The HoG's 2008 NHL Preview

Two hockey games have been played thus far, and they've both been of the Eastern-Conference variety. On the one hand, it's lame to do a season preview when the season has actually started. On the other hand, the Western Conference's season has not. So there. Either way, it's time to break down the 2008 hockey season. And by "break down," I mean lightly touch on so that we may satisfy our readers The Lone Reader. And since he's the only one interested in reading this post, we'll kick it off with some notes of complete randomness associated with his favorite pasttime, playoff baseball.

My primary bandwagon team is gone, so I suppose I'll move on to another...



I mean, just for the sake of having some team to pay attention to, anyway. Plus, if Boston keeps winning, it'll be interesting to see if these two teams meet up, especially given this guy's "resurgence."

Speaking of Boston, Bugs & Cranks thinks their roster is full of villains. James Bond villains, even. Ultimately, Boston may very well win another title this year, but it'd be a lot cooler if they didn't. I'm glad that the two best records in baseball are gone, solely for the sake of making the playoffs more interesting. It is a shame that the Cubs bowed out the way they did, and it would've been nice for Los Pornaheim to knock off Boston just for the sake of getting them out of the way. And yes, I would've loved to root for the Brewers to go the distance. And no, just because I'm a Royals fan doesn't mean I'm "supposed" to root for Tampa Bay. Fuck Tampa Bay. I don't care how they got it done. Florida baseball is for spring training and shit. Go ahead though, Rays. Win one. We'll just lump that ring in with the Marlins' and continue to laugh. So yes, I'm pulling for an LA-Boston series, coupled with sweep in favor of ManDingo's (Editor's Note: It should be noted that the House of Georges believes that Manny Ramirez was in fact raised by dingos, and dingos alone.) team over that of his former. But enough about that. Let's talk hockey.

The East

Atlantic Division

The New York Rangers have won their first two games, but who cares. Everyone wants to talk Pittsburgh Penguins hockey, right? Wrong. They let Marian Hossa and Gary Roberts go, and failed to replace them with Miroslav Satan and Ruslan Fedotenko. Well, they re-inked deals with Marc-Andre Fleury, Evgeni Malkin, and their coach, but it won't be enough to compete with the real powerhouse of this division. And I don't mean the Rangers. They let Jagr, Sean Avery and Martin Straka go and acquired Markus Naslund, Wade Redden and Dmitri Kalinin to the mix. They have a porous D at best, mediocre goaltending, and no massive firepower with Double J out of the mix. And I don't mean the Devils, either. Marty Brodeur is old, as are all the dudes they signed. They'll be middle of the pack again, at best. The Islanders will remain a work in progress, and that's as nice as I can be about that. The club to look out for in the Atlantic are those Flyers from Philadelphia. Their off-season moves aren't worth mentioning, just like their need to make moves wasn't. Philly might not take the division, but they'll be the toughest team in it, and go the farthest in the playoffs.

Northeast Division

Teams worth mentioning in this division: Montreal Canadiens.

Teams not worth mentioning: The rest of them.

Ottawa came on strong last year, but choked like they always do. Toronto is trying hard to become the NHL's Detroit Lions, while Boston will likely scrape into the post-season with an eight spot, and Buffalo is all over the map, a step or two removed from becoming a perennial force. They might have a fighting chance at success this year, but Boston will give them fits, and neither club will be able to fend of the Habs.

Southeast Division

In a nutshell, the Washington Capitals have Jose Theodore in net, the Lightning signed Barry Melrose to be their Bench Boss, the Panthers are re-building, and the Hurricanes will look to take this division once again. What? Oh, yeah: Atlanta. They'll suck. Washington could be relatively tough, but their roster is devoid of enough playmakers, and the netminding will be oopsish. I love that Barry Melrose is back in the mix, but it will take some time for the ink of his signature to dry on this club; I imagine he's a tough bastard to play for. He nabbed some big names, like Vaclav Prospal, the aforementioned Roberts, and Mark Recchi, but those moves could be Kansas City Royalsesque. I give the Southeast to Carolina.

The West

Central Division

Lots and lots of hype for the Chicago Blackhawks leading up to their opener, and I've got three words for all of that: Not gonna happen. Sure, they plopped Sir Scotty Bowman into the front office, and they've got some great young talent on this roster. They need more time, though. In this division are the Columbus Blue Jackets, a team that still has yet to sniff the post-season in its seven-year existence, so forget about them. There's also the St. Louis Blues. They've parted ways with Doug Weight (again), Jamal Mayers, and Martin Rucinsky, and also have a heap of young talent. They also have Andy Murray teaching that talent, but they're a season or two away from competing with the big dogs. The big dogs of course would be the Nashville Predators, who for consecutive seasons, have managed to play consistent-and-tough hockey. That should continue unless William "Boots" del Biaggio crumbles the franchise with more shenanigans. This leaves none other than the Detroit Red Wings, who will remain the team to beat not only in the Central, but in all of the NHL. They'll take the Central again, and likely the conference.

Northwest Division

The Calgary Flames hired Mike Keenan, let Alex Tanguay go, and signed Cecil's all-time favorite hockey player, Todd Bertuzzi. (Note: It should be mentioned that Cecil loves all hockey players, but really, really loves Todd Bertuzzi.) The point, though, is that that doesn't help much. They still have Craig Conroy and Jarome Iginla, and Mikka Kiprusoff in net, but that'll only get you an early-playoff exit. Colorado has Tony Granato behind the bench again. Peter Forsberg is gone again. Joe Sakic is still around again, and Milan Hejduk and Ryan Smyth will likely be the all-stars for this club. Again, lots of youth, but lots more work to do. The Edmonton Oilers will win this division. Why? Because they will have Calgary's number, and the Avs, Canucks and Wild won't offer much competition. The Canucks dumped some long-time Vancouver favorites, and the Wild don't have anyone on their roster not named Marian Gaborik that can score. Calgary will wrestle Edmonton for bragging rights here, but go ahead and give Edmonton the Northwest.

Pacific Division

This division is shaping up to be the best in the NHL. The San Jose Sharks are going to fuck some people up this season. They managed to keep Jeremy Roenick and Joe Thornton around, and they still have Cheechoo, Marleau and Grier on the roster, with Nabokov in net. Count it. The Anaheim Ducks will be good. Better than good, actually. But not as good as the Sharks. The Dallas Stars suprised the shit out of me with their post-season reach last year, but that's why I be like "Fuck Dallas." I don't care who they signed, or how "good" Marty Turco will be tending goal. That franchise can burn in a Texas fryer for all I care. As for Phoenix, much love to the Great One and all, but that team is still going to be terrible. The Kings? They'll be pretty awful, which is a notch above terrible, but still really bad. So, with a terrible and a pretty awful team in the same division, how is it a great one? It is because the other Western Conference divisions have roughly one really good team and then some other mediocre ones thrown in there. San Jose, Dallas, and Anaheim are top-tier clubs in the West. This division rivals the Atlantic in the East, and combined, many a playoff squad will emerge from these two divisions.

How it shakes down:

In the East, Philadelphia and Montreal will wrestle for one of those trophies nobody wants to touch. The Flyers have Jean-Sebastien Aubin, Martin Biron, and Antero Nittymaki as goaltenders on their roster. Each is good; none is great. The Canaidens have Jaroslav Halak and Carey Price slated to tend net. Both are young; neither is proven. Philly gets the edge and advances to the Finals.

In the West, San Jose and Detroit will grapple in the Conference Finals, and the grizzled age of certain Sharks will be their downfall. Detroit has Chris Osgood and Dominik Hasek with caged masks, which edges Nabokov's play and San Jose's older roster.

As much as it pains me to say it, Detroit wins another cup, but the Flyers give them a battle. A six-game battle.

There's your 2008 prognosis. Now maybe The Lone Reader will get off my back. Well, after he blasts me for not hyping Pittsburgh enough and not going out on a limb (Wings-as-Champs pick) far enough from reality.
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Tradition Tuesday: Non Sequitur By Choice, Southern By The Grace Of God

Welcome To The House of Georges, your one-stop shop for all aspects of the nearly five-decade rivalry between the Denver Broncos and the erstwhile Dallas Texans. Long ago in a galaxy far, far away, your authors began The Tradition, in which we Broncos fans matriculate out to Missouri to watch our team. Chiefs fans return the favor and travel to Colorado to watch theirs. We eat, drink, debate the relative merits of personnel decisions, and we witness the occasional drunken brawl in our section. Fine times.

This is Tradition Tuesday, your weekly state-of-the-rivalry address.

Following the September 28 fiasco at Arrowhead, AFC West fans were left wondering: Are the Chiefs for real? Are the Broncos wildly overrated? Will San Diego end up running away with this division after all, like we once expected? Is Al Davis still alive?

Judging by this past week's action, we have some answers: No, Not Really, Doubtful, Absolutely Not.

THE KANSAS CITY CHIEFS

KC visited the Carolina Panthers and got shut out 34-0. It's clear that this team is awful and that the win over the Broncos was most likely a one-week mirage. The steady hand that Damon Huard showed against Denver disappeared--he threw for 86 yards and two picks while fumbling twice in Charlotte. Larry Johnson rushed for 196 fewer yards than he did against the Broncos. I didn't watch this game--thank you, sweet Lord baby Jesus--but I think we can conclude that KC won't be turning anything around in 2008.

THE DENVER BRONCOS

What is D gate? The Broncos finally won a game that was neither an offensive shootout, a refereeing disaster or both. The defense manhandled Tampa's rushing game, knocked Brian Griese out for the afternoon and weathered the late-game surge by Jeff Garcia, who smells like a rat. Should this team ever assemble all of its divergent parts--the devastating aerial assault we've seen in flashes, the glimpse of a pass rush evident Sunday, the potentially awesome kicking game--you could have yourself a ballclub.

I must note that the fact Eddie Royal sprained his ankle and may miss the Jacksonville game caused me unimaginable pain and loss. Eddie Royal is my security blanket. I have more hetero man-love for him than I do for anyone, and I might just need to leave the room for a while.

THE SAN DIEGO LESS-THAN-SUPER CHARGERS

Where are your Hochuli conspiracies now, Charger fans? The fact is that your team is pretty darned average. Your Hall of Fame running back is not clutch, your defense is pretty pedestrian when robbed of its roidbunny, and you have all the Norv any one team needs. The good news is first team to nine wins takes this division.

THE OAKLAND RAIDERS

Tom Cable, ladies and gentlemen.

Not many people know this, but I was actually the other finalist for the head coaching job. The news release would have read as such:

The Oakland Raiders today hired a 35-year-old Colorado blogger to take over the franchise. He refused to give his real name, but Coach Old No. 7 promised to return the Silver & Black to their glory days be reinstalling the vertical passing game.

"We're going deep every single play, so adjust your coverage schemes accordingly," 7 said. "We're also going for it every fourth down, installing a permanent 11-man blitz package on defense and equipping our captains with firearms."

Owner Al Davis wore a popcorn bucket on his head throughout the press conference.

Now honestly, would reading that have surprised you? Best of luck, Coach Cable.
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Monday Mourning: I Want a Divorce

I remember a time when the concept of virtual impossibility stared me in the face. It was a beautiful early afternoon in September, a Sunday on which I'd cleared the sacrificial alter of every speck of dust, cleansed the archives of memory of every last chapter of pain and disgust. The yard already had a few of those season-changing leaves bunched in random corners, the breeze in the streets a hint of the cold months to come. I can remember that time as if it were less than a month ago. And that is possible only because it was. The year 2008 is the September of which I speak, and the contest was Raiders at Chiefs. Prior to kickoff on that day, I had no knowledge of how greatly the three hours in front of me would so greatly change this marriage. And when those 180 minutes had passed, I was left helpless as to whom I would turn to for healing and advice.

The marriage I speak of is not the one I share with my wife, but one to which I bound myself when she was but an infant, the one many sports teams has with its many fans and supporters. That Chiefs-Raiders game resembled the worst fight a married couple has in their eternal unity together, and it was one in which the primary stages of reparation don't occur for several days. But it was, nonetheless, a fight, and mending efforts were recognized, energy spent at picking up the many shards of despair and dismay. The following week, when the testing grounds of the relationship again sprouted, it was in the state of Georgia. The outcome of the trial wasn't much better; at best it had that "well at least it wasn't as bad as that one fight" feel to it, and the injuries, both physical and mental, began to heal at a much more rapid rate.

One week later, hosting Denver, the stage was set again, and in retrospect, that game reminds me of some advice our marriage counselor gave my wife and I as we prepared for our life together: "A marriage is like a bank account: to keep it open and functioning, there have to be just as many deposits -- and hopefully more -- than there are withdrawals."

So, yes. Beating the Broncos is always good. Great, even. Beating the Broncos when they're undefeated and the Chiefs have lost 12 straight contests is even better. Ultimately, though, that win resembled my checking account transaction tendencies before I married my wife, which too frequently meant scrounging for money to deposit simply to eliminate one or two (of many) overdraft and insufficient funds charges.

My marriage to the Kansas City Chiefs has, over the course of nearly 30 years, been a pretty stable account. When Marv Levy was around in my youth, our team was bad, but that account was like my Pops taking me to open my first savings account. We went. We made a deposit, and that money sat in there for a long, long time. The funds, you see, were too little to withdraw, and given that I had no source of income, they sat in there, accumulating morsels of interest for some time. That tiny bit of change compounded tiny bits of interest through the Mackovic/Gansz eras, and the dawning of the Schottenheimer era coincided with my ability to earn consistent pay, and things really got rolling. Mostly they were lucrative times: many a winning season meant many a deposit and salivating lips as the numbers grew larger. There were certainly some tough ones too, though. The sniffing of a Super Bowl appearance, the many early post-season exits, and of course, the awful, criminal-laden teams that took the field at the end of that era.

And it should be noted that for many of those later-Schottenheimer years, I was banking from enemy (Colorado) territory, thus the banking was more costly: successes for the enemy franchise and jeers from its fan base were like the endless and annoying fees attached to monthly bank statements. Things looked bleak at the beginning of the Vermeil era, and I wasn't sure how long I could keep my now-dwindling funds in this trust, but alas there were improvements in the market, and the advisors made extra efforts in reassuring me that this was where my money had always been invested, and this was where it should stay. That market eventually got real high, and subsequently had a crash, one in which the bank president stepped down, seemingly never to be replaced.

There was a time in the mid-Schottenheimer era where I didn't actually bank in real life. I had no account, but simply carried every dollar to my name in my pocket, the occasional stash in my sock drawer. It seemed wise at the time: no fees, I had my cash when I needed it, etc. Not a great choice, though, when it comes to needing credit, or a loan, or when the chore of purchasing money orders becomes too tiresome. Those are the things we want in a bank: convenience, safety for our funds, minimal hassles, and the occasional perk. And we want similar things in our marriages: security, a mutually healthy relationship, and of course, happiness.

Sometimes, in a relationship, though, it occurs to a party (or both), that the hassles have begun to outweigh the benefits, that the withdrawals happen more frequently than the deposits.

I can remember the days when, in the off-season, I'd eagerly retrieve my paper from the driveway, knowing that there'd be an article about the Chiefs. Even when the season was months away, I'd pore over every word, confident that the column inches devoted to that piece meant something positive for the season to come. I can remember my driven desires to collect every post-game sports page, longing for the day that I would compile the ultimate scrapbook of Chiefs clippings, photos, and ticket stubs that would all lead up to the end-of-the-book Super Bowl orgasm. I can remember the days where the occasional loss (Editor's Note: Yes, they did in fact used to occur at a rate more seldom than the present day.) was tangible in some regard, that the reason for it actually existed on a plane in this universe. I can recall times when things looked really bad, calculating how feasible it still seemed to win the division, to play football in January, and actually believing in it.

And I can recall that September day when the Chiefs lost 23-8 at Oakland when I felt convinced, never more certain of a thing in my life, that that was rock bottom, that it was physically impossible to get any worse than that. That was three weeks ago, and it isn't just a figure of speech to say that that feels like a lifetime ago. It does feel like a lifetime ago because yesterday's game in Carolina places the Chiefs in a spectrum so far removed from the present day that words cannot describe it. I did hit the driveway this morning, and I did turn to the sports page, and I sort of scanned all of the articles, but I didn't really care about the words in them, because there is no possible flash, no unseen stat or glimmer of hope that can transcend the reality of how bad this football team is. I am thankful, however, for the one writer that continues to be my endless well of Pepto, Joe Posnanski:

"Thing is, games like this should never happen, not if you're rebuilding, not if your rehabilitating, not if you're regressing, not if your redecorating, not if you're Regis and Kelly. Teams lose. Teams will get blown out. Teams will sometimes even get embarrassed. But what happened to the Chiefs on Sunday was something else, like something out of a kid's movie."

I usually make every effort to block out the three hours of Chiefs football so that I am available to watch. Sometimes, I have to work, and I'll take a radio, and the wife will tape the game for me. Yesterday was one of those days, and I didn't even bother with the radio. I just had a feeling. My wife taped the game for me, and I haven't watched one second of it. As I was getting ready for bed last night, I wrestled with the idea of needing to watch it before writing about it, but ultimately decided that there was no reason to bother. No study of the offensive and defensive lines will bring any new light to this team. I won't be able to figure out why Dwayne Bowe quit running his route that led to one of several Damon Huard interceptions. If Albert Einstein had handed me my dental floss, he wouldn't be able to even muster a guess as to how Larry Johnson had two yards rushing the ball yesterday. Two yards. No formula or equation will explain why DeAngelo Williams blew up yesterday with likely a career day. DeAngelo Williams.

So now, I've reached a crossroads where the withdrawals have overreached the deposits. This fight with my team is one in which the wounds will no doubt leave ugly scars once they've healed. Neither one of those is the problem, though. I could take my funds elsewhere, but I'm a pretty stubborn bastard, so that's not happening. And scars make for great stories. Sure, they require some TLC in getting them to that story phase, but no biggie.

The problem is this: Any and every Joe that knows anything about the National Football League will tell you that any team can rebuild and be competitive in a short time in this day and age. Teams have a rough season, maybe two, and they're back in the thick. I've been invested in this marriage for far too long to say that I can see that happening with this team. Clark Hunt, in the off-season, said that a new contract for Carl Peterson would hinge upon this team being a playoff contender. The truth behind that serum is that he won't fire Peterson, and frankly, I don't blame him for that. Peterson has done a fine job of getting talent signed, putting quality teams on the field and managing this franchise. Yes, his goals have fallen short, and yes, I'm probably the only person on the planet that doesn't want him gone like seven years ago. He hasn't drafted and developed a quarterback for the Chiefs, and the Chiefs haven't won a Super Bowl on his watch.

The larger issue is that Peterson will not fire Herm Edwards this year, and likely not until this point of next season. I can see the print in the papers before it's pressed: "Herm has worked too hard gutting the aged veterans of this club, and bringing in new, young talent, that we've got to give it time to see if it will pan out." And the problem at quarterback is only one piece. I still believe that Brodie Croyle deserves one more shot. And by "one more shot," I mean another chance to be the starter and stay healthy. He played a good first half against the Patriots, but he might very well be too fragile to play the position at this level. At this point, I'll concede and say that he might very well have been too fragile to play the position at the college level. The bottom line is, if the Chiefs crap away the rest of this season, and draft a quarterback next year, Kansas City will still be a solid three seasons away from getting that guy groomed into the skill and leadership required to take a team deep into the playoffs. And by "deep into the playoffs," I mean win it all.

It's a crapshoot to guess that the Chiefs get a good quarterback in the next draft. If they do, then what? In three years, most of Herm's new, young talent will be getting old. Larry Johnson will be past his prime. Tony Gonzalez will have retired. Who knows what the lines will look like. I just don't see any positive coming from this franchise for some time to come.

So what, as an invested partner in this relationship, am I left with? My ties to this partner run deeper than most anything in my life. How do you remove yourself from such a situation? Ignore football season? Give up on the sport in its entirety? Seek counseling? Hire a divorce lawyer? If any of those options are the right one, I'm not in a position of judgment to make the right call. The depth of my salted wounds have darkened the pigskin skies above, and the financial instituition in which I've invested and trusted in for almost three decades now appears prepped to charge me transaction fees that I can no longer afford.

It's like Posnanski's article was headlined today: "This Should Never Happen."
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My Sports Life is a Rock Song: For Whom the Bell Tolls

Ah, Metallica. Despite their having sucked for nearly 18 years--20 if you listen to the diehards, the ones still wearing their '82 tour shirts and tinkering with engines on blocks in their kitchens--dudes my age retain a special spot for Lars and the lads and have a hard time letting go of the past. The glorious, Cliff 'Em All past.

Every once in a while, I just find myself saying "Master of puppets is pulling your strings!" under my breath, usually during meetings at work, while unconsciously uncorking a lil' air guitar under the table. And I'm not alone--if you liked the heavy music in the '80s, whether metal or punk or what have you, you didn't just like the Metallica, you loved them. Loved them with the kind of love your parents wish you'd reserved for homework or church or sobriety.

And if, say, you grew up in a relatively dull and desolate place--maybe the empty gray plains of northern Colorado, for argument's sake--chances are you thought of them as something larger. Something somehow more meaningful than yourself, a representative version of your own pimply angst cranked past 11.

All of which makes the band's current corporate, personal humidor-on-tour version almost surreal in its wrongness; this used to be a stubbornly, defiantly anti-corporate outfit, choosing not to make videos or play nice on tour with acts like Ratt. They were just four dudes who fucking bashed it, grinding out songs like "Battery" and "Creeping Death" for the benefit of a similarly unpretentious group of fans, many of whom needed showers. Now?

Now I'm ashamed to say that I once saw them play Red Rocks with The Cult--and helped to boo The Cult offstage. I'm ashamed that my youthful fandom of such works of metal genius as ...And Justice For All somehow paved the way for Load and Reload.

But still the vestiges linger. So when I contemplate my Chicago Cubs' likely post-season demise, I solemnly hum to myself that ancient dirge of my black t-shirted youth "For Whom the Bell Tolls."

As with all early Metallica, that's a deceptively heavy number, huge guitar crunch on a time signature somewhere over Iron Maiden and behind Slayer. It's also a depressing, end-times stare into the abyss from the point of view of soldiers about to die in a firefight. (As well as the title of a book by Hemingway and a poem by John Donne.)

And well, other than the soldiers bit, it might have been written by Lou Piniella.

Because those historic Cubs, the team that should be cruising past this bullshit, taped-together Dodgers squad, is in danger of finding itself, once again, in their historically familiar position of Loser.

And not just in the usual, expected, kinda-loser stance they tend to adopt, oh no. Big Loser. Huge Loser. Fuckup of Historic Proportion Loser. A team doesn't finish with the best record in the major leagues, following a largely dominant regular season--a regular season in which said team demonstrated repeatedly that it had the kind of makeup that finally at long last breaks century-long streaks of abject fucking futility--and then roll over to Manny Being Manny and the Manager Formerly Known as Joe Torre without earning that capital L.

Now, could they still salvage things? Could Harden take it to the suddenly invincible Dodgers in LA tonight, in a matchup against Kuroda that I like (even though he shut us out in a 4-hitter earlier in the season)? Could that be the spark that turns this 5-game House of Nightmares into the House of Guilt-Free Handjobs?

Well, yeah. It's possible. But I'm a Cubs fan, for fuck's sake. I don't think that way. It's over, oh God. We're all gonna die.
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For No Reason Whatsoever

I just woke up from a nap. The Sox-Rays game is damn boring, and, uh, over now anyway, and so why not troll the YouTubes for some classic Sesame Street. Better yet, some classic Bert & Ernie. These guys were the crux of this staple-of-our childhood program. After the jump, five episodes of B&E that are totally random, unassociated, and apropos of nothing.

First there's the before-and-after lesson:



Love the closing ditty.

Anytime Ernie destroyed the apartment was hysterical.



Must've been earlier signs of my inner rebel.

Further evidence that Bert was a square...



...and Ernie was a partier.

Perhaps one of my all-time favorite B&E skits is the one I call "Band Practice."



Love that tune.

Finally, if you must toy with a classic...



...pick a good tune, I guess.
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Friday Fiction Fix: "The Death of the Right Fielder"

In case you didn't know, Dane Cook is eighch-aye-larry-us. I won't plug his MLB post-season commercials from a year ago, and he's been way less than funny in the two movies I've seen him in, but his stand-up makes me laugh. A lot. I just spent an hour and fifteen minutes in line at a branch of the Missouri Division of Motor Vehicles. We here at the House of Georges use the phrase "good times" a lot. Probably too much. But let me tell you that that wait, to pay the state of Missouri $70 was really, really good times. And it made me think of this bit Cook did several years ago, before he was lambasted by people not named Bankmeister as an unfunny tool. Though I use quotes, I paraphrase:

"So I'm at the DMV the other day. And I'm just standin' there. Waitin' in line. I'm rocking back and forth on my heels doin' that thing we all do in line at the DMV where we rock back and forth, shift our stance, look around, and sigh a lot. We all do that there. And you know what's weird? We're all in line, and nobody's talking to anybody. Period. And here's the weird part: we're all thinking the exact same thing. And that's, 'GOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHhhhh!'

I can't think of anything more painful than being in line at the DMV. You know what they should do? They should have a guy standing there by the door that just punches you in the eye when you walk in. At least that way, your painfully long and slow wait won't seem that bad.

You know, in the year 3015, everything will be all futuristic, and we'll probably have time portals for travel, where you just step in to this tube, and schhhwwwipp! there you are. But the DMV will still be there, and it will still be slow. You'll be like, 'How long is this going to take?' and they'll respond, 'about nine seconds,' to which you exclaim 'nine seconds? nine fucking seconds? I have to be at work in like three seconds!'"

To me, that's funny shit. And yes, I'll introduce this new feature, and make some sense of all this...you know where.

The coupling of Mr. Cook's humor with my own experiences prompted me to bring a book to the DMV. That book is a collection of short fiction called The Coast of Chicago by Stuart Dybek. Dybek is originally from Chicago, and currently teaches at Northwestern University. In 2006, he was the Cockefair Chair Writer-In-Residence at the University of Missouri-Kansas City, and I had the pleasure of spending the better part of the week with him, during which time I hungrily devoured I Sailed With Magellan, a collection I would pit against some of the best by Carver, O'Connor, etc.

Today, though, I stood and read several short stories from Chicago, one of which is entitled "The Death of the Right Fielder," and since it's playoff baseball time, a time in which many right fielders will die (Editor's Note: And by "die" I mean "go home for the off-season."), and this is the House of Georges, the idea for a new feature was born. In an effort to obey rules and laws associated with phrases like "fair use" and "copyright infringement," I will of course not transcribe the entire short story, but pieces I found funny, as in Dane Cook.

See? See how I tied that together all neat and motif-like?

"The infield is for wisecrackers, pepper-pots, gum-poppers; the outfield is for loners, onlookers, brooders, who would rather study clover and swat gnats than holler. People could pretty much be divided between infielders and outfielders. Not that one always has a choice. He didn't necessarily choose right field so much as accept it...

...There was the same gray on his black, high-top gym shoes, as if he'd been running through lime, and along the bill of his baseball cap -- the blue felt one with the red C which he always denied stood for the Chicago Cubs. He may have been a loner, but he didn't want to be identified with a loser. He lacked the sense of humor for that, lacked the perverse pride that sticking for losers season after season breeds, and the love. He was just an ordinary guy, .250 at the plate, and we stood over him not knowing what to do next...

...Past thirty-five the talk starts about being over the hill, about a graying Phil Niekro in his forties still fanning them with the knuckler as if it's some kind of miracle, about Pete Rose still going in headfirst at forty, beating the odds. And maybe the talk is right. One remembers Willie Mays, forty-two years old and a Met, dropping that can-of-corn fly in the '73 Series, all that grace stripped away and with it the conviction, leaving a man confused and apologetic about the boy in him..."

The Coast of Chicago was published by Picador press, and can be purchased here. I Sailed With Magellan can be bought here.
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Sleeping WIth the Enemy: Week Five, Chiefs @ Panthers

Week four brings the Kansas City Chiefs to Charlotte, or Cat Country, as it were, and it means that this week's "Sleeping With the Enemy" guest is none other than John White from Cat Crave. Opposing conferences, records, stability at quarterback, and stout receiving crews are just a few of the differences between these two clubs. John and I break down the feathers and claws, just after the jump.

Bankmeister: Heading into Sunday's contest, the Panthers are 3-1. They had an impressive come-from-behind win week one at San Diego, squeaked out a victory over the Bears the following week, then fell to an under-performing Vikings squad before easily handling the Falcons. What's your prognosis of this team through one quarter of football? Jake Delhomme has put up average to better-than-average numbers having completed 72 of 120 pass attempts for a completion percentage of 60, and three touchdowns to one pick. In my estimation, he's been a signal caller that has wavered through the years from pretty dependable to not very good. What's the key for this guy to stay competitive and lead this team to somewhat-consistent victory?

John White: Jake Delhomme has actually been very consistent and was last season prior to his injury. He's a guy who will, on occasion, force a pass to his favorite receiver, Steve Smith, but usually plays within himself. He's the kind of player who will take a few risks. Call him a risk-reward QB.

Provided that Jake minimizes mistakes and keeps involving all of his receivers, he will remain one of the most underappreciated signal callers in the league.

B: As far as the rushing game, the veteran DeAngelo Williams has 10 more carries than the rookie Jonathan Stewart, but the youth's YPC is better, he's almost matched Williams' total yardage, and he has four scores to his elder's zero. Is Williams being phased out, or are they used as situational backs?

JW: John Fox seems content to keep Williams as the starter on paper while maintaining the running back by committee. Stewart has outplayed the veteran and should be considered the team's top back despite what is listed on the depth chart. In time, I expect the rookie to suplant Williams as the starter. Even then, expect them to share an equal load in the Panthers' offense.

B: Perhaps the receiving corps looks most impressive to a guy that knows very little about this Panthers club. With Steve Smith out early on, having Muhsin Muhammad on the roster looks intelligent, and Dante Rosario appears to be having a solid second year. Of course D.J. Hackett is right there with him in terms of similar numbers. How does the depth chart for route runners look for this club? Are they all relatively equal? Does Delhomme do a good job of spreading it around, or will Smith blast by everyone as the season really gets rolling?

JW: Steve Smith's suspension may have been a blessing in disguise. Delhomme had a bad habit of focusing on him far too often. He was forced to break that habit using guys like Rosario and Hackett more often. This will likely will help in the long run since Jake will gain more trust in the other players around him. Plus, with Muhsin Muhammad lined up opposite Smitty, expect shades of 2003 all over again. The comfort level between Jake and Moose is one major factor that will play a part in this offense. And when Smith is receiving double teams, Moose will be there.

B: If memory serves correctly, John Fox has always been touted as a defensive-minded coach. Looking at the raw numbers, though, there aren't a lot of picks or sacks for Carolina through four weeks. At the same time, though, they're holding teams to an average of 17.5 points per game, which I imagine is better than average. Is this club one of tough defensive fundamentals without flashy plays, or is there more pizzaz to the D than the numbers relay?

JW: The bread and butter of this defense will be speed. There is some beef in the middle with Kemoeatu and Lewis but the linebackers are all fast from sideline to sideline. Thomas Davis is showing major improvement while Diggs is growing. Of course, Jon Beason is the Beast of the defense. The secondary has its moments and they are exceptional at stripping the ball. Remember that the Panthers lead the league in takeaways since they came into the league.

B: Not that the game against the Chiefs is a tough one, but the schedule after that looks pretty easy. There are five division games, and the NFC South is often pitted as one of the weaker in football. Granted, the Bucs could be for real, but at this point, it's very plausible that the South belongs to the Panthers. Outside of the division are games with Arizona, Detroit, two more AFC West matches, and possible hiccups coming in the form of Green Bay and the Giants. How many of these games can Carolina easily (or with some difficulty) win? If there's any shred of correctness in my assessment, they'll be in the playoffs. If that's true, how far do they go?

JW: In all honesty, and not to sound like a homer, I believe that Carolina is capable of winning at least ten games this season. There is also an outside chance to win more than that. Provided that they eliminate the mental errors (false starts) and protect the ball, they have a chance to do some really special things in '08. I fully expect at least a 10-6 or 11-5 record and believe that a divisional title is a distinct possibility. Stephen Davis told me that if this team makes the playoffs they'll go all the way. While I like his enthusiasm, love it actually, I'm not sure I agree. In a suddenly questionable NFC, anything can happen, but it's more realistic to think a one-and-out or one-win-and-out scenario is more likely.

B: Finally, the Chiefs game. How do you see this one shaking down with Kansas City finally snapping their 12-game losing streak? How do the two clubs match up against one another? Score prediction?

JW: One word - PRESSURE. Hit Huard early and often, shut down Larry Johnson and rule the line of scrimmage. Against a questionable KC offensive line these are more than realistic goals. The defense is well aware of what it's like to face a big time back after seeing LT, Forte, Adrian Peterson and Michael Turner in their first four games. The Chiefs receivers are far from a formidable bunch so the defense will make them earn everything they get.

The Panthers offense will be more of the same - run the ball, and test the young corners employed by KC. Expect Smitty to have a big day. There should be no need for last-second heroics. Carolina wins easily 34-13.

B: Alright, John. It's been a pleasure having you. As for our prediction, well, we're going to dive into the SWtE well of unprecedentedness and agree 100% with your score prediction. Panthers should and could win 34-13, but we're going to be pulling for the guys with this on their helmets:



If there were a rough focus to this blog, and believe me there is, it's that we're total homers and seldom try to not sound like it. Best of luck to your Panthers, and if you would, tell Stephen Davis to stop by the House and click on some of our ads. Homers is broke these days.
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