilarity, art, and person of my close friend London Steve. We're brothers in life, in the respect that our every decision is in part based on a life philosophy so clearly articulated by Hunter S. Thompson: to sleep late, have fun, get wild, drink whiskey and drive fast on empty streets with nothing in mind except falling in love and not getting arrested. We frequently seek each other out to exchange the most absurd of life experiences -- connoisseurs in the art of poor decisions -- and I've vowed to watch the man be buried. This kinship, however, in no way prevents me from pointing out that Steve's beliefs and opinions on this latest Flyers/Sabres series can only be viewed as his latest attempt at fiction.

The logic and reasoning Steve presents on the Flyers is all well enough, but it's got no balls, no panache. It's unconvincing, and the flaccidity it exhibits has not been since Pronger demanded a trade from one of the greatest hockey markets in the history of the sport based on the shopping preferences of his Mrs. (that removed, the man is my hero and I'm glad he's not coming back soon).
Editor's note: All reports indicate that Pronger will play tonight.

The Sabres make sense because they don't make sense. Conversation about talent and what should be happening based on the output of the regular season is not the early debate of championship teams. Counting easy categorical victories but lacking the conviction when discussing your team's future is a sign of losses to come. But when will it come?

Buffalo hasn't had a team so seemingly unexciting for a number of years. For many, it's difficult to pick who to watch or who's going to need to step up. For my eventual roster-featuring back tattoo to commemorate the winning of the Cup (and yes, a friend's dad had the offensive and defensive line-ups of the 1990 Buffalo Bills tattooed on his back), I'll probably need to bring the depth chart with me. Yet this team has been dominating everyone over a significant period of time. The argument should be what needs to go wrong for this team to lose, which, when you try, isn't as easy as it would seem...with the notable exception of Miller being un-Miller, which you could point our current losses to.

So does this mean the Flyers fate now rests solely on Miller not showing up? Is this reality why Steve's words create nothing but a smile on my face as I anticipate the waves of Schadenfreude that are due to wash over me with a Philly loss? This time, I think so, and I will think so when I again watch the game drinking vodka out of a jar tonight, streaming the shitty Internet version of the game on a wall projector to enhance its shittiness just because that's how we did it two nights ago.

Sorry I'm not sorry, Steve. I had begun with the thought that I'd discuss how you've grown soft on the incredible successes of your fine city, but that won't be necessary to lessen your belief in the only NHL team to wear full-length pants. Hope Briere dies. Remember, there are men and there are cowards, and that one day we'll sit together and in Brett’s voice you’ll say, "The Flyers could have had such a damned good time together."

"Yes," I said. "Isn’t it pretty to think so?"

I love this fucking guy.

The Red Sox can’t catch a break.

2011-04-21T16:39:00.001-04:00

Editor's note: Please welcome the newest contributor to King Myno's Court, Dave "The Bear Jew" Goldstein. Dave will be our resident Boston Red Sox expert, blogging all about baseball, and he's also our default guru on Judaic principles...if you have any questions about all that shit. Wish him welcome!

Jason Varitek turned 39 last Monday, and he looks the part. In a recent game, his first at bat against Oakland's Gio Gonzalez featured a horrific late swing on a third strike. In his second at bat, he killed a rally by grounding into a double play. Then he popped up.

Given that Gonzalez went into the start with a 0.47 ERA, maybe I should give Tek a break. But his slash line was .063/.167/.063 coming in, and that was mostly batting from his "strong" right side. He's always had a pretty big hole in his swing, but he managed to get by with good power and enough bat speed to catch up to a fastball. He simply doesn't have that anymore, nor can he summon the arm strength to throw out runners. He's basically on the roster for nostalgia's sake, along with his plethora of experience in calling a game.

There's no question that Varitek is an expert behind the dish; the wise old sage who knows just which fingers to put down. But Johnny Bench, he is not. And that's fine, if he is a backup catcher. The problem is that he isn't getting the playing time of a backup. He's played in 7 of the teams first 17 games, which is far too many for a man with one hit.

We all know who the Sox would like to have catching every day, but that man remains a work in progress. So far, the once highly touted Jared Saltalamacchia hasn't hit any more than Tek has. His slash line looks like this: .194/.256/.222. Not exactly Ruthian, but he's also not exactly the only member of the Sox struggling at the plate. And while his early at bats were positively awful, he's shown a bit more patience lately, along with some pitch recognition and the occasional bit of contact. It's not much, but it's a start.

At the same time, however, the pitching staff has struggled with him behind the plate. Varitek has guided Sox pitchers to an ERA of 2.40, but with Salty it's been 7.14. It's too small a sample size to rule out Saltalamacchia's abilities to call a game, and he is fairly new to the Red Sox. There are bound to be some growing pains and adjustments followed by improvement. So again, for now, this is a minor concern.

But here's the kicker: Salty can't throw. Before he joined the Red Sox, Salty went through a period where he couldn't throw the ball back to the pitcher, which kind of puts a damper on the whole catching thing. By the time he joined the Sox, he had worked it out, but his throws to the rest of the diamond sure look awful. Baserunners have been running without fear, like kids in some kind of store. Salty's throws aren't just late; they're erratic. He's thrown into the outfield, into the dirt, and into the runner. Only diving plays by infielders have saved runs from scoring. He has even missed the pitcher with a few nonchalant lobs, bringing back memories of his previous issue.

This may work itself out, as Salty is doubtlessly working with the staff to improve his throwing mechanics, his swing and his game calling. And despite the horrific start all around, the Red Sox probably won't panic with him any more than they will with the rest of the team. They knew going into the season that the young backstop would need a lot of work to become a stalwart; they just didn't know that every chink in the April armor would suddenly be magnified.

Keep an eye out in the summer, however, because that's when the front office could be very well decide that Saltalamacchia and Varitek don't have what it takes to catch for the Olde Towne Team. If that is the case, then where shall they turn?

The minors have some catching talent, but most of it is too young to make an impact for some time, and we all know that Mike Scioscia is hospitalized with a potentially fatal dose of radiation poisoning. At this point, it's a trade, an unproved youngster, or Bengie Molina. Hmm, I wonder how drunk Brian Sabean would have to be to trade Buster Posey for Dice-K...

At war with a Buffaloian.

2011-04-21T10:39:00.003-04:00

My friend Mike, who I've mentioned before, is from Buffalo. He's a drinker, and a fiend. He's also brilliant, an employed Cornell graduate with a razor-like wit and a mind like a steel trap. If you ranked the city's finest sons from "zero" to "All-Star," he's Dominik Hasek. Definitely way cooler than Tim Russert.

Mike's been through his share of sports-related heartbreak: the Bills in the 90's and the Peca/Satan/Barnaby Sabres after that. And, of course, let's not forget the long, storied struggles of the minor league baseball Buffalo Bisons (no championships from 1961 to 1997). If all things were equal, I'd be rooting for one of his teams to bring home a title. Hell, the most fun I've ever had watching a non-Eagles football game was at the Bills bar in New York City; I do feel a certain kinship with their merry band of losers.

Obviously, however, that's not the case. Our cities are at war, and behind a giant stone wall dressed in a Ryan Miller jersey, Buffalo now heads back to Philadelphia with the series tied.

I said before this all started that the Flyers would win in 6, and I stand by that prediction. Besides Miller standing on his head, the Flyers have looked like the more talented team. Brian Boucher's been rock solid in goal, and I love the aggressive forecheck from guys like the rapidly maturing James van Riemsdyk.

But I won't sell Buffalo short; the Sabres are taking it to the Flyers. Patrick Kaleta, in particular, is a physical pest in the Dan Carcillo vein. Say what you will about the oft-discussed elbow from Mike Richards -- which should have been a two-minute minor, not a fiver, and I'll flip out if he's suspended -- but it was a knee-jerk reaction to Buffalo's aggressive play. It's exactly what Kaleta was hoping for; he'd probably take five elbows to the face every night if it brought home a win.

Will this level of physicality shift when Chris Pronger steps onto the ice? For that matter, will Chris Pronger step onto the ice? His presence would certainly steady the team, in particular on the power play, and he's probably dying to be in the middle of some of these post-whistle scrums at every stoppage. I personally expect to see him in Game 5 (as do several of the beat writers), but as of early Thursday morning, no one knows for sure.

I'm not upset that Ryan Miller has shut the Flyers out twice; he's a top-three NHL goalie, and a loss is a loss at this point. But I am perturbed that Jeff Carter might be out with a knee injury, and that Richards could conceivably be suspended, and that the Flyers lost two very winnable one-goal games. I'm a little nervous that a pesky team like Buffalo is still hanging around, and that the refs seem to absolutely loathe the Flyers.

It's an even series, and while the Flyers still have home-ice advantage, the margin for error has thinned. All I know is I don't want to give Mike, the lovable asshole that drinks vodka from a jar, any kind of bragging rights. I want him, my good friend, to suffer like the sad, Buffalo-bred runner-up that he is.

Boosh over Bob.

2011-04-17T19:07:00.001-04:00

Three months ago, I asked the eternal question: Boosh or Bob?

And now, roughly 24 hours before Game 3 of the Flyers/Sabres series, I'm asking it again. Only this time, there's a whole lot more at stake.

In my opinion, it's time to turn to Brian Boucher. Yes, as Phil Sheridan pointed out today, yanking Sergei Bobrovsky may very well destroy his confidence. And yes, Bob is (probably) the future in goal for the Flyers.

But this can't be about hurt feelings; it shouldn't even be about Bobrovsky's development as an NHL goalie. It's about winning the Stanley Cup, and right now, Boucher gives them a better chance to do so.

If Bob had coasted through this series, even he'd been merely serviceable, it would have been a no-brainer. He'd get his feet wet; the Flyers move on. Everybody wins. You still have Boucher waiting in the wings in case of a meltdown, but no one's whispering his name.

But Bob's been tested. And he failed. Three goals on seven shots won't ever cut it; the Flyers are lucky to have won. And if Bob can't shut down the Sabres, what's he going to do versus the Capitals and Lightning, teams with real firepower?

It's not panicking if you turn to Boucher; it's being smart. He's playoff-tested, he's been there before. In all honesty, he probably should have been starting in the first place. I understand that you have to take the training wheels off Bob at some point, but Peter Laviolette has been flip-flopping goalies all year. There's obviously something about Bob that he's not totally comfortable with, and if that's at all the case, Boucher needs to be your guy.

Plus, if benching Bob really does mean blowing up his confidence, there's always Michael Leighton. Would it be absurd to throw Leighton, after being banished to Adirondack, back into the fire? A little, but it's not like he was sitting on his ass up there. He was winning hockey games, albeit in the minor leagues. Plus, and everybody all together now, "he's been there before." I'm not a big believer of most sports clichés, but that's one I do buy. The Stanley Cup playoffs are a whole different ballgame.

I think Sergei Bobrovsky will have a long, successful career as an NHL goaltender, and I hope it's in Philadelphia. But it's been "Stanley Cup or bust" since February, and there's officially no time left to screw around with a shaky goalie.

Flyers in 6.

2011-04-14T11:52:00.003-04:00

In the 2006 Stanley Cup playoffs, the Flyers were pounded in six games by the Buffalo Sabres. Peter Forsberg dominated the two Philadelphia wins, but they turned out to be the last gasps of a once-great player. Brian Campbell took off R.J. Umberger's head, and the Sabres essentially ended Ken Hitchcock's run as Flyers coach.

And now, five years later, the two teams meet again. On paper, it's a no-brainer. The Flyers have burgeoning superstar Claude Giroux (quietly the 11th-leading scorer in the league), Calder Trophy candidate Sergei Bobrovsky, hard-nosed Mike Richards, goal-king Jeff Carter and a rock-solid corp of defensemen, even without Chris Pronger. The Sabres have...Michael Peca? Dominik Hasek? Miroslav Satan?

But it's not that simple; it never is. Buffalo accrued 60 out of 90 possible points since the first of January; the Flyers have been fairly poopy since the middle of February. The Sabres are 8-1-1 in their last 10; the Flyers were 3-4-3. Thomas Vanek ended up with only three fewer points than Giroux, and Ryan Miller -- even though he's a bit dinged-up -- remains twice as likely as Bob to steal a game or two.

Plus, the news broke today that Chris Pronger's lingering hand injury will keep him out of Game 1. All the talk about "flipping the switch" and playing like the Flyers of old centered around the return of Pronger: how he'd settle down the defense, how he'd fix up the power play. It all sounded a bit unlikely in the first place, and now with the big man still out indefinitely, there's officially no outside stimuli on the way. There won't be any kick in the butt; Pronger and Ian Laperriere aren't walking onto the ice in their pads and jerseys. The roster is the roster.

To win, however, they don't necessarily need Pronger. If the Flyers play up to their potential, if they even remotely resemble the team that dominated the National Hockey League over the first 50 games of this season, they'll win. They'll win in 6, maybe 7, and the Sabres will be an afterthought, a speed bump on the way to Boston, Washington or Pittsburgh. Even with their tremendous start to 2011, Buffalo barely snuck into the playoffs; even after a serious two-month slump, the Flyers still won the Atlantic Division.

This was a Flyers team that, for most of the season, looked destined to bring home a Cup. Is that kind of ability still there, buried under the surface? Is it really possible that they've been biding their time until the postseason? Peter Laviolette, not the most patient coach in the NHL, has been mostly handling them with kid gloves; that's not his style. I'm banking that he knows something we don't, that he really believes this group of guys remains Cup-ready.

Buffalo's defensemen are young; their forwards are solid but unspectacular. The Flyers have the deepest group of forwards in the league and a heralded batch of defensemen. If Bob falters, Brian Boucher (and maybe even Michael Leighton) will be ready to step in immediately. Miller won the Vezina in 2010, but this here is 2011. Flyers in 6.

The 10 best rock 'n' roll deep cuts.

2011-04-10T13:18:00.003-04:00

Editor's note: Please welcome my brother, Chris Cimino, to King Myno's Court. He'll be providing an alternative look at music, movies and other aspects of pop culture, usually when I'm too lazy/busy to write anything myself. Enjoy!

In the late 60s and early 70s, when musicians could no longer stand to cushion their albums of various singles with fleeting, throwaway tracks, the new brand of rock 'n' roll musician chose to whittle a record from something larger. These crusaders of musical reform proclaimed that each song now had meaning and purpose. It became an album's conception, organization, and presentation that depicted the artist's status as an auteur. Thus, album rock was born.

Similarly, rock 'n' roll radio followed suit and implemented the broadcast of a band's deep cuts into their daily repertoire. This involved the hipper radio stations digging further into a band's catalog to find relatively obscure tracks to play for their devoted listeners.

Having grown up first on radio rock and then on album-oriented rock, I consider myself not just an avid listener, but also a lobbyist of the band/musician as auteur and the album as work of art. With this notion in tow, I decided to dig deep into my favorite rock 'n' roll deep cuts:

Led Zeppelin – No Quarter

from Houses for the Holy (1973)

One of the few Zeppelin songs that requires you to adjust your volume knob from 11 to 3 and back to 11 again.

Pink Floyd – San Tropez

from Meddle (1971)

Who would've thunk Pink Floyd made a walking-down-the-street, riding-on-the-bus song? Well they did, and it's damn catchy.

Crosby, Stills and Nash – Pre-Road Downs

from Crosby, Stills & Nash (1969)

It's no wonder this song never struck gold; it seems the world just wasn't ready for backwards guitar solos.

David Bowie – Station to Station

from Station to Station (1976)

Aside from his bulge in Labyrinth, this stands as Bowie's magnum opus. It's a long, epic song that easily rode on the coattails of the prog rock movement that had been gaining much momentum in the years prior.

The Doors – Peace Frog

from Morrison Hotel (1970)

The coolest opening guitar riff, followed by a badass drum beat, followed by the smoothest bass line, and topped off by one of their most memorable keyboard phrases.

George Harrison – Out of the Blue

from All Things Must Pass (1970)

Why this song hasn't been used in a Martin Scorsese movie yet, I'll never understand.

James Gang – Funk #48

from Yer Album (1969)

It only took 49 of these to finally produce a hit for Joe Walsh and his James Gang.

Stevie Wonder – He's Misstra Know It All

from Innervisions (1973)

Still no idea who Misstra is or what the hell its all about, but the song makes it easy to not care.

T. Rex – Lean Woman Blues

from Electric Warrior (1971)

Give Marc Bolan a pad of paper and a guitar and he'll whip together the most delicious concoction of hippie pop, blues, and glam rock you've ever tasted. On a sidenote: You can really hear the Black Keys in everything T. Rex has already done, especially this track.

War – Where Was You At?

from The World is a Ghetto (1972)

If this song doesn't make you picture an obese black family sitting around a dinner table clapping, I don't want to know what does. Perfect fit for the end-credit sequence of The Nutty Professor 3.

The Philadelphia Flyers are in trouble.

2011-04-08T08:00:00.006-04:00

On February 24th, the Philadelphia Flyers were 40-15-6. They'd found a young stud in rookie goaltending sensation Sergei Bobrovsky. Their top six defensemen were probably the best in the league. Claude Giroux was emerging as a star, and Danny Briere was finally earning every cent of his $52 million contract. A repeat appearance in the Stanley Cup Finals seemed all but certain.

Yet here are we are on April 8th, less than a week away from the start of the playoffs, and the Flyers are in big trouble. What seemed like a midseason swoon has lasted for months; just when you think they've got it figured out, another heartbreaking loss sends them right back to square one. It's increasingly possible that the Flyers, thought to have locked up the top seed after 57 consecutive days in front, could fall to number four by Sunday.

So what happened?

I'm not even sure where to begin. Bobrovsky, while steady overall, mixed in a few stinkers. Chris Pronger got hurt. Too many players took whole periods off at a time. The Briere-Leino-Hartnell line cooled down considerably. Mike Richards played his worst stretch of hockey maybe ever. The team's level of physicality dropped tremendously. And the power play has been, and continues to be, abysmal at 16.6% (19th in the NHL).

Some people like to place all the blame on Kris Versteeg, noting that the Flyers are 10-9-6 since he arrived in a trade with Toronto. But it would be pretty sad if this team of battle-tested veterans, where even young players like Richards and Jeff Carter have played in a Cup Final and an Eastern Conference Final, were that thrown off their game by the "disruption" of adding a single player. Plus, let's not forget that Versteeg won a championship with Chicago last year.

More than anything, I think an inevitable lull set in after so many months of stellar play, one that they unexpectedly haven't been able to overcome. How much of that is due to the continued lack of Pronger, the outspoken yang to Richards's quiet yin? Losing a top-10 NHL defenseman, especially one with Pronger's leadership skills, is never an easy thing to overcome. But the Flyers survived without him in the early going; thrived, even. It's been a team-wide effort that warrants team-wide blame.

Whatever it is, the Flyers need to figure it out fast. As of today, they'll play Buffalo in the first round, but a few losses (and Pittsburgh wins) would turn that into an extremely tough matchup with the Tampa Bay Lightning. Tampa's 3-0-1 against the Flyers this season, and if the last few weeks are any indication, it could very quickly be one-and-done for a team that looked invincible not too long ago.

On February 11th, Peter Laviolette said this season was "Stanley Cup or bust." A lot of people, including Sports Illustrated, think that Philly's still a worthy Cup contender (although the return of a fully healthy Pronger is no longer a guarantee). And the Flyers themselves seem to think they can flip a switch and starting blowing teams out again, recapturing whatever made them so dominant in late 2010.

But maybe, just maybe, this lengthy cold spell has been the team reverting to the mean. Maybe they never were a true top team; maybe they just got hot early and wilted late. I don't want to believe it, but if they can't go deep into the playoffs again, all that dominating winter play will be a faint memory in another ultimately forgettable Flyers season.

Six bold predictions about the 2011 Philadelphia Phillies.

2011-04-04T21:09:00.001-04:00

Ryan Howard will hit more than 40 home runs. Alright, so maybe they're not all that bold. Howard's hit over 40 bombs in four of his five seasons with 500 or more at bats, and 2011 will be another one of those monster years. The Big Man may not have Jayson Werth "protecting" him anymore, but Howard's been the top power bat in baseball since his rookie season in 2005. I don't care if Raul Ibanez, Ben Francisco or even Wilson Valdez hit in the number five hole; Howard's staying healthy and swatting dingers all through 2011.

Brad Lidge will not record a save. A little bold, but not that far-fetched. After two years of supporting the broken-down corpse that used to be Brad Lidge, I think Charlie Manuel's had enough. Lidge will be elsewhere next season -- no way the Phillies pick up his $12.5 million option -- and even when he recovers from a right shoulder strain, it's time to let some combination of Ryan Madson and Jose Contreras handle the closer job. Lidge was one of the key cogs of the 2008 world championship team and I'll always love him for it, but his three-year, $37.5 million extension will go down as one of the worst signings in Phillies history.

Ben Francisco will hit 20 home runs. If you follow me on Twitter, you'll know I made this prediction well before Benny's big season-opening homestand. I'm not saying Francisco is the next Jayson Werth; I'm not even saying he's that good at baseball. But unless John Mayberry Jr. takes the next step, Ross Gload gets hot or Dom Brown is rushed up from the minors again, Francisco's the guy in right field. In 2009, he hit 15 homers in 405 at bats; barring injury, he'll get at least that many this year. At age 29, it feels like a career year's on the way from the Ben Francisco Treat.

Chase Utley will record under 300 at bats. This is a tough one for all Phillies fans to swallow, but I'm not optimistic about Chase. Yes, I know he was seen taking ground balls on Sunday, and the Phillies probably cut Luis Castillo because they think Utley will be back around the All-Star break. But that's in the middle of July, and there's no way he'll be 100 percent. Until he gets surgery to clean up that knee, Chase will probably be a shell of his former self. Granted, I'll take the feeblest Chase Utley over a full season of Wilson Valdez at second base, but let's not expect much -- if anything -- from Chase in 2011. That way, maybe he'll surprise us.

For the first time since 2007, Jimmy Rollins will top an .800 OPS. A big year's on the way for J-Roll. I don't know if it'll be driven by newfound good health, a contract season or just a desire to prove any haters out there wrong, but Jimmy looks ready to play. And that's huge, because the Phillies desperately need him to produce out of the three-hole. Victorino, Polanco, Rollins and Howard are the logical top four sans Utley, and so far, Jimmy looks very comfortable in this new batting order. He might not swipe as many bags, but I expect a slugging percentage over .450. That, too, would be his highest in five years, and his ticket to one more big-money deal.

Roy Halladay, Cliff Lee, Roy Oswalt and Cole Hamels will win 60 games between them. It's pretty damn hard for one pitcher to win 15 games, let alone four. Three of these four starters are at least 32 years old; the younger one's never topped 15 wins in his career. But I think the Phour Horsemen, the Phab Phour, whatever the hell you want to call them, I think they're going to do special things. As top Phillies blog Beerleaguer and my associate Jon Cifuentes pointed out today, Halladay, Lee and Oswalt were dynamite this weekend (67% of pitches for strikes, 2.84 ERA, one walk issued). And you know what? They can, and should, be even better. No-hitters, Cy Young Awards, 20-win seasons: all attainable goals. Even if one goes down, the other three will pick up the slack. And don't forget about Vance Worley, maybe the best no. 7 starter in baseball!

The 2011 Phillies are rich with pitching and good enough at hitting. When they hit the occasional rough patch, we'll call them "aging." When they launch furious ninth-inning comebacks, like they did against Brandon Lyon in the season opener, we'll call them "wily veterans." Either way, even without Utley, they've got enough ammo to win the National League East and compete for another World Series championship. After so many years of mediocrity, of boredom, of empty arenas and infinite sadness, isn't that all we can ask for?

From the rubble to the Ritz.

2011-03-29T15:47:00.003-04:00

Editor's note: If you don't like reading about other people's fantasy baseball teams, turn away now. If you do, you're officially a masochist. Carry on.

In 2006, thanks to a late-season trade for Blue Jays ace Roy Halladay, I won the elite, West Coast-oriented Yay Area Keeper League. It was my first year as a member.

In 2007, we switched to a keeper league. And like a moron, I engaged in a drunken unplanned fight with my then-girlfriend and missed the first four rounds of the draft. Instead of Alex Rodriguez, Joe Mauer, Hanley Ramirez and Ryan Zimmerman, I ended up with Alfonso Soriano, Justin Morneau, Jimmy Rollins and Jeremy Bonderman. An eighth-place finish followed.

It was the beginning of the end. After a few years packed with bad trades (Carl Crawford for Carlos Quentin and Erik Bedard) and dumb free-agent pickups (David Freese, Ty Wigginton), I've firmly ensconced myself in the league's bottom half.

But this year is going to be different. For the first time, I locked up five legitimate keepers: Halladay, Kevin Youkilis, Colby Rasmus, Adrian Beltre and Kendrys Morales. It might not be Albert Pujols and Carlos Gonzalez (damn you, Commissioner True), but after years of keeping scrubs like Ryan Ludwick, Matt Wieters and the corpse of Chipper Jones, it's practically a miracle.

And the first few rounds of my draft went wonderfully: young stud Justin Upton, a healthy Jimmy Rollins, flamethrower Carlos Marmol, newly christened Angeleno Ted Lilly and post-hype sleeper Gordon Beckham. Throw a few late-round value picks in there (Jordan Zimmermann, Edwin Jackson, Will Venable and one more go-around with Mr. Bedard) and I think you've got a legitimate contender.

I won two fantasy baseball leagues last year. In the my third, this one, the YAKL, I came in dead last. That makes me a AAA fantasy player; I can mash in the minors, but can I make it in the bigs?

A projected 30/30 season from Upton says I can. Another Cy Young season from Halladay? That'll help, too. Rasmus reaching 20/20 and Morales coming back from the DL with a vengeance? The icing on the cake. As I made very clear last year, I really enjoy my fantasy baseball. And there's nothing better than falling in love with a keeper team. This is your year, Sioux City Sarsaparillas. Make me proud.

Say goodbye to the quiet comedy.

2011-03-28T20:01:00.005-04:00

The Hangover. Old School. Wedding Crashers. Knocked Up.

Funny movies? Absolutely. They're also some of the most commercially successful comedies of all time. The success of The Hangover, in particular, has proven that inspired casting and an engaging premise can trump even the latest bloated Jim Carrey/Adam Sandler corpse of a movie.

To varying degrees, I enjoy all of these movies (and many others like them). I do wonder, however, if they're doing serious damage to a different type of film. I'm sure film critics have varying names for it, but I'm going with "quiet comedy." And I realized, after seeing Cedar Rapids this weekend, that it's a form of filmmaking that's slowly dying.

Cedar Rapids stars two very popular comedic actors, John C. Reilly and Ed Helms, and comes with an easy-to-grasp concept: small-town guy overwhelmed by the "big city." Anne Heche and The Wire's Isiah Whitlock Jr. (Senator Clay Davis, sheeeeet) kill in supporting roles, and Maeby from Arrested Development plays a prostitute! It's got it all.

But after more than a month, it's made just over $6 million at the box office. Hell, I was surprised that it was even still playing; a baby-sized release of only 462 theaters all but ensured that it wouldn't find an audience.

Now, I know it's not fair to say that comedies like The Hangover are the reason that Cedar Rapids perished during childbirth (a comparison made even easier by the dual presence of Ed Helms), and I know there have been far more deserving movies than Cedar Rapids that also didn't make a dime at the box office. But Cedar Rapids could never in a trillion years be The Hangover, even if it wanted to be, and I find that interesting. Simple, well-executed and straightforward comedies, stuff that you could even justifiably deem its own form of art, just don't seem to cut it anymore.

And it's not like audiences have always been drawn to grandiose, laugh-a-second spectacles. Animal House, Groundhog Dog, Trading Places and Blazing Saddles wove memorable comedic actors and situations into legitimate (albeit oft-clichéd) storylines, and they still made millions upon millions of dollars. Even Ghostbusters and Caddyshack, two of the most memorable and quotable comedies of the last 40 years, don't cram funniness into your every orifice. They're paced far more deliberately; they're movies instead of joke vehicles.

Maybe it all started with There's Something About Mary (probably). Or perhaps, as the movie industry grew larger and larger, it was the natural evolution of comedy in film. Whatever makes the most money is going to be copied again and again; belly laughs and fart jokes and the occasional small naked Asian man sell.

I should, however, point something out. Some of my favorite comedies are those from the Zucker, Abrahams and Zucker trio, such as Hot Shots! and The Naked Gun (and the far less beloved Jane Austen's Mafia!, High School High and BASEketball). These movies move a mile a minute, smashing you over the head with stupid gag after stupid gag. And I can't get enough.

I'm not 100% what makes their intentions seem different, even slightly purer, than something like Tropic Thunder. It might be because the Zucker/Abrahams movies are always poking fun at themselves by being so openly stupid. Or maybe they're just legitimately funnier than what's being released nowadays. I'm not a student of comedy so much as someone who likes to laugh, so I can only suppose. What I do know, however, is that I want there to be a place for the Cedar Rapids of the world. It's not like they aren't willing to compromise; Ed Helms drinks heavily and you get to see John C. Reilly's butt! Last time I checked, that's the stuff of a $400 million blockbuster.