Ode To Vegas

Merry Christmas, everyone. I hope the holidays found everyone well. They were good for me, except for finding out that I received a 74 on my second CPA test (75 is passing.) It is a huge kick in the nuts, but what better way to feel better than a New Year's trip to Vegas? This is my third time in the last year going (last New Year's and spring break) and, despite the almost indescribable ass-kicking we took during March Madness, I am confident about my chances to come back, (or maybe should I say die hard?) with a vengeance. For anyone who hasn't been, here is my view of all the good things (and bad) about Vegas.

PRO: Singing the opening line of "I can show you the world....shining, shimmering, splendor..." to the blackjack dealer at the Aladdin after every blackjack, while she giggled uncontrollably, to the point she had to stop dealing for a minute.

CON: Being told shortly thereafter we weren't allowed to order two drinks at a time anymore by the pit boss.

PRO: Miracle comebacks by Boston College to send the game into overtime, then blowing Pacific out in overtime to cover the 11 point spread. I've never felt closer to a group of complete strangers than that moment in my life.

CON: Having that game be the only one correct in your three-team teaser.

PRO: Burgers at Margaritaville.

CON: 38 dollar cases of beer in the Luxor gift shop.

PRO: Standing in line, watching a 350 pound guy listening to horse racing at the Imperial suddenly throw his headphones, pound the table, and start screaming "no!!!! no!!!!! no!!!!! fuck no, I fuckin' knew it!!!!!! fuck!!!!! no!!!!!! ahhhh jesus christ, this whole DAY has been a fuckin' DISASTER!!!!" It was 8:30 AM.

CON: Not 2 minutes later, talking to a college kid, a "diehard" LSU fan, who was scared of the possible second round matchup (actually with Texas A&M), or, as he put it, "Texas...or maybe Texas St. I don't know, somebody in the SEC, though." Mmmhmm. Texas St. is a scary team on paper. Especially coming out of the SEC. Go Tigers.

PRO: As we drive up to the Luxor the first time, Dunph announces that the light beam on top of the pyramid is the brightest light in the world, to which we respond, naturally, by ridiculing him, and making it the running joke of the weekend. Asking him if he was just googling brightest light beams one day, telling girls "yeah...we're staying at the Luxor....brightest light beam in the world, you know...no big deal, though." etc. etc.

Not really a CON, but just kinda funny: Finding out months later that he was right.

PRO: Betting the over in the Giants/Raiders game, then watching them hit the over in the second quarter, for a stress-free second half.

CON: A meaningless, buzzer-beating, even though we just made a ridiculous comeback to cover the spread, we're gonna let you stroll down the court uncontested and make a layup by Gonzaga. What defense was that, Mark Few, the "Box And Let's Cost Jim $100"?!?

PRO: Meeting smoking hot girls from Utah at the blackjack table that could talk coherently about Andrew Bogut, Alex Smith, and even Keith Van Horn and Andre Miller.

CON: Getting molested by crazy Japanese whores at Club Ra. In fact, Club Ra is a CON all by itself. They should call it Club Douchebags & Crazy Japanese Whores.

PRO: Winning a $275 hand by flopping a nut straight on your first ever hand of poker in Vegas. Thanks, I thought it was pretty sweet too.

CON: Betting black, black, red on three consecutive $50 hands of roulette, and watching it come up red, red, black.

PRO: Getting some big, beautiful, fake boobies in your face, and being in a strip club where you're allowed to grab anything.

CON: Fake tits kinda feel like soccer balls.

PRO: Double-fisting Margaritas by the Yard.

CON: Still Double-fisting Margaritas by the Yard, 3 hours later.

PRO: Watching ADawg pull the old "I don't wanna gamble but I want free drinks" move:
Step 1: slide into a slot machine near a waitress.
Step 2: pretend to put money in.
Step 3: "hey, how you doin? sure, I'd love a drink!"
Step 4: accept your drink.
Step 5: talking to no one in particular: "ahh, this machine is cold, I'm outta here"
Step 6: mosey around, finish your drink.
Step 7: repeat.

CON: Not having the balls to gamble. Yeah, you, ADawg.

PRO: A decently hot girl starting to make out with you because you "helped her find her friends", even though you walked with her approximately 20 steps.

CON: Being drunk enough to proclaim "That was the hottest girl I've ever made out with!!!" and when everyone calls bullshit on that, backpedaling by saying "OK, but she's at least the hottest girl in Vegas!" My bad. What can I say, alcohol's a hell of a drug.

PRO: 11 seeds making Cinderalla runs through the tournament, taking down historic programs and making NCAA tournament history.

CON: Fuck you, George Mason.

PRO: The flight there.

CON: The flight home. Cracks the top 5 Most Depressing Locations in the U.S.

PRO: Getting off the plane and immediatley hearing the dinging bells of slot machines.

PRO: The initial rush of excitement and euphoria every single time you walk into a different casino.

PRO: Going to bed at 5 am (or on my first night, 10 am) and getting up a couple hours later (or on my first night, 45 minutes later) to get back at it.

Those last three PROs are why I love Vegas, and why this weekend will not be my last. Wish me luck.

P.S. not trying to make light of anyone dying, but does anyone remember the old Dana Carvey as Tom Brokaw "Gerald Ford dead today...and I'm gay" sketch? Those were the first, second, and third thoughts in my head when I read that headline today.

2006 Year-End Awards

It's that time of the year again...when I honor all the good things that have occurred or I have experienced during the year, and when I equally ridicule all the bad things. Without further ado...

Sportsman of the Year: This has been a year where the Sox folded like a cheap suit in the second half, Kansas choked in the first round and haven't proved much yet this season, the Knicks have become the biggest joke in sports in maybe the last 20 years, and Phil, one par away from three majors in a row, instead watched his game go to shit for the last six months. So, based almost exclusively on the last five games, the award goes to Vince Young. He's given me something NFL-related to cheer about for the first time in about 5 or 6 years. I would like to apologize for the string of expletives I let loose on draft day when this selection was made.

Movie of the Year: Also happens to be my new favorite movie of all-time: The Departed. See it if you haven't.

Most Disappointing Movie of the Year: Tie between Talladega Nights and Beerfest. To be fair, Talladega never had a shot after Anchorman. My expectations were through the roof. At some point, I will probably buy Talladega and watch it a few more times, and will probably find it funny someday. As for Beerfest, I don't even know. Just a great idea for a movie, and it almost seems like the Broken Lizard guys weren't even trying. They were leaving jokes on the table almost every scene. I used to think they were comedic geniuses, but maybe they just got lucky with Super Troopers.

Funniest Movie of the Year: Since the above two fell flat, Clerks 2 sneaks in, in a mild upset. Definite re-watchability. Best scenes: the Star Wars vs. Lord of the Rings argument; the Porch Monkey debacle; the discussion of Elias's girlfriend's pussy troll "Pillowpants" and mouth troll "Listerfiend."

Grandma's Boy, which I hadn't even heard of until it came out on DVD, is inducted into two halls of fame tonight. The first one is the "Harold & Kumar Go To Whitecastle" Hall of Fame, for movies that came out of nowhere to be funny as shit, or movies that I wasn't expecting much from, but became absolutely hiiiii-larious. Other members include Team America, Euro Trip, Saving Silverman, and Baseketball. GMa's Boy is also inducted into the most prestigious of my Halls, the appropriately named Anchorman Hall of Fame, reserved for movies that I watch at least three times the first week they come out on DVD, dramatically alter my vocabulary for months afterward, and have one-liners that ultimately become used for everyday conversation, to the point that I don't even realize I am quoting a movie. Other members from the last few years are Wedding Crashers, 40 Year Old Virgin, Dodgeball, and going back a few years, Dumb & Dumber, Tommy Boy, and Happy Gilmore.

Purchase of the Year: A runaway win for my Callaway X18 irons. In retrospect, after achieving my life goal of breaking par just a couple weeks after buying them, maybe I shouldn't have held blindly onto my Tommy Armours for so many years.

Worst Purchase of the Year: Actually just occurred last Saturday. Paul and I were DVD dumpster diving at Wal-Mart, when we came across National Lampoon's Dorm Daze. Everyone knows National Lampoon movies are guaranteed for multiple titty scenes, and with Tapanga from Boy Meets World as one of the stars, I decided to take a $4.50 gamble that we would get to see in an hour and a half what it took Corey Matthews eight years to get a glimpse of. Needless to say, we failed. How bad was the movie? Well, if I paid under 5 bucks, and it still is the worst purchase of the year, well.....

Best Decision of the Year: Lasik eye surgery. Wake up every morning and enjoy this one.

Worst Decision of the Year: Too painful to talk about in detail, so I'll give you the pieces and you put the puzzle together: Vegas. George Mason vs. Michigan St. Seemingly easy money line. Desparation. Booze. ATM.

Songs that vaulted into my all-time favorites: Train in Vain by The Clash, This Will Be Our Year by The Zombies, Heat of the Moment by Asia, Over the Hills and Far Away by Led Zeppelin, Superman by Goldfinger.

Game of the Year: Texas vs. USC Rose Bowl. Best college football game I've ever watched. Also sparked the argument between me and Bergman over who will have a better pro career, Young or Leinart. At the time I backed Leinart. The argument, escalating quickly with the aid of dollar Morgans at the Cuckoo's Nest, ended with me holding a full beer can over Bergman, threatening to smash him in the face. Ironically enough, the bet was called off after Tennessee drafted Young, as I didn't want the bet against Young hanging over my head when I had to cheer for him.

Game of the Year 2: Watching LSU dismantle J.J. Redick and Duke, as diehard Dookies Noles and Jenna watch in disbelief.

Personal Achievement of the Year: Graduating college? No chance. My fifteen-birdie, three-eagle, -21 round on the PGA Championship machine at Boston's. Course record, second best score on the whole machine. Also the night our softball team 15-run ruled our bitter rivals in the semifinals, and the night when Papi hit the three run homer to beat Cleveland, making July 31 probably the greatest day of the year, not counting the Vegas, Chicago, Boston, and Denver vacations. We'll call it the North Dakota day of the year.

Asshole Move of the Year: Horp peeing our couch, not telling anyone for a week, writing a note confessing at 6 am, then moving to Phoenix an hour later. Wow. Talk about "fuck your couch."

Asshole Move of the Year 2: Me convincing Horp, Fundy, Noles, and Dumphs how great of a bet George Mason vs. Michigan St. was. If that wasn't enough, I even made a few calls to buddies back home to let me put some money down for them, too. I made sure I wasn't going down alone on that one.

To end on a positive note, Wedding of the Year: Chelsey and Mike. Beautiful ceremony, people I hadn't seen for quite a while, and, of course, finding out what happens when energetic bible-school kids who dance for the joy of it meet boozed-up North Dakota kids who only dance when they have been drinking for nine hours. Chanting "it's all your fault!" at the bartender who told us the complimentary keg was dry was fun as well. Good times.

With Christmas and one more Vegas trip still to go, the up-to-date grade for 2006 is an A-.

I'm Coming, Coach, I'm Coming

Props to Lane for scoring the greatest Christmas/Not-In-The-Wedding-Party present I could ever get, an autograph from Bill Self, commanding me to move to Lawrence. The battle between Lawrence, Kansas, and Louisville, Kentucky is getting a little one-sided. I have endorsements from Lane, Skye, Miss January, Miss February, Miss September, Miss October, and Miss December of The Girls of KU 2006 calendar, and now Bill Self. From Louisville, I have just Ben and Jon-O. If you're reading this, Benny, I would get in touch with Rick Pitino, or even better, Muhammad Ali. See what you can do.

However, as clutch as Lane was with Self, that's how bad he choked when meeting his hero, Sasha Kaun, at Jimmy John's today. When I say meet, I mean watch him come in, order, and walk out. That's not the Lane Leedahl I know. That's not the Lane Leedahl that bought tacos for the Phoenix Suns, then got tackled off their team bus.

I can't judge too much, as I gagged on my tongue when I found myself alone with Phil Mickelson at the PGA Championship a few years ago. However, since then, I have progressed nicely, to the point where I told Brad Buckman (from Texas) to "watch out, dude" when he ran into me in Indianapolis, and at the Masters in '05, I sidled up to the urinal next to Mario Lemeiux and asked him where Jaromir was. Still couldn't bring myself to lob a beer at Ron Artest in a bar in Indy a few months after The Brawl, though. I didn't feel like getting my ass kicked by his 6-man posse, even after the girl I was dancing with all night ditched me later on that night cause Ron-Ron beckoned her over. To those of you reading this from cool cities, remember I live in North Dakota, where meeting celebrities and athletes does not happen. So these are big deals to me, dammit.

Congrats to the kids finishing up finals. I figure that since this is only my first semester since graduation, I am still within the grace period that allows me to celebrate finals week. So I will. Flippy Cup at 10 tomorrow. Let's get crunk.

Induction Night

Welcome, members, media, and special guests of the Hammen Downtown Athletic Club, as we usher in the Class of 2006 Inductees to the "My Boy" Hall Of Fame. The honorees this year are two of the most exciting, fun to watch players in their respective sports, with seemingly limitless upsides, and a combination of athleticism and creativeness that borders on unfair. Both inductees are, as we speak, beginning to come into their own and take control of their respective teams, with talent and leadership qualities that give hope to their tortured fan bases. Ladies and Gentleman, please join me in congratulating Mr. Julian Wright and Mr. Vince Young!

While we're on the subject, I know I use the term "my boy" pretty loosely, so let's tighten it up. Here are my boys, both past and present.

Baseball: Manny, Kenny Lofton, Ortiz, Pedro, Schilling, Griffey Jr., Orlando Cabrera, Kevin Millar, Derek Lowe.

Football: Vince Young, Steve McNair, Eddie George, Deion Sanders, Ricky Watters, Kordell Stewart, Cris Dishman, Andre Rison, Charlie Ward (college).

Kansas Basketball: Julian Wright, Kirk Hinrich, Paul Pierce, Jacque Vaughn, Keith Langford, Jeff Boschee, Drew Gooden, Wayne Simien, Rex Walters, Nick Collison.

Non-Kansas Basketball: Nick Van Exel, Gilbert Arenas, Jalen Rose, Ray Allen, Shaq, Adam Morrison, Jason Terry, Larry Johnson, John Starks, Allan Houston, Marcus Camby, Chris Dudley.

Golf: Phil Mickelson.

OK, maybe that didn't narrow it down very much. Whatever.

On an unrelated topic, I have pulled the plug on Operation Get Doug Laid For Money. I feel better. I think.

Moral Dilemma, Circa 1985

I find myself right in the middle of a situation that couldn't be more ideal for an 80's teen movie. Actually, it probably was. Anyways, there is a co-worker, for identity purposes we will call him "Doug", who, although being 20 years old, has had very little experience in social settings: parties, drinking, girls, etc. All the experience he has had has come at our parties in the last couple years, and although he has made great strides of late, he is basically still like a 12 or 13 year old, running around, hitting on every girl he sees with lame lines, asking out six different girls and getting shot down every time, etc. etc. But he is a good kid and we love him.

So one night last week at work we are passing the time talking about how we need to get him laid, or at the very least make out with a girl, as we are 99% sure he hasn't kissed a girl. We jokingly toy with the idea of getting a prostitute, but we quickly throw that out, because of the absurdness of it, and besides, does anyone know where to get a hooker in Grand Forks?

But then another co-worker brings up the idea of not getting an actual prostitute, but paying someone we know, someone with maybe....looser standards regarding who she will sleep with. We'll call her "Sally." Things escalate quickly, and before we really realize what we're doing, Sally has somehow agreed for only $250 (and other minor conditions). We already have $125 raised among the people involved in the conversation. Since the other kid did the impossible deed of asking Sally to whore herself out, I am put in charge of raising the rest of the money.

Everyone is pretty jazzed up that the major obstacle is completed, and I know getting the rest of the money is no problem, but now the conscience is kicking in. It's a safe bet that Doug finds Sally at least a little bit attractive, and and even safer bet that he wants to get some action, but questions abound. Does Doug want his first time to go down like this? What if Sally has an STD? What if Doug gets Sally pregnant? What if someone involved in the arrangement lets it slip that we paid Sally? How many people can we trust with this secret? How mad would Doug be if he found out about the arrangement?

The main problem I have is that this started out as helping Doug out. I legitmately want to see him get a boost of confidence, and make him feel cool. He deserves it. However, the other two guys most prominently involved are already making too many jokes about it, and I have serious doubts about their intentions. But do I back out? This is where the movie premise kicks in. I feel like I would be played by Emilio Estevez, waffling between wanting to be cool and go with the plan or backing out and letting the other guys down. My two buddies would be Judd Nelson (the badass from Breakfast Club) and Billy Zabka (the Karate Kid's archnemesis.) Sally would be played by Phoebe Cates (the hot girl in Fast Times At Ridgemont High.) Doug would undoubtedly be played by Patrick Dempsey (Can't Buy Me Love.) That would actually be a perfect title for this movie, but since it is already taken, along with 'Cruel Intentions' and 'Indecent Proposal,' we might have to think of something else. Stay tuned.

The NBA Noon Ball Team

Among noon ballers, a well known fact is that the most talented team does not always win, and actually doesn't even have that great of a winning percentage. The five guys who gel the best over the timespan of 15 points is going to win. Unless, of course, Jerome Beasley is playing. Then his team will probably just win. With that in mind, here are the four NBAers (I left out super-duper-stars cause that's no fun) I would suit up with if I had the chance:

Kirk Hinrich: The guy who would make everything go. Makes good decisions on the break, looks to make the pass but will score when needed. If you make a sweet back-door cut, he will hit you, rather than putting on a dribbling exhibition at the top of the key while being double-teamed. Just all around fun to play with. I am a little biased about Kirk, but honestly, after Steve Nash, he is the next best in this spot. Honorable mention: Mike Bibby

Elton Brand: The solid force down low. He'll grab every rebound, block a few shots, alter a couple others, get a few easy buckets on the other end, and not dominate the ball. Good passing big man, as well. The kind of guy who just blends into the game, and then you realize after the game he had 7 of your 15, and you can't really remember him missing any shots either. Honorable mention: Jermaine O'Neal

Josh Howard: Does everything well. He can guard anyone on the floor, gets in passing lanes, great finisher on the break, gives tons of effort cause he cares about winning. Great mid-range game, which is huge in noon ball, as everyone usually packs the lane or contests threes. He can head up the shit-talking department as well, a necessary quality at Hyslop. Honorable mention: Shane Battier

Ron Artest: The defensive stopper. As a bonus, he can get hot and score in buckets, but we don't necessarily need him to. Absolutely shuts down the other team's best player, and intimidates him on the other end into stupid fouls and gambling for steals. Hinrich can drift a little bit on D, but Ron-Ron will keep him in line. Also helps out Howard with shit-talking, and if anything gets really heated, pretty much puts an end to it. Who's gonna fuck with Ron Artest? Don't underestimate the crazy factor at noon ball. Honorable mention: Raja Bell

While we're here, and since I usually can't write about sports without hating on people at least a little bit, here is who I would not want to play with:

Vince Carter: I don't even think I need to elaborate on him. There is no such thing as a contract year in noon ball, so he would be pretty much worthless.

Manu Ginobli: Well suited for noon ball offensively, but I couldn't stand being on the same team as the whiner and flopper.

Antawn Jamison: Sulks if he doesn't get enough shots, which affects his defense and rebounding, which are brutal in the first place for a guy his size.

Stephon Marbury: The dreaded shoot-first point guard. Nothing kills a noon ball team faster. Also see: Mike James, Baron Davis, half the Knicks roster.

So there are my thoughts, I know you guys have your own team in mind. Let's hear 'em.

CPA Tests, Like Dunk Contests, Are Bourgeois

So round 2 is complete in regards to the CPA test. And when I say complete I mean maybe complete, as I don't know whether I passed for a couple of weeks. That is the most potentially devestating thing about the test. I can't just bomb it and accept a bad score. I can fail, and then I just wasted 200 scrills and two months out of my life. As I begin to start all over studying for round 3, I feel a little bit like Ivan Drago as he is fighting Rocky. He just won't go down.

If anyone is on the fence considering Lasik surgery, take this as the Jim Hammen two thumbs up endorsement. The process goes a little something like this:

Day 1, hours 1-5= immense pain.
Day 1, hours 6-rest of day=mild discomfort.
Day 2=no pain, 80% vision.
Day 3=perfection.

The marvels of modern medicine. On the plus-plus side, I get to wear some sweet goggles for basketball the next couple of weeks. Not quite as cool as Antoine Carr, but Chris Kolle would be jealous.

One Man's Plea

With trade talks involving Manny Ramirez heating up like never before, I feel like I should tell Theo Epstein that all I want for Christmas is Manny in a Red Sox uniform next year.

Trading Manny is the unthinkable. The knockout punch. The nail in the coffin. The straw that broke the camel's back. Fill in whatever sports cliche you like, that's what it would be. Since the magical ride of 2004, I have swallowed the loss of Pedro, Kevin Millar, Roberts, Arroyo, Cabrera, Mueller, D-Lowe, etc. Even Judas Damon, which I thought I would never get over. Losing Manny, though, would leave me inconsolable. Manny, despite his moodiness, has never been a clubhouse cancer. The only player that Manny affected was Manny. Part of the reason Millar was so valuable was his ability to keep Manny focused, in a good mood. Millar would see Manny go 0 for 4, make an error in the field, maybe snap at the press, and know it was time to step in and do his thing. And bam, Manny would hit a couple homers the next night, flashing his trademark point all over the field, and there you go. He has asked out of Boston numerous times the last few years, only to be talked off the ledge by Millar. When the Sox dangled Manny on the waiver wire during 2003, then tried to trade him for A-Rod after the season, it was Millar who calmed him down, went to the press and backed Manny, and 9 months later, he was World Series MVP. That's why the loss of Millar, as I said at the time, opened the door for much larger consequences down the road.

Part of the reason I love the Sox so much is that they are idiots. They are exactly what we would be like if we found ourselves playing pro baseball for millions for dollars. The 2003 and 2004 teams were laid-back, joking around, growing stupid facial hair, driving around remote-control cars and shooting bow and arrow on the field before games. It takes a certain kind of team to come back from 0-3 down in a best of seven series, a fact that is proven by the fact that only three teams have ever done it in the history of sports. That same looseness, who-gives-a-shit, win-or-lose-we-still-booze mentality is what enabled them to win that series, and the World Series after that. And Manny was, still is, the embodiment of that team.

And the by-the-numbers, chart out the graphs, what are their statistics worth to us strategy that Theo and his assistants used to add such key pieces like Schilling, Cabrera, Varitek, and others are what have torn this team down. Good character guy after good character guy have walked out the door since the 2004 season, because their stats weren't worth their dollar. It was hard to take, but because at the same time they were adding solid players like Josh Beckett, Mark Loretta, Mike Lowell, Alex Gonzalez, etc. it was easier to accept.

But I can't accept this strategy anymore. Two years have produced zero playoff wins, and the team has become less and less fun to watch. Now the Sox, who won't spend the money on their own free agents, will pay $51 million just for the rights to negotiate with a Japanese guy? We are turning into the Yankees, right before my very eyes. A team that has no fun, and has no rings to show for it. I don't want to cheer for the Yankees. I want to cheer for the Red Sox. For the idiots. For Manny. So Santa, if you exist, tell Theo Epstein that he holds my Christmas in his hands.

Redemption, November Style

Wow. Are we sure that it's only November? That wasn't the national championship game? Despite the increased heart rate, splitting headache, and multiple ulcers I am now suffering from, I feel good. I will also be sleeping in my Julian Wright jersey tonight, if anyone cares.

Guarded Optimism Regarding All Things Jayhawk

And so begins another KU basketball season. This year, while it will be exciting and tons and tons of fun to watch, has the potential to be very excrutiatingly difficult, as evidenced already by their early season loss to Oral Fucking Roberts. Obviously I love the 12 guys that KU suits up every year, but I have fallen especially in love with this team. Julian Wright already has a jersey up on my wall of fame (joining Jacque Vaughn, Jeff Boschee, and Keith Langford...if anyone can find me a Hinrich college jersey let me know) and by the time it is all said and done, he has the potential to be unbelievable. Haven't seen a big man pass like him in years, pro or college. Darrell Arthur is stupid good. I mean ridiculous. On a team full of athletes he stands out. Mario Chalmers, Brandon Rush, Russell Robinson all matured a bunch this last off-season, making it hard for Sherron Collins to get all the PT he deserves. Darrell Jackson doesn't do much wrong anymore, a far cry from last year. It's just impossible to talk about this team and not get fired up. I have goosebumps right now, to be perfectly honest.

All that being said, I have been a KU fan far too long to be all smiles. The last 5 tourneys have been absolute torture for any Jayhawker. A final four loss, a championship game loss, an overtime loss in the elite 8, and two absolutely shocking first round losses have KU fans more heartbroken than any fan base in the country so far this century.

As hard as the loss to Bradley was last year, after I settled down for a few weeks, I thought that for a very talented, but very young team, it was the best thing that could've happened to them. This was evidenced by Rush coming back (he would've been gone if they "wouldn't have gone out like that" as he said) and the great off-season they had.

I also love Bill Self's attitude and quotes after these games, and the way he downplayed the hype all summer. After the Oral Roberts loss, he said "I saw this coming three months ago. Why are we the #3 team in the country? Because we made a little run at the end of last year and lost in the first round of the tournament? That makes us the third best team in America?" He also ripped on the players for letting the no-namer from ORU hit 7 threes on them, saying that "maybe after he hits one or two we should start guarding him..." I love that. Very Aaron Dunphy-esque, the right amount of disdain and ridicule for his players, which I feel is a great way to motivate talented players, call them out and challenge them...

...which is why this loss is so disheartening. To have a loss like this, so early, only a couple of games removed from the Bradley game, is disconcerting. I thought that this was exactly the type of loss that would be eliminated from KU's repertoire. Why hasn't the mental toughness of Self, whose teams before KU had never made unexpected early tourney exits, rubbed off on the team in his 3+ years at Kansas? Looking at this negatively, this is a horrible omen of things to come; the sophomores learned nothing from last year; the freshmen have a lackadaisical attitude; everyone will play scared the next time it is close. Looking at this positively, maybe it is (once again) the best thing that could have happened this early on. Maybe the players were buying into all the Sports Illustrated, espn.com, preseason all-on-paper hype, and this is just the thing to snap them out of it.

As for me, I will continue to be excited about the upcoming year, but with a little bit of temperance. No one is going undefeated in college basketball these days, and it's only November. But I'll feel great if this is the only loss to a shitty team we have all year. My glass is still half full. Bring on the Gators.

Sounds Inside My Head

Without a doubt, the best thing about the newer versions of itunes is the top 25 most played list it keeps track of for you. I monitor that thing like the Billboard Top 40... you know, if I cared about the Billboard Top 40. Anyways, here is the current top 25.

1. SexyBack- Justin Timberlake (only cause I think it's hilarious...don't worry)
2. Train In Vain- The Clash
3. Diamonds And Guns- Transplants
4. Precious Declaration- Collective Soul
5. Ballroom Blitz- Sweet
6. One Week- Barenaked Ladies
7. Cochise- Audioslave
8. Rocket- El Presidente
9. Superman- Goldfinger
10. Cold Hard Bitch- Jet
11. Snow- Red Hot Chili Peppers
12. Uptight- Stevie Wonder
13. Cobra Style- Teddybears Stockholm
14. Playmate Of The Year- Zebrahead
15. Playa Hatin' Niggas- 2 Live Crew
16. Pump It- Black Eyed Peas
17. Green Onions- Booker T and the MG's
18. Tell Me Baby- Red Hot Chili Peppers
19. Afternoon Delight- Ron Burgundy
20. Should I Stay Or Should I Go- The Clash
21. This Lonely Place- Goldfinger
22. Goin' In The Right Direction- Robert Randolph
23. You And I- Rick James
24. Goodbye Horses- Q Lazzurus
25. Just A Friend- Biz Markie

NBA Preview

I know it's a little bit late, but whatever. Lay off.

Eastern Conference:

1. Miami: Not any better, but rest of East isn't either. They can coast 'til May.
2. Chicago: Backcourt is one more year away from serious title consideration.
3. Cleveland: With Larry Hughes healthy, they take the next step.
4. New Jersey: Vince Carter is in contract year, so he will actually try.
5. Washington: As Arenas's craziness grows, so does his game.
6. Detroit: Miss Big Ben more than they admit.
7. Orlando: Beginning of an era for Howard, Nelson, Darko.
8. Indiana: Will find a way to squeak in like they always do.

9. Toronto: Improved, but no playoffs yet.
10. New York: If the track isn't finished yet, you can change engineers, but the train is still gonna crash.
11. Philadelphia: 2nd half fade from Iverson, C-Webb.
12. Milwaukee: Still don't know how they got in last year.
13. Boston: No real identity. Oh yeah, Danny Ainge is their GM. Weird.
14. Atlanta: Could be a really, really good team if they allowed draft do-overs.
15. Charlotte: NCAA All-Stars 2004-2006.

Western Conference:

1. San Antonio: I know everyone's saying it, but it's true: don't underestimate a hungry Duncan. Take away a ridiculous Derek Fisher shot and a stupid Ginobli foul and they would be going for a 5-peat this year.
2. L.A. Clippers: Are you excited for the Shaun Livingston show? I know I am.
3. Dallas: Still a great team, but probably missed their chance last year.
4. Houston: If they stay healthy, they could win the title. If they don't, they will be in the lotttery.
5. Phoenix: Another team that probably missed their boat. I'm waiting for Nash's spine to collapse in the middle of a fast break.
6. L.A. Lakers: A playoffs without Kobe to cheer against wouldn't be a playoffs at all. The Hating Kobe Era is getting me through the Knicks Sucking Era.
7. Denver: Talent=playoffs. No heart=first round playoff loss.
8. New Orleans/OK City: Six teams have a legitimate shot at getting swept by the Spurs in the first round. I'll give it to N.O. cause they deserve the playoffs.

9. Utah: Solid on paper, but West is loaded.
10. Minnesota: If they were in the East, they'd probably go to the East finals.
11. Sacramento: Are you seeing a theme here?
12. Golden State: If you're hoping Don Nelson will be your savior, you're hoping too much.
13. Memphis: Wayyyyyy too many question marks for this conference.
14. Seattle: Fun to watch...
15. Portland: Fun to laugh at.

MVP: Bron-Bron. It's his league now. Lay back and enjoy it.

ROY: Brandon Roy. I called this before his senior year of college, gotta stick with it now. Rookie Flop: Shelden Williams. Rookie Sleeper: Rajon Rondo.

Coach of year: Mike Dunleavy. Didn't think I'd ever say that ten years ago. Worst coach of year: George Karl. No one does less with more.

Most Improved: Tyson Chandler. Most improved starting 5: Chandler, Deron Williams, Jameer Nelson, Luke Walton, Marvin Williams.

Most Declined: Rasheed Wallace. Refs will help this along. Most declined starting 5: Wallace, Eddie Jones, Antoine Walker, Chris Webber, Steve Francis.

6th Man: Does Amare count? If not, then Andres Nocioni.

All-underrated team: David Lee, Shane Battier, David West, Mehmet Okur, Gerald Wallace.

All-overrated team: Wally Szczerbiak, Brendan Haywood, Kenyon Martin, Mike James, Baron Davis.

Clever People Make Me Happy, Stupid People Make Me Mad

Working in a restaurant, the vast, vast majority of encounters I have with strangers that deserve a story are only story-worthy because of how much the aforementioned strangers suck at life. However, every once in a while I came away from one of these encounters laughing my ass off, mostly at how the person recognized the potential for a funny moment and capitalized. One of these occured today.

A man came up and paid for his food with a credit card. We usually don't i.d., but I happened to glance at the card and saw an interesting name: William Wallace. I glance at the guy, back at the card, and kind of laugh to myself. The man saw my look of disbelief and decided to take it a step further. He slammed his hand down on the counter, and in his best (or worst, depending on how you look at it) Scottish accent, exclaimed, "I AM William Wallace!!!" I think the only time a customer has made me laugh harder was when two tables of college kids sitting by one another flawlessly pulled off the C-Bass scene from Dumb & Dumber, word-for-word.

On a completely unrelated topic, after hearing Kanye West go off (again) at an awards show in Europe when he didn't win video of the year, I think personally that I am at the point where if I didn't hear Kanye talk besides in his songs, I would be totally OK with it. I don't know if I have ever had such a discrepancy between how much I like an artist's music and how much I dislike the artist as a person. I don't hate all black people (like Bush apparently does) but I sure hate you.,

Turning Over A New Leaf?

As many of you know, I am a huge headcase on a basketball court. Even at noonball, winning is the only thing that matters, and in the heat of a game, I have no problems yelling at people if they are throwing away passes, casting up shots, not playing tough defense or boxing out, and basically doing anything that constitutes not caring about winning, even if these teammates are also my friends. There has sadly been more than one occasion over the years where a teammate and I have had to be separated before a fight broke out. By fight I mean the other guy, usually bigger, tougher, and most times black, punches me and I go down.

So, needless to say, there are plenty of people at noonball who think I am a giant douchebag. I can't blame them; I would probably think that I am a douchebag too. The ones who I am friends with outside of noonball, or that I have been playing noonball with for many years, know that I am only like that on the court. A guy that had recently become my new archenemy was guarding me today, and it wasn't 3 possessions before we were talking shit. However, later in the day we found ourselves on the same team, and after a couple of games of passing each other the ball, screening for each other, and helping each other on D, we were high-fiving like old friends. Afterwards he came up and gave me a handshake, and told me he was glad that it looked like we were "turning over a new leaf." A very classy move on his part. I was just gonna go for the unspoken leaf flip, but it was cool.

So it got me to thinking: maybe I should stop being such a shithead on the court. Besides helping me vent, nothing positive comes from it. Then people wouldn't have to talk to me outside of noonball to know that I am not a dick. So from now on, I will be doing my best to "turn over a new leaf." Good attitudes all around. No more yelling at teammates. Just box your guy out, please.

Don't Buy Soothing Sound Alarm Clocks...

Sorry no posts for a while; I was in the hospital recovering from injuries suffered when the Dolphins bandwagon I was driving crashed into a telephone pole. Daunte Culpepper, you made up that weird celebration that doubles as a traveling or false start call, you made me look like an idiot, and you tried your hardest to kill my fantasy team, which has survived anyway. Fuck you, Daunte Culpepper.

Other random thoughts:

The Departed is my new favorite movie of all-time, surpassing Goodfellas. I have seen it 3 times already, and as soon as someone else asks me to go, I will have seen it 4 times.

The O.C. season 3 on DVD came out a couple days ago, and it was quickly elected into the Hall of Fame of "Things That A 23 Year Old Studying For His CPA Test Probably Shouldn't Spend So Much Time On." Guitar Hero is there, and Madden is a charter member.

It's funny that this Cardinal team, the one that barely made the playoffs, has a brutal pitching staff beyond Chris Carpenter, has no real closer, and features a lineup with an average barely over .200 in the playoffs is probably gonna win the World Series, not the Cardinal teams from the last few years that won 100 games and had stacked lineups and decent pitching.

Maybe too soon to joke about this, but when I read the story about Daric Frans walking down the street brandishing an assualt rifle, all I could think about was the drugs video Mike McFarlane made in high school, where in one of the scenes Mike Opp is strutting along to the sounds of Eric Clapton with a rifle on his shoulder until he is pushed into a snowbank and flipped off.

I purchased a soothing sounds alarm clock at a special price through my credit card (apparently since I'm such a valued customer) looking forward to waking up to some tropical rain forest monkeys, babbling brooks, foghorns, seabirds, thunderstorms, etc. etc. However, to my dismay, I found I can only fall asleep to those sounds. To wake me up, all I have are clanging train whistles, annoying wind chimes, and-get this-alarm clock sounds!!! Get fuckin' serious. I want my $9.97 back. I might as well wake up to the soothing sounds of Daunte Culpepper.

#1: The Birth Of The Controller To The Face Game

Is everyone ready for #1? This game took place in probably 1993, in the spit-stained basement of the Dunphy household. The game is Super Batter Up, based on either the '91 or '92 MLB stats, when the Toronto Blue Jays were by far the best rated team. One of the funny things about this game was that although every member of the Dunphy family is a diehard Braves fan, they all had absolutely no problem playing as the team that beat them in the World Series the year before. Whatever. I was only 11, I wasn't going to call them on it. I am playing Andy, and I choose the Pirates because Bonds was pretty ridiculous in this game, even pre-steroids.

The first few innings go about how most Super Batter Up games against the older Dunphy brothers go. Lots of infield singles by Devon White and Roberto Alomar (who were both faster than anybody else on Super Nintendo, except maybe Mario with a star and the turbo held down), and lots of doubles by Joe Carter, Dave Winfield, and especially Kelly Gruber, who probably hit .800 against me in his SBU career. There is also a steady stream of shit-talking and spit coming from Andy's chair. However, I am surprisingly scrappy today, and after a grand slam by Gary Redus in the 8th (which earned a loogie on the carpet right at my feet) I had tied the game at 8.

Pissed off and motivated now, Andy storms back in the top of the 9th, and after a three run job by Gruber, he sits back, apparently satisfied, and the shit-talking resumes in full force. It continues into the bottom of the ninth, when his "closer" Jack Morris (actually one of the best starters in the league that year) strikes out the first two batters in my half of the ninth. Jay Bell, at the top of the order, ekes out a bloop single, and then the fireworks begin. Andy Van Slyke is up next, and after laying off three of the up+B pitches that bounce before they reach the plate, Andy has to come with a fastball, which I take out. Only down 11-10 now, and I have Andy's attention again. Jeff King is up next, and he turns a Morris fastball around for another homer. Tie ballgame. Andy is going nuts now, spitting everywhere. I am too scared/excited to say anything. I had the equally silent support of the crowd, which consisted of Dunph and Bergman. Bonds is up next, and Dunph suggests walking him intentionally. Andy tells him to shut the fuck up, then gives up an absolute bomb that leaves Blue Moon Stadium. As Bonds circles the bases for my first career win against one of the older Dunphys, I can't help myself. "Probably should've walked him" I let slip out, and I can barely finish the sentence before a super nintendo controller is bouncing off my forehead. This classy little move apparently made Andy feel better, as it became a staple of the Dunphy Basement Video Game Battles from then on.

I hope everyone enjoyed the top 6, and I look forward to hearing about everyone else's.

#2: The Golden Foot Of Joey Harrington? Game

This one is, without a doubt, the strangest game of Madden I have ever played. This was the NFC Championship Game for Madden '05. I had led Detroit to a magical 13-3 season, but was seeing my homefield advantage go up in smoke, getting handled by Philadelphia pretty well. They were up 24-10 going into the 4th, and there were signs that this was, as Simmons would call it, a "No Fucking Way Game" as in, there was no fucking way I was going to win this game. I had already wasted two timeouts on failed challenges that were clearly in my favor, and had accidentally blew my third timeout already too. To start the 4th, I put together a nice touchdown drive and a defensive stop, had a big kick return into Eagle territory, and Harrington hit Charles Rogers for a 40 yard TD. Ford Field was rocking.

On the next Philly possession, I pick off McNabb and take it back for a score and a 31-24 lead. As pumped as I was, the computer quickly reminded me that this was a NFW Game. They marched right down the field and scored, and then pushed the Fuck You Button of all Fuck You Buttons. For the first time in my Madden career, they faked the extra point. Of course their 9th string tight end is wide open. 32-31 Philly. There was a stretch of swearing that prompted St. Aubyn to come in and check on me to make sure everything was OK, then give me the disgusted head shake when he realized that my breakdown was from Madden. I seriously had to pause the game and regroup for a couple minutes.

The computer hit the Fuck You Button again, causing me to muff the kickoff, and I was faced with 1st and 10 from my own 15 with 1 minute 58 seconds left. Then Harrington goes to work. I move quickly down the field, and after a 20 yarder to Marcus Pollard, I am sitting at the 7 yard line. I call three basic run plays that get no yardage, and knowing that I can hit a 24 yarder in my sleep, I decide to let the clock run to 2 seconds, call a TO, and kick.

In Madden, whenever the computer knows you are holding to kick a last second field goal, they always calls timeouts so they can get the ball back. Curiously, though, this time they aren't doing it. Laughing to myself, I continue to let the clock run with my QB under center. Finally, with 9 seconds left, with a realization that hits me like a lightning bolt, I don't have any timeouts left. I pause the game to swear at myself , have a mild heart attack, and go over my options. With it being 4th down, I can't spike the ball. The only thing I can do is change my audibles so that one of them is field goal. So I unpause it and audible to field goal. With Harrington as the kicker and RB Kevin Jones holding, the controller jumping out of my hands, and the kick meter moving at approximately the speed of sound, I somehow pull out a 99 distance 99 accuracy kick, which barely squeaks over the bar for the game.

And if you don't think that this deserves to be #2, try and kick a field goal with your quarterback. It doesn't even have to be with the NFC Championship on the line. Just try it.

#3: The Walk-Off and Walk-Home Game

This game is great because of the fallout resulting from it. It took place in 1994, me and Dunphy playing the original World Series Baseball game for the ol' Sega. We had bags packed, ready to leave to Langdon to watch one of Aaron or Andy's baseball tournaments, but Terry was running behind, so we fired up the Genesis for a quick game. I am the Phillies and he is the Braves, and Tom Glavine and Curt Schilling are having an absolute pitchers' duel. Schilling gives up only a solo homer to Dave Justice early on, and Glavine is perfect through 8 2/3, setting the stage for the last out.

With the pitcher spot coming up, obviously I pinch hit , and bring in John Kruk, probably the slowest player in the history of baseball. Dunphy pulls his infield back, and I see my chance to try and break up the perfecto the cheap way. I drop a beauty of a bunt down the third base line and beat it out. Dunphy begins absolutely freaking out (probably justified) about how gay it was to bring a pinch hitter and bunt to break up the perfect game. He is still yelling at me as Lenny Dykstra steps in. Dunphy grooves a fastball and Dykstra hits it out for the walk-off two-run homer. Dunphy chucks his controller and yells for a while, then tells me to grab my bag and get out. I didn't go with to Langdon that weekend and we didn't talk for literally two months. Worth it.

#4: Lightning Strikes Three Times On The 17th

A couple years ago T Nels, Moose, Shane and I are playing drinking bingo-bango-bongo for Tiger Woods on the PS2. The teams are me and Shane against T Nels and Moose, and T Nels is basically god at this game, so we are getting rolled pretty good. We come to the famous island green, the 17th at Sawgrass, and we're pretty well tuned up by now. So T Nels walks up and hits a shot that goes into that crazy movie screen view, which basically means it is either close or going in. It takes a couple hops and hits the pin and drops in. Everyone goes nuts, and me and Shane start taking our 20 drinks. I don't even have time to look up before T Nels and Moose start celebrating again, as apparently Moose just slam dunked one that landed straight in the hole. Shane then puts his shot in the water, and now we're wondering if they put cheat codes in, or if there are even cheat codes for this game, and if there were, what would they be?

As Moose and T Nels continue to taunt us, I bet them an extra 50 drinks that I will put my tee shot in, which they gladly take. Considering I had never had a hole-in-one in the game before, maybe not the smartest bet I have ever made. Struggling a little bit to see the screen, I hit a seven iron shot that immediately goes to the movie screen view. Trusting that fate is taking this shot in, a set my controller down, refusing to alter the spin on it. Sure enough, it lands, bounces a couple times, rolls, and barely trickles in. We celebrate Moose and T Nels taking 50 drinks, and the overall craziness of three hole in ones in four shots. Great players make great shots.

#5: The Hole In The Dorm Room Wall Game

This game took place my freshman year of college, where tuesdays and thursdays consisted of comp class, lunch served by the pizza nazi at the terrace dining center, an episode of Beverly Hills 90210, at least 4 games of NCAA football against Lane in the afternoon, and then drinking the rest of the night. Somehow I had a girlfriend at this magical time in my life.

Lane and I had some epic battles, but I'll be honest; he fucking owned me. My lifetime record against him in this game was approximately 0-107. But I usually kept it close, and like an 11 year old kid losing to his 6'5'' dad in one-on-one in the driveway, I always came back for more. We were always random stupid teams, and on this day I happened to be the Kansas Jayhawks, and Lane was Michigan St. Running his triple option up and down the field (literally), Lane builds a 56-20 lead after three quarters. I go into my patented shotgun five wideouts-no huddle-onside kicks after every touchdown offense, or as Lane and I liked to call it, the Chuck and Duck Offense.

Miraculously I cut it to 56-49, as Lane continues to talk trash and pretends not to be worried, and I am white-knuckling the controller with every completed hail mary pass, two point conversion, and onside kick. As time expires, I throw a 50 yard TD pass to cut it to 56-55. As Lane threatens to throw the TV out of Walsh 202A, I make the decision that I am going for the win right now. There is no way I could've survived an OT, I had to do it right then, with Lane more rattled than Peyton Manning in a playoff game. On my two point conversion play, I run a curl route, and my receiver dives back towards the line of scrimmage to make the catch. Dives back across the goal line, that is. He is ruled down at the one-foot line, Lane's undefeated streak survives, and we have to move Paul's Animal House poster to cover the huge hole that I kick in our dorm room wall.

Don't worry, our R.A. lied for us so we didn't have to pay for it.

#6: The Reggie Miller Game

Also known as the Fuck Kobe Bryant Game. This happened last year, a couple of days after Kobe dropped 81 on Toronto. I was in the middle of a season with the Pacers in NBA Live 95. My offensive strategy was basically this: jack up a three with Reggie the first five possessions, and if he was hitting, then he had the green light until he missed. If he was missing, then I would start shooting with the rest of the starters. Well, he was hitting in this particular game. He had 28 at the half (his per-game average was 29), 50 after three quarters. And then, he really got hot. He opened the fourth with a couple of threes, a couple of transition layups, a couple more threes. This is when I started thinking 81. In case you didn't know, I hate Kobe Bryant with a passion, and I figured that a kid in North Dakota beating his scoring feat on an eleven year old game on a fourteen year old video game system would have to get under his skin.

Anyways, with a last minute flurry of threes, I was sitting at 79 points, but the Pistons were stalling on offense, there were only six seconds left, and I wasn't in the bonus so I couldn't foul on purpose. Now it is almost an impossibility to tip passes, it only happens once every couple of games, but somehow, with two seconds left, Rik Smits gets his hand on one, and it starts bouncing towards halfcourt. I switch to Reggie, turbo at the ball, scoop it up at about my own three point line, and throw it up with probably .1 on the clock. Of course, it goes in for the 82. Beat that, Kobe.

Counting Down The Video Game Moments

Got into an interesting discussion about classic video game moments the other day, which inspired me to actually sit down and think about the most unforgettable (both good and bad) games of my lifetime, games that I was either a part of or witness to. Lots of good stuff, actually. We'll go through the honorable mentions, then go in-depth for the top 6.

The Steve Yzerman Game (1994): After my buddy Marcus talks shit about how awesome he is at NHL 94 for Sega, I drop 27 goals, 5 assists, and injure Pavel Bure for the game with Stevey Y, with Marucs's older brother Chad chanting "goon it up, goon it up" in the background, causing Marcus to throw his controller through his TV. Yeah, he got grounded, and moved to Arizona a couple weeks later.

The SE Slant Game (2000): During Dan Sondreal's infamous Madden Tournament, Godfread played Lane in a much-anticipated quarterfinal matchup. However, Lane rolls Jon-Jon in the first half, thanks to the unstoppable SE Slant play, which Lane calls basically every play. Trailing 28-7 at half, Jon-Jon tells Lane that if he calls the play one more time, he will leave. Lane promises not to do it again, then on the first play from scrimmage runs the SE Slant for an 80 yard touchdown. Jon-Jon sets down his controller and walks out of Haley's basement, and Lane advances to the semis.

The Nick Van Exel Game (1994): Playing Dunphy in NBA Live 95, he unpauses the game in the third quarter while I am upstairs microwaving pizza rolls, allowing him to take a 25 point lead going into the 4th. Instead of quitting, I unleash a barrage of Nick Van Exel three pointers on him, and hit a buzzer beater for his 13th triple of the quarter and the winning margin.

The Fucking Jon Koncak Game (1999): After getting destroyed for months by Haley, Lane, and Danny in NBA Hang Time, I finally break through and upset Lane and capture the Orange Jacket. However, in my first title defense, Jon Fucking Koncak scores like 70 points, single-handedly erases a 9 point deficit in 12 seconds, and hits the patented one-armed under-handed full-court buzzer beater for the W. I declared shenanigans and haven't played the game since.

The 93-0 Game (2000): For those of us in attendance, the score is all I really have to say. In the aforementioned Madden Tournament, Paul proves everyone absolutely right who said he didn't belong in the field of 16, losing to Schneweis by the downright stupid score of 93-0 on seven minute quarters. Just try to lose like this on purpose sometime. You can't. I can't even rationally talk about this game anymore. Did it really happen?

Next time: The Top 6....

F*ck The Yankees!!!

It never, ever, ever gets old to watch the Yankees lose in the playoffs, and I have just finished watching this occur for the 6th year in a row. Just an amazing performance by Justin Bonderman, pretty ballsy for a 23 year old. There was also the added bonus of Gay-Rod being moved down to 8th in the lineup before the game. I don't really see how anyone can defend him in an argument anymore. To supposedly be one of the best players in the game, and be hitting 8th in an elimination game? To sum it up in one word, he is a pussy. The announcers can't say it, obviously, but that is what he is. Today I allllllmost felt bad for him after a throwing error. Almost. Just fun to watch. Next best feeling after watching the Sox win is watching the Yankees lose. Disappointing loss for the Twins, but the way the Tigers are playing right now, I don't know if they would've had a shot against them anyway. My predictions are shit right now, but whatever, the Yankees lost. I'm happy.

Coming soon: my all-time greatest video game moments. I know you're excited.

Playoff Baseball And Breaking Par

Finally accomplished my lifelong dream of breaking par today, highlighted by a gutty up-and-down from a horrible lie on the 9th. Great way to finish, especially with all the choke jobs I have had over the years. Thanks to Paul for convincing me to play when I would've rather rocked out on Guitar Hero.

Little bit weird watching playoff baseball when the Sox aren't involved, but whenever you can turn on the TV at noon and watch baseball for 10 hours, it doens't really matter who is playing, it's just sweet. With that being said, I am still bummed that there is no Sox game. My predictions are A's in 5, Yankees in 4, Mets in 5, Cardinals in 3.

Just Thought You Should Know

Didn't know that one of my favorite rap songs of all time (Apache by the Sugarhill Gang) was actually a rip-off of a realllllly shitty disco rock song, but this video has brought me a lot of laughter and I have watched it more times than I care to admit. Go go to youtube and type in 'Apache Video' and enjoy the moustache.

Guitar Hero: Greatest Invention Since Sliced Bread

Just go to your local Best Buy, plop down your 70 bucks and don't ask any questions. People shouldn't be allowed to have this much fun.

NFL Preview '06

Because I always do a preview in my head but don't say anything to anyone, and people who claim that they knew something was going to happen but don't say it until it is happening are full of shit, here is my NFL preview, and when this stuff does happen and I brag about it, you can't call me an asshole, cause I said it was gonna happen right here.

First off, my biggest rant of this offseason: Daunte Culpepper is still good. He had 6 (six!) bad games last year. I am with you, they weren't just bad, they were terrible. But that's it. Six games. The year before that, he had arguably the 3rd best season in NFL history for quarterbacks. Except Peyton Manning had the best one ever, so Daunte flew under the radar. But all it took were those six shitty games last year, and everyone is throwing him under the bus. I don't care that he has the hands of an 11 year old girl. I've heard that before. I'll take the Dolphins for 11-5 and Daunte to throw for 3,500 and 27 TDs, as well as being the key to my fantasy team. I am firmly buckled in and my Dolphins bandwagon is pulling out of the driveway. There are spots available, if anyone is interested.

Bandwagons that are far too crowded: Panthers, Cowboys, Redskins. The Panthers are good, but when too many say they are, it never ends well...speaking of things not ending well, TO has already trashed Jeff Garcia and Donovan McNabb...now he is paired with one of the most sensitive QBs in the league in Drew Bledsoe. Why not just sign Ryan Leaf or Joey Harrington as QB now and really cause a scene? How many games before TO tears Bledsoe in the press? Put the over/under at 5.5. And Bledsoe cries in the huddle by week 8. And the 'Skins just aren't that good. They throw money around every year, but for whatever reason this year everyone thinks they threw it at the right people. Mark Brunell hasn't been good since 2000, and this is the Giants' division to lose.

Another bandwagon with plenty of open seats: The Kansas City Chiefs'.

Beware the Madden Cover jinx, Shaun Alexander. If I was an NFL player, they couldn't pay me enough money to be on that cover. I wish I was kidding. I am just wondering if it applies to everyday people, as well. Like if you put John McJohnson from Bumblefuck, North Dakota on the cover, would he get fired, left by his wife, mauled by an escaped mountain lion and killed in a freak toaster fire?

Watching the Bengals be good for a year was kinda fun, but now they don't have a cakewalk schedule, and someone is going to get sick of Chad Johnson's shit and put him in the hospital. Odds are 1-2 that it is someone on his own team.

The Vikings are going to be waaayyy worse than anyone thinks. Don't let last years' little stretch fool you. If they couldn't win with Culpepper, Moss, multiple stud RBs and a bought-and-paid for defense, they aren't winning with Brad Johnson, the Amazing Taylors Travis and Chester, and a year older D. Offensive lines don't win championships. I'll take Last Place in the NFC North for $800, Alex.

AFC Division Winners: Miami, Pittsburgh, Indianapolis, Denver
AFC Wild Cards: New England, Kansas City
First round: Denver over New England, Miami over KC
Second round: Denver over Pittsburgh, Indianapolis over Miami
AFC Championship: Denver over Indianapolis

NFC Division Winners: New York, Chicago, Carolina, Seattle
NFC Wild Cards: St. Louis, Arizona
First round: Chicago over Arizona, St. Louis over Seattle
Second round: New York over Chicago, Carolina over St. Louis
NFC Championship: New York over Carolina

Super Bowl: Denver 24, New York 20

R.I.P. Red Sox Season

That's about all I have to say that about that. Has college basketball started yet?

Form of: Earth, Wind, Fire, Water, and Heart!

Chicago was an absolute blast. Thanks to Chelsey and Mike for their hospitality, enchiladas, and tatertot hotdish. Thanks to God, who turned the weather forecast in Chi-town from brutal to beautiful overnight, and thanks to the Beer Guy at Wrigley Field, who made sure that "those kids from North Dakota" did not go without service for more than a half-inning. Random thoughts from the trip:

My Uncle Keith loves scotch almost as Ron Burgundy.

Nothing I have seen live at a sporting event tops the celebration in the 10th inning at Wrigley. Nothing.

When you get hammered in a real city, you have to have your head on a swivel, what with all the train schedules and stops and taxis and whatnot. You can't just stagger to your car and make the drunken 3 minute drive home.

I think I saw Culligan Manor from the top of the Sears Tower.

The speed limit in Wisconsin might as well be 85, cause that's what people are driving. Put a dent in my passing ratio, which was still a tidy 639-26.

After introducing Paul to his hero (and Ryder Cup captain) Tom Lehman, I now owe him nothing for the rest of our lives.

How we didn't get booted off the El train for starting a drunken 4 man (and 2 woman) Royal Rumble on the upper deck is beyond me.

Don't underestimate PGA courses. They look approximately 27 times harder in real life.

The groundscrew at Wrigley, no matter how persuasive you are, won't let you pick leaves of ivy off the outfield wall.

Road trip staples: Stevie Wonder, Meatloaf, Pepperoni Pizza Combos, crazy sunglasses. Road trip cancers: Funyuns, country music, Rachel's Bad-itude.

Windy City!!!

Off to Chicago today to visit Chelsey and Mike, see the Cubbies play the Cardinals in a day game at Wrigley (thus checking off another one of my life goals), and going to the Sunday round of the PGA Championship at Medinah, hopefully to watch Phil hoist the Wannamaker Trophy. Road trip baby, Road Trip. Back with more details.

Great Scott, Marty!

Just another example of how the man on the left, Bill Simmons, is actually my other self that got separated from the DeLorean, and that it is imperative that we don't run into each other while he tries to get our parents together at the Enchantment Under The Sea dance:

From Simmons's article on espn.com today:

Big Papi should have won last season (even the Yankee fans agree now) and seems to be in the running this year....The DH thing will hurt Ortiz in any voting, which doesn't quite make sense -- so if he played 90 games at first base and gave you a C-plus there, that would make him more valuable? I don't get it. Bonds won the MVP in 2003 and 2004 moving around in left field like Redd Foxx. That gave him more credibility than Ortiz as a DH? Crazy.

Compare that to what I said yesterday. What can I say, great minds think alike. I'm just waiting for my book deal.

A July 31 For The Ages

Do you think it would be OK if we just hand the MVP award to this man right now? Do we have to finish the season for him to deserve it? I don't care if he is "only" a DH. That argument cost him the hardware last year, but if you don't think that David Ortiz is the most valuable player in major league baseball, then you are an idiot, and you can go watch the WNBA so you can have sports arguments with other fans who are idiots. I mean, Gay-Rod goes out there and boots easy grounders and throws balls away (especially in key spots) and he is rewarded with the MVP over Ortiz because he plays the field, allegedly making him more valuable. How is he helping the team by being a below-average fielder? You could make the same case for Bonds a couple of years ago, too. He couldn't even throw out his own hobbled knees trying to score from second. Ortiz could go out there and play a mediocre first base and win MVPs, but I guess instead he'll just go out there and get walk-off hit after walk-off hit, and not hit .208 in late-and-close situations.

Anyways, Oritz's dramatic homer last night inspired me to an absolutely magical round of golf at Poppy Hills on the PGA Championship game at Boston's. Coming off a ragged performance last week, I fired up a tidy little -21 (15 birdies, 3 eagles) to knock off the previously unheard-of course record by 2 shots, only needing 16 putts in 18 holes. That score will never be touched, certainly not by me or T. Nels, so I think I might as well just retire, as my arcade golf career just peaked at age 23.

Mazeltov!!!

Just returned from St. Cloud, where Lindsey and I did our best Wedding Crashers impersonation, thanks to our friend Jenny, who immediately called and invited us to her friend's open bar wedding when she first heard about it. If Owen Wilson and Vince Vaughn have taught us anything, it's that it is perfectly acceptable to go the wedding of two people that you don't know.

It was a lovely ceremony. Hands-down highlight was the gospel reading that came from, you guessed it, Paul's first letter to the Corinthians. True story. I had to battle to not laugh out loud, or "LOL", as it is commonly known these days. Lindsey and I fought off the looks of puzzlement from everyone who didn't know us. It was borderline OK for me, as I could pass as Jenny's date. Not so for Lindsey, but she handled it well. Rule number 76: No excuses, play like a champion. Kind of an MVP weekend all-around for Lindsey, due in large part to the 394 fist pounds that she handed out to strangers while bar-hopping the night before.

The open bar was a huge success, and Jenny's ex Adam and I had a great time grabbing beers, giving them to some random person, and telling them to deliver them to each other across the room and give each other a sexy wave afterwards like we were buying drinks for a girl. Good times all around. Unfortunately, since it was approximately 137 degrees and bridesmaids were passing out from heat exhaustion, the dance was cancelled, and my bullpen let me down with the bridesmaid that had been eye-humping me all evening, and I ended up with a no-decision.

All-in-all good times, and now I feel like I am primed for Josh and Heidi's big day this Saturday. People like to be in the prescence of true love. It's powerful stuff.

P.S. I swear I could've heard The Ville calling my name this weekend, Benny.

Just for Danny

Because I haven't written anything for a while, and because Danny has been waiting for this list for quite a while, here are my 12 favorite NBA players, in order.

1. Kirk Hinrich
2. Nick Van Exel
3. Paul Pierce
4. Gilbert Arenas
5. Ray Allen
6. Jalen Rose
7. Wayne Simien
8. Adam Morrison
9. Shaquille O'Neal
10. Jason Terry
11. Jacque Vaughn
12. Loren Woods

Could you close that window? I think I feel a Draft in here...

To the right are my friend Danny (playing the role of David Stern) and I, celebrating me being selected by the New York Knicks with the 61st pick overall. Seriously, though, I wouldn't have been that bad of a pick for the Knicks compared to the selection of Ronaldo Balkman at #20. I can't really even get that pissed about it cause I knew it would happen. I know Isaiah has been a good drafter, but he is in full-on sabotage mode right now. Anyways, my take on the draft:

THE WINNERS

Chicago: Tyrus Thomas will be great. The tourney was no fluke, and watch for his jumper to develop. The fact they were able to make the trade with Portland and pick up a player just to get the guy they wanted anyway is icing on the cake. Plus a black guy with cornrows from Switzerland has to be sweet.

Houston: Trading Rudy Gay for Shane Battier, despite what the analysts say, is a great move. Battier would've been the #1 pick in this shitty draft. Besides, you already have T-Mac on your team, and you can't have more than one player on your roster who doesn't care about anything. Unless you're Miami, I guess.

Portland: A little stupid with the trades, but if you end up with LaMarcus Aldridge and Brandon Roy, that can't be a bad draft.

THE LOSERS

Toronto: If you have the #1 pick in the draft and you end up with a skinny Euro who averages 10 points and 7 rebounds a game, you're brutal. They also broke my rule of never draft a player who plays with hair gel in his hair. I bet of their selections, PJ Tucker becomes more valuable to them. We'll see.

New York: What can you say? I can't wait to start cheering for Knick losses this year.

Seattle: Saer Sene, Denham Brown, Yotam Helperin. Suh-weet.

SLEEPERS:

Quincy Douby, Shannon Brown, Dee Brown, PJ Tucker, Craig Smith

GUYS WHO PEOPLE THINK ARE GOOD BUT REALLY SUCK:

Andrea Bargnini, Josh Boone, Rudy Gay, Cedric Simmons

HOW DID THEY GET DRAFTED? CAN I GET DRAFTED?

Paul Davis, James Augustine, Steve Novak, Will Blalock

HOW DID THEY NOT GET DRAFTED?

Mike Gansey, Taquan Dean

AREN'T YOU HAPPY YOU CAME OUT EARLY FOR THIS?

Daniel Gibson, Thomas Gardner, Curtis Stinson, Darius Washington

OK that's enough bashing of guys who are way better than me at basketball. Props to the Sox for cheering Pedro, then shelling him. 11 in a row. Tomorrow it's off to Morris, Minnesota to see Chelsey and Mike tie the knot. Let's dust off the ol' dancin' shoes.

You're still my boy, Pedro

Tonight marks the return of Pedro Martinez to Fenway Park, the first time he's pitched there since the 2004 World Series. It has been tough watching him the last year and a half in a Mets uniform, especially since he has resurrected a career that seemed to be sputtering late in that 2004 season. It was a tough situation for the Sox after that year. The money Pedro wanted, combined with his mediocre (by his standards) stats that year, made it a fairly easy decision to let him go. In retrospect, now, it doesn't seem like the right move. Granted, the National League is much easier to pitch in (see: Bronson Arroyo), but if this Pedro had shown up in 2004, he would still be in the red and white.

Boston radio stations have been calling for fans to boo Pedro tonight, and if they do, I will watch every Red Sox game on mute for the rest of my life so I wouldn't have to hear those idiots in the stands. This isn't a Johnny Damon situation. Pedro wanted more money, yes, and he probably didn't deserve it, but the Sox slapped him in the face by refusing him an extension in 2003, then giving Schilling a huge contract. Would you stick around? Plus, as Pedro himself put it, Johnny "went to the wrong uniform." Pedro did what was best for him, Johnny did what would spite the Red Sox the most. Pedro didn't turn traitor, he just signed with another team. I am firmly in the camp of keeping people around after a championship, which is why it has been tough watching guys such as Pedro, Kevin Millar, Derek Lowe, Orlando Cabrera, Bill Mueller, Dave Roberts go these last couple of years. The Sox are to blame for some of these moves, but in the other cases, the players had to do what was best for themselves.

It didn't break my heart at the time when we lost Pedro, but now, 2 years later, his loss hurts more than the others. He was the emotional catalyst for this team. Schilling and Ortiz may have taken his place as the leaders, but Pedro was the one who got everyone fired up. Before Pedro arrived, the Sox were a dull, uninspired team for the most part. Pedro had a large role in enticing both Manny and Ortiz to the team, and then lit a fire under everyone's asses all year long. Whether it was starting a bench clearing brawl against the Devil Rays in April by beaning the leadoff man, then throwing a no-hitter for the last 8 2/3 innings; telling Jorge Posada he was going to throw at his head; or throwing down a 70 year old bench coach later in that same game, Pedro didn't take shit from anybody, and installed that attitude with everyone. He was the idiot before the Sox were known as the idiots.

So to the moron Boston talk show hosts, the same ones who wanted everyone to cheer Johnny Damon, I will be giving Pedro a standing ovation tonight. Maybe I will boo you.

The tragic history of "Jim Championships"

After suffering the misery of the U.S. Open and the elation of Miami winning the finals in the span of 52 hours, I started reflecting on all the NBA Finals (and sports finals in general) that I have watched, and the lack of times that my teams have won, also known as "Jim Championships."

I started going through my teams' histories since I started following them, and it wasn't pretty.

College hoops, Kansas Jayhawks, since 1991: 0 titles, 2 heartbreaking title game losses, 2 final four losses, 4 early round exits as a high seed.

Golf, Phil Mickelson, since 1997: 3 majors, 5 2nds in majors.

NBA, New York Knicks, since 1991: 0 titles, 2 finals losses (one in a game 7), many tough losses to MJ and the Bulls.

MLB, Boston Red Sox, since 2000: really only the devestating 2003 ALCS scarred me, which was more than made up for by the greatest comeback in the history of sports in 2004. My team before that, the Cleveland Indians, had the blown game 7 in the 1997 World Series, and the 1995 World Series loss.

NFL, Houston Oilers/Tennessee Titans, since 1989: 0 titles, 1 Super Bowl loss, many choke jobs in the playoffs by the Oilers.

I could count the 1993 shared national championship by the Florida St. football team, because I was diehard back then, but I no longer follow college football, so that title doesn't really mean much to me anymore.

So if you're scoring at home, that's 0-16 in college basketball with 4 heartbreakers, 3-38 in golf with 5 heartbreakers, 0-16 in the NBA with 4 heartbreakers, 1-17 in MLB with 3 heartbreakers, and 0-18 in the NFL with 4 heartbreakers. Not a good track record. Plus all 4 Jim Championships came in 2004 and after, so this was a really sorry record before then.

Then I decided to break it down even further. Not only do my teams never win, but the team I am cheering for out of the actual participants rarely wins, either. I didn't include golf in this one.

College hoops, since 1991: 6-16 (Arkansas '94, Arizona '97, UCONN '99, Michigan St. '00, UCONN '04, Florida '06)

NBA, since 1991: 2-16 (Detroit '04, Miami '06)

NFL, since 1989: 5-18 (San Francisco '94, Denver '98, New England '02, Tampa Bay '03, Pittsburgh '06)

MLB, since 1989: 3-15* (Minnesota '91, Arizona '01, Boston '04) *I would count '03 when Florida beat the Yankees, but I pretend the 2003 World Series never happened.

So there it is, a combined 16-65 (19-103 including golf.) I hereby proclaim myself most snakebitten sports fan ever. I challenge you to tally up your own and find worse. I'll be in my bedroom crying.

Just when I thought I was out, Phil pulls me back in!!!

I thought we were all done with this. Once again, my boy Phil Mickelson broke my heart. With his third straight and (fourth overall) major championship in his back pocket, he decided to revert back to Old Phil again, the Phil who decides to recreate Roy McAvoy's 18th hole at the U.S. Open just for kicks. The Phil who absolutely refuses to take his medicine and punch out to the fairway. The Phil who has me hiding my face in my hands every time he steps over a putt on the back nine at a major championship. The worst part about this one is he had it. He had it. He gave this one away with jaw-dropping stupidity. Hitting driver is bad enough. Trying a hero escape shot with a one stroke lead on the 72nd hole of the hardest tournament in golf, in arguably the hardest course in 40 years on tour, is downright stupid. To say that winning the U.S. Open has been your dream since you were a kid, then to treat that dream with such disrespect as to attempt those shots when that dream was so close to reality....

Speaking personally as a die-hard Phil fan, thank goodness that this was 2006, not 2003. At least I have the other 3 Phil majors to fall back on (once I settle down, which usually takes a few days). If it wasn't for those, this tournament would've been the worst, hands down, in a long, long line of heartbreaking losses for my teams. I have become spoiled a bit the last few years. After 9 years of watching Phil almost win majors ('99 U.S. Open, '01 PGA, '02 Open were the worst), I have had the pleasure of watching Phil break through and win not one, but three in two years. This is where Phil tricked me. I have seen countless 3 and 4 foot par putts slide by the hole on the back nine at majors, to the point where I couldn't watch Phil putt. Somewhere in 2004, however, he became a clutch player. The magical back nine at Augusta in '04. The clutch chip from deep rough to save par on the 18th at the '05 PGA. The stellar, 'I'm not giving this tournament up' back nine this year at Augusta. I was finally over my fear of Phil gagging on a tournament. I watched his short putts with only a slightly irregular heartbeat. I waited for him to stick that 5 iron on the short par 5. I waited for him to roll in the long birdie putt that sealed the win. Waited for him to hit an errant approach, then hit his bunker shot to 4 inches and grin like an idiot at his caddy. Even after his horrific drive on the 18th yesterday, I was a portrait of calm. "That's fine, that's fine" I told my dad as we enjoyed another Father's Day of U.S. Open action, our 9th in a row. "He'll punch out, stick a wedge in there, and bang in a par putt."

But after the calamity that was the next two shots, Phil didn't even have a par putt. Hell, he didn't even have a bogey putt. After his bogey chip slipped past the hole, my dad silently got up and walked to the kitchen to grab his second helping of dinner. He learned years ago to leave me be when my team blows it. He unfortunately has way too much experience in that department. And all of a sudden, it was 1999 all over again. It was 2001 all over again. It was 2002 all over again. The damn U.S. Open. Phil's nemesis. My nemesis. And suddenly his three majors didn't mean a thing to me anymore. I guess no matter how many majors he wins, Phil will always be Phil. Which is why I will enjoy another few major championship victories with Phil, but I will also share a few more gut-wrenching Sunday evenings with him too.

"Ribs...I had ribs for lunch, that's why I'm doing this."

So Ribfest last night was a blast, except for maybe the part where my buddy Russell was arrested for public urination outside of a downtown bar. After the cops told him to get in the car, he asked them over and over again what he did wrong, instead of just getting in the car like he should have, and BAM, they hit him with resisting arrest, and it becomes 600 bucks instead of 100 to bail him out. So we scrounge up the money, send Bergman to the jail in a cab to bail him out, and then Russell and Bergman taxi it back to the bar to meet us and keep drinking, like true Grand Forksians do. The best part is that the cops roughed him up a little to get him in the car, so now he is limping around today and claiming police brutality. Gotta love the Fargo cops, better known as the Gestapo.

Please join me in celebrating my World Series victory over the Houston Astros in MVP Baseball 2005. The AL East title came down to the last day, where David Wells threw a one-hitter to clinch the division over the Yanks. Then I swept the Angels, knocked off the Bad Guys in 6 in the ALCS, and beat the 'Stros in 5 in a World Series that was much more exciting than the score indicates. All four of my wins were come from behind, late-inning victories. Pretty lame on-field celebration, though. I expected better from EA Sports. Schilling took home WS MVP honors, while Johnny Damon took home the regular season MVP in the biggest screw job since, well, last year when Papi didn't win. At least Wells won the Cy Young, but it only lessens the pain a little. In finishing 162 regular season games, the All-Star Game, and 14 playoff games, I would like to thank my tonsils, crappy North Dakota weather, and my priorities, which puts "video games" over "responsibilities."

Predictions for tonight: Dallas will win again in a near replay of game 1. Miami will start out hot, but Dallas will hang around, and a late 3rd-early 4th quarter run will seal it. Dirk goes for 27, Howard for 22 as Terry is relatively shut down. Wade will have another big game with 31, but the supporting cast will struggle and Shaq will get tired and finish with 19 and 11.

Pizzazilla Tastes Good With NBA Finals

Last night I had the pleasure of watching both the Red Sox victory over the Yankees and game 1 of the NBA finals, thanks to the dual-TV action at Danny's house. The other spectators are, from left to right: Jordan, Jenna, Bergman, Ricky's little bro Jeffrey, myself, James enjoying some soon to be world famous Pizzazillla, and Maxie.

I don't think either Dallas or Miami can take much from game 1, besides my boy Jason Terry. After the 1st, Miami couldn't do a thing right, and neither Dirk nor Josh Howard ever got it going. Contrary to what Danny says, without Terry Dallas would've lost by 15-20. The Heat have to find a way to slow him down in game 2, or they are in big trouble. You can't count on Dirk and Howard to shoot 20% ever again.

The Sox were able to avoid a sweep by putting together some good late innings. After leaving tons of runners on base the first few innings, they finally broke it open in the 6th (thanks in large part to Gay Rod trying to field a hot ground ball like a 12 year old girl.) Only down a 1/2 game now, and with Sheffield out til September, I'm feeling pretty good. Not feeling so good about the starting AL all-stars, however. 4 Yanks, 3 Sox, and Vlad Guerrero. Ortiz deserves to start, as does Cano, Jeter and probably Gay Rod, but Manny and Damon are questionable, and Varitek is a downright joke to even make it, much less start. Let's stop letting the fans screw over deserving all-stars and let the league and coaches pick the teams.

I've finally been able to make my semi-comeback to Jim's World after having my tonsils out. Golf is back, and last night I enjoyed a six-pack and a pound, my first Taco John's experience in about 3 1/2 weeks. Scheduled to come off the DL next week: Happy Joe's Pizza Buffet, Softball, Fat Albert's Atomic sub, and mayyyyybe even Noonball.

A special congrats to Horp, who made the leap from "Guy on the Couch" to official tenant of Culligan Manor. However, his stay will be a short one, as he starts polluting young minds as a middle school teacher in Phoenix in August.

Anyone wanna eat some ribs in Fargo tomorrow night?

A Playoffs to Remember

A little disappointed that neither of the conference finals went seven games; I thought for sure that at least Dallas-Phoenix would. Phoenix made a great run this year, and even though I wanted Dallas to win, I would've loved to see another game 7. I see Miami taking home the hardware in another great series. I think the finals is going 7, which means we would get two straight years of finals going the distance, after 10 years of not seeing that happen, since Knicks-Rockets in 1994.

Me, Danny and Ricky were talking basketball the other day and made the point that for the most part, excluding the last couple of years, the NBA playoffs haven't been very exciting since our generation started watching them. Basically, we have three years' worth of Bulls' championships, where they never went seven games in the finals, never fell behind 0-2 or 1-3, and the few game 7's they had in the Eastern conference, you never felt like they were in trouble. Throughout their whole dynasty, you always knew that MJ would pull it out. When Michael retired, the Rockets won two straight championships, and did have some exciting series (Mario Elie's buzzer beaters against the Suns, finals vs. the Knicks, Hakeem wrecking David Robinson after getting screwed in the MVP vote), but then it was back to MJ and the Bulls rolling everyone. The '99 playoffs were sweet (Knicks beating the Heat with Allan Houston's shot, which was kind of the end of the best NBA rivalry of the 90's, and also the best series I've ever watched), watching my Knicks go to the finals as an 8 seed, but not a lot of people took that year seriously because of the strike, plus everyone knew the Knicks had no chance against the Spurs, making for a boring finals. Then it was the Lakers' era, winning 3 straight and basically walking through the playoffs each year (thanks for showing up, Sixers and Nets). Not much drama there, except for the conference finals against the Blazers where they made the amazing 4th quarter comeback. Finally, the last couple years have been good. The Pistons shocked the world by dismantling the Lakers in '04, we had the finals go seven games with the Pistons and Spurs last year, and even though the style of ball wasn't the most exciting, you had the undisputed two best teams playing for the title for the first time since probably '98 with the Bulls and Jazz. Then this year, where between the Lakers-Suns (maybe the best series I have ever watched between two teams I don't care about), the Wizards-Cavs, Heat-Bulls, Suns-Clips, Cavs-Pistons, Mavs-Spurs (amazing) and Mavs-Suns, you might have the most exciting playoffs since we were old enough to follow the NBA. There's no dominant team to remind you in the back of your head that no matter how great the playoffs have been, the champion is inevitable. No Bulls, no Lakers, no Spurs, just a wide-open race. Here's hoping the finals caps it all off. I'll be watching like I do every year, but this year it will be on the edge of my seat.