Wednesday, June 4, 2008

We Are Hot Chicks Wednesday: Camera-Ready

Alas. June is upon us, and with it, the lovely late-spring/early summer season of which so much is to be cherished. Gone are the days of appreciating the steam off of the morning cup of coffee. Fluttering are the days of crisp, chilly breezes and delicate showers. Replacing them are the glories of air-conditioner arguments with spouses, multiple-bathing days, and sweaty crotches. It's clearly the best time of the year to call oneself a resident of the illustrious Middle West. Along with those icons of lovely come weekends packed with events, and oftentimes travel. The vacations, music festivals, and weddings shine down upon us all in this time of year, and occasions one and all demand that the family photo gadget be loaded, locked, and ready.

Take this weekend for example: Seven and his bride, along with the unit-wielding, up-and-coming baseball star, will travel to the northern parts of colorful Colorado to participate in the blessed exchange of nuptials between a lovely young lady and an allegedly/obviously gay man. The wife and I, for the fourth year in a row, will stupidly plant ourselves in a shadeless Kansas field for the weekend, where the task will be to down two bottles of water for every beer, while we pretend to enjoy some live music. And next weekend will be our turn to grace the Centennial State with some marital ceremonies, leaving Cecil the daunting task of looking after the House for consecutive weekends. (Editor's Note: Not to worry, though; Seven and I have alerted the neighbors and police to keep an eye out for suspicious activity, and by "suspicious activity," we of course meant multiple postings.) The point, though, is that we, each and all of us, must have the camera accessible at all times, as these events of bliss and dirty feet will certainly create many a Kodak moment. After the jump, we'll examine a few examples of the work of some professionals, their efforts something of which to attempt mimicry.

Natalie Estrada



We're pretty sure that Natalie is of no relation to "CHiPs" star Erik, but we're convinced that she's an example of some interesting outfit pieces one might encounter in one's travels.



What's more is that, on occasion, there's some scenery, like sparkles on the water, that one has to photograph, strangers in the foreground or not.

Tailor James



When vacationing, it's important to relax. Miss James displays a perfect "how-to" in this shot,



and in this one,



and here, too.

Alessia Ventura



Again, no relation to the famous (in this case the former Minnesota governor), but Alessia is a prime example of leisure time, which can provide some great photograph opportunities.



She also knows a thing or two about beach/workout attire,



which can come in handy somehow or another.

Karolina Kurkova



Speaking of beaches, skyline shots along the water are the antithesis of the old adage, "a dime a dozen."



One can never snap enough of the sky, its cloud arrangements ever-changing.

Betcee May



Miss May's image is a great reminder to make sure the lighting is appropriately set for each picture taken.

Brandi Corbin



I'd advise taking darker-scene shots twice, once with a flash, and another without.

Corrine Morrill



Take care, however, to go flashless when photographing the always-unavoidable person with sunglasses atop the dome.

Crystal Klein



And have that camera ready, as picture-taking moments can catch one off guard, even in the most unexpected circumstances.

Erica Campbell



Camera-ready is different for every traveler. Some prefer the wrist strap, which is handy in moments when you find your hands full.

Alena Seradova



If you're the household photographer, have your unit within arm's reach, even when you're tired.



And consider the landscape of each image you shoot. If shooting digitally, don't delete until you're home and can review. The images that "didn't turn out" may work just fine in black and white.

Jena Arsenault



Even more important: consider each shot from different perspectives.



What looks good from the side,



could look even better head-on.

Andie Valentino



Obviously, variety in color will make a photo stand out,

Lyndsy Wolff



as will any naturally occurring objects that wind up in the scope.



A good eye will tell you if an object's intrusive, or if it's barely noticeable.

Tamara Redblouse



If there's a lack of the naturally occurring, throw in a discreet prop. Discretion can give a photo flavor, and most viewers will never know the difference.

Veronica Saint



When it comes to human subjects, though, opt for the candid countenance whenever possible.

Mila Kunis



Any layman can tell the difference between the posed picture



versus the unexpected,



although make no mistake: posed pics have their strengths, too.

Moran Atias



Good lighting and strong contrast can make a staged shot invaluable.

Nicole Graves



Those with considerable camera experience shouldn't be bashful, either.



Addressing subtleties like the hair of your subjects,



or even toying with their outfits may result in many a later "thank-you" from the copy-seekers.

Sara Varone



And the copy-seeking friends and family will always be there, doubling your print load.



Whether at the drug store or your home office, never cover up the cost of printing,



because the cameraless are always repeat customers, leaving you, the prepared, with your hands tied.

Victoria Valmer



Finally, there's the art of random photography. See something beautiful?



Snap a shot. From various angles.



Even if the images are semi-repetitive,



your viewing audience is sure to thank you.



Get those close-ups,



experiment with lighting and lenses, and in some form or another, your efforts will be a success. Say cheese!

(Our photographic endeavors are made possible by sponsors: Daily Niner handles the print load, while Gorilla Mask distributes the hardware.)
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Baseball In The Daytime: 6-4-08

I hate to do this to you, kids, but BITD needs to take a pass today. Too much shit to do. You can find your game info here, and perhaps the Walkoff Walk boys can fill you in on some wisecracks about starting pitchers, and I'll catch you on the flipside. Play Ball! Read more

Tuesday, June 3, 2008

Tradition Tuesday: Travis-ty

The rough focus of this blog is the historic rivalry between two original American Football Conference teams: the Denver Broncos and the Dallas Texans. In the early days, those Broncos weren't much to look at. They wore vertically-striped brown and yellow socks and they lost a lot.

The Texans, however, were a powerhouse. Financed by the secretive millions of known Oswald-Ruby coconspirator Lamar Hunt and his henchmen, they selected a coach named Hank Stram, who played fast and loose with both the rules of the sport and the English language. They matriculated on up the prairie to Kansas City, best known as the hideout of fugitive outlaws Jesse James and Timothy McVeigh, and adopted the nickname of a local political boss, "The Chief." These mighty warriors laid waste to the old AFL and collected many baubles and trinkets associated with glory and victory.

Then three young men were born in the 1970s: myself, Cecil and Banky. We were blank slates, clean and pure, untainted by the awful decisions grown-ups make. Bathed in the sparkling waters of the majestic Rocky Mountains, Cecil and I gravitated toward the Broncos. Our childhood innocence touched the franchise with a golden glow of goodness, which led to many seasons of winning and multiple championship celebrations. If it seems like I just took credit for winning the Super Bowl twice, well, you didn't think I was going to acknowledge Bill Romanowski, did you?

Meanwhile, out in KC, Banky's people turned the young boy over to the powerful forces of Lord Hunt and his minions. Year after year the darkness was burned into him like a brand on his soul. It's hopeless for the Banky generation, but perhaps we at the HoG can reach out to the next wave of youngsters and help them see the light. Onward, boys! To Victory!

I assure you, this Tradition we maintain is rarely as stupid as what I have just described. Usually we just get drunk and yell at the refs. So here's Tradition Tuesday--a weekly state of the rivalry address.


The big news out in Dove Valley, and indeed all across the landscape of smart-ass sports comedy, is the release of Broncos running back Travis Henry. We're all going to miss him around here. No more T-Hen Watch. No more Derrick Thomas jokes, at least about bastard kids. No more bongs. Actually, there will still be bongs. Just not engraved No. 20 Reebok authentic bongs.

What Henry leaves behind in the way of joke inspiration, however, far exceeds his Bronco legacy of actually playing the game of football. After the jump, we'll take a peek around what's left of the Denver backfield, predict who might help your stupid fantasy team next season, and find a way to make fun of another pothead...

I have to say, I was pretty damn shocked that Henry got canned at this juncture. I was actually driving around with my father-in-law on Sunday, a potentially uncomfortable moment that was saved by the fact that he's a Bronco jihadist. In the course of our conversation, he asked me point blank if I thought the team would cut ties with Henry.

"No way," I said. "They gave him a $12 million signing bonus on a 4-year deal, so cutting him now would cost them $9 mil against the cap this season. They'll get one more year out of him and dump him after June 1 in '09."

And then a day later he's gone. Shows you how much I know about the salary cap. I was unaware of several facts: One, it was originally a five-year contract, so the prorated slices are slimmer. Two, Henry restructured after his flop debut, so he won't get another dime out of the team. According to Mike Klis he'll cost the Broncos $1.2 million against the cap this season and $3.6 mil next.

Klis also posts a mailbag today with a bunch of wacky dope in it. He sees the Broncos checking in as one of the top 12 teams in the league and competing for a playoff spot in the final week. I say lay off that crack, pal. Klis also envisions a big role for Michael Pittman--hogwash. Pittman has been a marginal player for the last seven years, both in Arizona and in Tampa. I'll be stunned if he tallies 100 carries this season, and the only way he sees the field very much is in the event of copious injuries.

The ball will go to Selvin Young. He's allegedly beefed up in anticipation of an increased workload. But because Shanahan is a big advocate of platooning his RBs, get ready for Ryan Torain to enter the picture as well. He was a fifth-round pick out of Arizona State whose only downside is a checkered injury history. Keep him out of the trainer's room and you have a ready-made back for the system.

Pittman will log a lot of clipboard time, but perhaps he could fill in a little at fullback as well. After all, he does have some experience plowing into the line and opening holes. You stay classy, Denver. Bill Williamson, one of Cecil's favorite objects of scorn, thinks that wife-and-kid-endangerer Pittman will be a soothing comfort in the locker room as opposed to the disruption of Henry. I know T-hen has a lot of kids, but to my knowledge he never aimed a Hummer at any of them.

Even more incredibly, Pittman's old employer has brought a bigger scumbag in to fill his roster spot. If you ever need to kill an hour, check out the excellent Seattle Times series on Rick Neuheisel's out-of-control Washington team, especially the chapter on Jerramy Stevens. It will shock, amaze and disgust you.

And just to get a little more class and dignity up in this joint, and in the interest of equal time for KC, here's an update on the newest athletic role model for the City of Fountains. Mr. Carter, you'll remember, was booted from the NFL for liking the drugs and possibly being bipolar. But Coach Herman, who once had carter on his Jets roster and I can only assume invited him over for barbecues these days, says he "is of good character." Good enough for me.
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Fatlock Follies: Hugh Hefner's Gift, Stellar Literary Journalism and Burnt Ends on Bun

Today being Tuesday, we typically come at our readers with a little weekly installment called "Tradition Tuesday." I opine that it's one of our better features, and it typically starts with a sentence that goes something like, "The rough focus of this blog is the rivalry between the Kansas City Chiefs and the Denver Broncos." I write that. Old No. 7 writes that, and someday maybe Cecil will, too. It's a true statement. And I posit that, to paraphrase Seven, the rough philosophy of this blog is to crack wise. We attempt to cover sports, and be funny doing it, and that's the nature of the House of Georges. From time to time, however, we take a serious stance. It's not something we intend to make a practice of, by any means. Race in America, is a serious issue, perhaps the most of them all. This post will attempt to analyze Jason Whitlock's article "The Black KKK" in this month's issue of Playboy. Last month, I wrote a reactionary post (Editor's Note: The post got me in a bit of hot water with both my colleagues and a few readers) to a Whitlock column in The Kansas City Star.

The column warned Star readers that the forthcoming article had been unjustly titled by Playboy Editorial Director Christopher Napolitino and his colleagues. While I found it odd -- not an uncommon opinion of mine regarding Whitlock -- that he would devote local sports-page column inches to preempt a literary piece in a national publication, I did agree with his general consensus. Whitlock was told by the editors that the title would stick, there would be an equally inappropriate sub-heading to it, and that this was the first of several attempts by the magazine to, in a sense, sensationalize, or get reader attention via bold and daring, if even unrelated, headlines. While it'd be much easier to crack wise about Tiger Woods' opinion on hockey, or whine about Mixed Martial Arts ratings trumping Stanley Cup Finals ratings, the issue has been out for a number of weeks now, and today, finally, I'll attempt to break it down.

But first, an anecdote regarding the (non-online) purchase of pornography in the year 2008. Circa 1989, I, still too young to drive, rode my 10-speed to the neighborhood bookstore. I had for some time been infatuated with the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issues, and, in my infinite wisdom, decided that the scantily clad no longer satiated my hormonal needs; I wanted the real thing. At the magazine shelf -- a mere eight feet from the checkout counter -- I, lacking everything in the department of sly, stuffed an issue of Playboy inside an issue of Rolling Stone and attempted to purchase (Note: See also, steal) the latter. To this day, I'm grateful that the cashier on duty was a dude not much older than me, one who perhaps recognized my plight. Our conversation went something like:

Cashier: (flips Rolling Stone open right to the spot where the Playboy was) You, uh, want to buy this one, too?
Young Bankmeister: (with quarts of adrenaline, tweaked nerves, cracking voice) Yes, please.

He rang me up, and I couldn't get out of there fast enough. Thanks, dude, for not alerting the local law enforcement officials.

Twenty years later, materials of this nature are -- this just in -- readily and plentifully available, for free, at the click of a mouse. That is, the images are. If you want the articles, you gotta by a hard copy. When Whitlock's column in the Star came out, I was certain he said it'd be on the stands on May 9. So I scooted down to the 7-11, and asked the young girl behind the counter if they had the latest issue. She gave me that sweet-request-you-creep look, and retrieved it. I, fumbling and awkward, said that I wanted it for the Whitlock article, and anxiously perused the contents listed on the cover. She didn't understand, and with a semi-fearful look, gazed at her male co-worker (equally young) who muttered something about recognizing Whitlock's name. She then produced a Penthouse and asked if that was the one I wanted. It was roughly the most uncomfortable three minutes of my life. And naturally, when I got home, the article was not there. It was, however, advertised in the "Next Month" section at the back.

Sweet. Guess who was working when I revisited the 7-11. Same girl. Same awkward request. Same awful transaction, one resulting in a, "Have a good night." It was like six in the evening, and I wanted to tell her that my plans for the evening were in fact deeper than a 15-minute date with the magazine, and that she couldn't fathom how odd this was, given the Internets, but I hustled out of there, somewhat the same 15-year-old on a 10-speed. So there's that. Back to the article.

In a nutshell, the piece is awesome. Whitlock went to California and researched government dollars, statistics and effects of incarceration, and theorized that the movement of mass imprisonment is -- and I paraphrase here -- the root of gang behavior, activity, and mentality in the United States today. Of course that's a loaded statement, one that takes time to process, and formulate a response. It's important to note here that I am white, Jason Whitlock is black, and a large portion of the folks he writes about in this particular piece are black and Hispanic. If I had one wish in the world, and the endless-supply-of-cash-hookers-and-cocaine wish was not allowed, I would wish for it not to be important that I announce my ethnicity. I mean, it's important to a degree, I guess, but it'd be nice to be able to have an opinion about an important issue, and accept that opinion as one from a person about people, but that is likely all-too-utopian.

Whitlock kicks the piece off by mentioning an organization of which I had never heard: the California Correctional Peace Officers Association (CCPOA). He mentions them because, according to his findings, they are one of the most powerful entities in the state. There are 180,000 people in California jails. Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger's most recent correctional facilities budget calls for $9 billion in incarceration expenses, and his solution is to release some 11 percent of those prisoners to cut those costs, but, "Prison guards run the state, and they have no interest in fewer bodies to supervise," he writes. The author next mentions a person that, until I read, was unknown to me: Julian Mendoza (Note: Links are not biographical in nature, but columns of his from the Amer-I-Can -- a Jim Brown-founded organization that aims to "change one's life and help him or her to become a contributor to a better community and ultimately, a better nation" -- newsletter.).

Whitlock attends a Mendoza speech at a locked-down youth camp, one the speaker has frequented more than weekly for over 10 years, and the theme of the delivery is fear, a concept he tells the "brown and black boys" "why you're here...why you come back...why you won't change." Later in the piece, Whitlock returns to the topic of Amer-I-Can, but at this point in the piece, he takes a political stance.

"For the first time in our history we are seriously wrestling with the idea of electing a black man to the nation's highest office...The mixed-race man who is best qualified on day one to fight domestic terrorism and explain to white America why it's in everybody's best interest to disarm, convert and rehabilitate the Crips, Bloods and Mexican Mafia members in our prisons hasn't addressed the topic, because he runs the risk of being labeled too nonwhite."


Whitlock tells us, via a pastor from a South Central L.A. church that this is not a topic for Barack Obama to focus on, as it would "scare off too many Caucasian voters." He then brings us back to the theme of fear, and cites two studies in doing so:

"*One in every 100 American adults resides behind bars.
*One out of every nine black men between the ages of 20 and 34 is incarcerated.
*Hispanics outnumber all other ethnic groups in prison.
*America incarcerates 800,000 more people than China and nearly three times as many people as Russia.
*If current rates of incarceration remain unchanged, 28.5 percent of black men will be confined in prison at least once during their lifetime."


All of this, Whitlock says, can be traced back to fear. It's fear of crime, and allowing that fear, coupled with the drug war, to "rule our criminal-justice policies." This duo, he adds, facilitates gang life behind bars, and transcends the incarcerated, into the families and neighborhoods of loved ones. Whitlock portends that, for every man in jail, there is a network of loved ones that suffer with him, and with the ever-growing number of incarcerated, "it is not at all surprising that black youth culture -- music, communication, appearance, attitude, parenting and socializing -- reflects values associated with surviving while incarcerated." He notes that values like sagging pants and child abandonment are "driven by a mentality refined behind prison walls and celebrated, exploited and promoted by the music industry and Hollywood.

He intelligently reminds us that it is a great variety of Americans, not just blacks and Hispanics, that, to varying degrees, have embraced the hip-hop/prison culture, and done so having overlooked consequences that materialize in the form of violent death, disrespect, and hatred. He also argues that this issue has spread into the ranks of government and politics as something that "tears at the patriotic fabric necessary to sustain a free nation." Movies, video games, a frightening hunger for money and fame, Whitlock writes, have skewed the priorities of many Americans, and the prison system is to blame. He speaks with Gerald Harris, a retired Department of Corrections administrator about how to fix the prison situation in California. During the course of three decades at his post, Harris watched the California prison population not double, not triple, but octuple.

Part of that increase, Whitlock says, is a result of those imprisoned for non-violent crimes, even if they are third-time felons, a conviction of which lands one a mandatory 25-year sentence, and was cultivated by former Governor Pete Wilson's three-strikes bill against criminals. Also during Harris' time in office, 20 new facilities were erected, and the state's corrections budget hit the number it's at now, and increase from $300 million. Additionally, the construction of those prisons largely overshadowed the addition of one university to the state of California.

Back to the CCPOA: it's 30,000 strong, and commands a pay rate more than double that of the national average. The salaries tower over those of teachers, and in cases where a worker logs more than 40 hours in a week, they can hit the hundred-thousand mark. Some, Whitock adds, earn more than the governor himself. More frightening than wages, though, is the political power the organization holds. Allegedly, millions of dollars are spent on political candidates, and efforts to thwart their stronghold are often, if not always, squashed. The current governor had even appointed a prison specialist to breakdown the fierce force of the CCPOA. He lasted two years before stepping down due to alleged intimidation.

Whitlock quotes former Chief of Education and Inmate Programs for the state D.O.C., and she claims that the CCPOA does in fact run the prisons. She talks of large numbers and piles of dollars that keep them in place, and continuously provide new employment. "It is the most powerful union I have ever seen in my lifetime," Wanda Briscoe says. There is even speculation that altercations in the prisons are provoked by guards; fighting and riots mean more wages for the guards, as overtime dollars are deemed necessary to keep the prisoners at bay, and one source in the story goes so far as to say that guards will intentionally pit Mexican and black gangsters together, knowing the likely outcome. And it gets worse. Further speculations suggests that organized crime in prison benefits all parties involved, that there is coincidence in the high cost of legal representation, and the desire to keep prison labor -- allegedly more valuable/desired than that of illegal immigrants -- in high demand.

Then there is the outside, a world in which the previously incarcerated and the probationed, are persuaded to maintain the gang-related behaviors they learned in prison. Whitlock's article suggests that the behavior is somewhat unavoidable on the inside; many try to mind their own business upon incarceration, then trouble hits, sides are selected, and survival becomes the first and foremost mindset. On the outside, the assignment is (frequently) to kill a member of the opposing side, behaviors glorified by groups like N.W.A., and artists like Snoop Dogg and Tupac Shakur. It all translates, Whitlock says, to the streets, and more specifically, the schools, where teacher safety equates to how those teachers treat their children.

Whitlock spoke with Professor Emeritus of Psychology at UC-Berkeley Harry Edwards, who offered the following:

"The values and perspectives of hopelessness spawned in society are intensified inside prison walls and then are revisited upon the community," Edwards says, which almost makes the schools replicas of the prisons. "The very vehicle -- education -- that is supposed to give kids hope is now an extension of the prison system...You can't teach when you're worried about safety. You can't learn when your primary concern is safety."


There, then, are many facets of the problem(s), and Whitlock nominates Jim Brown as the best candidate to take charge of the solution. He says that Brown's program has 20 years of experience in dealing with relationships of folks in many of these circumstances, that Amer-I-Can is a starting point. He interviewed Brown, who told him, "I've never talked a man out of a gang. That's not what we do. We talk people out of doing gang criminal activity." Brown tells Whitlock that their successes have come via education, often times within the prisons themselves.

Perhaps even more profound is a statement from a former cop and juvenile-prison chaplain. "There's no stigma when you go to jail," says Bishop Hendricks. "When I was growing up the family was embarrassed. When you went to jail it was a mind-boggling experience. Nowadays going to jail is a badge of honor."

And then Whitlock brings Mendoza back into the piece, the notion of the paroled being banned from associating with gang members and neighborhoods acting as a one-way ticket back to prison. "You're basically telling guys," Mendoza says, "(d)on't go home and don't associate with your family."

There is the philosophy of doing just that, too. A quote from the story suggests that the corruption and violence within the prisons forces intelligent inmates to disassociate with friends and loved ones, as refusing to think about them fosters honed survival mentalities, and not discussing or being visited by them keeps sacred information away from dangerous fellow inmates.

Whitlock closes the piece by offering his own suggestions of how to make the situation better. And it is just that: a situation. A major one. A lot of this information -- the gang activity and violence in the streets -- has been portrayed in many films and rap lyrics. It's what's on the inside -- behind the bars -- that hasn't, a notion Whitlock suggests gave birth to the more-recognized streets aspect of society. He wants it to change, and he is not alone.

At the beginning of this post, I said I'd analyze his article, and I've changed my mind, to an extent. Before writing this, I finished reading it for the third time in 10 days, and the information is there, concise, yet rattling in my cage. Whitlock has taken the time and energy to do the research, and put his findings to the page. In lieu of analysis, I'm left with the desire to question three things. Here, perhaps, is where it's important that I noted my demographic, and here, most certainly, is where I commend Whitlock on a job well done. But I question, nevertheless:

1) Why is the focus of education and rehabilitation starting with the imprisoned, the already-criminally labeled? Why not harness the knowledge, perhaps the focus of Amer-I-Can, and use it to at least try and keep folks out of prison in the first place?

2) How can this many people know, and share information regarding such knowledge, about the corruption within the California prison system, and more specifically the CCPOA? Aren't there dozens of television programs on every day of the week wherein scandals -- for lack of a better word -- are exposed and duly addressed?

3) In the post I linked to in the beginning, I suggested that Whitlock transition into a new role, perhaps that of role model. He has, in his Star columns, and to a lesser degree in this article, said that good black male role models are scarce. And as I've said, I agree. Can't a man of his stature and success take on such a role? If not, can't he be a liasion for role models, a contractor and contactor of folks?

I believe he A-Meri-I- Can.
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Notes On The Amateur Draft

I have a theory about the direction Major League Baseball is headed. More and more, the big-time, massively expensive free agents are becoming a liability. Look at the litany of signings that have disappointed in the last several years--the Barry Zitos, the J.D. Drews, the Andruw Joneses, the Pedro Martinezes. Couple those with the contracts that haven't soured yet but display bright red flags--think Johan Santana, Miguel Cabrera, Alfonso Soriano, etc.

Contrast those free agency flops with the incredible infusion of young talent MLB has seen recently: Jacoby Ellsbury, Ryan Braun, Ryan Zimmerman, Alex Gordon, Justin Upton. Jay Bruce has absolutely set baseball on fire in the week since his debut--he's 15 for 26 with 3 HR, 2 SB and 12 runs scored. More than that, he's singlehandedly ignited baseball passion in Cincinnati. Reds fans, always known as some of the greatest in the game, haven't had true hope in decades. They placed their bets on hometown hero Ken Griffey Jr., but his enormous contract and litany of injuries have held the Reds back for years.

What do Bruce, Ellsbury, Braun, Zimmerman, Gordon and Upton have in common? They were all first-round picks in the 2005 MLB Draft. This year's draft is coming up on Saturday, and the House of Georges is going to focus on possible picks for a few noteworthy teams. Long relegated to the agate type of the sports world, the MLB Draft is poised, amidst the new personnel realities of baseball to become the Next Big Thing.

My theory is this: within five years we'll pay as much attention to baseball's selection day as we do to the NBA's, if not the NFL's. This is a wonderful thing, at least for those of us that are inclined to be massive geeks. It's extremely democratic, even socialist, as it allows fans of small-market teams the first crack at the stars of tomorrow--and those stars are appearing in big-league cities faster than ever. Welcome, my friends, to the brave new world of America's Pastime.

While this year's Draft isn't as loaded as the historic 2005 version, it will be the first one ever televised live. The Bay-Rays have the first pick, and if they have a good week they'll be the first team ever--ever!--to have the No. 1 pick at the same time possessing baseball's record.

The Royals are once again ensconced in the Top 5 with the third selection, and my hope is that they won't cheap out or outright blow the pick as the have for the last dozen or so years. If you need a reason to spit on the memory of Allard Baird, his draft record is your most damning evidence.

The Mets and Twins are the only teams with multiple first-round picks, thanks to a pretty cool rule other leagues may look at adopting: you sign my top free agent, I get your first-round pick. So once the Angels and Braves snagged Torii Hunter and Tom Glavine, they yielded their No. 1 selections to the players' former teams. MLB teams are also not allowed to trade draft picks, which is probably good news for fans of win-now-at-all-costs teams like the Yankees.

The Cubs pick at 19, the Rockies at 25, and your defending champ Red Sox are dead last in the first round.

We do have some entertaining names among early prospects: Buster Posey, Justin Smoak, Shooter Hunt, Yonder Alsonso, Kyle Skipworth, Petey Paramore, Ike Davis, Niko Vasquez. And there are of course some famous bloodlines: Rickey Weeks' brother Jemile is a 2B prospect out of Miami, two of Lenny Dykstra's kids are potential first-rounders, and Mark Schlereth's son is a nasty lefty pitcher from the University of Arizona.

There's also this pretty incredible bit: Howie Long has another son, Kyle, who could easily be a No. 1 pick. He's also been offered a full scholarship to play O-Line at Florida State--he's 6-7, 265. But he's elected to play baseball, as a power-hitting, soft-handed first baseman, for the Seminoles instead. I guess having a multi-millionaire Hall of Famer for a dad and the No. 2 pick in the NFL Draft for a brother frees you up from making a financially motivated decision as a high school senior. Call it the Cooper Manning Corollary.

And one final note: there is an outfielder from the University of Texas named Kyle Russell who will be picked, most likely in the second or third round. He led the nation in home runs last season and was considered an elite prospect entering this year, but he's regressed quite a bit. Put aside the fact that he matriculates at t.u., which of course makes him a douchetastic fuckstick. Just look at his name. Kyle Russell. I'm pretty sure he'll be forced to give a Mike Piazza "I Like Girls" press conference at some point during his career.
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Stanley Cup Finals: Game Five Re-Cap

Damn. Another crazy post-season, multiple-overtime hockey game. That's one of the beauties about this league that is simply irreplaceable. Almost three complete overtime periods to determine a winner for game five, and the 2008 Stanley Cup Finals continue. I don't have a lot of points to make about this game, but there are a few. And they're huge. Details on this city-moving epic after the jump. But before we get to those, let me just say that Phil Pritchard has the best job in the world. For real.

Regarding game five, it should be noted that the criticized Evgeni Malkin gets credit for the game-winning assist, and that's all I'll say about that. None of his criticism has anything to do with his country of origin; it involves the potentially marquis player that he has been in 2008, the franchise figure he will be for years to come, and his lack of production in this series. Only in Canadia would they attribut such shortcomings to a totally nil factor.

This game was the sort of contest the Finals needed. It was hard-fought, back-and-forth, full of scoring chances, and downright entertaining. It had, in my estimation, a crucial moment, one that defined the nature of the series. Early in the second period, Pittsburgh made a textbook weak effort to clear the puck from their own zone along the right wall. Veteran Kirk Maltby, however, was having none of it, and he kept the puck in, dished it off to Darren Helm, and Helm buried it. This tally put the Wings on the board, who'd been facing a 2-0 deficit. From there, the Wings notched two more scores, and all but eliminated the Penguins, but Pittsburgh, in an extra-attacker moment of desperation, kept things alive with a puck-on-the-doorstep tally by Max Talbot with mere change left on the regulation clock. Ultimately, I couldn't believe the Penguins let Detroit back into this game, but was even more stunned that they had the grit to take the win nearly a second full game into overtime.

Helm's goal, though, is an example of what's been the difference in this series: zone domination. Like many clubs, Pittsburgh has not been able to gain the zone against Mike Babcock's club. At all. Most of the time, they're dumping the puck from the neutral zone, and relying on their speed to beat the Red Wings to the puck. But it ain't working. On the few occasions that Detroit doesn't take over possession prior to a Penguins dump, they're getting to it first deep in their own zone. At the other end of the ice, they're entering the attack zone with ease, and keeping it in there, which puts the Penguins on their heels, and only opens up buckets full of scoring chances for the President's Trophy winners. This game is about controlling the zone, and that's one of many areas in which experience transcends youth. It's not about shots, it's about scoring chances. The prime example of this would be most any period (and there haven't been many) in this series when Pittsburgh has outshot Detroit; it hasn't mattered. Pittsburgh can use their speed to, on occasion, earn enough real estate to get a puck on Chris Osgood's body. The problem is two-fold: they're all low-chance shots, and Osgood is playing out of his mind. Detroit on the other hand, gains control of the zone, and then sets up shop. Once they've accomplished this, the scoring chances come to them like hookers in Thailand. Marc-Andre Fleury can only turn away so many until one (or more) get between his legs.

In notes of the random, I can't recall an overtime playoff hockey game with more penalites (four) than this one. That said, when there've been three in the overtimes, the last thing a club should be called for is too many men. The second-to-last thing is -- although I know guys are tired -- high sticking. And you certainly can't get flagged for a four-minute double minor of that variety. That call, on Detroit's Jiri Hidler at 9:21 of the third overtime, sealed the deal. If a team can't convert on a four-minute man advantage three overtimes in, then they deserve nothing shy of nothing. But, as any club should, Pittsburgh converted, and will play another contest at the Igloo.

Speaking of other contests, I'll let Bill Clement take us out...


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Monday, June 2, 2008

Monday Miscellany: 6-02-08

Pretty exciting sports weekend. We've lots to cover this fine rainy Monday, so we'll get into it, ASAP, after the jump. There's news a-plenty from all four of our major sports (Editor's Note: Yes. Four.), and what better a way to organize them than the oft-handy means of alphabetization. Sure. Numbers help us with stats, and pictures help those of us not all that interested in letters, but those that concoct miscellaneous sports posts, do appreciate the clever lettering system put together by, uh, the Greeks, or something smart-sounding like that. But to ease the pain of the pictures-oriented, we'll have some symbols, whatnot to spruce up the House a bit. Let's have a look.

In the American League East, the Tampa Bay Rays, despite a special long ball from the nappy-dreaded Red Sox leftfielder, cling to their one-game first-place lead. In the West, the Halos continue to roll with a three and-a-half game edge over Oakland, and in the Central, the Twinkies took advantage of a three game White-Stockings skid to pull within a game of first. Over in the National League, the Baby Bears have won seven straight, cushioning their lead over the Redbirds, while in the East, the Phils have a half-game edge over the Marlins, and the West shows that the D'bags are still the team to beat.

Given my massive homerism, I'll offer a teense more on the AL Central, where, perhaps inspired by this post, the Royals got off the awful shniede, and put together consecutive wins. They're once again in the basement, but begin a three-game series against the Stockings tomorrow before traveling to the Bronx for four contests with the right-at-.500 Yankees.

Speaking of the Stockings, though, loon bin resident Ozzie Guillen took a new approach to rallying the troops. Can't wait to see that "lineup" tomorrow.

Hoopswise, the NBA Finals start Thursday, which will be the 11th time that Boston and L.A. have met for the championship, tying the Yankees/Dodgers for most championship series in the four majors. Eight of those wins have gone to the guys in green, a lowly two for the turd-burglars that cut Kobe and company their paychecks. The last six meetings have gone at least six games, so fans should be in for a good stretch. My 100% biased/totally uninformed prediction for the "championship the league wanted" is -- check out this limb I'm about to go out on -- Lakers in six. Why? Simple. Every time I find something to like about the NBA, it pisses me right the hell back off, which it can do by having Kobe win another title. Oh. And there's something about one of these teams sucking on the road or something. Dunno.

With regards to pigskin updates, T-Hen has been cut by the Denver Broncos. I'll be up front here: I'm crushed by this news. Travis Henry was pretty much my favorite Denver signing since Clarett was drafted in recent years. Though at times during his illustrious one season with the Broncos, I did think he could pose a significant threat to a Denver division title. Never once, however, did I worry that our boy HercRockfromtheSun would come close to backing his (see comments) infamous prediction with non-imaginary hard evidence in the form of stats. It was a close one, though. I mean, 691 rushing yards is do damn close to 1500, that we should've just given him the bragging rights outright. That is, it's not like he was 800+ yards off or anything.

Hey, look: hockey comes last alphabetically, which mean it must be less important than the other three sports. Agreed? Great. Couple bits in the sticks-and-pucks department. First, as The Lone Reader already -- anybody else find it grotesquely obnoxious that this guy comments on things we haven't yet posted about in the comments of unrelated stories? anyone? -- mentioned (Editor's Note: Just join the damn staff, already.), the Wings will likely hoist the Stanley Cup tonight. Here's my favorite bit about this series thus far. For those of you too lazy to click, this 19-year-old Wings fan (from Cleveland) got booted from the Igloo on Saturday for smuggling in an octopus and chucking it onto the ice just after the national anthem. Once outside, he dropped $300 on a scalper ticket, threw on a jersey, and came back in for the game. For his first entrance into Mellon Arena, he had the 'pus taped to his stomach. Mmm. Now that's dedication. But wait -- the hockey news gets better.

ESPN, and all six minutes per week it devotes to hockey coverage, may have a job opening. I imagine the ad to look a little like this: Hockey analyst needed; previous coaching experience at the professional level and Canadian accent preferred; greasy salt-and-pepper mullet with an affinity for pinstriped suits a must. That's right. Though he's denying everything, the mulleted one may (very soon) be a bench boss again. We promise to be our laziest in keeping our hockey readership abreast of this development, and in the event we don't actually break the story first, we'll be no later than a week behind.
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