The greatest Kobe analogy ever...

Simple as this post's title - and as sharp and accurate as well - I give you the greatest ever analogy describing 2012 Kobe Bryant, compliments of Grantland.com staff writer Brian Phillips:

"Kobe's relentlessness has always been his most celebrated quality, but this season, he's starting to remind me of one of those space probes that somehow keep feeding back data even after they've gone out twice as far as the zone where they were supposed to break down. You know these stories — no one at NASA can believe it, every day they come into work expecting the line to be dead, but somehow, the beeps and blorps keep coming through. Maybe half the transmissions get lost these days, or break up around the moons of Jupiter, but somehow, this piece of isolated metal keeps functioning on a cold fringe of the solar system that no human eyes have seen.

That's Kobe, right? While the rest of the Lakers look increasingly anxious and time-bound, he just keeps gliding farther out, like some kind of experiment to see whether never having a single feeling can make you immortal. He's barely preserving radio contact with anyone else at this point, but basketball scientists who've seen fragments of his diagnostic readouts report that the numbers are heartening. It's bizarre. He's simultaneously the main character in the Lakers' drama and someone who seems to have nothing to do with the narrative logic of the post-Phil team. Whatever the Mike Brown era is, he's got no point of contact with it. Even Gasol and Bynum, his best supporting players, essentially just concentrate on not interfering with his flight path. Everyone stays out of his way, which is easy, because "his way" is a couple of billion miles from the rest of the Lakers."

It has truly been fascinating to follow Kobe and the Lake Show thus far through this shortened season; like watching the Titanic's band keep right on playing... except in this case the bandleader might be single-handedly capable of righting the ship before it's too late.

Only time will tell, so I guess we'll just have to keep watching - on the edges of our seats.

The Talented Mr. Rondo

It goes without saying at this point: Rajon Rondo is the most important player on the Boston Celtics roster when it comes to both their current and future success.

His 12-10-22-6 line in last night's win over the Spurs practically cemented that statement, which has already been uttered many a time over the past year and a half, as fact. He has 46 assists in three games since returning from a seven-game layoff due to an ankle sprain sustained in the C's Christmas day loss to Orlando.

Rondo is undeniably one of the most talented and unique players in the NBA today. With that said, I'm worried about him.

Before you x-out of this window thinking this is just digging for controversy where there's nothing to be found, hear me out.

Read Forsberg's Rondo article from today.

It's stories like this that make me wonder what's going to happen to Rondo if/when Doc leaves. I think that Rondo still has a lot of untapped potential, yet I worry that without the right coach that potential will remain locked away, and he could even regress as a player. Doc is clearly a coach who has connected with Rondo and been able to motivate him and help him continuously improve his game.

When Doc says things like "He can make those shots. That's what's so frustrating to our guys: [Rondo] passed up at least six of them today, maybe seven. Rondo can make those shots. We just have to get him to take them after a miss. Because the way [the Timberwolves] guarded him tonight is the way they're going to guard him in the playoffs," you can see how important his tutelage, understanding and encouragement are to Rondo's development.

What happens when Doc leaves. Can Rondo make it to that next level without him? Is he far enough along/competitive enough to make it there on his own?

The fact that I can't even guess at the answers to those two questions worries me. We need Doc to stick around so we never have to find out what those answers are.

The Mixed Sixer (Part 1)

It’s been too long.

It always seems like it’s been too long. Too long since there have been regular posts in this space.

So, rather than a traditional post, what you’re about to read is a collection of things that have been on our minds lately here at the Lager, but we just never got around to posting about.

So, without further ado, The Lager presents the first installment of our new weekly series, The Mixed Sixer! So grab yourself an opener, kick back, and enjoy!

UPDATE: I GOT ABOUT HALFWAY THROUGH THE MIXED SIXER AND REALIZED I WAS ALREADY AT THE 1,200 WORD MARK. SINCE I’M NOT GOING TO SUBJECT YOU ALL TO A 2,400 WORD, SIMMONS-ESQUE DIATRIBE, THE SECOND HALF OF THE MIXED SIXER WILL BE POSTED ON THURSDAY OF THIS WEEK.

Sampling No. 1 – “I am no scientist, but... Porter”

            So, I was reading this Reuters article on Yahoo! News the other day – I know, I know, Yahoo! News?!? Look, it was sent to me by a friend.

Anyway, it was discussing the Large Hadron Collider on the French/Swiss border just outside of Geneva and how the scientists working on the project are hoping to discover Dark Matter during their experiments later this month – experiments which will feature the highest energy particle collisions ever achieved in such a setting.

(The article erroneously states the collisions will be “at the highest energy ever achieved,” without adding the clarifier “in a lab,” or something of that ilk. Might just be me, but I’m pretty sure these collisions have been achieved before. Maybe during the Big Bang, you know, if you subscribe to that theory. But I digress.)

First things first: did we learn nothing from Star Trek? Dark Matter = unstable world destroyer. Do we really want to be manufacturing the stuff in some underground lab on the Swiss/French border?

If it means France gets sucked into a black hole, never to return… then yes.

But in all seriousness, I get fairly nervous when I hear about physicists conducting these types of experiments. Physicists are crazy. Don’t think so? Well, how about we examine a quote from the guy in charge of the Collider project then, Dr. Rolf-Dieter Heuer.

In the article, in a section discussing the researchers’ hope to replicate the Higgs boson – which, as far as I can tell, is the new “politically correct” name for what I have always heard referred to as “the God Particle” – Heuer is quoted as saying:

"We know everything about this particle. The only thing we don't know is if it exists."

Excuse me?!?

So, what Dieter is telling us, essentially, is that he and his fellow scientists understand all of the many intricacies concerning an imaginary particle that they made up. Well, I should hope so!

How can you possibly know “everything” about anything if you cannot first verify whether or not that thing EVEN EXISTS!!!

Maybe this is why I cannot be a scientist. Or, maybe this is why our friend Dieter should not be a scientist. I’ll leave that call up to you, the reader.

Sampling No. 2 – “Winter White Ale”

            Why is Shaun White’s publicity team trying to make people hate him?

Here’s what I learned about Shaun during the Vancouver Games this February:

Shaun White is an absolutely incredible athlete who can do things in his sport that no one has ever dreamed of, let alone had the balls to risk life and limb trying.

He’s also bright, witty and, most importantly, humble, and all my previous animosity toward him was completely unwarranted and simply based on the fact that he was highly successful at an extremely young age and came off as, likely just because of the long red hair and the fact that he participates in the X Games, a punk.

How did I learn this?

Through watching his many interviews with Bob Costas, Stephen Colbert, or whoever he happened to be talking to on whichever particular night.

Through watching his reaction at the top of the pipe after learning that his first run’s score was good for gold, and then hearing him state his desire to ride down the middle of the pipe on his just-for-show second run with his arms up rather than showboat with an unnecessary second run of monster tricks (though, I’m glad his coach convinced him otherwise after seeing the ridiculous corked-alley-mctwist-10,000 or whatever it is you want to call what he did at the bottom of that pipe – I’ll stick with “Unbelievable”).

In fact, after the Vancouver Games yours truly became like a prophet, spreading the good word to all the Shaun White haters who still assumed he was a punk because they had missed all of what I saw during the Olympics – choosing to change the channel anytime Shaun came on, because like me once, they had an unwarranted bias against him.

And then I saw the latest Rolling Stone cover.

Which jackass on his staff allowed Shaun to go shirtless, wearing a pair of blue jeans apparently made out of the American flag, while lighting a snowboard on fire and giving the Devil’s horns, on the cover of Rolling Stone? I get that it’s “Rolling Stone” – the desperately-trying-to-still-be-edgy-even-though-we’re-mainstream-pop magazine – but c’mon!!! This guy just gained a whole mess of fans in Vancouver because he showed us he was not, in fact, a cocky, redheaded, punk, and the first thing you let him do after the games is dress up like a cocky, redheaded, punk on the cover of a major magazine?

Shaun, take my advice; gather all the people responsible for the upkeep and marketing of The Shaun White brand into one big room… and fire all their asses. Then go find yourself the people who made Michael Jordan and Tiger Woods – who are by many accounts two of the cockiest, most egotistical, punks to have ever played their respective sports – into family friendly household names. And hire them.

Trust me on this one.

Sampling No. 3 – “The best day of the year Bock”

            I feel bad for people who live in climates where it’s warm year round.

San Diego, Miami, Phoenix… residents of warm-weather cities will never have the delight of experiencing true happiness. They’ll never know pure ecstasy; real, honest-to-goodness, uncontrollable joy.

People who live in Chicago, Boston, Minneapolis, New York and Cleveland are nodding right now, because they know exactly what I’m talking about.

This feeling only comes once a year, usually sometime in mid-March or early April, manifesting on the first 50+ degree day of the spring.

Bill Simmons has written about this before – he calls it “Halter-top Day”, named for the young women who can be seen walking around any cold-weather city or town wearing semi-revealing blouses for the first time since late September. It’s a phenomenon that can only take place in cold-weather climates, and it just so happened to take place here in Boston this past weekend.

Literally anything can happen to me on the first warm, sunny day of the spring, and it’s just not going to phase me. Girlfriend or wife leaves me for another guy? Big deal. Dog dies? No problem. Car breaks down? I wanted to walk anyway. Pats, Celts, Sox and Bruins all decide to pack it in and move to either New York City or L.A.? Good riddance.

Nothing can shake me out of my good mood on the best day of the year. Why? Because I can roll down my car windows again while I’m driving and pump up my stereo.

Because when I jump up to go outside and get the paper in the morning, I can toss on my old Foo Fighters t-shirt instead of a thermal, down-feather, 178-pound, Gortex jacket.

Because for the first time since the previous October I can feel the warmth of the sun beaming down onto my pale, sun-starved skin.

Nope. Nothing can put me into a bad mood on that day, no matter how horrendous said thing may be. And that feeling doesn’t happen without the preceding four to five months of sunless, cold, wet, grey, snowy hell.

So, stick that in your pipe and smoke it San Diego.

………………… more to come on Thursday.

U.S. Skiing's Massive Fail...

We here at the Lager have a bone to pick.

It’s been bothering us for two weeks now, but it finally came to a boiling point last night, and we can’t hold back any longer.

Back in December or January, or whenever it was that NBC started repeatedly bashing the American public over the skull with their Olympic coverage promos, one thing really struck us here at the Lager: Lindsey Vonn is a freakin’ BABE!!!

The Sports Illustrated cover, the gold medal potential… it would be fair to say we were quite smitten.

But then the games started, and the slow sinking disappointment began to set in.

See, the more we here at the Lager see of Lindsey, the less attractive she becomes. One could call it the Hilary Duff Corollary. When you first see Hilary Duff, much like when we first saw Vonn on NBC’s Olympic promos (because, let’s be honest, no-one gives a shit about any winter sports besides hockey outside of this quadrennial two week period, and if you had started asking random people on the street who Vonn was prior to December/November of 2009, 85% of them would have erroneously guessed she was an American Idol contestant), you think here’s a hot, blonde, all-American girl… what’s not to love.

Then, as you see more and more of Hilary (like with Lindsey), you start to notice all the little flaws: “Well, she’s always carried a few extra pounds,” “Have you seen her without makeup? It’s like night and day,” “You know what, they’re really not as big as I thought they were,” etc., etc. For instance, this is not the same female that is pictured here.

To make things worse, as far as we here at the Lager can tell, Vonn has roughly the same emotional disposition as a piece of driftwood. She is about as interesting/personable as pre-Ambien/fire-hydrant/sex-rehab Tiger Woods.

And she sucks at skiing to boot!

Allow us to elaborate, clearly Vonn is a world class athlete who is capable of dominating her sport – but in this post-Michael Phelps era, if you want to shine as an Olympian, you have to SHINE baby!!! A gold in one event, crashes that keep you off the podium in two more events (Giant Slalom and Super Combined), and a bronze in an event in which YOU ARE THE REIGNING WORLD CHAMPION (Super-G) is simply not going to cut it.

Now, here’s where the massive fail on the part of the U.S. Alpine team comes in; some brainiac marketing director behind team USA decided to make Vonn the face of U.S. skiing for this Olympics… WHEN THEY HAD JULIA MANCUSO RIGHT THERE!

Let’s examine:

Mancuso is HOT! Really hot! And she’s funny (see her tweets regarding Tiger Woods’ press conference last week), personable, and wears her heart on her sleeve when she races.

When she won her Silver Medal in the Super Combined she was uncontrollable – rolling around on the ground at the finish line, kicking her legs in the air and screaming – and when she finished her second attempt at her not-so-spectacular first Giant Slalom run yesterday, she collapsed in a heap at the finish line like she had just been punched in the gut.

We certainly can’t speak for the rest of the American public, but we here at the Lager enjoy it when our athletes show a little emotion. It let’s us know they’re human, and not some over-marketed, politically correct, PR-contrived hype machines.

AND, Mancuso has managed to finish in the top-10 in all four of her events! Two Silver medals, an 8^th place finish in Giant Slalom despite yesterday’s fiasco one her first run, and a 9^th place finish in the Super-G.

Look, we get that Mancuso has performed at a higher level than expected, and Vonn at a lower level than expected – but not by a whole lot in either case. We also get that as a marketing/PR person with the U.S. Olympic team, you have to market Vonn, she’s your star… BUT, why not market both of them as a pair? Aren’t two hot skiing chicks (well, one hot skiing chick and one masquerading as a hot skiing chick), both who have a chance at medaling, going to attract more viewers than one?

By making it all about Vonn, the U.S. Alpine team marketing people, or whoever, have made it quite difficult for U.S. fans to feel good about the U.S. ski team if Vonn isn’t performing at a high level, a dilemma that was highlighted by Mancuso’s recent comments on the subject, in which she said that, “People (athletes on the U.S. team) are having a hard time reaching their potential because it's such a struggle for attention. You come to meetings after races and it's like it's a bad day if Lindsey didn't do well."

This dynamic is further examined in this Howard Bryant piece for ESPN.com, but the main point is that the U.S. Alpine Skiing team is having one of its best showings in Winter Olympic history, but the casual fan isn’t grasping that fact because all the focus from fans and media alike is on Vonn and her struggles. Why? Because that’s what was force fed to us for the last three months, Lindsey Vonn, Lindsey Vonn, Lindsey Vonn!

So, we here at The Lager feel for ya Julia, this Olympics should not have been the Lindsey Vonn show. So to the marketing idiot at NBC/the Team U.S.A. marketing department who screwed this one up, we would like to issue a simple “Nice job, dickhead.”

And to Julia, we just want to let you know that it’s not all about Lindsey all the time, because at the very least you’ve gained a few fans, fans who normally don’t even like skiing, but who will now follow you for the rest of your career as a direct result of Vonn-fest 2010: all of us here at the Lager.

Wacko for Who?

The following is inexplicable:

(from ESPN.com)

_____________________________________________________

Getting the 'W'

It's not always pretty, but Ravens QB Joe Flacco knows how to win in the postseason.
Here is a look at his career statistics in the postseason.

Opponent	Yards	TD	INT	Passer rating	W/L
Miami Dolphins	135	0	0	59.1	W
Tennessee Titans	161	1	0	89.4	W
Pittsburgh Steelers	141	0	3	18.2	L
New England Patriots	34	0	1	10.0	W
Totals	471	1	4	44.2 (avg.)	3-1

________________________________________________________

And I'm supposed to believe this guy has a shot at beating Peyton Manning and the Colts?

Congrats to the Indianapolis Colts on another AFC Championship appearance.

Big Trouble for Big Ben

So, I've decided that the best possible thing that could happen to this impending Ben Rape-lisberger trial would be to have Al Michaels and John Madden do full color commentary for the duration of the proceedings, and to have it be broadcast live on CourtTV.

Can you imagine this exchange:

AL: Ooouch. I think that was a bad decision by the quarterback there John, would you agree?

JOHN: You know, he really forced it in there that time, and 99% of the time you try to force it in, it just doesn't work out for ya.

AL: Just a bad situation for everyone involved there.

JOHN: It's like, first she's coming up to his room to fix the TV, he see's her coming, and then ... BOOM, 15 to life.

Here’s an interesting tidbit…

If you were to take an inventory of NBA players who are still active from both the 2000 and 2002 All-Star Game rosters, you’d come up with a list that looked like this:

PGs: Jason Kidd, Steve Nash, Baron Davis
SGs: Ray Allen, Kobe Bryant
SFs: Peja Stojakovic, Tracy McGrady, Wally Szczerbiak, Paul Peirce, Vince Carter, Michael Finley, Jerry Stackhouse, Grant Hill
PFs: Rasheed Wallace, Kevin Garnett, Dirk Nowitzki, Elton Brand, Jermaine O’Neal
Cs: Tim Duncan, Shaq

Now, if you take that list and whittle it down even further so it consists of only those players who started over 50 games last season, you get a list that looks like this:

PGs: Jason Kidd, Steve Nash, Baron Davis
SGs: Ray Allen, Kobe Bryant
SFs: Peja Stojakovic, Paul Peirce, Vince Carter, Michael Finley, Grant Hill
PFs: Rasheed Wallace, Kevin Garnett, Dirk Nowitzki
Cs: Tim Duncan, Shaq

Now, you might be asking yourself, “Why do I care?” (though more likely you’re still wondering how Wally Szczerbiak ever made an All-Star team).

Or maybe you’re waiting for me to get to some type of point in all this meaningless rambling. Well, here it is:

Of those 15 men on that second list, as many as five (that’s 33.3% of the 2000 and 2002 All-Stars still starting in the NBA) could be playing significant minutes for the Boston Celtics in the 2009-2010 NBA season.

I’ll repeat that to let it sink in.

Five of the 15 players still starting NBA games from the 2000 and 2002 All-Star Team rosters could be suiting up in Celtics Green in the 2009-2010 season. Garnett, Peirce, Allen, Wallace, and now potentially Grant Hill.

To put that into perspective, consider this:

Assuming the Celtics do sign Hill, let Big Baby go elsewhere and head into the season with a 12-man roster of the Big Three, Rondo, Perk, Sheed, Hill, Scal, Eddie House, Tony Allen, Bill Walker and J.R. Giddens, then that average age on their roster would be 29.5 years of age.

I’m gonna round that up to 30, and then remind you that the Celts will likely pursue a veteran PG to back up Rondo after signing Hill, which will drive that age up even further.

In fact, just for fun, let’s say the Celts sign free agent guard Andre Miller (33) to back up Rondo. That pushes Giddens (24) off the 12 man roster and pushes the average age up to 30.25 years of age.

For comparison, the average age of an NBA player at the start of the 2007-2008 season (which was the most recent data I could find), was 26.89 years old. Furthermore, at the start of the 2008-2009 season the oldest team in the league was the San Antonio Spurs, sporting an average age of 29.96 years old (according to RPIratings.com).

What am I building up to here, you ask? Well, it’s this: If you’re an NBA GM, is building the oldest team in the NBA something you really want to have listed on your resume?

I completely understand Danny wanting to win another championship within the “two-year window” we’ve all heard so much about lately, but is it worth potentially sacrificing the following 10-years for the next two?

Don’t misunderstand me. I don’t really have a problem with any of the moves Danny has made so far this offseason, nor do I have any issue with the Celts pursuing Hill. I just get nervous when I see a team stockpiling aging talent (like the Lakers did in ’03-’04), because what generally happens is all that talent leaves over the course of two seasons and leaves a team stuck in “Rebuilding Hell”.

The Lakers had the luxury of being able to rely on a still relatively young superstar (Kobe) after that ’03-’04 season to help speed the ascent out of “Rebuilding Hell”, but with no such player on the Celtics current roster, a similar exodus of aging stars could leave the team reeling for six, seven, maybe even eight seasons.

Look, I’m not suggesting that Danny should have done (or could be doing) anything differently, I think he’s been making the right moves given the circumstances.

I’m just concerned that once we watch the Big Three, Sheed, Eddie House and now potentially Grant Hill leave one by one over the course of the next three seasons, Celtics fans are going to be left staring at a core of Rondo, Perk, a half decent free agent pickup (say a Kevin Durant or Carmelo Anthony) and a still developing Bill Walker, asking ourselves what the hell happened.

Here’s to hoping I’m wrong.

Off to the races....

So I attended my first ever NASCAR race this weekend – an event which doubled as the first time I’ve ever watched more than one lap of any auto race… ever.

My buddy Murph, an in-the-flesh NASCAR fan, had four tickets to the Lenox Industrial Tools 301 at the New Hampshire Motor Speedway in Loudon, and he asked me and two other friends – Joe and Canavan – to go to the race with him.

I figured that I might as well see what this whole NASCAR thing was all about, so I happily accepted.

Not knowing exactly what to expect, but prepared for anything, I set out from my house at 7 a.m. Sunday morning wearing a tank-top and my Jim Beam Racing hat (a freebie with a bottle of Beam about a year ago that I was hoping would prevent me from standing out like a sore thumb as a non-racing fan who knows nothing about the sport). What follows is a running retro-diary of my day, the accuracy of which ranges from exact to very loose interpretation, with the variable being the number of beers consumed.

Due to the massive size of this diary, I'm going to post it in two parts over the next two days. So without further adu, here's Bill's NASCAR Diary, Part I:

7:20 AM:
The tank-top/Beam racing hat are already doing the trick. I just stopped to gas up and grab some ice for the coolers on the way to Murph’s house, and the woman behind the counter at Shell took one look at me and asked, “You headed up to the race today?”

Score 1 for Bill.

7:45 AM:
“They’re gonna love you!!”

That’s Murph’s reaction upon seeing my get-up as I arrive at his house.

Murph seems to be in good spirits and ready to roll; good sign for the start of the morning. Joe, on the other hand, looks like hell and just informed me that “(He) had a green butt purge,” this morning. Given that we have 90 beers in the trunk for just four people, I have a feeling that Joe’s green morning “butt purge” won’t be his last.

8:10 AM:
Canavan finally arrives at Murph’s house, bringing with him the “grill” that we’ll be using to tailgate all day. It’s not quite what was promised when he told us he had a grill – the “grill” part is there, but we weren’t expecting the added bonuses of rust and cobwebs on our burgers.

After some mild complaining about Canavan’s “grill”, we load up my ’98 Nissan Altima and head out – Loudon, here we come.

8:22 AM:
We spot our first fellow race fans of the day as we’re waiting to take a left in traffic. A huge pickup truck with a giant American flag hanging out the back window – viciously flapping over the truck bed – rolls by as Murph and Joe simultaneously say, “That guy’s definitely going to NASCAR.”

What have I gotten myself into?

9:07 AM:
We’re getting closer to Loudon, and the number of both teeth and minorities in the cars surrounding us is dwindling. Fast.

Murph announces that he’s getting “hot flashes” from the morning coffee, as Joe counters with, “Hot flashes, what about me, I had a green butt purge this morning.” I have a feeling we’ll be hearing about this non-stop throughout the day.

9:11 AM:
Canavan seriously contemplates getting out and walking next to the car (crawling along in race traffic at this point) to have a cigarette.

9:37 AM:
First beer of the morning is officially cracked.

After sitting in a little more race traffic, parking, and unloading the car, the boys are ready to rock. (I do feel it’s worth noting that the first person we see in the parking lot has cut-off sleeves and a two-foot long rat tail.)

Joe tunes in the local classic rock station on the radio and the first round of beers are down within five minutes.

Four down, 86 to go.

10:08 AM:
Joe announces that Murph is the “Pace Car” after Murph finishes beer number four while the rest of us are only about a quarter of the way through. When I finish mine and tell Joe to drink up and crack another, he cites the “green butt purge” for the 27th time this morning as the reason for his “slow” (3 and ½ beers in 31 minutes) start.

Murph tells Canavan to fire the up the “grill”. It’s time for some breakfast.

10:09 AM:
We realize we did not bring a spatula. Murph sends Joe on a mission to seek out good-hearted tailgaters who will let us borrow theirs. The mission is successful.

We’ve been talking to a few of the surrounding groups since getting here, and I have to admit that “the NASCAR lifestyle,” as Murph calls it, is pretty damn fun. Picture tailgating before a football game, except instead of being in a parking lot, you’re on grass. And there are way more people, and miraculously enough port-o-potties to accommodate the crowd. And there are fewer d-bags. The NASCAR fans might be a little (or a lot) rough around the edges, but you’d be hard pressed to find a friendlier bunch.

10:36 AM:
Breakfast is served!! Burgers and potato chips washed down with a healthy amount of Miller Lite.

The weather’s not bad and the rain seems to be holding off, we’re all having a good time and drinking at an incredible pace.

Canavan is talking sports with Brian, who is parked next to us with his dad. They drove up from Connecticut for the race; leaving their house at 5 AM. Brian explains that he didn’t get in from “partying bra” the night before “until like 3 AM”. Murph says he wishes Brian had stayed partying, though Brian grew on us later.

11:23 AM:
Since we got here this morning we’ve been having a running commentary on the type of female who attends NASCAR. Joe has an ingenious system for rating these women.

Instead of the traditional 1-10 rating system, Joe describes the quality of women at NASCAR by how many beers deep he would have to be before sleeping with them. In this system then, a 0 is the highest possible rating, while the ceiling for low ratings stretches to infinity.

Based on our observations, the average rating at this particular race is roughly 235, though that number is skewed by the several women who we rated as “infinities”.

I bring this up here because we have just handed out our second single-digit rating of the day. However, it has been called into question as we wonder whether rating someone an 8 while being nine beers deep actually means that person is a 17.

This is an important question, and it needs answering.

11:34 AM:
There is a large gap in the row of parked cars across from us because the friendly female parking attendant keeps waving cars past when they try to park there. Murph starts talking to her, and she explains that she’s waving these cars past because we’d have to get up and move for a second to allow them to back in, and she doesn’t want us to have to move.

This would not happen anywhere else on earth. And though we’re thankful for her thoughtfulness, we have a problem: we want people to drink with!

So, every time we see a car driving past full of passengers we deem to be “fun people”, we’re screaming at them to park there and trying to back them in without the parking attendant, who keeps coming up and waving them out, seeing.


12:00 PM:
Thirty-plus beers down and Murph announces that it’s time to make picks for the $20 pool. Each of us will pick three drivers, and whoever has the highest finisher will win. I can see right off that bat that this will be a problem for me.

Joe gets the first pick and takes Kyle Busch. I take Jimmie Johnson with pick #2, who I just found out was a NASCAR driver about an hour ago. After Canavan picks Tony Stewart I’m down to two more drivers that I know. Joe takes one of them (Jeff Gordon) and I take the remaining one (Dale Jr.) with my second pick and end up with some scrub for my final pick.

(More to come… check back for Part II of the diary, including the actual Race and “Joe’s big day out” tomorrow)

A-Rond the World in 80 Days…

Excuse the terrible tagline for this post, but I’m running out of creative ways to introduce rants dealing with Rajon Rondo and the maelstrom of trade rumors surrounding the 23-year-old point guard.

It seems like it’s been the same old song and dance everyday for the past week now: another morning, another Rondo trade rumor. It’s becoming as much a part of my a.m. routine as showering and an XL coffee with skim milk and two sugars from Dunkin’ Donuts.

Today’s offering: Rondo and Brian Scalabrine to Memphis for Mike Conley and Rudy Gay. I’m calling it “The Big Gay Trade.”

Now, I’m still of the opinion that Rondo isn’t actually going anywhere, and that Danny Ainge is just playing head games with the young star by involving him in these ridiculous rumors (see yesterday’s “The Rondo Dilemma” for a full explanation). But, this morning’s rumor makes that theory a much harder to buy into, as The Big Gay Trade is the most plausible one yet in terms of actually coming to fruition.

There are a couple reasons The Big Gay Trade holds that distinction, one of the most prominent being that Memphis, unlike… say…Detroit, doesn’t have to worry about the possible consequences of making the Celtics better through a trade. The only place Memphis would be seeing the Celtics (that matters) is in the NBA Finals. Any Eastern Conference contender, however, will have a handful of meaningful regular season games against the C’s and then have to get through them in order to make the Finals, so any trade making the C’s better is one they want to avoid making.

The second reason that this trade is the most plausible of the Rondo rumors is that it makes financial sense for both teams, unlike the vague reports of a trade that would have sent Rondo and Ray Allen to Phoenix for Leandro Barbosa and Amare Stoudemire. That trade would have resulted in the Celtics having roughly $23 million tied up in Barbosa and Amare through the summer of 2011, rather than have only $21 million tied up in Rondo and Ray that would come off the books just in time for (cue movie phone voice) “The Summer of 2010!!!”

(On a side note, I absolutely pull the trigger on this deal if I’m Steve Kerr. You get a talented young guard in Rondo who can step up and replace Nash when he either A) retires or B) bolts for a contender in free agency, and you get a veteran wing who can help you make a championship run this season and has $20 million expiring contract.)

(You sign a veteran Big Man to a one or two year deal to replace Amare and you got a team. You also keep another valuable trading chip in Big Diesel’s expiring contract that you can swap to get some help mid-season if the Big Fella’s not performing. Amare’s unhappy and leaving anway, and Barbosa is a player who became overrated and overpaid because he played in Mike D’Antoni’s SSOL offense. This deal is a good one for the Suns.)

And finally, The Big Gay Trade makes perfect sense for Memphis.

If you’re Memphis you’ve got this dilemma of having to pick at the #2 spot in the draft. You have to chose between two needs; upgrading your backcourt with Ricky Rubio (who has tremendous potential but is still a large gamble) or upgrading your frontcourt (a dire need for the Griz) with Hasheem Thatbeet.

As I’ve discussed here before, if you have to choose between franchise Big Man or a franchise guard, you gotta go with Big Man. Right? But, if Memphis can improve at PG and get a veteran SG to compliment O.J. Mayo, it could give them one of the best backcourts in the league.

This trade allows the Griz to do both things. Rondo was one-half a backcourt that won an NBA championship, and Scal can actually contribute on a team that needs some serious frontcourt help and also lacks any type of depth at SF – the #2 guy on the depth chart at the 3 is Quinton Ross (3.9 ppg 1.9 rbs and 0.9 asts; avg. 17 mpg).

And if you have Rondo (a proven thing) nobody questions the decision to pass on Rubio and grab Thabeet, who can help immediately in a frontcourt made up primarily of Darrell Arthur (5.6, 4.6, 0.6), Marc Gasol (11.9, 7.4, 1.7) and Darko Milicic (5.5, 4.3, 0.6).

On the Celtics side of the deal, you get back a talented young PG (definitely a downgrade from Rondo but a better pick up than Rodney Stuckey) who still has three seasons left on his rookie contract, and a great energy guy who can come off the bench and give you solid minutes at either the 2 or 3, giving Paul or Ray a rest.

And Rudy Gay is making the same amount as Scalabrine!!! Would you rather pay Scalabrine $3.2 million next season and cut him during the summer of 2010 or pay Rudy Gay $3.2 and $4.4 million over the next two seasons, then if he plays well enough sign him to a mid-range deal when Paul retires?

Now, I still don’t think this trade happens, but my point is this: four rumors in six days involving Rondo is making it more and more difficult to believe that there’s not something going on here that we don’t know about. Especially now that one of these rumors finally makes sense.

Maybe Danny sees something the rest of us don’t. Maybe he really is shopping Rondo. Whatever it is that’s going on here, I just hope he knows what he’s doing.

The Rondo Dilemma

By now I’m sure everyone has heard the latest trade rumor involving the Celtics’ young floor general, the one that would send him and Ray Allen to Detroit for Rip Hamilton, Tayshaun Prince and (ironically for those who read my post yesterday) Rodney Stuckey.

First off, Danny has been taking some heat for this one on the fan-pages and forums, even though the trade offer was (reportedly) immediately declined by Detroit. When you actually look at the deal, though, it’s not a bad trade. In fact, I would go as far as to say that I’d have probably have been fine with it if it had gone through.

Think about it.

By adding Rip and Tayshaun we automatically improve our defense and finally find a suitable and capable player who can come off the bench and give Peirce a rest (in Tayshaun).

Rip is Rip, and swapping him for Ray basically gives you a younger version of the same type of player (Ray will be 34 next month, Rip is 31). Don’t believe me; check their stats from last season. Ray averaged 18.2 pts, 3.5 rebs and 2.8 asts per game. Rip averaged 18.3 pts, 3.2 rebs and 4.4 asts per game.

Yeah, yeah, I know Ray shot 48% from the field and 40% from beyond the arc while Rip shot 44% and 36%, but Rip’s shooting percentages are still solid. He was seldom left alone on the offensive end and oft doubled and still managed to hit those marks. And, don’t think those percentages wouldn’t improve with the increased amount of open looks that are a product of playing on a team with Paul Peirce and Kevin Garnett.

Plus, Rip is on the books for $11.6 million next year compared to Ray’s $19 million, so that has to be factored in as well.

Admittedly, Stuckey is a downgrade from Rondo. I would be in the camp of those calling it a “significant downgrade”, since I’m not too high on Stuckey and definitely don’t think he’s a “true” point guard. However, he is a talented player and he is young (23, same age as Rondo), so it’s not a total loss. You sign a decent veteran PG to back him up and the Celts would have a depth chart that looks like this:

PG: Stuckey/vet
SG: Rip/Eddie House
SF: Peirce/Prince/Brian Scalabrine
PF: KG/(Leon Powe or Glen Davis, since it’s not likely you’re signing both)
C: Pekins/free agent pickup (Marcin Gortat anyone???)

That’s a competitive team, and could be for the next 3-4 seasons.

None of that really matter’s though, because this trade was never happening. The deal was offered to Detroit - that seems like it’s an undeniable fact here given the extent of the media reports. There’s no way Joe Dumars ever pulls the trigger on it though, for reasons which I’ll get into a little later.

This brings me to my larger point: the question that is rolling around in my head right now.

Is Danny just playing head games with Rondo by involving him in these ridiculous trade proposals?

Has anyone else noticed that most of these “rumored” deals involving Rondo are deals that would be completely unrealistic for at least one of the teams involved?

In this most recent instance, there’s no way Detroit accepts the offer for two reasons, 1) they’re giving up their three best players currently under contract (since Sheed hasn’t signed yet), and 2) There’s no way Detroit does a trade that makes Boston better. Neither does Cleveland or Orlando for the same obvious reason.

Danny has to know that.

And if he does, is he just trying to show Rondo (with his reported ego issues) that he’s expendable? Maybe light a fire under the young PG, challenging him to prove that he’s A) not expendable, and B) a great team chemistry guy and a good soldier (to disprove all the media buzz about his stubbornness that is cited as a potential reason for shopping him every time a new rumor surfaces)?

Danny’s smart. Don’t underestimate him.

The rumor that Ray and Rondo were going to Phoenix for Amare and Nash was totally unrealistic due to finances. Everyone knows that Minny has no intent of letting Big Al go anywhere, nor should they as he is a franchise “Big” who can man the helm of a contender for years to come if the right players are surrounding him. And finally, the Pu Pu Platter that was rumored for Ray and Rondo to Washington was terrible and would have made no sense for the Celts.

So why then would Danny be discussing these ridiculous deals involving his young star point guard, and then publicly deny them like they’re the third Manning brother to boot?

According to the Celts Twitter account, he pulled the same act again this morning in his pre-draft press conference.

“DA: "I'm not sure why his is popping up, but we love Rajon. It doesn't seem like you have to have any source any more (to report rumors).",” one Tweet reads, in what appears to be a response to a question about why Rondo’s name keeps popping up in trade rumors.

“DA: "I've heard speculation we're dissatisfied with him; we're gonna trade him because he was late for a playoff game? That's not true.",” the next Tweet reads.

And Danny’s response to all the other rumors involving Rondo has always been the same: deny, deny deny. And make sure to reiterate how much he loves Rondo.

Think about it. Rajon’s a young guy coming off his best season. His rookie contact is up next year. He already has an ego and thinks of himself highly (if all reports are to be believed). So what do you do to motivate him as a GM? You throw his name into some faux trade rumors to show him that he’s expendable – that he can be replaced.

At the same time, you come out and praise him publicly, denying the rumors in order to make sure he still knows you like him and respect his skills. This keeps him happy enough with you and the team to want to stay, and at the same time motivated enough to want to prove his worth, even though he spent the last two seasons proving he’s one of the best in the league at his position.

Genius. And genius seems to be what Danny Ainge does best.

And now an answer to a completely irrelevant question due to the implausibility of its circumstances.

Celticsblog.com (a great site for those of you who haven’t already found it) recently had a poll up that posed the following question:

“Would you accept a deal that would send Rondo and Ray Allen to Phoenix for Amare Stoudemire and Leandro Barbosa if the Celtics could then turn Amare into Al Jefferson and Minnesota's high draft pick?”

Now, as stated in the heading for this post, the question is moot because this scenario is almost completely unrealistic. I haven’t checked the salaries out yet, but it may not even be financially possible under the league’s trade rules (in any trade the total value of what teams A and B are receiving must be within 125% + $100,000 of each other). I think Amare’s contract would prevent this deal from hitting that mark, but again, that’s just off the top of my head and I would need to double check the figures.

Regardless, the question brings up an interesting debate: Would you be willing to sacrifice a young guard with the potential to be a top-5 player at his position for the next decade and an aging veteran for a quality big man?

It’s an intriguing prospect. On one hand, a top-notch floor general, especially one with the athleticism Rondo possesses, is hard to come by in today’s NBA. When the likes of Mo Williams, Rodney Stuckey, and Andre Miller are starting PGs on playoff teams, it’s definitely a sign that elite PGs are few and far between.

And a player with Allen’s shooting abilities and undeniable confidence in clutch situations will always be a great value to any team with a legitimate chance to go deep in the playoffs.

Clearly, to give up both players in one deal would be to give up quite a bit.

On the other hand, there’s an argument that has been hashed over many times throughout the years: that the key to winning a championship is having a great big man.

With KG entering what are presumably his last 2-3 seasons in the NBA and no heir-apparent on the C’s current roster, would sacrificing Rondo and Ray for a quality big, if we can get one, be the best move for the team?

Don’t get me wrong here; I love Ray, and I love Rondo even more.

I own a "You got Rondo'd" t-shirt. I was one of his earliest supporters and am one of the first to defend him when people bring up some of his faults (and he definitely has them). I have to admit that when it comes right down to it, he’s my favorite Celtic on the roster right now and is probably my favorite point guard in the NBA (and would be regardless of where he played).

However, when you examine the evidence from 60-plus seasons of NBA basketball, it slowly becomes apparent that great guards (1 or 2) - regardless of how spectacular they are - cannot win championships without a great big man.

Great big men, on the flipside, have proven that they can win championships while playing alongside strictly average guards.

Looking back at all the "great" guards in history who have actually won a championship, they all did it with great big men at their side:

Kobe had Gasol and Shaq (and Odom?). Ray Allen (difficult not to mention him here now) had KG when he finally won. MJ had Rodman, Grant and Salley.

Clyde the Glyde didn't win until he had Hakeem the Dream (but The Dream won the year before with average guards at best).

Isiah only won with Lambier, Rodman and Salley. Magic had Kareem and Rambis. "Tiny" Archibald only won when he finally had the Celts big men in '81. Dr. J had Moses. Cousy had Russell.

But, there are a host great "Big Men" who have won it on their own:

Hakeem in '94 (as previously mentioned); Tim Duncan (and D-rob) in '98; The Bird era Celtics (not to the extent of any other team on this list since they had good to very good gaurds, but still, not "great gaurds"); Willis in '70 and '73; and Kareem in '71.

And finally, when you look at the list of great guards that a championship ring eluded, the common thread amongst them is that few ever got to play with a great big man.

Steve Nash(unless you consider Amare “great”). Jason Kidd (again, unless you consider an aging Dirk “great”). Reggie Miller. Gary Payton (Lakers season doesn’t count due to Kobe’s sabotage of that team, otherwise the glove would be on my first list of great guards who only won with great big men at their sides).

Doc Rivers and Spudd Webb (and Dominique for that matter, while I'm listing great Hawks players who never played with a decent big man). George Gervin. Pistol Pete.... and the list goes on.

So based on history, you’ve got to sacrifice a quality guard for a big man like Jefferson if given the chance. Right?

The question is, will the Celtics get the chance, and if so, will Mr. Ainge actually pull the trigger?

I say not this offseason. The right deal just isn’t out there. Like I said, you do the Big Al deal if it was actually realistic, but it’s not, and neither is any scenario that would give us Amare, Bosh, or any other quality big man for the 2009-2010 season.

And why give up Rondo when you might be able to keep him and still sign that big man via free agency next summer? Danny has a two-year window to find KG’s replacement here, so there’s no need to rush it and do something you might regret 5-years down the road.

So let’s stop asking the irrelevant questions about “would you trade Rondo for…” and start focusing on the biggest issue facing the team next season that, amazingly, still no one is talking about.

What is wrong with KG’s knees and can he recover? If this were an aging pitcher with elbow issues it would be all the Boston sports media talked about.

Kind of a roundabout way to make my point, but hopefully you enjoyed the ride.

Big Things A-Comin'

With the NBA draft fast approaching, I haven’t been able to control my urges to spend hours of valuable work-time researching potential moves for the Celtics.

After exploring scores of trade ideas, free agent signings and potential draft picks – some plausible, others not so much – I have settled on one of the most unlikely scenarios in the history of sport and am now fully endorsing the following plan of action, which I am calling (for multiple reasons) “Operation Dumbo Drop”.

Consider this:

What if Danny Ainge could convince Kevin McHale to give us back the first round pick we sent to Minnesota in the KG trade for Tony Allen and some cash? (Stop laughing. This is Kevin McHale we’re talking about. He’s, A) One of the most inept GM’s in the NBA next to Chris Wallace, and B) Not at all afraid to help his former team out a bit, as evidenced during the Summer of 2007).

Kevin’s got picks coming out the wazzu this year (the ‘Wolves have three picks in the first round; 6th, 20th and 28th ) and will likely not have the roster space to sign all those rookies. So why wouldn’t he want to turn one of his picks (which will be an untested question-mark looking for a 3-4 year deal) into a one-year rental of a proven defender who also happens to have… (That’s right Johnny!!! Tell him what he’s won!!!)… an expiring contract in the most anticipated free-agent market in NBA History, (cue movie-phone guy voice) “The Summer of 2010!!”?

So now with Kevin’s 20th or 28th pick, Danny takes Tyler Hansboro (a steal that late who I'm convinced might even slip to the early second round).

With Bill Walker (who showed flashes of greatness in his limited PT last season and who I feel could mature quite quickly if given a larger role) and Hansboro, you get two young, energetic swingmen who can drive to the basket and have decent developing mid-range jumpers (not to mention that Hansboro could potentially develop a passable enough 3-point stroke - say high-20s to low 30s 3pt percentage - to be a threat to score from anywhere on the floor).

Those two, along with Starbury (who you then resign at a discount rate since his stock is low and he wants to stay in Boston and try to win a ring) could provide enough minutes to rest Ray and Paul to keep them fresh for another long championship run.

Now here’s where it gets good…..

Maybe - and this is a stretch (as if the rest of this plan isn’t?) - but maybe due to his above average play in the playoffs and McHale's fetish for White Goofy Power Forwards (the T-wolves are currently carrying an all-star list of WGPFs - Mark Madsen, Brain Cardinal and Kevin Love), maybe Kevin gives Danny the pick for Tony Allen and (this gives me great pleasure to say, even though I've grown to love him as an individual) "Brian Scalabrine's Expiring Contract".
Stop.

Think about it. And stop asking what I’m on.

This move would give Kevin an additional $5.7 million (Allen and Scal’s combined salaries) coming off the books for “The Summer of 2010” to go after somebody for Big Al to play with, and it would give the Celtics roughly $5.7 million they could use to lockup Big Baby and resign Eddie House.

(NOTE: I’m not sure where the rest of this money is coming from, because $5.7 mil is not enough to resign both Eddie and Baby. Just roll with it though. Sam Cassell, Patrick O’Bryant and Leon Powe’s salaries coming off the books should help; Danny will find a way to make the rest work.)

So, at this point Doc would have an eight-man rotation of Rondo, Ray, Paul, KG, Perk, House, Starbury, and Baby, with Hansboro and Bill Walker coming off the bench and J.R. Giddens keeping the seats warm as an 11th man.

Use a mid-level exception to sign another veteran big (or at least a cheap role playing one) - potentially the looking to make a comeback and “in the best shape of his career” Antoine Walker, Mara-Juwan-a Howard, Marcin Gortat or Anderson Varejao - and you're set to raise Banner 18 in June of 2010, right?

(I mean, this secenario really isn't that unrealistic, right?)

(Stop staring at me like that.)

(I’m not crazy.)

Observations from Game 1

Today was one of the more miserable days of work in recent memory, mostly because I woke up without a voice, and without the drive to do much of anything, after attending the Celtics 95-90 loss to the Magic in Game 1 of the Eastern Conference Semi-Finals last night.

The game itself was a thriller, with the Celts rallying back from a 28-point deficit to come within three points of Dwight’s (only 16 pts, 22 reb) (Only?) (Yeah, we’ll go with that.) Magic in the closing minutes. It was such a remarkable comeback / epic collapse that it’s tough to say which team walked away the winner in this one. The Magic just took away home court advantage (in theory) and are up a game over the defending champs, but at the same time the Celtics just proved to themselves and everyone else that they are a force to be reckoned with and can overcome even the most seemingly insurmountable odds.

That said, here’s a list of observations from my Game 1 experience, in no particular order.

1) My buddy Cunn is not to be left alone while intoxicated. He accompanied me to the game last night and we met up beforehand at (the legendary) Halftime Pizza to slug back some brews and grab dinner. He, being Cunn, had taken the train into the city to meet me, and had downed a glass of Jim Beam before boarding the train and an additional apple juice bottle full of Jim on his way in. Needless to say, by the time he had downed two of Halftime’s 32-ounce, $7.50, personal pitchers of goodness, he was hammered.

Now… before I continue with this story, I feel obligated to tell you another one. Last year, I went to the Celtics season opener against the Wizards with Cunn. I was in school at the time in Vermont. Cunn was in school in Mass. It was a Friday night, and I had an exam that morning, so we agreed that I’d drive down after my exam, meet at my parent’s house, and take the train in to the city for the game.

My piece of shit car broke down on the way down from Vermont though. Luckily, it was a minor problem that I paid a mechanic extra in order to fix so I could make the game. I called Cunn up and told him I’d meet him in the city, outside the garden instead.

So, I get down there 10 minutes before tip off, have to park in the Fanuel Hall parking Garage cause there’s no parking anywhere near the Garden, sprint over to the Garden thinking, “Shit, I’m gonna miss KG’s intro,” and what do I see? Cunn standing outside the Garden, visibly sloshed, hitting on a homeless girl with dreads.

The ensuing conversation went like this:

Me: “What the fuck are you doing?”

Cunn: “A-what?”

Me: “Do you know what time it is? We’re gonna miss tip-off.”

Cunn: “I was talkin’.”

Me: “To a homeless girl! What the hell were you talking about? WHY were you talking to her?” What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Cunn: “I don’t know how I got into that situation, but I couldn’t get out.”

And there you have it.

Last night, though, the legend of Cunn grew tenfold. After I finished my last beers at Halftime, Cunn was struggling with the final sips of his. I needed some wings before the game, so in the interest of time, I decided that I would go over to 7/11 while he finished his beer and grab a Red Bull, and told him to meet me on the corner outside of Halftime in 5.

Cunn was opposed to this idea. “You can’t leave me by myself,” he said, explaining he was basically at the point where he needed a chaperone. Naturally, I told him to stop being a pussy and deal.

So I go to 7/11, get my caffeine fix, walk out, and there’s Cunn, standing on the corner with a confused look on his face, talking to some homeless guy. I could tell by the look on his face that this was a conversation he clearly wanted no part of, so I quickly walked over, tapped him on the back and said, “All right man, let’s go, we’re gonna miss the intros.”

Without saying anything Cunn turns and starts to walk away with me, but the homeless guy starts yelling something, barely intelligible, that I believe was, “Hey, man, no man, hold on man, my brother, Ha Ha, my brother.”

He comes up to Cunn, and hugs him. The homeless guy hugged Cunn in the middle of a crowd of people on Causeway Street before a Celts game. HE HUGGED HIM. WHAT THE FUCK.

Me: “Why did that guy just hug you?”

Cunn: (Petrified) “I have no idea.”

Me: “What were you even talking about?”

Cunn: “I have no fucking clue.”

Me: “How do you not know.”

Cunn: “I don’t… know”

Me: “How did you even start talking to him? How did you suddenly find yourself in that situation?”

Cunn: (Laughing like an idiot at this point) “I… don’t… know”

Me: “So you walk out of halftime, and next thing you know some homeless guy is hugging you.”

Cunn: “Yes… I told you, I can’t be left alone.”

Fantasy Football Hell

You know that place where you second and third-guess every decision you make? Where you over-analyze the smallest of details and as a result go against your gut instincts?

You know that place where you're banging your head against the wall because you started Willie Parker over Michael Turner in a must-win week 12 fantasy match-up and now you're stuck screaming at the TV during the Colts-Chargers game because Joseph Addai is you're only hope at overcoming a 35-point deficit.

Yeah... that's where I am right now.

Two things about this NFL season:

1. I'm going to assassinate Dominic Rhodes, who got every significant crunch time carry for the Colts, and allowed Joe Addai to slowly kill my fantasy team like an NFL version of the AIDS virus. I'm not sure when Dungy lost faith in Jigga Joe, but it screwed over two of my fantasy teams this year and...

2. How can you not love the Falcons right now, even after the playoff loss. This is just a great young team that has been able to reinvent itself with Matt Ryan, Michael Turner and Roddy White, and really leave the Michael Vick era behind. With a physical D and the uncanny ability to hang with almost any opponent, they're just captivating to watch. I say these guys come back big in 2009. I mean, didn't you see that drive in the fourth quarter where Matty Ice literally willed the team down the field. Forget the two picks, there was bound to be mistakes due to inexperience, what's good is that he still threw the ball with confidence even after some mis-steps. Kid's going to be great.

What I really want to talk about though, is fantasy football hell.

There is no other game, sport or recreational activity on the planet that causes the same amount of stress as does Fantasy Football - the #1 cause of heart attacks in American males age 16-30.

Why? Well it's simple really: it takes no knowledge of the actual sport of football to be able to play fantasy football.

Take for example a girl in one of my fantasy leagues. For the purposes of this column, we'll call her Laura Anacone. Last season, the inaugural season for this particular league, Laura decided to draft LT with the second overall pick in our draft. Very respectable, except for the fact that the LT she drafted was Lawrence Taylor.

"I'll take Lawrence Taylor," she said, and then managed to somehow not come in last and beat out real football fans, who watch football, in the playoffs.

I don't care that Donovan McNabb doesn't know games can end in a tie - well, I do, but what I care more about is the fact that the kid in my 12-team league's championship game drafted Ricky Williams in the fourth round of our draft this year when Michael Turner, Ronnie Brown, Chris Johnson, Matt Forte, LenDale White, Darren McFadden, and Jonathan Stewart were all still on the board.

All this individual did was read Matt Berry, ESPN's Talented Mr. Roto, religiously each week and do his darndest to follow every recommendation Berry made. Through that, and sheer luck (he scored the second fewest total points over the course of the regular season in a 12 team league and somehow managed an 8-5 record because he caught teams on shit weeks), he made it to the championship game.

FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!

This is the kind of shit that makes real football fans - the kind that saw the potential in Michael "the Burner" Turner from watching him back up LT (no, not Lawrence Taylor, Laura) and grabbed him just at the right spot in round 5, the kind who waited an extra round for Larry Fitz instead of pulling the trigger on Anquan Boldin because they knew Boldin's only played a full 16 games twice in a six year career - it makes those fans nuts.

Just nuts enough to do it all over again next season.

The Intro

I have been told by friends to start a blog.

I've been told it's a good idea, and it might help get me some exposure if it takes off. See, I'm an aspiring writer in need of an audience - and according to many of my idiot friends, blogging could be a way to gain one.

So, given that you now know the above information, you may wonder why my name isn't attached to the bottom of this blog. Well, allow me to answer your question. The most intriguing part of this whole blogging phenomenon, in my opinion, is the anonymity which it is capable of providing.

As an aspiring writer, I'm currently employed as a reporter with a small New England newspaper. Being such, there are things I'll post on this space I might not want the 60-something-year-old woman who's involved with the local church group, who I'm trying to convince I'm a nice kid so I can use her as a source for my day job, to know.

Like my current opinion of Justin Masterson for instance, who just faced two batters, gave up two hits and joined Hideki Okajima in collectively sucking their way to letting the Angels back into Game 4 of the ALDS.

So, with all that said, what you can expect to see in this space from here on out is my unfiltered and biased opinion on all things relevant to a 22-year-old male from just north of Boston, Mass., - sports, beer, friendships, relationships (necessarily, yes necessarily, in that order... ha ha... no, no... I joke, I kid) and anything else I damn well please to pollute cyberspace with.

P.S. - Thank you Jason Bay and Jed Lowrie!! Who'da thunk it'd be J & J Hit Factory getting us out of this one. Kudos boys; time to cowboy up for (can't believe I'm actually writing this!?!) Tampa. It's gonna be a hell of an ALCS.

More to come soon.