The Most Important Game of the Season

Over the last couple of weeks, we’ve seen George W. Bush and John Kerry canvassing the country-okay, like six or seven battleground states-in that one final push before Tuesday’s election. The candidates have toiled tirelessly during this interim, spending a great deal of time and campaign funds to try to nab your vote. However, all that time and money is a complete and utter waste. If either of Bush’s or Kerry’s camp was truly politically savvy, they would have focused all their energy and attention on this Sunday’s NFL game between the Washington Redskins and the Green Bay Packers.

You see, ever since the Redskins moved to the nation’s capital from Boston in 1938, their final home game before a presidential election has correctly predicted which political party wins. Whenever the Redskins win, the incumbent party remains in power. Whenever the Redskins lose, the challenging party takes up residence at 1600 Pennsylvania Ave. With that information, one has to wonder why Kerry hasn’t let go of Bruce Springsteen’s coattails long enough to drop by Lambeau Field to give the Packers a pep talk, or why Bush hasn’t dropped by the Redskins pratice to talk strategery. But I digress.

With such an important event weighing in the balance, the obvious question is who is going to win the game. According to the oddsmakers, the Packers are only a 1 point favorite to win, so you could very well say that as of right now, it is too close to call.

All Bad Things Must Come to an End

When I woke up today, I wondered if the world was still the same, or if there was a world. But lo and behold, the sun was shining, there was a brisk morning breeze blowing through my bedroom, and my dogs were fighting over who would be able to lick my forehead first. Indeed, the apocolypse did not rain down from heaven after the Boston Red Sox won the World Series, proving some sportswriting pundits wrong yet again like they have throughout the playoffs.

The Red Sox did it, and I saw it happen. When I witnessed the Angels winning the World Series a couple of years ago, I felt the weight of a huge boulder lift off of the ego of my inner sports fan, as if by watching a team that suffered so much win it all vindicated a small part of my existence. Unless you follow a sports team, you will never understand that last sentence. However, I can only imagine that the metaphorical igneous that was lifted off Red Sox fans had to at least be the size of Devil’s Tower. But now it’s over, after 86 years. By the way, that is the most underrated statistic of the whole shebang for me. I mean, 86 years-as in “86,” or “1986,” as in two demons are squelched at the same time. I’ll tell you what, the lunar eclipse that happened during the game couldn’t have been more appropriate.

Admittedly, there was a twisted part of me who wanted to see the St. Louis Cardinals win to prolong Boston’s misery. However, after reading so many heartfelt pleas from Red Sox fans of all ages, especially the ones over 60, I came to my senses. I am pleased to see the ghosts of Boston’s past exorcised, but there is so much more about Boston’s victory that makes me even happier than the World Series ring itself, such as:

*The talk of that damn phony baloney curse is over. There was no Curse, from the Bambino or from other sources. The only curse the Red Sox suffered from was the curse of bad management, or bad pitching, or bad defense. Thankfully, talk like this is irrelevent.

*People can now leave poor Bill Buckner alone. It always ticked me off that Buckner was the center of attention for blowing the 1986 World Series-Calvin Schiraldi and Bob Stanley combined to blow a two run, two out lead before Buckner’s infamous error. But time has a way of twisting the truth, and this got warped faster than a 10 year old’s mind after being accidentally exposed to “A Clockwork Orange.” Even so-called die hard Red Sox fans screwed up the facts on this story, and it only happened 18 years ago. So please, let’s bury the whole Buckner mess and appreciate the fact that the guy had 2,715 hits in his career and probably deserves to be in the Hall of Fame.

*Annoying journalists like Boston Globe sportswriter Dan Shaughnessy could be out of a job. Guys like Shaughnessy have made a career latching onto the whole “Curse of the Bambino,” almost like that’s the only thing that they are capable of talking about. What are they going to do now? What myth are they going to perpetuate? They got to think of something fast-suddenly, nobody is going to pay attention to them anymore.

*This will also end the silly talk about Boston being a cursed sports town. Sure, the Red Sox had a dry spell. However, the Patriots have won two out of the last three Super Bowls and are on a 21 game winning streak. The Celtics have won 16 NBA titles. The Bruins are always in the playoffs. Some cursed town.

*Red Sox fans can now relax. The youngsters who found out what it meant to be a Red Sox fan after Aaron Boone and the Yankees ripped their hearts out last year. The people of my generation who suffered through the best Game 6 ever (1975) and the worst Game 6 ever (1986) to come up fruitless, not to mention being condition to retch at the sound of the name “Bucky Dent.” The Boomers who saw Bob Gibson dominate their team in 1967, The octogenarians who saw Johnny Pesky’s Series-losing cutoff throw hesitation in 1946. Heck, for Pesky just as much as Buckner, Schiraldi, Mike Torres, and all the other men unfortunate enough to be forced to walk the earth with goat horns.

*Ha ha, Nomar. Enjoy your battle with A-Rod as Ewing Theory grand champion.

*It’s all gone now. All the errors, all the blunders, all the pain the team has caused their fans have been blown away with the speed of a vintage Pedro Martinez fastgball. They are no longer Red Sox fans as much as they are baseball fans who love the Red Sox. Good for them.

Now, if only my Chargers can win the Super Bowl…

A Quinn Martin Vacation

Finally made my way up to San Francisco this past weekend. I almost feel ashamed that it took this long to get to “The City,” but I made it, and I’m looking forward to going back. If you’ve never been, there are a few things you should know about, such as:

*There’s, like, two or three hills in the city. Seriously, the entire city feels like it was built with a roller coaster as its foundation. It makes for one heck of an adventure if you are going to hoof it.

*You will stop complaining about how expensive your town is for a few days. The downtown parking situation is a mess that will cost you money if you want to straighten it out. The only free way to enter The City is through the south, and that’s only because it’s connected to land. And walking around those aforementioned hills will make you wish you’d spent money on a cab or cable car.

*Alcatraz is cool. I was a little skeptical about its allure before I went over there, afraid that the hype would not match its reality, but it did. There’s a lot of fascinating history behind The Rock that extends beyond its most famous incarnation of a prison cell that will enlighten as well as entertain you. Don’t miss it.

*The City is the perfect hybrid between the rush of New York City and the ease of Los Angeles. It seems to be in a constant motion, but at the same time it isn’t overwhelming.

If you haven’t been there, do yourself a favor and go up there. It’s a great metropolis which I look forward to going beyond the scratching of its surface one day.

Boston Uncommon

Some notes and observations about Game 7 of the ALCS, also known as “holy crap, they did it.”

First thing’s first: The Curse of the Bambino is not lifted. The Red Sox beating the hated Yankees in such dramatic fashion is indeed sweet, but there still is this thing called the World Series that they have to win. It’s not over yet, since they are going to have to either face a.) the team with the best record in baseball (the Cardinals), or b.) the team that has Boston’s biggest remaining demon (the Astros with that Clemens guy).

Who doesn’t want to see Clemens vs. the Red Sox in the World Series? Okay, Cardinal fans. But still…

When they flashed back to Mike Eruzione (captain of the “Mircale on Ice” 1980 US hockey team) throwing out the first pitch in Game 4, and started to announce who the Yankees got to throw out Game 7’s first pitch, my first thought was they got former Soviet goalie Vladimir Tretiak to throw it out. You know, from one evil empire to another and all that.

The Yankees were doing that whole “Who’s your daddy” chant when Pedro came out in the 7th. That’s nice and all, but why the hell didn’t anybody start a “1918″ chant? That would sting more than the “daddy” comment. Must be a lot of Ranger fans scarred over the “1940″ chant.

Lest we forget that Red Sox had the second highest payroll in baseball this year, second only to you know who. Call them “evil empire junior.”

A-Rod remains the poster boy for The Ewing Theory, doesn’t he?

Only the Yankees could be arrogant enough to play “New York New York” over the PA system after choking like they did. A totally graceless move. I’m just as shocked as you are.

This choking business. Where does this rank in the annals of baseball? All things considered, this leapfrogs over every team that blew a 3-1 series lead, to be sure, especially since they were three outs away from a sweep. But does it topple the Dodgers regular season collapse in 1951? The Angels similar collapse in 1995? Possibly, but I’ll have to think about that.

Finally, let’s agree to not talk about Bill Buckner, okay? Anyone with common sense knows that he didn’t blow Game 6 of the 1986 World Series. He wasn’t the one who gave up three runs to the Mets with two outs. Instead of dragging Buckner through the mud, let’s badger Calvin Schiraldi instead. He was the pitcher that couldn’t get the final out. He’s the reason the Curse endures. He’s your bad guy, not Buckner. If you are a Red Sox fan, the name Schiraldi should be enough to give you the urge to use a staple gun on your forehead instead of Buckner. Let’s all work on that.

Game Seven, Part Deux

So the Red Sox took three straight games against the Yankees after being down 3-0 in the ALCS. Good for them. However, that leaves them to play the deciding game of the series in Yankee Stadium, where Aaron Boone ripped Boston’s collective heart out with one swing of the bat last year in the same situation.

This is the part where most non-Yankee fans will say that they want the Red Sox to complete the impossible. However, I’m not one of those people. Sure, I don’t like the Yankees for all the same reasons everyone else doesn’t. I wouldn’t be too happy to see Alex Rodriguez win a ring, either. However, let the National League champion beat the Bronx Bombers. I want to view Game 7 as a sort of social study. The ideal situation for the game is for the Red Sox to take an early lead, and watch it erode by the 7th inning, and ultimately blowing it in the bottom of the 9th. Frankly, I want to see how the suicide rate in Boston spikes 48 hours after that type of scenario. I want to hear Red Sox fans whine and moan. I want to see how many sportswriters refer to Boston as a cursed sports town, despite the fact that their football team has won 20 games in a row over two seasons. You see, a distraught Red Sox fan is comedy, because the Red Sox haved teased them with near success so many times. Collectively, they are like the main guy from “The Last American Virgin,” climbing into his car in the rain after seeing the girl he loves rip his heart out and obliterate it, tearfully listening to “Just Once” by James Ingram. This sounds cruel, I know, but let me clue you in on a little discussed item: Red Sox fans deserve their misery. They whine the loudest because they razz the loudest. Boston fans in general are the most obnoxious, toxic fans in sports. Philly sports fans may be more thuggish, but at least they don’t go around thinking that they are God’s gift to the sportsworld. Thank goodness that the Red Sox are around to knock them off their pedestal.

Also, Boston knocked the Angels out of the playoffs. Screw ‘em.

Caught in the “Crossfire.”

I’ve always liked Jon Stewart. He was as funny as he was underappreciated when he had his own talk show back in the early ’90s, and he does a hilarious job as the most trusted man in fake news on Comedy Central’s “The Daily Show,” a program that is on my short list of shows I wish I had more time to sit down and watch (right up there with ESPN’s “Pardon the Interruption.”) But the thing I appreciate the most about Stewart is how intelligent the guy is. Like former fake news guru (turned semi-conservative talk show host) Dennis Miller, Stewart pulls no punches when its time to stop cracking wise. For example, Stewart gave an incredibly eloquent, moving speech about the 9/11 attacks after they occured that put the ruminations from legitimate newscasters to shame. Even though his political views differ from mine, I respect his opinion far more than other celebrites because there is a brain lurking behind the words.

It may be safe to assume that the lunkheads on CNN’s “Crossfire” vastly underestimated Stewart. For those who are unfamiliar, “Crossfire” is one of those discussion type shows that pits two hosts, one left of center and one right of center, and they do nothing but badger the other side’s political beliefs for a solid hour. It is pretty bad, too-much worse than what goes on during Fox News’s similar “Hannity and Colmes”. Well, they invited Stewart on there under the assumption that he would do his funnyman “Daily Show” schtick. Instead, Stewart called them on their constant striving for political one-upmanship. It’s worth a good look, or if you prefer (since the video is on I-Film), a good read (the Stewart interview occurs about halfway down the page).

No Key in Sight.

Tonight was supposed to be opening night of the NHL. Tonight was the night I was going to take advantage of my lovely wife’s generous offer to let me have the NHL Center Ice package so I can pretty much watch a hockey game any night of the week I wanted to. Tonight was the night that last year would have had me giddy all day.

Of course, the operative words in that paragraph were “supposed to.” The NHL lockout has been going on for a month, but it really didn’t hit hard until today, when opening night of the regular season was wiped out. As you can guess, the level of sadness over this development varies depending on what side of the U.S. Canadian border is. There’s a nice, tidy section concerning it over on ESPN.com, while over on the Canadian equivalent, TSN.com, it’s plastered all over their website, superceding everything else. Among the articles is a poll that asked the question when the hockey season is going to start, and most of the people are convinced that there will be no season this year. Sadly, you can put me on that list. Neither side is making the slightest attempt to resolve this labor mess. Instead you have rediculous statements being made by both sides, the latest coming from the Senior Director of the NHL Players’ Association, Ted Saskin, who actually said the salary cap in the NFL doesn’t work, and it wouldn’t work in the NHL. Are you freakin’ kidding me? The NFL’s financial structure doesn’t work? Perhaps that’s why the large market Green Bay Pakcers have been so consistantly good in the past ten years. If anything, every team sport should be actively ripping off the NFL’s financial model, because it works. You will never see a labor dispute in the NFL again. Yet this goon said it’s broken.

So, we’re left with a vast multitudes of what ifs: Would Dominik Hasek be good enough to lead Ottawa to the Stanley Cup, giving Canada its first Cup winner in over a decade? Would ancient Detroit finally show its age and start to wane? Would Atlanta make the playoffs for the first time? Would Vancouver finally turn the corner and be a serious contender, or did their window of opportunity close? Would Calgary have enough in the tank to make another run at the Cup? Was Tampa Bay, with their stable of young talent, on the verge of a dynasty?

It sucks. Gotta go play ESPN NHL 2K5 now to ease the pain.

All “Smile”s

Picked up Brian Wilson’s famously long shelved “Smile” this weekend, and the songs have pretty much taken over my brain. Instead of me barking at you to buy the album, I think it would be better to tell you why you should buy it.

*Musically. Wilson’s genius of putting the right instruments and harmonies in the right place at the right time is fully flourished on this album. Although the 62 year old Wilson’s trademark falsetto has abandoned him, he still manages to inject youthful vigor into the tunes, primarily because of their stunning arrangements and harmonies. The album’s lead track, “Our Prayer/Gee,” brings to mind the Beach Boys doing Gregorian chant. Songs like “Child is the Father of Man” and “Wind Chimes” unleash a tidal wave of instrumentation that, instead of overwhelming the listener, fits so perfectly that it’s nearly impossible to not feel a touch of giddiness. In a lot of ways, it feels exactly like it should have been back in 1967, as the logical progression from the Beach Boys’ masterpiece “Pet Sounds.” It makes sense, since Wilson specifically only used instruments that were around in 1967 to complete the album. In short, it’s an infectious joy.

*Historically. The history of “Smile” is a fascinating one, and it’s roots really date back to 1965, in Liverpool, England. The Beach Boys were in the middle of churning out hit after hit, but Wilson wanted wanted to do more than songs about surf and sun. He couldn’t quite figure it out until he heard The Beatles’ 1965 work “Rubber Soul,” which was the turning point of their career. He instantly figured out that he needed to do albums in a similar vein, and thus begat a healthy competition with The Fab Four. “Rubber Soul” inspired “Pet Sounds,” which in turn inspired “Revolver” and, eventually, “Sgt. Pepper.” “Revolver was out when Wilson started working on “Smile,” but he also started to fall apart. By the time “Pepper” came out, he was convinced that he could never make something that good, and drifted further away from reality. The songs recorded for “Smile,” like “Heroes and Villains” and “Good Vibrations,” were released as either singles or wound up on the 1967 album “Smiley Smile” or both. Thus started a legacy of the album that never was. Snippets of what might have been were kicked around for years, and people loved what they heard (Jimi Hendrix referred to it at “a psychedelic barbershop quartet”). But the thought of ever seeing the album was nothing but a pipe dream until Wilson, who had long gotten his act together, rekindled the idea of creating it shortly after the success of his “Pet Sounds” tour. When you listen to “Smile” with the historical frame in mind, you can’t help but feel bittersweet about it. You’re thankful that it’s finally out; however, you can’t help but think of what might have been if Wilson had been able to keep it together and release it back then. Would “Pepper” be looked upon with as much reverence as it commands now? Would the Beach Boys refrained from eventually turning into the ultimate American nostalgia band? How different would the muscial landscape be now? Would Wilson continue his friendly rivalry with Lennon/McCartney and continue to push toward new and exciting heights? Damn, I regret not getting into that rock history class at Goldenwest College now.

*For the legend. The name Brian Wilson commands respect. But now it’s for so much more than just his music. Here’s a guy that lost his mind along with the will to get out of bed, who was reduced to that of a drug-addled hermit. To see how thoroughly he has defeated his demons is pretty inspiring, and the recreation of “Smile” is the surest cry of victory imaginable. His remarkable comeback adds exponential size to his place in the annals of rock ‘n’ roll. Plus, it makes me wish Vegas had a line that you can bet on who will win the Grammy for Best Album next year. I’d throw down some bank and wait for the easy profit. If he doesn’t fit the formula of artist from way back who got ignored putting out a critically acclaimed album, then that formula doesn’t exist. Except that it does (exhibit A: Eric Clapton). Wilson will be adding to his mantlepiece next spring, trust me.

So buy the album, already!

Justice Punts.

Baltimore Ravens’ running back Jamal Lewis is a star. There’s no denying that he’s one of the best players at his position in the NFL-just ask the Cleveland Browns, whom Lewis racked up 500 yards rushing against last year.

However, he is also a convicted criminal, as he plea bargained with a jury over federal drug trafficking charges. He is going to get jail time (although at four months, it is obviously truncated). However, the NFL is probably going to only suspend him for 2 measly games.

So, let’s review: Do a silly dance after getting a first down, cost your team 15 yards. Get busted for drug trafficking, resume playing in three weeks.

Yeah, I don’t get it, either.

Oh Say, You Can’t Sing

Last night, I was getting my drink on with my buddies Jon, Ron, and Mike. Amongst the various dollops of conversation was a talk about sound bites from star athletes that served no other purpose in their existence other than to embarrass the crap out of them. One of the clips discussed was what I think is the crown jewel of this particular genre; track and field legend Carl Lewis singing the National Anthem. Oddly enough, my enterouge was unfamiliar with this bit of comedy gold, so as a service to them (since they all read the site anyway), and for all of you who enjoy a great laugh, here it is.

Now, if only we can get Mike Tyson to sing “America the Beautiful.”