AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH...

The tradition never changes. I get drunk the night before, and then wake up around noon on the day I watch my first preseason baseball game. It doesn't matter who plays-- it could Wichita State vs. the Royals split squad, but I'm watching. Then I hit the Red Sox blogs and start reading about pitchers. As the announcers blather on with Dave Kingman and Rob Deere references to minor leaguers destined to be first cuts, I start thinking aloud

HOLY SHIT, THESE MEN ARE PLAYING PROFESSIONAL BASEBALL (or in todays game, the Mets and Tigers are playing Beisbol). Then, as tradition states, I call my other baseball loving friends and we revel in the fact that we can shout the above sentence in all caps. Then after the game, the Sox ball cap comes out, and it's official-- I am obsessed for another full season.

Of course, this doesn't mean I am legally insane quite yet-- opening day is the benchmark for my "screaming at the TV during a mid-April game with the 5th pitcher on the mound" mindset. All this means is that I am ready to talk officially about baseball.

And that is what I will do. Everyday this week until I have covered all the divisions, I am going to preview the Majors-- with a tinge of honesty and ton of the absurd-- piece by piece with my predictions all the way through the playoffs.

Seriously, this is one of my favorite feelings and favorite traditions not because I think that anything important is going to happen, but just because it is nice to talk about BASEBALL again.

Yes.

Outside the Aviary: "To Find Me Gone"

As a Red Sox fan, one of many things that kill me about Yankees fans is their pride in keeping players too long and letting them retire when they are ready (rather than let go of dead weight). I've heard about all the times the Sox have lost out on guys who still played some good seasons-- most notable Jonathan Damon and Roger Clemens. While it is debatable that either of these players were really pushed out the door (Clemens maybe, Damon definitely not), I am not going to discuss that. Instead, I'm here to praise (ahem) the Yanks for letting go of a good player that is well past his prime.

Anyone that doesn't work at the New York Post will tell you it was time to let go of Bernie Williams. While it's true that he was effective against left handers last season, his demeanor and general aptitude were astute failings for the first time in years. I wasn't afraid of him in any game-- postseason or otherwise-- for the past 2 1/2 years. There was no swagger. He reminded me of Jake Taylor-- a teacher with no discernible skill set left to offer a team in need of a numbers man, only you know, nonfictional (so there was no happy ending last year).

All this aside, I am happier, even, to see a team with a glorious past letting go of someone even at the behest of their fans. The Yankees treated Bernie like gold-- keeping him higher in the lineup than he deserved for a short while last season, letting him start amidst injury when they could have traded for someone better or played youngsters, and extending an invitation to Spring Training this year though they could have scoffed him and had their goodbyes and tears already. Just like the Packers have handed a pass to Brett Farve, the Sox will do with Curt Schilling, and the Redskins did with Mark Brunell the Yanks will not do with Bernie any longer.

Sweeping Bernie out is not a disaster situation. This is not a company man who makes little money and cannot do anything else. This is not a factory worker who has spent decades in the industry. This is a aging millionaire baseball player trying to compete with kids who are better than he is. This is a man that has been given everything with little left but stubbornness in his arsenal.

I can't for the life of me imagine one scenario where Bernie fits better than Melky Cabrera in this lineup, nor can I imagine one where Bernie doesn't see this. Bernie doesn't strike me as someone who is naive or much of a dullard. Leaving may sting after all these years, but it cannot shock or wound. If there is gas left in the tank, so be it. There are several teams that need some help and a proven quick-fix warrior that can teach the kids in a weak league. OK, I'll stop beating around the bush. Go to the National League, Bernie. Play in Florida with the kids if they will have you. See what the rest of the country has to offer. Shout at holler at Tampa Bay-- the place where good baseball players go to die. Someone will take you on, and if you play well enough, they will release or trade you for little to no value so you have a shot at another winner.

I just don't see what leg you have to stand on in the Bronx. What do the Yankees owe you? Nothing. In fact, if Yanks are smart, they'll rescind their minor league offer sheet. They will say, "We gave Bernie his chance to make the team, but we have to move on." They've all but done it already. Bernie, don't accept the offer. Move on and then move out. (Pros: You won't have to hear "Disco Inferno" or "YMCA" again, right?) You've done it all, but now it's all done. For once, I'm with the Yanks.

NORV! You Came Back To Me!

Oh sweet redemption, thy name is Phillip Rivers. Get ready kiddo-- you're about to go on a ride that even Chuck Amato could not have made any worse. Get prepared. Be afraid. You have what could be the single greatest calamity in football on your shoulders. A perfectly capable regular season coach has been replaced by a man responsible for putting two respectable franchises into dire straights for years after his arrival.

Get ready for holding calls, offsides on kick returns, false starts, failures against divisional opponents and a whole lot of consternation on NORV!'s face.

Oh sweet Christ... be prepared. Be VERY prepared.

I was all for the death of the Cowboys, but I'm not so prepared for slow decline of a team I rewally enjoyed watching since Drew Brees grew a set a couple of years ago. I grew up watching Rivers dominate in college, and I loved his year last year. This was my favorite team to watch operate last year. No bullshit. I really loved it. Now, the NORV! era shall reign, and Phillip Rivers will shoulder the load.

Sorry, friend. Don't say I didn't warn you.


Props to Signal to Noise for hitting me with this when I woke up.

Damnitall

DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT

Why?

Things I would've done to see NORV! in a Dallas windbreaker:
--Worn mix-matched socks
--Walked into a North Carolina singles bar with a torn Bon Jovi shirt and a mustache
--Gone to a Yankees game with Red Sox paraphernalia, a "Fuck the Yankees" T-shirt and started a fight
--Ordered a cheeseburger rare from a local diner (local being Queens)
--Thrown ham hocks at a stripper (something my sister has already done, actually)
--Handed the keys to my apartment to a bum on the street with the address/directions by train AND two dollars for MTA fare taped on
--Watched the ENTIRE new season of "Rules of Engagement"
--Told a woman that I wanted to put an aloe plant in her ass on the FIRST date
--Spontaneously combusted
--Drank the water in a third world country
--Cured AIDS
--Injected myself with CANCER
--Worn a UNC shirt for an entire day
--Worn a Duke shirt for an entire day
--Watched Top Design. Seriously. In fact, I woulda watched BRAVO for weeks.


Fuck you, Wade Phillips. Fuck you forever. You ruined what would've been a fantastic football year for me. I hate you.

It Must Have Something To Do With The Altitude

In honor of the awesome, Earth-shattering, cataclysmic, historic game between North Carolina and Duke tonight, as well as previously-rolling and 15th-ranked Air Force's ass-whupping at the hands of a decent San Diego State team, I'm reminded of a fun assignment I had in college, oh, about 73 years ago.

For a magazine writing class, or a news writing class (hey - do you remember stuff like that from college? Didn't think so) we were given an open-ended assignment. Basically, come up with your own story, and interview a national media member.

Oh boy.

I had covered the men's basketball team at Colorado State, and I was curious as to why Colorado schools had never really done much in the NCAA Basketball Tournament. There were three Division-1 schools; surely, at some point, one of them should have been good enough to make a deep run, right?

So I called up ESPN hoping to have Dick Vitale's verbal stylings turn my brain into applesauce, only to be told that he was unavailable.

Damn.

Instead I got to chat with Jay Bilas who, to my immediate and scared-shitless surprise, did not mention Duke once. I told him that this was just an assignment for a class and wouldn't be published anywhere, but he seemed so intrigued by the question that we talked for a good 30 to 45 minutes.

The question? Why do Colorado college teams suck so bad at hoops?

Of course, I never got a definitive answer. How can you sum up hundreds of seasons of futility? You can't. Bilas tried, though, and he was very candid, talking about the high school players in the state, the programs' commitments to football, lack of quality coaching, etc. He also mentioned that plenty of other states are in a similar situation.

That conversation was a good seven or eight years ago. Things haven't changed much. Lets take a quick peek at the three schools, and their situations.

AIR FORCE (20-4, 7-3 T-2nd MWC): Well, their tournament history has pretty much come in the last few years, and obviously they're on the way up with former Denver Nuggets coach Jeff Bzdelik at the helm. But one of Bilas's main points about Air Force is that it's hard to recruit tall, athletic players to a service school. Bzdelik may get his team to do the little things right, but in the Tourney you need talent. Plain and simple.

COLORADO STATE (14-8, 4-6 T-5th MWC): When your school's basketball history mainly consists of the fact that this movie was shot there, well, that's just not epic, you know? When I left, Ritchie McKay had just bolted for Oregon State, and after a few years there he rolled on to New Mexico. Dale Layer has presented some stability, and there have been some solid players (most notably NBA prospect Jason Smith, a 7-foot junior averaging 16 points, 9 rebounds and about 2 blocks a game), but the last time they got into the dance was 2003, where they miraculously won the Mountain West tournament and then were immediately rewarded by getting to play Duke. Sweet.

COLORADO (6-13, 2-7 T-Last in Big 12): Hey, it's a football school, you know? The Buffs have produced some talent (NBA Finals MVP Chauncey Billups, born-and-bred in Denver, and the Pacers' David Harrison), but Ricardo Patton has had an up-and-down tenure, and probably won't last much longer. Although the fact that their beat-down of Indiana in the 1997 tourney forced Bob Knight to walk over two miles back to the team hotel in the rain at 1 a.m. was pretty freaking sweet.

It seems like Colorado would have the best chance at actually turning their program around, what with all the parties and money in Boulder. But good news for the Rams and Falcons: the last non-BCS school to play for the national championship? Fellow Mountain West school Utah, in 1998. But even then you had Rick Majerus, Andre Miller and Michael Doleac. That's just an ass-kicking trio right there, friends.

So, all in all, when you find yourself in the Centennial State and you want to check out some hoops, head to the Pepsi Center and check out the frantic musings of Allen Iverson, Carmelo Anthony, Marcus Camby and Co. If you have to go to a college game, make sure somebody gets you in for free. And then drink. A lot.

You'll need it.

Outside the Aviary: "Welcome Back, Welcome Back, Welcome Baaaaaaack."

I’ve watched a ton of football in my short life, and I can say, without a doubt, that the closest thing I’ve seen to team suicide is hiring Norv Turner on as head coach. In his seasons with Washington, I never saw a more frustrating coaching style (until his eventual predecessor Steve Spurrier, the anti-Schottenheimer). Between penalties, clock management and horrific personnel decisions, I spent three years trying to forget the eighties championship teams. I tried to erase the overall concept of the Washington Redskins having an historical significance in my life. It was not until the 8-8 ball club that succeeded him that I could stand to watch my team every week.

Of course, this delighted me when he got a job with the Oakland Raiders. Finally, another team could witness the putrid display of coaching and lack of discipline that stymied my Redskins into believing in Spurrier. The same results came in—the same announcers lauded the decision to bring him in, the same pundits attacked his penalty-ridden joke of a team and the same hope was given to a coach who stood no chance of pulling them out of their quagmire.

Now Dallas stands on the brink of a decision. It can hire some newfangled coach with no experience or an older guy with tons of NFL team ruining savvy. Honestly, I think I’ll probably cry with joy the day Dallas (alongside number 81) adds Turner to their programs. He won’t even get to hire his own offensive coordinator—the job of restoring Romo’s psyche falls on Jason Garrett. Once again, an owner with a control problem is going after a pawn to fill a hole in a disappointing few seasons. Turner has been very ready and willing to be that pawn.

My prediction? Thought you’d never ask. Turner will get the job. I’m pretty sure he has the personality of a snake charmer in interviews, but when you need someone to stand around on the sidelines until you groom a successor, he’s the guy. In his third week, I’m sure the receiving corps will be standing around a pig’s head on a stick screaming KILL THE BEAST! CUT HIS THROAT! SPILL HIS BLOOD! I can only hope they don’t. I want to see three years of Norv in Big D. It’s just enough rebuilding time for the ‘Skins to take over a weak NFC EAST—one that by then Eli Manning will be murdered by the NY Post and the Eagles will have finally foisted a new folding chair of a quarterback due to McNabb's next injury.

Just let Norv come and I will welcome him back to the NFC East. Hell, I’ll even have some respect for Cowboys fans. We can yell NORV! together as the penalty yards and losses pile up like the shit storm of “What’s wrong in big D?” ESPN stories. Just let that roseate face brighten my Sundays. Oh merciful God, please let Chris Mortensen be right. Please let the Cowboys destroy themselves. It’s all I ask for Michael Irvin to speak so well of NORV! It’s all I ask to hear Tom Jackson hint at a problem with discipline. It’s all I ask for insiders and Sporting News columns on how the players are unhappy. It's all I ask for Terrell Owens, Jerry Jones and Norv Turner to join forces. I want this. Football needs this. Just let it happen.

Postscript: please feel free to use Google image search on NORV! It's pretty great. Other than the 3 smiles you get and the old pic of him pre-coaching, it's pretty much the same thing over and over: grimaces and stonefaced staring. Yes. If this thing doesn't happen, just consider my next post to be a list of things I'll do to see NORV! in a Dallas windbreaker. It will be a promising list-- believe you me.