...that we must remember to not unleash the power o' the jinx. If memory serves, I think this fine saloon is somewhere in the KC metro. I'll be sure to not frequent it very soon.
(props to Arrowhead Pride for the story link)
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Back when the Frozen Four was going strong, I made the not-impossible suggestion that Boston-area teams could sweep the four major professional sports championships this year, and even throw in a college-trophy trinket with a Boston University championship. Well, BU went on to win their championship, and the rest, as they don't really say, could've been history.
With the best-regular-season-record San Jose Sharks bowing out in the first round of the NHL playoffs, the Boston Bruins, perennial first-round choke artists, were left as the team to beat, the number one seed in the east. Their opponent: an always under-estimated Carolina Hurricane hockey club that lost the series-opening tilt, yet strung together three straight wins before allowing the Bruins to force a game seven.
Tonight's tilt was the third of three consecutive game sevens for the round, the first being Pittsburgh's domination of Washington last night. Detroit and Anaheim kicked off the game-seven action this evening, a contest in which the Ducks were shot down late in the third after tying things up at three halfway through the period. The Boston-Carolina contest went beyond regulation, however, and the first-and-only overtime period was mostly spent in the Boston attack zone. As the period dwindled, however, Carolina found a spark and put together the extra frame's best scoring chance moments before Scott Walker put the rubber in the twine, absolutely stunning the Boston crowd. Thus, Carolina will face Pittsburgh in the Eastern Conference Finals.
Now, what once looked like a potential Bostkkake, has seen some serious wind taken out of its sails. The Celtics, with chances to put away Orlando, fell to the Magic this evening, 83-75. They'll still have two more opportunities to advance, but if there's something in the Boston sports water today, it comes as no surprise, especially considering that the Red Sox, having generated 15 hits against Los Anaheim this afternoon, also stranded 17 men, and lost 5-4 in 12 innings. Obviously, it's early in the MLB season, but if the Red Stockings not winning a Series sets up the ultimate, a Dictator Belichick non-championship, than I'm all for it.
So now, we'll look at a battle of two Central Division foes in the west, while the Atlantic faces the Southeast. Scott Walker has spoken, and his anti-Boston vibe has been felt.
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It's been a week since we've had any afternoon baseball and bam -- just like that, the league's schedule-makers toss a half dozen affairs our way for this last hump day of April, and we'll talk about the slate in just a moment. I'd be remiss if I didn't take a quick moment to talk about fantasy baseball and my home team as well. As far as fantasy, I started off the season with consecutive wins, which was nice. It really was. I wasn't throwing any parties by any means, but I'm typically out of the post-season running halfway through week two. Well last week, I lost a nail-biter to an ass-clown that no longer frequents the House of Georges, and that loss occurred courtesy of .09 percentage points in the Opponents Batting Average category. Either that or E.R.A. Some stupid pitching stat. I wasn't pleased with the loss, but I'd hoped to rebound as I faced league-leading Old No. 7 at the onset of the week, and let me tell you: I'm getting crushed. He has every opportunity to blank me 14-0, and I'll just go ahead and say I hope he does. He has 115 percent geeked out about this season since Christmas, and this might be the year he takes it all home. Having said that, I'll say this in regards to fantasy baseball: "Screw you guys. I'm going home."
Regarding my real baseball team, Zack Greinke takes the mound tonight against lefty Blue Jay pitcher Brian Tallet. It's a 7:10 first pitch. It's supposed to be cold and rainy, and it's the rubber match of the series. The Royals surprised some folks and clubbed Toronto 7-1 the night before last in a game that featured Jose Guillen cracking two jacks in just his second game back. I drafted Guillen by the way, and then opened the season with five guys on the DL. Something had to give. I'll bet you can guess who picked him up and enjoyed those long balls. The Blue Jays returned the favor last night, taking it to the Royals 8-1. This is a special rubber match, though, in that Greinke, who has already joined Don Drysdale and Orel Hershiser by logging six consecutive starts without surrendering an earned run, has the chance to eclipse the two, and continue to add to a fantastic start. There is of course the jinx factor, what with the national notoriety, and much local buzz as well.
I for one, am hoping that the black cloud of curses passes over the K tonight, though, and I think that fate is in my/our hands if only in the fact that you know who drafted Greinke and will use him to hopefully blank my fantasy club in all categories pitching. I can't imagine -- when you compound the pressure with a kid who left the game due to a social-anxiety disorder -- how a 25 year-old kid will go out there tonight and toss a game like he's been tossing them, but it'll be interesting, I'm sure. Go get 'em, Stank'.
And now, after the jump, we return you to your regularly scheduled listing of day baseball.
Los Angeles @ Baltimore, 11:35 Central: Our earliest match is our only American League feature today, and it finds the Orioles of Camden Yards nestled in in Los Pornaheim. That's right. Anaheim, in case you didn't know, is the pornography-manufacturing capital of the world. Not Hollywood. Not Thailand, and no, not your neighbor's cousin's guest room. The units occupying the mound today are none other than righties Shane Loux for the home team and Koji Uehara for the visitors. Loux's looking for his first win, and hopes to keep his E.R.A. under seven as his still-struggling Angels could use the help. Uehara seeks win number three, and you gotta feel for the Birds as they're near the top five in runs scored, but in a cutthroat A.L. East where Boston and New York continue to dagger one another for middle ground, a Toronto (who leads the bigs with 133 plated) club that continues to tear, and a defending American League-champion Tampa that, uh, hasn't quite realized that the season's almost a month old. Either way, DirecTV carries the action on 721, 722, while XM has it on 176.
Pittsburgh @ Milwaukee, 12:05: A few minutes later, Ian Snell will take the hill in the city of Miller, while Yovani Gallardo represents the .500 Brew Crew. Snell enters at 1-2 with a 4.50 E.R.A., but really has his work cut out for him in three ways: One, Gallardo is 2-1 with a 3.71 and coming off of his first complete game; two, the Brewers have won seven of their last 10; and three, according to MLB.com, Snell is 109 at Miller Park, which means there's some sort of time-age continuum that affects only him inside the stadium. Other reports suggest that he is 28 everywhere else he goes. Apparently, DirecTV doesn't like to broadcast senior-citizen athletes, so you'll have to catch the thrills on XM 183.
Florida @ New York, 12:05 As that tilt's getting underway, so are the Marlins and the Mets in New York. This one features righty Josh Johnson for the Marlins and lefty Johan Santana for the home team. If ever there was a pitcher's duel, this is it as Johnson comes in at 2-0 with a 2.20, having just tossed seven scoreless (with two walks, three hits, and eight Ks) frames against the defending champs. Santana's looking pretty sharp himself, boasting a 3-1 record with a a 0.70 E.R.A. The southpaw hasn't lost a home start in 11 outings, and is averaging nearly 13 Ks per nine innings in those contests. Tune in for a hurler's clinic on DirecTV 724, or listen to what they're saying on XM 184.
Seattle @ Chicago, 1:05: Did I say there was only one A.L. game this afternoon? Well, that goes to show you what I know. Last time I checked, the Mariners and White Sox still played in the American League, and they'll continue that trend today as Erik Bedard and Gavin Floyd exchange pleasantries in the Windy City. Bedard enters at 2-1 with a 2.08, and his Mariners continue to surprise the West with a two and-a-half game lead over the Rangers, though they've scored more than 30 runs fewer. For the Sox, Floyd's 2-2 mark, 5.79 E.R.A. has to improve if the Ozzie Guillens want to leapfrog the win-one-lose-one Royals in the Central. DirecTV has options: 307, 725, or 726. XM keeps it simple: 177.
San Diego @ Colorado, 2:10: It's some good ol'-fashioned N.L. West fightin' out in the Mile High City this afternoon. Kevin "Chic" Correia and his right arm battles Aaron "Can't" Cook and his. Both are 0-1, neither has a great earned-run average, and each of their clubs is looking up at the Dodgers, especially the Rockies, who're looking up at everyone. The action's on DirecTV 727, XM 185.
Chicago @ Arizona, 2:40: Our final bout of the pre-evening slate features the Cubs and the Diamondbacks. Ryan Dempster and Doug Davis each have a win a piece, and they'll battle for victory number two today out in the desert. Each of these teams needs a pick-me-up of some sort as they've both gone .500 over their last 10, and each need to gain some divisional ground, especially Arizona, who has only a half-game cushion over the last-place Rockies.
Whew. I never thought I'd feel like drinking before eight A.M. (Editor's Note: Well, not since high school, anyway.), but that was entirely too much work. Get your game on, and enjoy a frosty beverage while you're at it.
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The rough focus of this blog is the rivalry between the Kansas City Chiefs (heralded by Bankmeister) and the Denver Broncos (championed by Cecil and Old No. 7). It may seem unfair that it's two versus one, but once KC gets that second Super Bowl win we'll even out the delegation.
Seven years ago we started The Tradition, in which Bronco fans travel out to the Truman Sports Complex with their team, and Chef-lovers return to the Rocky Mountains with theirs. We tailgate, we talk massive amounts of shit, our wives are occasionally assaulted by rival fans, and we almost always watch the visiting team lose. It's grand old time.
Here at the HoG, we're going to keep The Tradition going with Tradition Tuesday--a weekly state-of-the-rivalry address.
That would be Kevin House, late of the University of South Carolina and stints with the Seahawks, Chargers and Saints. We're big fans of anybody named House here at the House, as well as anybody named George that's not George Foster. George Foster can die a thousand deaths and burn in eternal hell afterwards. But Kevin House, you're the man. We'll be pulling for you come training camp, and if you make the 53-man roster I'll personally pony up for a jersey stitched with your name and number. That, of course, means you'll blow an ACL within minutes. Such is the power o' the jinx.
It is nice to be talking about training camp. We're in July, and that means the countdown to two-a-days is measured in mere weeks now. While the large men with new SUVs prepare for their summer inferno, we the fans are diligently forming plans of our own. The game tickets are being procured, the tailgating menus are taking shape, and some of us are getting ready to take to the interstates and friendly skies to follow our teams.
Yes, I speak of the road game. The true test of a football team is also the true test of a football fan. We've all seen our boys in the comfort of the home stadium, but to show your true grit you need to spend a little time vastly outnumbered and mildly afraid for your life.
I'm not trying to make this into a class issue. Everyone makes decisions on game attendance based on a variety of factors. Some of my friends have family connections to season tickets at Invesco, and those jackasses get nothing but curses from me (behind their backs, of course...I don't want to burn any bridges that may lead to good seats).
I also personally feel that going to games in person is a monumental pain in the ass. It's a tremendous amount of work, especially if you do what you ought to do and make a full day of it: grilling, drinking, boasting, fighting, blacking out and spending a little time in county lock-up. Good times. But I get just as much satisfaction in watching the game in my own living room on my own bad-ass television. I can actually see all the replays, not to mention all the other NFL games I miss when I'm there in person. I don't pay eight bucks for a warm beer, and I can curse loudly without offending any small children or stuck-up parents.
You do, however, have to go to games once in a while, and I try to make it a point to hit a few roadies every season. There is always The Tradition, and the mandatory pilgrimage to Kansas City. It's a wonderful time, even when your eyeballs are frozen in December or some drunken gorilla in overalls threatens to break your spine. It's good old fashioned Midwestern Americana football, and I'll be heading out there until the day I die. Even after, I'll insist that my cremated ashes be transported to Arrowhead a couple times.
We took a trip down to New Orleans, before Katrina. The pre- and postgame festivities were legendary and the food was amazing, of course. It was chilling to attend a game at the Superdome, which I'll always associate with that Super Bowl halftime show U2 did after 9/11, with the names of the victims projected on the walls and ceiling. But the game was a blowout, and the Saints fans were perfectly happy taking their beatings like shelter dogs.
The scene was similar in San Diego two years ago, where parking-lot bluster turned into bleacher pacifism. Is it too much to ask of fans to stick around past halftime? How can you let your home stadium be overrun by expatriates and tourists from Colorado? Weak. It's hard for me to respect the Chargers or their fans after that trip.
I didn't expect much from the fans in Arizona last year either. I can't even imagine following a team run by the Bidwell family. The new stadium, however, was brain-meltingly sweet. Our $10 tickets were awesome, and the entire building was full of well-thought-out details and gadgets. There was zero downside to the trip, especially considering that the Broncos emerged victorious.
In the end, though, it all comes back to Arrowhead. No road stadium beats it for atmosphere or passion, even though the concourses are narrow and the line for the shitter endless. I doubt I'll ever go to Oakland, even in disguise. Some day I'll take in a game at Lambeau, and I'd love to go to the Meadowlands and Foxboro as well. This season's two most appealing roadies are at Indianapolis and Chicago, but unless I procure corporate sponsorship I'll be limiting my out-of-state travel to KC on Nov. 11. Where hopefully we'll see Kevin House pick one off and take it to the...you get the idea.
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"If you want to be negative be negative. I'm not a negative person," he said. "You be negative as much as you want. If I stink and I don't pitch well out there, I know I stink. I don't need you tell me that. I have pride in what I do. I'll pull my heart out and set it right there [pointing to the table] for you to see it. When I perform, I've done it. I got that from my mother so if you want to write and these other people want to write negative...everything has to be negative these days. There always had to be a negative. I've always been positive in my life. It won't end. I don't want to be around negative people. So I won't associate myself with those people. So if it makes you feel good to write negative stuff then go ahead but you've never been in the arena. Never been in this arena to understand what it's like. Keep that in mind. People read your column and associate things with me that are not true. I'll answer it as honestly I can so that 10-year old when he reads about won't assume things. You can tell how passionate I am about it. Ok?"
I know, the weekend is almost over. And nary a post from the HoG's designated leisure time employee.
Thing is, I have a crazy lack of regular and unfettered computer time in my life. Either I wait to access my wife's work laptop, which I'm using now, or I use the awesome powers of my mind. Soon enough this problem will be a thing of the ancient past, like cuneiform or automats, but for now it's a figurative stick in the collective imaginary eye of HoGNation. So, my apologies.
Saturday ended as one of the biggest days on the year's sports calendar, what with the Kentucky Derby, NHL and NBA Playoffs, some fine baseball and a boxing match that ended up being a pretty big deal even though its organizers tried their hardest to let it slip under the radar. The whole thing was positively fraught start to finish: Chien-Ming Wang missing out on a perfecto late after we HoGsters applied our awesome Power O' The Jinx, the Utah Jazz bludgeoning Tracy McGrady with their familiar Cro-Magnon hooping, some horse no one outside of the old folks home or the New Jersey mafia had heard of until last week earning a brief few weeks of fame and, of course, "Pretty Boy Floyd" beating "The Golden Boy" in the Match to Save Boxing.
You know what boxing needs? Fewer gay nicknames. "Iron Mike" was a nickname. "The Greatest" was a nickname. Hell, "The Bayonne Bleeder" was a nickname. No wonder no one cares about the sport these days--this coming from a guy that actually likes boxing.
Still, it's hard not to like the way Mayweather fights. In a sport dominated by enormous, craftless Russians and a million nondescript tomato cans, he kills with guile, speed and unbelievable defense. Would he have beaten the De La Hoya of 10 years ago? I say yes. Lesser boxers did. But Mayweather is at a spot to which only a few guys--Ali, Marciano, Sugar Ray Robinson--have ascended: he can legitimately claim to be Greatest Ever. He isn't, but he can claim it. And no one will tell him no...at least to his face.
De La Hoya, on the other hand, could care less if he won or not. He could have sex with any woman in the American southwest, is worth something along the lines of a shitload and actually promoted this fight himself, via his Golden Boy Productions company. Making millions of dollars to get pummeled is nice; making millions more than the pummeler is even better.
And basketball. I haven't even addressed the Nuggets' latest postseason failure, but since they get more ink and airtime in this town these days than my beloved Broncos do, I'll keep it short and to el pointo--they need someone, anyone, who can reliably shoot a three-point shot. Let Camby go, get something in return, let Nene continue to develop into a dominating power forward ala Elton Brand, let Blake go and bring in a point who doesn't look quite so much like this guy and they'll be fine. Really.
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