A rematch? Yes. Revenge? I ain't feeling it.

I tried as hard as I could. I waited as long as possible for signs that would indicate that the Penguins could dethrone the hated Red Fucks from the cesspool of Detroit.

Didn't happen. Seeing as there is no money on the line here, I'll still cheer for the Pens, but if I'm betting on it, I'm taking the Wings. Too much depth. Too many 3rd and 4th liners chipping in consistently and believe it or not, I'm giving Osgood the nod in goal over horse-toothed Marc Andre Maurice Phillipe Antoine Alexandre Fleury.

Verdict:

Red Wings in 6.

Either way, Texas is winning this effing pool this year (Not-Philly-Bill or I) and we're gonna take our winnings and secede!!

Matty's Stanley Cup Finals Picks: TWL

A reminder, peeps, that tonight is the night the NHL Finals begins. So, turn your picks in either by email to BMFS (if you know him personally or can guess his email address (hint: goat anus)), TOOOAST!!! (toooast.com@gmail.com), or put 'em in the comments here. Now back to your regularly scheduled pooost!!!, complete with poop jokes.

***

It's NHL Finals time, and about the only shot I have to win the coveted Invisible Cup, seen here held by former champion Randy "Shotgun" Jackson, is to triple the allowable score while simultaneously (and accidentally) running over Snizza with a rototiller. Oops! So sorry, dude!

In other words, I'm as bloated as the referee's checking accounts after a Penguins series. (Ba-da-BOOM!) Since there is no way to adequately compete either for first place or last (thanks a lot, Labz), the only thing I can do is humiliate myself in the here and now. Which is what I fully intend to do.

4) Pittsburgh vs. 2) Detroit

As far as I'm concerned, this series is going to come down to one thing: total wang length or TWL. The formula for TWL gets somewhat complex as it takes playing time into account, but without throwing too much math at you, it basically looks like this: TWL=WL x Playing Time/Ball Circumference

If you do the math, you'll quickly see that the Penguins' small wangs make their winning this series next to impossible. Thus, I am forced to chose Detroit in 5.

For more on TWL as a measurement of hockey ability, go here. Thank you, and good night.

Stanley Cup Playoffs Picks Pool: Mars Needs Poop!

Alright, amigos, your friendly neighbor BMFS is on vacation, or "vay-cay" as the kids call it, and has foolishly left the picks pool (poop!) in my hands. So you're stuck with me, and I you. Don't think I'm happy about it either.

True, I don't know hockey, and if anyone accuses me of not knowing math, well I'll cop to that too, but if I know one thing, it's poop jokes and... what? No poop jokes? In the words of Dennis Eckersley, shit. I guess we'll get right to it, then.

As you might know, we've got ourselves a re-match of last year's finals: Pens/Wings. Yay. Marian Hossa be afraid, yo. After an uber-exciting second round, the third round of the NHL Playoffs ended up as a bit of a clunker. The Hurricanes rolled over and played dead for the Penguins with only a slight assist from the officials. The Blackhawks were slightly more of a challenge for Detroit, but in the end, that series wasn't really that close either. If you want more in depth hockey talk than that, I suggest you either save your questions for BMFS's return, or simply shove your head up your ass and ask away!

As for the pool (poop dammit!), well, suffice it to say I ain't winning the Invisible Cup* this year. Now, again, I might have done this all wrong, but I went over my math multiple times and squared it with BMFS's instructions which were, and I quote, "eat shit. eat my shit."

After three rounds of the SCPPP, here's what we got as far as standings:

Name....Score
1. Snizza....184
2. Bill....181
3. Rufus....174
4. Lousy....164
5. Aaron....155
6. Clint....154
7. BMFS....122
8. Ryan....120
9. Matty....118
10. zx147....117
11. Adam....106
12. Labz....95

If you think I made a mistake with your score, I would request that you follow official SCPPP procedure.**

One more round to go:

4) Pittsburgh v.
2) Detroit

Picks must to be submitted by the start of the next round, which I believe is Saturday at 8pm EST or "Correct Time." Please submit your picks in the comments, or email 'em to BMFS, or if you find him passed out at the bar, you can urinate them onto his clothes.

Good day, sirs.

___
*If you're curious what the fabled Invisible Cup looks like, it looks like this.
**Proper procedure dictates that, to petition to have your score changed, you must submit the following materials:

1. A copy of your drivers license
2. A copy of your birth certificate
3. Your actual drivers license
4. Your actual birth certificate
   
5. A notarized copy of your picks
6. A detailed description of the injustice done to you, including charts and graphs
   
7. Photographic evidence of you (or a reasonable surrogate) with your entire head jammed up your asshole.

Please allow six to eight weeks for response.

Incontrovertible Proof That Steriods Don't Work

Last night, some dick was arrested in Lakeland, Florida (motto: Florida's Asshole) after authorities found $200K in illegal steroids stashed in his house. This would hardly be news - just about everyone in Lakeland, Florida has $200K of something illegal stashed somewhere - but the cornhole claimed that he was the primary steroids dealer to the Washington Capitals and Washington Nationals.

According to Polk County Sheriff Grady Judd, who's name I am not making up, "The only thing he said specifically was he sold to the Washington Capitals and the Washington Nationals. ...Richard Thomas told us that he sold steroids to ballplayers on those teams. Now, is that one ballplayer? Or is it two ballplayers? We don't know."

Three things:

1. Of course his name is "Grady Judd." He's the Polk County Sheriff, so yeah, fucking duh.

2. Clearly "Grady Judd" does not know anything about the Washington Capitals, who do not "play ball", but play hockey. Here's the money shot: "...he sold to the Washington Capitals and the Washington Nationals. ...Richard Thomas told us that he sold steroids to ballplayers on those teams." Read that again; nobody who follows professional sports would put those words together in that order. It's like something my mother would say. Next thing he'll ask if Ovechkin "scored a home run."

3. The Nationals are currently 13-32. If they continue to play this way through the rest of the season, they will lose 115 games. One hundred and fifteen games. This would make them the 17th worst team ever in the history of baseball, and the worst since the 2003 Detroit Tigers, who somehow managed to lose 119 times.

They're historically horrific, yet the Nationals are (supposedly) buying steroids (from some dumbass in central Florida).

My point: If the Nationals are using steroids, this proves beyond a shadow of a doubt that steroids do not work. Unless they're misusing them, which considering their record, is a definite possibility.

***

UPDATE: Read more about this at the excellent Washington Post DC Sports Bog here, which contains links to other articles about this same story at PuckDaddy, the DC Examiner, and AOL Fanhouse.

Cookie Monster On Sports: Stanley Cup Playoffs Edition

Hello kids! Cookie Monster here, talk about Stanley Cup Playoffs. It been quite a playoffs, hasn't it kids? Watching Red Wings score goals remind Cookie Monster of old days playing pond hockey with other monsters... [sigh] Cookie Monster eat cookies!!! YUMYUMUMUMUMUM!! YUMYUMYUMYUM!!!!!

Cookie Monster excited to see NHL Finals! Sidney Crosby's sandy vagina against traitorous Marian Hossa and Red Wings! How funny if Pittsburgh wins and Hossa plays for both losing teams two years in a row! Cookie Monster laugh at Hossa's sad sad life! And eat cookies!!!
YUMYUMUMUMUMUM!! YUMYUMYUMYUM!!!!! YUMYUMYUMYUM!!!!! YUMYUMYUMYUM!!!!!

Cookie Monster already write off Chicago and Carolina. Teams come back from three games down, but not this year, Cookie Monster think. Chicago not in Detroit's league, and Carolina not actually in NHL, Cookie Monster research find out. Also, Carolina not a state. Cookie Monster never been to Carolina, not sure where is. Cookie Monster think, what the fuck? Cookie Monster eat cookies!!
YUMYUMUMUMUMUM!! YUMYUMYUMYUM!!!!!

Uh oh... Cookie Monster eat too many cookies...
YUMBLEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!! YUMBLEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!

OK, kids, Cookie Monster go, clean up mess. Cookie Monster have hot date later, not want date see partially digested cookies all over bachelor pad. Well, not till later, if you know what Cookie Monster mean...

Hey Mets Fans: I'm Gone Tell Ya Sumthi'n Yoo Doan Wanna Heer

Congratulations, Mets Fans, on your two wins in Boston. Squeaked 'em out, didn't cha? Well, enjoy it while it lasts, because I'm hear to tell you something you don't want to hear: Your team sucks. Yup, sucks. Sure, you just came into Boston and beat my Red Sox, but any team can lose two in a row to any other team. Hell, even the Nationals have won two in a row this season, and they barely qualify as a major league team.

More to the point, the Mets just aren't that good a team talent-wise. David Wright, Johan Carlos Beltran, and Carlos Johan Santana (see what I did there? Aren't I clever?) are magnificent players. Perfect to build a team around. Sadly for you, your GM (sucks) hasn't provided your manager (sucks) with any other decent players, not that he would know what to do with them if he got them. Yes, I know the criminally over-rated Jose Reyes is good, and FROD is decent, but that's the end right there.

I was looking over the Mets depth chart and it is hard to believe this team has a $149+ Million payroll. Where was that money spent? It didn't all go to Bernie Madoff, did it? $149 Million and Mike Pelfrey is your number two starter? Who the fuck is Mike Pelfrey? But maybe more to the point, Livan Hernandez is not only in your rotation, he's your NUMBER FOUR STARTER! I capitalize to indicate the "what-the-fuck factor" of that information, because, seriously, what the fuck? Livan Hernandez has no business on a major league roster at this point, let alone a number four starter. He's terrible, and he's been terrible for several years now, so it's not like unraveling a mystery or something.

Police Officer: Well, I don't know how you kids did it, but great job!
Fred: Oh, it was easy! Once we figured out the ghosts were just sheets being moved across the room on a system of pulleys, we realized that there was no way the vampires were real either!
Wilma: Nope. They were just mannequins dressed up like Vampires!
Scooby: Way were?
Shaggy: Yeah, like, they were?
Wilma: Yup.
Fred: So the only thing left to do is unmask the ghoul whom we caught by using this overly-complex system of rubber bands, rope, bubble gum, and a goat!
Goat: maaaahhhhh...
Fred: Lets see who you really are! [pulls off mask]
Assembled By-Standers: Livan Hernandez!?!?
Fred: Yup! Mr. Hernandez wasn't the only one who had an interest in keeping people off first base, but since his fastball doesn't break 80 anymore, and he can't throw an off-speed pitch for a strike to save his life, the only way he could keep people from reaching first base is to scare them!
Shaggy: Which explains the buckets of catsup that said "blood" on them along the first base line!
Wilma: That's right!
Police Officer: Well, he'll be trying to scare people downtown from now on! Come on, Mr. Hernandez.
Hernandez: Y yo habría llegado demasiado lejos con él si no fuera por usted intromisión niños!

...aaaaaaaand scene!
.

Dennis Eckersley Says Things On Live TV (only he didn't say "things")

So, I'm watching the Red Sox/Mets game last night. It's a great pitching match-up (in theory), with Johan Santana facing Daisuke Matsuzaka. I'm listening to the Red Sox announcers, Don Orsillo and Dennis Eckersley. Usually Jerry Remy does color on Sox games, but he's out recovering from lung cancer (get well soon, Remdog!). Eckersley had just started doing studio work for NESN (the regional sports network which covers the Red Sox in New England) but he's stepped in as a color commentator on the live broadcasts since Remy got sick.

During the game Santana hit Kevin Youkilis in the right elbow with a pitch. With the camera on him, Youkilis said (but you couldn't hear him on the broadcast), "Shit, that hurt!" But we'll come back to that in a second. So, apparently Santana doesn't feel that Youkilis tried hard enough to get out of the way and he made his displeasure with Youkilis known. Youkilis said something back to Santana as he was going down to first base, then the umpires stepped in to make sure that nothing got out of hand (it didn't).

So Eckersley and Orsillo are going through the replay and parsing all this out. Eckersley sort of goes into a protracted and not-very-helpful straight narration of the replay, and gets a bit caught up in it, going so far as to read Youkilis' lips:






Because I think it's frigging hilarious, here is a transcript:

Eckersley: and he doesn't really get out of the way, it's that back elbow, if you think about it it's not that far inside, and he sort of... looks at him... shit...

Orsillo: ... the 0-1... it's fouled off and it's 0 [starts laughing] and 2...

Eckersley: Never mind. We'll just forget about that.


As soon as I saw that I questioned what I had heard. Fortunately, MLB.tv has a DVR function, so I simply rewound and watched it again.

Eckersley: and he doesn't really get out of the way, it's that back elbow, if you think about it it's not that far inside, and he sort of... looks at him... shit...

and again...

Eckersley: and he doesn't really get out of the way, it's that back elbow, if you think about it it's not that far inside, and he sort of... looks at him... shit...

Well, short story long, in watching this over and over (and watching the Phillies dismantle the Yankees) I completely missed yet another gem from Eck, this one even funnier than the first:



There is no need for a transcript here, Eckersley simply refers to Red Sox pitcher Justin Masterson as, and I fucking quote, "Masturbate."

If I was drinking milk it would be coming out of my nose. Of course you realize that now I must purchase this:




Note: Better (but less embedable) videos of both are available here.

A Message From Friend Of TOOOAST!!! Ryan Leaf

[The other day I opened my email and I had a message from Ryan Leaf. THE Ryan Leaf, I asked? Absolutively, he said. He told me he had recently fallen on hard times and was a big fan of the site and wanted to know if he could address all the TOOOAST!!! fans. I said sure. He said, "You're awesome, little dude!" So, uh, here ya go.]

***

Hey friends! Ryan Leaf here. I'm totally stoned right now! LOL!!! No, just kidding ;) Thanks to mattymatty for letting me get my message out. I read TOOAST!!! all the time, so I'm a big fan. I was really going to join the NHL picks pool but then something got in the way. Anyway, I gotta make this kinda quick cause, well they don't fuck around here in Randall County, Texas. They'll execute you for jaywalking! If you get enough of 'em! For serious!

Anyway, y'all may have heard about my recent, um, troubles. I just wanna say three things about all that:

1) GOAT SEX!!! Ha ha! I love this site!!

2) I'm being framed! Thats the hard core truth, dudes (and dudettes)! You gotta believe me. But I don't have any money to defend myself. I'm a huge fan of TOOOAST!!! so I was hoping you all could help me out. I don't need much cause I have this awesome friend I met over email. He's the Sultan of O'qar or something like that (I'm terrible with maps!). Anyway, he said if I send him a couple thousand bucks he can turn it into a couple million, no questions asked! AWESOME!!! So of course I'm like Sign Me Up, Raghead! And he was like Awe'somq or something like that, who the hell knows, but dudes, if y'all can send me a little cash, I can make it go a looooong way. Once I'm back on my feet again, I'll hold a football clinic or something for y'all. It'll be balls to the wall, man. I'm talking strippers, titties, free jager shots, the whole deal. So I told mattymatty that if anyone wants to help out (PLEASE!!!) then they can contact him (toooast.com@gmail.com) and he can give my email address out that way cause I don't want any dumb spam mail or whatever.

C) I never was any good at counting! LOL!!

God Finally Lets Big Papi Hit A Homer

BOSTON - The Lord Thy God saw fit, through his infinite wisdom, to ordain that Boston hit five home runs as the Red Sox beat the division leading but still godless Canadians, the Toronto Blue Jays, 8-3 in front of 38,548 delirious God-fearing Americans, Jesus be praised.

After the Lord the big story of the night was Red Sox DH David Ortiz whom God, through his divine plan, allowed to homer for the first time in 2009. All thanks to God, the homer was the first of the season for Ortiz. Big Papi, as he is known, had been feeling pressure to perform and recently, thanks to God, had seemed withdrawn and depressed. (Had Ortiz simply read the divine plan he might have been more prepared.)

All the negative feelings were lifted with one God-powered swing of Ortiz's bat last night, as his first homer of the year sailed over the center field wall, praise Jesus. At that moment, all 38,548 stood in silent prayer, thanking God and his son, Jesus, for delivering in the clutch yet again. (This season, God is hitting 1.000/1.000/4.000.)

"I just want to thank blessed Jesus and the Good Lord for helping me out, man", said Ortiz. "Though I'd kinda like to know why He saw fit to stop me from hitting a homer for so long. Where was He back in April?"

Today's Sign The Apocalypse Is Upon Us

The Toronto Blue Jays have the best record in the American League. Second best...?

Your Texas Rangers.

News Of The Douchey: MLB Version

There's been some strange goings on in baseball recently. So, without further poo-poo (yes, I am, actually, an adult):

From the Once A Douche, Always A Douche file: You may recall from last October, Angels pitcher John Lackey prefers a swirling vortex of diarrhea-like discontent in his clubhouse. It should come as no surprise that he prefers the same in his opponent's clubhouse as well.

Coming off the disabled list, Lackey was making his first start of the year for the Angels last Saturday. It lasted two pitches. The first was two feet behind Ian Kinsler, who had homered twice the previous day. The second was in Kinsler's ribs. That was enough for home plate ump Bob Davidson, who threw Lackey out of the game. Lackey, douche that he is, maintains he wasn't throwing at Kinsler. Sure he wasn't. He just happened to throw two fastballs right at the guy who homered twice to start off the game.

From the Charmed If You Do, Charmed If You Don't file: Rays manager John Maddon lives a charmed life. How charmed? He can wear these silly glasses on the job and not get fired. Also, he screwed up the lineup card and lost the use of the DH for the day yesterday. The result was starting pitcher Andy Sonnanstine had to bat. Third. Sonnanstine, who admittedly hadn't hit since high school, went 1-3 with a double and an RBI, and the Rays won 7-5.

From the Fine! file: The Yankees have finally capitulated. How, you ask? They've reversed a rule which barred fans from coming down to the seats by the field to watch batting practice. But, you ask, can't anyone come down to the field and watch batting practice? Not until a few days ago at new Yankee Stadium. Yankees Chief Executive of Douchebaggery (CED), Lonn Trost, said, and this may just be the quote of the year, "If you purchase a suite, do you want somebody in your suite? If you purchase a home, do you want somebody in your home?” Sadly, the Yankees weren't able to keep fans out of other people's homes.

In equally sad news, fate has not taken notice of their prodigious douchebaggery as the Yankees have enjoyed three straight walk off wins against Minnesota.

From the I'm Tellin' Y'all It's Sabotage file: The Nationals are 11-25. That's a .303 winning percentage. If they play this way all year they'll finish 49-113. They were 0-6 before playing a home game, and they've won two out of thirteen series all year (the unlucky victims are Braves and the Diamondbacks, who are almost as bad as DC). They are one of the most incompetent organizations in baseball, and are working diligently to ruin DC as a viable baseball city.

But on September 5th they're having "Adopt a pet at the park" night. I'll wager there will be more dogs at Nationals park than people that night.

The Winner, And Still Champion, Lori! (Dammit)

photo stolen/borrowed/courtesy of The Pensblog

[None of you will recall that I foolishly bet Lori from Hockey, Football, and Stiletto Shoes that the Capitals would beat the Penguins. To the winner, a post, unedited, on the other's blog. Long story short, I lost (and so did a traffic light controller box on 7th Street). Thus, because I am a man of my word, I am publishing her post here at TOOOAST!!!. Though I must say it's a shame I lost because the Top Ten Things Sidney Crosby Can Suck On list I had prepared is killer. Next year I guess... anyway, congratulations, Lori!]

Oh, haaaai Caps fans. This is Lori from Hockey, Football, and Stiletto Shoes. MattyMatty promised me a post if my Pens could take the series, and what a series it was! It ended up being three whole games longer then I thought it would be. And who knew? Your cutie jail-bait goalie stepped up huge. He was making saves out of fear of being the new base of Boudreau’s next vodka crème sauce (they should really stop letting Ovie play translator), but speaking of hungry Coachie, his end of game 6 celebration was pretty insane. It was as if the rink and everybody in it had suddenly turned into his little whopper children and he got to be their burger king. And then game 7 happened. Good thing we kept a big lead, cuz I was a little too premature, celebratory drunkie to pay close attention.

The bar I was in for game 7 didn’t have sound on the TV, which in retrospect made looking away at an inopportune moment and then looking back again like Christmas. Remember those two goals in 8 seconds? Haha, and I thought the booze was blurring my vision. Nah, Craig Adams just decided to step it up. We got him free off wavers, you know. Free, free, free. It’s like when the free pen from the bank turns out to be your most smooth and trusted writer, or when those freebee disposable sunglasses from the eye doctors actually look pretty damn good to your drugged-up judgment.

But enough about that. What is important is that some of your scorers are dangerous as fuck and I underestimated your D a little bit. Ovie proved himself to be the legit skillzman he is, and now we get to watch him ride his Segway into the golf course sunset in slow motion with the breeze blowing in his Russian hair locks. And really, aren’t you proud of me? An entire celebratory post and not one Semin joke. Unless you count that as one. Shit.

And here's #401! Also known as Matty's Picks

The 400th POOOST!!! On TOOOAST!!!: All I Know About Hockey, Or Poop

BMFS celebrating the 400th post at his castle in Delaware

I was going to let BMFS's playoff pool picks round-up sit on top for a while, but then I took a look at the dashboard. It said "TOOOAST!!! 399 posts." So I couldn't let either of the other jagoffs* steal the 400th post, whether I have anything worthwhile to say or not. It's mine! Hear me? Mine!!

So, it's time for Matty's NHL Playoff Picks, Round 3! Lots of hockey related goodness and hilarity to come. But first, a word from our sponsors:

Iron Chef America, the Japanese version. Laugh uproariously as the show is translated from Japanese to English, and then back into Japanese! Hey! That doesn’t make any sense! Ha ha!! I don't understand what is going on!? All this week on Bravo!

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(Order now and get a free hammer with which you can bludgeon yourself!)

You may recall my picks for the previous two rounds and rightly ask, why should I continue reading this pooost!!! since you obviously have no knowledge of hockey, or really of sports in general? Well, fine sir, I would only counter that, should you feel that manly bubbling tide... well, I just wanted to write that. NGA NGA NGA?!?

(4) Pittsburgh vs. (6) Carolina
- Penguin's Coach Dan "Smegma" Bylsma looks more like a librarian than a hockey coach. The Penguins would have a better chance in this series if Bylsma grew a shaggy beard, put on 40 pounds, and stopped matching his tie to his suit.
- Isn't naming a team after a probable natural disaster a bit distasteful? The Penguins aren't called the Lung Cancer and Detroit's team isn't called the Unemployed Burglers (though that is a good one, eh?).
Matty's pick besides his nose: Carolina in 4

(2) Detroit vs. (4) Chicago
- I think I have a good idea how good Detroit is, but I have no idea how good Chicago is. They went out and bought a starting goalie, paid him big bucks, and then sat his ass on the bench. Makes you wonder when their bubble is going to burst. I says now. (I know, not funny... Poop. There. Ha ha.)
Matty's pick besides his nose: Detroit in 4

*I mean "jagoff" in the gayest way possible.

Stanley Cup Playoffs Picks Pool: Mars Needs Pot!

...and Boston needs misery. After spending the better part of the decade blessed with storybook championship seasons, Boston fans finally got a long-overdue kick in the nertz: Scott Walker ("You may remember me from such transgressions as 'Sucker-punching Aaron Ward in the mush four days ago'...") scored the overtime Game 7 winner to flush the Bruins out of the playoffs.

And from bad to worse: Somehow Walker was credited by MLB with a home run for that goal, meaning he's got more of 'em than David Ortiz.

As for the results of our ongoing prognostication debacle... Well, Caps fans took an Easton Synergy up the keister and the Texans are fixin' to secede. The winner of the first annual John Drussi Jokinen award for the Conference Semifinals -- T!!!'s very own Snizza. Not only was he the only player who got all four series correct, he hit three of the four results exactly. Fucking spectacular. Now stop insisting you're not Canadian. "Don't listen to him, eh. He's a... he's a hoser!"

Ryan -- who I don't know, but wish I did right now -- was the only one to miss all four series. Whomever you are, come to the Lakewood Landing and I'll buy ya a shot of Southern Comfort in a stemmed shotglass, 'cause it's yer muthafuckin' birthday.

Here's the spreadsheet -- please check my math. I'm sober this time, but as the standings indicate, the cheez is barely still on my cracker.

The standings, pending any corrections:

Bill -- 133
Snizza -- 132
Rufus -- 126
Aaron -- 125
Clint -- 122
zx147 -- 117
Lousy -- 116
BMFS -- 110
Adam -- 106
Labz -- 95
Matty -- 92
Ryan -- 88

I'm so goddamn proactive, I'm rollin' this crap out here and I don't even know when the Conference Finals start yet. Probably Saturday. Nope, Sunday at 3 PM Eastern with DET/CHI.

(4) Pittsburgh vs.
(6) Carolina

(2) Detroit vs.
(4) Chicago

.

Wherefore Art Thou, Mike Green?

I should state up front, I'm a huge Mike Green fan. Huge. But I don't think I've been alone in complaining about Green's horrible play all during the playoffs (chronicled here, here and here). Green's play resulted directly in scoring chance after scoring chance for the Penguins and the Rangers in the previous series. Green was the worst defensemen on the ice for Washington in both series.

What makes this so strange is that Green was one of the best defensemen in the NHL during the regular season. His ability not only to shoot the puck (and score), but to get the puck up ice and inject an element of physical play all made him a finalist for the Norris Trophy (best defensemen). Whether his play during the regular season deserves the award or not, the implosion in his quality of play as soon as the playoffs begin took away one of the Capitals strengths and turned it into a massive weakness.

Timo Seppa of the newly minted Puck Prospectus knows more about hockey than me, but we're on the same page when it comes to Green. Here is some of what Seppa had to say about Green in his post mortem on the Caps/Pens series:

If I had voted for Mike Green for the Norris Trophy, I’d be sick to my stomach right about now.... The lowlight of Green’s relaxing evening was watching passively as Jordan Staal moved the puck unmolested past him on the end boards, followed moments later by waiting politely behind Staal as he dinked home Pittsburgh’s fifth goal. If that sequence didn’t have “quit” written all over it, you’ll have to explain exactly what the hell it was to me.

Rarely is surrender so stark and obvious ...I cannot believe that I was watching a playoff hockey elimination game, let alone any brand of professional hockey, aside from perhaps an exhibition game. In fact, you might see a more intense defensive effort in an All-Star game. If you can wave the white flag in the second period of a Conference Semifinals Game 7 down a mere 4-0 when you’ve got Alexander Ovechkin, Alexander Semin, and at least some shell of Mike Green on your team, you will embarrass the Norris Trophy presentation by even showing up, 31 bleeping regular season goals or not.

Strong stuff, eh? Word on the street is that Green was playing with a major shoulder injury, which, if true, at least helps to explain his play. But, even if that is the excuse, shouldn't the coach (Bruce Boudreau) notice how badly the injury is limiting him and his team and maybe, just maybe, sit the guy down?

Unleash The.. Are You Fucking Kidding Me?

An embarrassment. A joke. A fucking piece of shit mother*&#OE&^^@%@%W*...

What else is there to say? The Washington Capitals fought hard to force a Game 7 and then did not show up. They got obliterated and humiliated in their own building and in front of their own fans, as the Penguins scored at will and put the game out of reach before it passed the halfway point.

This one can't even be pinned on the refs. Sure, I didn't see any slashing (and neither did the TV announcers for what that's worth) on the first penalty against Washington, which led to the Penguins first goal of the game. But does it really matter? The Penguins scored eight (!) fucking seconds later, and then twice (!!) in the first three minutes of the second period and the game was pretty much over at that point.

After the fourth goal Bruce Boudreau inexplicably yanked Simeon Varlamov. It was a softy to be sure, but it's been pretty well established that Theodore isn't a guy you want in there. True to form Theodore saw to it that the Caps wouldn't get back into the game, yielding at least two more goals. I say "at least" because mid way through the third period I just couldn't stomach any more and turned the game off. Not that both goals were his fault really, as the entire team, either stunned by their own hideous performance or just generally out of gas, pretty much quit playing.

There is much more to be said about this game (Mike Green, coaching, more inexplicable calls against DC (Really? Not one damn penalty all night against Pittsburgh?)), but we can kick through the entrails of this road kill some other time.

For now, this season, as many Caps said beforehand, will be defined by Game 7; that is to say what will be remembered is, sadly, a horrendous and embarrassing failure to put up a fight in a Game 7 in our own building.

Maybe after the pain and embarrassment fades we'll realize what a good season the Caps had. We'll look at the 2008-09 Capitals and see the season as a stepping stone, a young team still finding its sea legs, destined for greater things. Maybe. But that'll be revisionist history based on what happens going forward.

Right now it's just an awful way to end a season.

Hero of the (Canadian) Stupid

Thanks in large part my pinko ass being parked in Texas for most of the Bush/Cheney administration, I have a pretty terrible Ugly American complex. As such -- and especially after a trip to a shopping mall or gambling establishment -- I sometimes forget there are idiots in nations other than our own. Such as Canada.

Which brings us to Jim Balsillie.

Jim Balsillie, assuredly, is no idiot. He's a Harvard MBA and the co-CEO of Research in Motion, Inc., the Ontario-based manufacturer of the omnipresent BlackBerry device. He and the company's founder are the eighth and seventh wealthiest persons in Canada, respectively.

But were there no idiots in Canada, sports fans would have no reason to know Balsillie.

After separate failed bids to purchase the struggling Pittsburgh Penguins and Nashville Predators* and move them to southern Ontario, Balsillie has emerged again with an offer to buy the bankrupt Phoenix Coyotes and move them... to southern Ontario.

*This attempted takeover was marked most notably by (1) the outrageous decision to take deposits on season tickets in Ontario well in advance of actually being sold the team, which was (and is) still playing in Nashville, and (2) the fact that his largest co-investor, William "Boots" Del Biaggio (yeah, really), is currently in prison.

Here's where the idiots come in: There's a fairly widespread opinion in Canada -- among hockey fandom's equivalent contingent to baseball fans who believe clutch hitting is a repeatable skill -- that NHL Commissioner Gary Bettman is a crooked American interloper (former chief counsel of the NBA, of all things!) whose primary goal as Commissioner is to sack and pillage traditional Canadian hockey markets and move their teams to American Sun Belt cities where no one cares about hockey or even understands the game in the first place.

(Now, nobody likes Bettman. Really. But that's a bit extreme.)

"Weird Al" Yankovic -- "Canadian Idiot"

Enter Balsillie, the willing hero with the financial wherewithal to right Bettman's atrocities.

Problem is, if you scratch at the details of Balsillie's attempts from any number of perspectives, they look like empty grandstanding designed to stir up more anti-Bettman sentiment among intellectually lazy Canadians. Looking at the most recent one, it's clear there is no conceivable way Balsillie will be allowed to purchase the team, and no one as intelligent and connected as Balsillie could possibly believe otherwise.

First, Coyotes owner Jerry Moyes filed bankruptcy on the team's behalf without the required notification of the NHL. (Seems an eminently logical rule, no?) Also without notice, he then accepted an offer from Balsillie to buy the team: $217M plus $17M to finance the illegal-per-NHL bankruptcy proceedings. Bettman was actually on his way to Phoenix to meet with Moyes about his team's travails when he found out about these happenings, and on arrival he booted Moyes from his stewardship and took over team operations on behalf of the league.

Even with the transaction on extremely shaky legal ground, there's this larger issue: No NHL team is going to move to southern Ontario. Ever.

The NHL would certainly love to have a team in southern Ontario, where there would be plenty of support, but putting an expansion team there would net an estimated $300M in expansion fees.* That's $83M more than Balsillie offered for the Coyotes... And $300M more than the NHL would pocket if it let Balsillie move the Coyotes to Ontario.

*This is not the NFL we're talking about here; $300M is a preposterous amount of money in NHL terms. That's approximately 20% of the combined total of all player salaries in the league. That amount probably won't cover the three lowest player payrolls in the NFL in 2009, with a cap of $127M.

It's those expansion fees -- or as I prefer to call them, "free money for the NHL" -- that tempted to league to over-expand in the 1990s into shaky markets like Miami and Nashville in the first place. And those expansion fees were around $80M a pop -- as Ralph Kramden once said, "a mere bag o' shells!"

If Balsillie were allowed to move the Coyotes to Ontario, a precedent would be set that it's acceptable for anyone with enough money to buy a struggling franchise and move it wherever they wanted. How many would move? There are already a few in peril -- the Islanders, Lightning, Panthers, and Predators for starters. And if the broke-ass Coyotes (revenue: $0) were to become the cash-flush Waterloo BlackBerries, the salary floor* -- which is tied to average NHL team revenues -- could rise by several million dollars, putting even more teams in financial peril.

*For example, before this season, the Atlanta Thrashers had to trade for then-Anaheim defenseman Mathieu Schneider to reach the NHL's salary floor; for every team like Calgary or Philadelphia that has to cut salary to stay under the cap, there's a team that has to take on contracts to stay above the floor.

So even if Balsillie's offer was lawful and feasible -- of which it's neither -- it could very well lead to to the very thing that got Canadian idiots riled up at Bettman in the first place: teams bailing out on small or struggling markets and moving to markets that are perceived to be growing.

Lots of people want another team in Ontario, and no NHL fan wants financially insolvent teams that can't compete. But does anyone really want this?

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Grounds For Divorce: Yes, Virginia, There'll Be A Game Seven

Image shamelessly stolen from washingtonpost.com

"into the desert we must go/so into the desert we go/call it a ritual"
- Wolf Parade

As I sat on the couch, curled in a fetal position, hands under buttocks, knees to nips, waiting for the inevitable shovel to the doo-dads, a strange thought occurred to me. "What if they win?" As quickly as the thought appeared though, it vanished. Never gonna happen. The Caps don't win in OT against Pittsburgh. How many penalties have to be called/shots have to deflect off Caps players and into the goal to realize that, eh?

In Game 5, David Steckel had the puck, the game, and the series on his stick with a wide open net to shoot at, but the shot went wide. Not only did it go wide, but the ensuing carom led directly to the Penguins game winning goal and the brutal beating of a traffic light controller box on 7th Street.

In Game 6, a similar situation presented itself, but this time Steckel didn't miss. His redirection of a Brooks Laich shot off a face-off win got under Fleury's glove and into the net instantly silencing 18,000 white-clad* maniacs and sending two Caps fans in Philly leaping off the couch in celebration.

Man, that's good stuff, eh?


More later, but for now, Game 7 is this Wednesday in D.C. It all comes down to this.

Rock The Red, bitches!

*Come on, Pittsburgh. It's not bad enough that there are almost no black people in hockey, but now you gotta go and have the entire arena wear all white. Why not pass out hoods while your at it?

The Word of the Day Has Never Been More Timely

Every day, the little word fairies at Merriam-Webster email me their chosen Word of the Day. I know that my mastodonic vocabulary is patently obvious, but there's always room for more. Sometimes the words are totally useless (edentulous? pleonasm?), but every now and then, a word arrives in my mailbox that is completely fitting and timely, and today's WOD couldn't have come at a better time.

WHINGE

\WINJ\
verb

Meaning
: to complain fretfully : whine

As in, Mark Cuban's ridiculous whinging after the Mavericks unfortunate loss couldn't be more embarrassing to Mavs fans everywhere.

Yes, like the Mavs players and coaches (and childish owner), I was screaming at fucktard referee Mark Wunderlich for botching Antoine Wright's obvious intentional foul on Carmelo Anthony with seconds to go in game 3. It's a call that is as automatic as breathing in every other instance that I've seen such a similar scene unfold, especially in a game where the officials have called every other touch foul all game long (61 total fouls were called). But hey, we're talking about the Dallas Mavericks here, a team that lives to repeatedly fart and fall down on as big a stage as possible*.




That non-call essentially ended the Mavs' season, but maybe it was Wunderlich committing an unintentional euthanization as there's no way the Mavericks were going to win this series. All Wunderlich, and in the irony of all ironies, Bennett Salvatore, did by swallowing their whistles was to send Dallas to the golf course one game earlier. As much as that call fucked the Mavericks, they clearly screwed the pooch in the game and allowed themselves to be put in a situation where a ref's call could determine the game. Marc Stein laid it out perfectly in his espn.com column:

There's no guarantee that the Nuggets wouldn't have won this Game 3 anyway, with a different dagger in the last few ticks, had the refs called the foul on Wright. The Mavs had a foul to give, which would forced Denver to inbound the ball one more time, but we're talking about the hottest playoff team this side of Cleveland.

There's also no question that the Mavericks left themselves open to this kind of ending by (a) failing to build a first-quarter cushion when Denver missed 15 of its first 17 shots, (b) uncharacteristically clanking four huge free throws in the fourth quarter, (c) allowing Anthony to score so quickly and easily with that dunk with less than 30 seconds to go when they had a four-point lead and then (d) wasting the crunch-time chances they had to make this a 2-1 series instead of a 3-0 lost cause. Nowitzki blamed himself after missing two midrange jumpers in the final minute, with opportunities to hike the Mavs' lead to five points and then four, after living off one-on-one isolations against Kenyon Martin in the two games in Denver.


So the game ends and Josh Howard and Mark Cuban go batshit and rush the court and push photographers and scream at Nuggets players. I understand their anger, but that was cartoonish. And now we hear this:

The NBA is reviewing a postgame confrontation between Mark Cuban and the mother of Denver Nuggets forward Kenyon Martin during which the Dallas Mavericks' owner referred to Martin as a "thug" or a "punk," according to a report in The Denver Post.

Cuban told the Denver newspaper by e-mail that as he walked off the court after the Mavericks' Saturday night loss in Dallas, he saw Martin's mother, Lydia Moore, as a fan was yelling that the Nuggets were "thugs."
"That includes your son," Cuban said to Moore, according to his e-mail to The Post.
Martin's agent, Brian Dyke, had a different take on the incident, The Post reported. According to Dyke, an unprovoked Cuban told Moore, "Your son is a punk."

That is disgusting. With Cuban's list of transgressions being as lengthy as that of Dirk's alleged fiancee, I wouldn't blink twice if the league suspended Cuban for tonight's game and told him to keep his whinging ass home.


*So not only do the Mavs lose the game on the non-call, but in an interview the next day, the Boston Celtics actually referred to the play as a way to NOT execute an intentional foul. Now every time there is a situation where a team has a foul to give in the waning seconds, the announcers are sure to reference the "Antoine Wright play."

And if messing up that intentional foul wasn't bad enough, Antoine Wright's day could not have gone worse.

Peter King Totally Illuminates Breat Favre

Peter King's love of/obsession with Brett Favre is way over the line. If the line was here... King's Favre Love (KFL) is like here. Or here.

But still, after saying, "I think I don't have much illuminating to say about Brett Favre"* in his latest Monday Morning Quarterback Column, he goes to write five fucking paragraphs about him.

You would think that I would have stopped there. And, five months ago I would have, but I now have two 4 1/2 month old babies, so if it isn't baby-related, I keep reading. And, surprise surprise, despite the negative opening, I found King's five paragraphs very illuminating. Incredibly so, actually. So much so that I felt compelled to post here here, even though it isn't funny in the least.

I understand skepticism, but don't take my word for it. Judge for yourself. Here, in essence, is what King has to say (I've edited it very slightly for brevity and clarity):

Brett Favre...'s still in the oven. ...Favre has... decided …his [sic]… dating …a live-in trainer for much of two months at his home in southern Mississippi. I feel sure … he can … have him… either after... surgery or … naturally …No matter what … because he's ruled by emotion.…Brad Childress should … tell his quarterbacks …, "Look, we're exploring … Brett Favre. … and I'll keep you posted on what happens.”… and everyone's just going to have to be patient while this process plays out.

Wow, right? Sure provides an illuminating look into the life of Favre for me!

*I looked up the opposite of "illuminate" in the dictionary and found that it is "to obscure" which, essentially, means the five paragraphs King wrote on Farve... well, you get the point.

It's Not Looking Good In DC, And I'm Not Talking About Myself

My friend Trevor would've said, "Son, you just got kicked in the dick."  If Game Four was the turd in the punchbowl, Game Five was a bucket of shit dumped on your head.  

Sadly, I was in attendance for this steel toed boot to the testicles of a game and so I can tell you it was a carnival atmosphere at the ol' Phone Booth in DC last night.  The Caps theme these past two playoffs has been "Rock the Red", and rock the red we did, good sir.  Save a few Penguins fans, everyone including all uniformed personnel were clad in red pro-Caps gear.  There were red bands playing music on F Street outside the arena, and many other exciting things to see that my addled mind can't recall as I type these words.  (I brought my camera with me to the game with the intent of making photographic evidence of the silliness, but for whatever reason the stupid thing refused to turn on.  Damn Japanese.)

I myself was sporting my red Ovechkin-looks-like-Che-Guevara t-shirt and knee-high red socks.  Last year there were booths offering Mike Green-style mohawks, but I didn't see one this year, thus preventing me from viciously assaulting fashion and my marriage simultaneously.  

Even the beer selection was terrific.  There were multiple stands with beers that I had never heard of, which, sadly, is saying something.  I enjoyed a Kona Brewing Company IPA, which had a slight hint of fruit to it, and no lingering aftertaste.  Quite enjoyable.  

I should mention that I haven't read anything about this game, I haven't talked to anyone who wasn't there about it and I haven't listened to any post-game commentary at all.  So I don't know shit.  Be warned.  With that in mind, here's some general thoughts about the game in no particular order:

• Sidney Crosby must be good friends with the officials, because on more than one occasion play was actually halted as he stood on the ice and talked to the referee.  At one point Crosby stood at center ice talking to the referee for what must have been two minutes while everyone else just stood around and watched him.  Fucking riveting.  I would like to propose a rule change, effective immediately.  No player is allowed to speak to an official unless spoken to first.  If Crosby wants to show the officials pictures of all the children he's fathered out of wedlock, he can wait until after the game.
• Something is seriously wrong with Mike Green.  I don't follow the NHL as a league enough to say whether he deserved to be a finalist for the Norris Trophy (best defenseman), but even if not, the Caps have depended on this guy to move the puck through the neutral zone and provide some additional offensive punch.  Thus far in the playoffs he's provided neither.  In point of fact, he's been horrendous.  I can't count the times he made terrible passes right to the tape of an on-rushing Evgeni Malkin or failed to get the puck out of his own zone when pressured by a single Penguin.  His play is so different from the regular season that I'm convinced there is something seriously wrong with him.  When ever the Caps season ends, you're going to hear that Green played the whole playoffs with a fractured anus or something that requires major surgery.  
• There appeared to be a penalty on the Penguins in overtime before their rush which resulted in the winning goal.  But in overtime the refs swallow their whistles, right?  RIGHT?
• The Caps played as uninspired a third period as I've seen from them.  It's the third period of Game 5 and you're leading 2-1, how do you come out so flat that you give up two goals in a five minute span?  Awful.
• The game was a massive disappointment, and from my far away vantage point it seemed that again, the Penguins were getting the calls and the Caps were not.  Not to mention the frustration of seeing your team piss away a 2-0 lead into a 3-2 deficit.  And still all that is no excuse for throwing bottles onto the ice.  In the few minutes following the loss in overtime, many fans threw things onto the ice that landed near the Penguins players and the officials.  Highly classless.  I understand the frustration - shit, I was furious - but throwing things over the glass at officials and opposing players is simply unacceptable.  If anything, bottles should have been thrown at the Caps for collapsing like that. 

Caps Lose Again, Series Tied, I Gently Place Spork In Eye

Normally, I wouldn't have posted anything about this, primarily because I'm tired, my face is sore from repeatedly being banged into the wall, and I've got to catch a train down to DC tomorrow morning for a more-pivotal-than-hoped-for Game 5. But I found a picture of poop in a bowl, so there.

As for the game, well... Turnovers in their own zone continue to plague the Caps defensemen blah blah blah. The Caps had a bunch of penaltys called on them crap crap crap... Stop me if you've heard this before.

Sadly the one huge difference in this game came in goal. After all the praise heaped on him, and deservedly so, Simeon Varlamov was the turd in the punch bowl tonight in Pittsburgh. He allowed two very soft goals and another that he probably should have stopped, which repeatedly spotted the Penguins to leads.

Not much else to say. Without a good effort tomorrow, this series could get away from the Caps pretty quickly. Hopefully getting back to the District will help.

(On a side note, why were all the fans in Pittsburgh wearing white and waving white towels? Did nobody notice that the team on the ice wearing white was not the Penguins but the Capitals?)

Red Sox Beat Indians With Stick, Whip, 2X4, Handbag, Random Truck Part, Own Penis, Empty Juice Box, Goat

Two nights ago the Indians had the temerity, the sheer audacity, to beat the Red Sox with Carl Pavano* on the mound. Well predictably the Red Sox got mad. Entering the bottom of the sixth inning at Fenway Park last night, the Red Sox trailed 2-1. A pitchers duel, eh.

Yeah, not so much. This is what happened: single, walk, double, walk, single, walk, double, single, single, single, single, home run. For those of you not counting along at home, that's twelve men (84 in dogmen) who hit safely and scored.

Consecutively.

All before a single out was recorded.

According to The Joy of Sox, no other American League team since the league's founding in 1900 (that's 109+ seasons) had scored that many runs in an inning before a single out was made. Other things that have happened in that time period:

• Mark Fidrych (RIP) talks to baseballs, the mound, the sky, his jock on national TV
  
• Morganna shows her breasts to many, many people
  
• The Chicago White Sox set their stadium on fire
• Detroit collapses
• A team in Washington wins the World Series

The first 12 batters hit six singles, two doubles, a homer, walked three times and scored twelve runs. Of course, the next three batters went down in order.

*I was fortunate enough to see the great Carl Pavano pitch once. This is what happened. (Spoiler: He lost 17-1. Also the butler did it.) This game was also current Indians catcher Kelly Shoppach's major league debut. In his only plate appearance he was hit by the pitch.)

MLB Nutz & Boltz for Thursday

First of all, if I see one more commercial for that horseshit pasta in a pizza crust, with the whiny talking bowls, I'm going to lose my mind. Now then... Some odds and ends from this young baseball season.

Early this season some eyebrows were raised when three major leaguers -- Orlando Hudson, Ian Kinsler, and Jason Kubel -- each hit for the cycle in the span of about a week. The night of Kinsler's cycle, Snizza (who doesn't follow baseball much) asked me how often someone hits for the cycle in the majors, and I guessed there's maybe one cycle in the majors every other year, or two out of every three years. So two in a week was noteworthy, and the third that followed a couple days later made it a true oddity.

But here, my new favorite cycle-centric oddity, courtesy of Joe Posnanski:

Henry Aaron -- The People's Champ -- never hit for the cycle in his legendary career. However, in three games, Aaron hit a home run, a triple, and a double -- but no single. Former Indians OF Ellis Burks and former Phillies 2B Manny Trillo join Aaron on this list -- never hit for the cycle but fell short by just the single three times.

In other news, through just 25 games, the Phillies have drawn ELEVEN bases-loaded walks. In a related story, the Phillies play in the same division as the Braves bullpen and the smoking crater in front of Oliver Perez's locker.

The Phils find themselves in first place in the NL East with a middling 14-11 record. In the first couple weeks of the season, I was ready to concede that those fire-salin' Marlins were already playoff contenders this year -- mostly by virtue of their great young starting pitchers -- but they proceeded to phace-plant in a series against the Phils and haven't really recovered yet. Reports of the Braves' and Mets' bullpen-fueled resurgence have thus far been somewhat exaggerated.

Over in the AL, there is something I feel the need to document: your first-place teams are Toronto, Kansas City, and the Texas fuckin' Rangers.

I still don't really believe it either.

I'm apparently one of very few people who believe the Rangers can contend for the division this season. Of course they can still hit the ball all over hell and creation, but I barely recognize their pitching in the past week or two. Largely because of the health of their starters and the influence of new pitching coach Mike Maddux, Rangers games have actually become relatively tidy affairs rather than the five-hour bomb-a-thons they've been in recent years.

With an offense that I think is better than last year's powerhouse (with the additions of a productive Nelson Cruz, a suddenly non-comatose Andruw Jones, a Jarrod Saltalamacchia who's starting to look like the player he was supposed to be when he got here, plus full seasons of Chris Davis and Hank Blalock), the Rangers don't need great pitching. Which is fine -- they won't get it. But with their improved defense (most notably with minus defender Michael Young moved to third to make room for plus defenders Elvis Andrus and Omar Vizquel at SS), if they can manage a team ERA under 5 (it's currently 5.27, but 3.23 in the past 7 games, so you can see the sample-picking issues at work here), this team could certainly win the measly 85 games it'll likely take to win the morgue of an AL Western Division. Derek Holland has already been called up and is being worked gradually into higher-leverage relief situations, and top prospect Neftali Feliz is also waiting in the wings in case the pitching takes another downturn.

I'm not going to bother dissecting the Blue Jays' success. If they win the AL East, I'll eat the SkyDome.*

*No one will actually be eating the Rogers Centre.

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Manny Cheats Benefactor Boras?

Manny being Manny being a cheater being suspended being infertile being a woman -- it's already been beaten halfway to the Earth's core, and I just found out about it a few hours ago.

The 50-game suspension will cost Ramirez approximately $7.65M, of which Scott Boras' typical 5% commission* is $382,500. How could Manny do this to Boras, after all Boras has done for him?!?

(If you're scoring at home -- or even if you're alone -- that would be "completely demolish Manny's reputation, while separating him from his friends/teammates, the best-run team in baseball, the most favorable park in baseball for a right-handed hitter and lousy defender in left field, and the league's most obstreperously loyal fan base -- for a scant $5M over the course of 2 years.")

*I have read that Boras' commission is sometimes 6%, but it's usually 5% and I can't find evidence that Manny's contract is any different than any other deals Boras has negotiated.

I'm left to wonder whether Boras-negotiated contracts include a provision that, should the client be forced to forfeit his salary, the agent shall still receive his commission on the forfeited salary. I'm sure Jon Heyman, the typewriter-slingin' caveman, is looking into it right now. And if he can't find out the info, he'll just make somethin' up!

One last thing for the conspiracists: Is there any way Manny gets suspended if Boras doesn't steer him out of Boston? With MLB's performance-enhancing drug investigation czar having been a part-owner of the Red Sox, it's looking more and more like the Red Sox have some sort of double-secret immunity from the league's steroids policy. A whole slew of former Red Sox players look awfully suspicious in retrospect, as detailed in this Simmons column in which he imagines that his 6-year-old son has better communication skills than the average sportswriter.

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Penguins Finally Win Game, I Punch Couch Repeatedly

If you give a team enough opportunities, eventually they'll score. Sure, it may take them almost 80 fucking minutes to do it, but they'll do it. The Caps, again, got out-played and out-hustled by a team that (channeling Steven A!) quite frankly, wanted to win more. And despite all that, the Caps still almost won the damn thing, tying it with a minute left and gaining some decent shots in overtime.

Again, Simeon Varlamov was the Capitals best player, and probably the best player on the ice. He stopped 12,468 shots, but three managed to get by him, including the game winner in overtime which was deflected, not by a Penguin, but by Caps defenseman Milan Jurcina.* Fucking oops.

Whatever. This series was never going to be a sweep. Not by the Capitals anyway. Their defense is simply not good enough for that. Their inability to clear the puck combined with a torrent of turnovers in their own end led to far too many chances for the Penguins. The only thing standing between the Caps and being down three games to none is Varlamov, with an assist to Alex Ovechkin.

Even with this deflating loss, the Caps can still take a commanding three games to one lead with a win on Friday night in Pittsburgh. That game, game four, will go a long way to deciding who will win this series. Will the Penguins tie the series up, or will the Caps push them to the brink of elimination?** Tune in to find out! I'm going to find something valuable to throw out a fourth story window.

*Jurcina also was involved in the Penguins first goal, deflecting a pass right back to the stick of the passer as Varlamov moved across the crease expecting the pass to go through. At least he managed to crush Sidney Crosby, who started crying to the refs in the middle of the check.

**Huh huh... I said "elimination."

Screw You, Screw Everyone

Playboy via the LA Times via CNNSI.com via fannation.com has a piece on how superagent (one word, apparently) and super douche (definitely two words) Scott Boras would change the World Series if it was up to him. He said:

I'd modernize it, make it five out of nine games, with the first two in a neutral city. Announce the MVP and Cy Young awards at a gala held between the playoffs and a new World Series weekend. Move the home-run contest from the All-Star game to that week too. The gala and home-run derby would lead to Game 1 of the Series on Saturday, with Game 2 on Sunday. Then the Series would go on with the final seven games in the Series teams' cities. This way, different places get part of the Series. I want the World Series in Pittsburgh, Texas, Seattle. Teams in those markets would sell more season tickets. World Series weekend would be a major stage for corporate events; it could advance the game to the next level.

You know what? This is a great idea! And I feel a bit dirty saying that.

Still, I am on record somewhere in this vast series of tubes as saying that baseball should revamp it's playoff structure. Boras' ideas about the World Series are generally in keeping with mine. The World Series is alright at seven games, but nine would be fine too. I would be in favor of a nine game World Series if they shortened the first two rounds.

As is now, four teams from each league make the playoffs. The team with the best record in each league should get a bye from the first round of the playoffs. The teams with the two worst records should play each other in a one game playoff in the team with a better record's city for the right to play a seven game series versus the team with the second best record.

Got all that?

Well who gives a shit, it's (still) hockey season! The Caps go for a three game lead in their series versus the flightless fowl tonight in Pittsburgh. Lori must be shaking in her stiletto shoes because she hasn't posted since the series began.

Ovechkin To Everyone: I Score On You Now

Talent wins. In all sports, this is the fact, Jack. Hustle is great and all, but talent can't be taught, it can't be learned, and if there's enough of it, it can't be stopped. The Washington Capitals/Pittsburgh Penguins series is all about the talent, and neither team can stop it. On Monday night the Capitals won with talent, plain and simple. The talent of Alex Ovechkin and Simeon Varlamov was just enough to overcome the talent of Sidney Crosby, and lead the Caps to a two games to none advantage in this series.

The thing about Ovechkin (and Crosby as well) is that even if you play everything the right way, sometimes you still can't stop him. Ovechkin's third goal was a one on one, and really, there was nothing either the defenseman nor the goalie could have done except hope he missed. He didn't miss, and his second goal wasn't much different from his first in that respect either.

Having great talent means not always having to play a perfect game to win. To borrow a phrase from the late*, great, Steven A! Smith, TO BE HONEST**, the Caps have been a mess defensively throughout the playoffs. They've been turning the puck over in the neutral zone and giving up odd man rush after odd man rush. Only the goaltending of Simeon Varlamov, who has stopped numerous shots that 'should have' been goals, has kept the Caps in games. But you can't win unless you score, and Ovechkin has taken care of that, often single-handedly.

Even with the Capitals up two games, this series is going seven. There's too much talent on both sides for it not to.

*In lieu of flowers, send cheez doodles.
**Probably my favorite of Steven A!'s Steven-A-isms because it implies he's usually dishonest.

Penguins Act Like Turkeys, Dive Like Swans, Taste Like Chicken

In my initial discussion of THE SAVE with Matty, he said his favorite aspect of it was that Greg Louganis Sidney Crosby started to celebrate the goal as he skated out of the frame on TV, as though it was simply impossible that he hadn't just scored. Indeed, at first blush, that's what appears to have happened, but upon further review, Crosby isn't celebrating a perceived goal, but gesturing to the official who was indicating "no goal." (Scroll down and watch the clip.)

Therein is much of the story of the Crosby-era Penguins, and it was on display during tonight's spectacular Game 2. In addition to Crosby's continued carping to the officials, on Alex Ovechkin's third goal, the puck had barely even crossed the goal line before Matt Cooke started whining to the nearest official about some perceived obstructive behavior on Alex Semin's part. (Looked to me like two guys trying to go opposite directions and running into each other.)

Unless you're a Pens fan (and thus indoctrinated to the universal purity of spirit of every single thing the Pens do by by sycophantic broadcaster Paul Steigerwald) you've noticed Crosby's and Cooke's appeals were not isolated incidents: The team makes an expectation of a certain level of assistance from the referees. It's reflected by the behavior of the fans in Pittsburgh: watch games 3 and 4 and take note that the loudest reaction from the crowd accompanies not a Crosby goal or a Marc-Andre Fleury save, but a Penguin falling down someplace without a referee raising his arm.

After Crosby scored again tonight by batting a puck into the net out of mid-air, I am now very close to admitting he does indeed have magical powers. All the more reason he should require no special concessions from the on-ice officials. Less brayin', more playin'.

OK, baseball time now. Hey, former Phils toolshed Greg Golson* has been called up by the Rangers!

*Yes, in the past dozen years or so, MLB has now had a Greg Olson, a Gregg Olson, and a Greg Golson.

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Jesus Saves, Gretzky Scores!

If you are even a casual hockey fan you've probably seen by now what people were calling "The Save" eight seconds after it happened. In case not, I've included it below. I'm not sure it's the best save I've ever seen, but if it isn't then it's damn close.

As is often the case with great plays (defined as great plays we remember), the situation it occurred in made it even greater. A quick recap. With the Caps leading 2-1, Varlamov gave up a bad goal. It was a shot from just inside the blue line which, despite the fact that it wasn't screened or deflected, eluded his glove hand just enough to carom into the goal and tie Game 1 of the series. So, with the score 2-2, the Penguins came in on a break away. The puck was passed back and forth several times with the end result being Caps goalie Simeon Varlamov outside the far corner of the crease and Sidney Crosby with the puck outside the near corner about five feet from scoring the Penguins third goal of the game. Then this happened:





Call it luck, call it blind luck, call it opportunity, call it "Ralph" if you wish, but one way or the other that was one hell of a save. Sometimes a series will have one salient moment, one truly outstanding point where the entire series turns in the direction of one team. Often those points only show up in retrospect.*

We'll likely look back at Varlamov's save as such a salient point in the series only if the Capitals go on to win. If the Penguins come back and win the series "The Save" will likely be forgotten. Just another data point to support the fact that playoff hockey can take your breath away.

*Last night the Hurricanes appeared to score a third goal to make the score 3-0 with 0.2 seconds remaining in the second period. As the play went to replay to see if the puck crossed the goal line, BMFS and I speculated that if it was not called a goal the Bruins would certainly come back and tie the score. It was not, and they did not. Had they you would certainly have heard both of us trumpet our powers of prediction. Since they did not come back, this was reduced to a foot note. Ah, the power of having your own blog.

Billy Mays For Varlamov (edited for humor)

Hey gang! Billy Mays here for Varlamov, the newest, bestest, strongest, cleaningest cleaning product you'll ever need! Varlamov will wash away all your stains, all your dirt, all your spills with ease! Grease? No problem, with Varlamov! Just a little bit of Varlamov puts grease on the run!

But what about your nastiest, your most disgusting and puke-inducing stains? Like Malkin! No problem with Varlamov! Varlamov washes even Malkin away with ease! Just a little bit of Varlamov and your grimiest slimiest gloopiest Evgeniiest Malkin disappears without a trace! You'll never even know Malkin was there in the first place!

Varlamov is the go-to solution for the filtiest, nastiest, foulest, most soiled, most polluted, most contemptible contamination! Yes, even your most horrendous and downright befouled and profane smut like Sidney Crosby cringes and cowers in the face of Varlamov!

Varlamov: the cleaniest cleaning cleaner you'll ever need! Order today!

Roses Have Thorns, Eh

I'm not much for hockey history, but I'll admit to being saddened when I read today that Canadiens great and Hall of Famer Guy Lafleur is facing a potential 14 years in prison for giving contradictory evidence at his son's bail hearing. This hasn't been a good week for the Canadiens.

I never saw Lafleur play, so I can't comment on his greatness, and to be honest I have no idea what position he played. If the article linked above didn't list it, I probably wouldn't even know which team he played for. To me, Lafleur is great because of his participation in one of the greatest commercials of all time. Sad as it is that he is facing jail time, it presents a great opportunity to post this:



Have a cold one for The Flower today, eh.