(The Average Fan, the master of suspense, ladies and gentleman!!! I will now just sit here and wait for an offer from MTV to do the “Next time on the Jersey Shore 2″ video montages this fall. I am way too excited for this show. It can’t be healthy. The fact that I’ll be starting college in Miami this fall doesn’t help either. I know they have already filmed everything, but there still is an off-chance I’ll buy J-Woww shots at 3 a.m. in some seedy nightclub in Southe Beach two month from now. Don’t rule it out. But we’re getting off track. Where were we? LeBron. Free Agency. Crushing Cleveland fans. Alright. Got it.)

I can’t remember anything like this.

There haven’t been this many unnamed sources since… since … well … EVER!!! There are new hints, twists and turns seemingly every minute. Everybody wants to know where the most coveted free agent in the history of sports will play next year. Sports journalists, anchors, radio hosts. They are all basically willing to do anything short of actually selling their intestines for reporting the next nugget. But can you blame them?

Time to say goodbye?

Nope, because, if there is anything that’ll make the internet, stock market and possibly a whole state collapse  in a matter of minutes, it’s LeBron announcing his decision in a little less than an hour. At this point I am so LeBronized I am not even sure if he is picking a team or if he is running for president.

(I already feel terrible for Cavs fans, no matter what the King’s decision will be. They have been on pins and needles for weeks now and by deciding to make a one-hour-special and announce his decision on national televsion, LeBron has basically put on a medieval hangman’s cowl and guided every Cavs fan to the gallows. This won’t end well. Soembody tell Obama to send up the national guard to Ohio as a precautionary measure. I am not sure if that’s enough though.)

The beauty (That is if you are no Knicks, Bulls, Heat and especially no Cavaliers fan) of the whole thing is that we don’t know what will happen. Most people think he will go to Miami. But can we really be sure he wants to be the Robin to Wade’s Batman!? (The Master of suspense strikes again trying to rope you into believing that there still is some chance he might not go to Miami after all. I could keep people tuned for you, MTV!!! What are you guys waiting for!? Sign me, goddammit!)

The answer is no. Nobody knows. Maybe LeBron doesn’t even know yet (highly unlikely, but still in play)!?

There is no precedent for this, no protocol.

It’s a TV event unlike anything we have ever seen. It’s a milestone in sports marketing and free agency. It is the ultimate indicator of today’s zeitgeist: Squeeze the last dime out of every opportunity. Market yourself until you turn purple and use the globalization, social media and the 24/7 news circle as a tool to build your own “brand”. I won’t judge it. It’s smart if you ask me. Now is it immoral? Maybe. Does it shock me? No. We were headed for this.

But you know what we are heading for now? That’s right! A live-running diary!

So without further ado let’s turn it over to live-coverage from a cozy one-family house somewhere in Austria.

2:55 a.m.: AAAAAaaaaaannnnndddd we’re live!!!

2:57 a.m.: Wow, Jon Barry just verbally slapped Kobe in the face by mentioning that LeBron is the best player in the NBA. That can’t go over well in Bryant’s camp. Don’t be surprised if you wake up next to a dead horse head tomorrow, Jon.

3:03 a.m.: I will put the over/under for hours of sleep for Chris Broussard at 20 for this past week and I will pound the under. We should be able to bet on these things. Just like we should be able to bet on stuff like “Who’s suit was the most expensive” and “Who shined up the old eight ball the most”.

3:07 a.m.: Am I the only one who is sad that Bosh leaves the only team in the NBA that is the perfect fit in terms of team logo for him!? I mean does he not look exactly like a Raptor? That has to account for something, right!? No? Ok.

3:12 a.m.: Right now the strongest argument for Bron choosing Chicago is that he changed his number to 6. Why else would he do that? It can’t be just, because he wants to sell more jerseys, can it!? Oh, wait we are talking about NBA players here. So maybe it IS just to cash in one more time.

3:16 a.m.: Clean sweep for Miami among Wilbon, Broussard and Barry. I feel bad for Cleveland fans, but there absolutely should be a live stream from a few random Cleveland houses right now. Like you wouldn’t watch fans at the edge of their seats, ready to collapse in the blink of an eye. On second thought that would be the cruelest TV show ever. So scratch that. Whoops, I hope I didn’t just give a FOX executive an idea there.

3:22 a.m.: Finally, LeBron. He looks like an oversized tennis ref on that chair. Did they take those bar stools with them after they finished partying in South Beach? Oh snap! Did you see what I just did? Yes you did. Yes you did.

3:25 a.m.: Bron tells us that he didn’t decide until this morning. I have a hard time believing that. I would believe that he grew that James Harden beard in two days before I believe that he made the biggest decision of his life some 12 hours ago.

3:27 a.m.: HOLY S***!!! He just made the decision. It’s Miami! MIAMI!!! I really expected him to say Cleveland. Then again I have a soul.

3:30 a.m.: His heart may be around this area, but he can NEVER EVER go back to Ohio.

3:31 a.m.: He will still live in Ohio? Really? REALLY? That is the ballsiest move ever. The over/under for claybricks smashing through his window “Remember the Titans” -style is at 4 per week. Over.

3:34 a.m.: Did I mention that I’ll be starting college in Miami this fall? Ahhhww yeah!!! I’ll have the chance to go to a virtual All Star game every other day. Then again the arena won’t be half empty anymore now. So maybe I’ll just have to hope catching a glimpse of LeBron while partying in South Beach. Oh well.

3:38 a.m.: They just showed the reaction in a bar in Miami and Cleveland. The joy in Miami seemed contrived and the bar seemed half empty. Not a good sign if you’re LeBron. Contrived and half empty. Maybe I’ll get a cheap season ticket after all. The scene in the Cleveland bar was classic. The old “Rrrrrhhhaaaawwwww NOOOOOOOO!!!!!”. Poor people. That’s too much suffering for one region. It’s not even funny anymore.

3:43 a.m.: I give Pat Riley one month before he gives Spoelstra the “Alright you had your fun little buddy now step aside and let Daddy handle the big boys”- move. It’ll happen. Just wait.

3:47 a.m.: LeBron is getting more uncomfortable by the minute. Stuttering. Fidgeting. Nervous.

3:48 a.m.: If he wanted a ring he should have gone to Chicago. Obviously. He chose partying with friends over winning a ring. That’s fine. Every 24 year-old would have done that. Fits perfectly with the rest we know about LeBron: Loves jokes about farts, gregarious, still hangs with his high school buddies. So in the end it was the logical move for him.

3:52 a.m.: First time James seemed to get choked up when they showed people burn his jersey in Cleveland. I can’t tell if the reaction was real. But I sure hope he wasn’t surprised. He just decaptivated an entire state on national television. And he didn’t do it to win a ring, but to play pickup and party with his friends.

3:56 a.m.: I got a cold shiver running down my back when they showed old James highlights to the tune of Eminem’s “Not afraid”. I can only imagine the pain Cavs fans are feeling right now. I don’t think I’ve ever been more glad to be a Boston fan.

4:00 a.m.: Did LeBron just suggest that Joel Anthony might have to make an important basket? Are we sure he is not intoxicated? I am searching for a hip flask looming somewhere in his hand right now.

4:03 a.m.: I just noticed that Broussard is missing. Did he collapse from sleep deprivation or did ESPN have to hose him down after LeBron made his decision? Where is Chris? I am genuinely worried.

Watch out South beach the party King has arrived!

4:07 a.m.: So after more than an hour of LeBron. It’s time for a conclusion/verdict: Like I said earlier LeBron chose having fun vs winning (Chicago)/loyalty (Cleveland)/greatness (New York). He wanted to play with his friends, enjoy Miami’s nightlife and weather and not carry the whole load anymore. Translation: I don’t care about winning, I just want to have fun and a good time.  I should rephrase that: Maybe he talked himself into having the best shot at winning in Miami, but the reality is that joining the Bulls would’ve meant title after title. I am not saying that he won’t win one or two down there, but the number is definitely limited. In Chicago? He could have built a true dynasty. Only time will show if his decision was the right one.

04:16 a.m.: Alright, that’s it. The King is gone and the jester needs to follow. The next time I’ll be writing about LeBron I will hopefully be in a closer proximity. Maybe I’ll even be able to watch the 2008 Olympic team first hand. Until then, hang tight and always keep a fan’s perspective!

No related posts.

It’s like being on an emotional roller coaster ride. (Well, for most sports fans. Sorry, Orioles fans. For you guys it’s more like being stuck in that one bumper car that doesn’t work and is being tormented by all other cars.) Every loss can ruin your day as much as a win can save it.

So with every game you watch you attach yourself more and more to that team. You feel like you know the players. You feel a sort of special connection. You’re the first one to notice when something is wrong with your guys and the last one to leave the arena or your TV screen when things do go astray.

In short, being a sports fan takes a lot of effort. It takes a lot out of you.

You go to the games, you watch them on TV, or online. You read box scores and sift through copious amounts of news and analysis on your team and their opponents. You become almost like a scout, a part of the staff or better a part of the team.

And while all that might take a toll on your body — Personally I feel like I have shortened my lifespan about 2-3 years following these 2010 NBA playoffs. Take all the sleep deprivation and all those “near-heart-attack-Oh-my-Lord-that -was-close!-moments” during the games and what you earn is a heart the size of a melone and arteries that are more clogged than a high school toilet. And don’t even get me started on all the unhealthy food you put into your body while watching games. Heck, I probably ate more cereal this month alone than Tony the Tiger ever did. — and your mind — With wins and losses prompting moodswings that are about as inexplicable to bystanders as Ron Artest’s behavior at post game interviews. — you always hope and sometimes even know that in the end it will be all worth it.

Uhmm, or not.

My wounds are still fresh so take this with a grain of salt, but in my opinion the worst possible feeling you can experience as a sports fan is losing a championship. It’s like running a marathon and cramping up ten feet before the finish line. Yes you made it far, but you didn’t make it. (If that makes sense.) It’s the sports equivalent of enduring foreplay with your spouse only to get blown off once you’re ready to get to the main course. It’s horrible. Like Ricky Bobby once said: “If you ain’t first, you’re last, son! Oh yeah and eff the Lakers!”

Ok, I made the second part up, but you get my point:  Losing sucks. While losing over a period of time sucks even more,  after a while you just get used to it and accept it. But losing a champioship, when you already have your hopes raised into dwindling heights only to have them chrushed by the cruel thunderbolt of fate, sucks more than Jenna Haze.  (Hey, nobody said this is going to be pretty. I am still in mourning, anger and disbelief mode all at the same time. And if I have to have one more Laker fan tell me that coming in second isn’t bad either, I might elbow him in the face Dwight Howard-style.)

But wait, we’re getting ahead of us. Let’s take a walk back on memory lane and see how everything started:

After losing 7 of their last 10 regular season games and setting a record for most blown fourth quarter leads in a regular season (Phil Jackson that “word that rhymes with crick” even used that stat during a timeout in Game 5) there was little to no hope entering the playoffs. Even as Doc Rivers and the rest of the team stuck to their mantra. (I am paraphrasing here so stay with me: “We are great if we’re all healthy so just wait till we get in the playoffs and kick some ass.”)

And amazingly enough they did just that. I had them as a first round out (and I’m even one of the more optimistic fans out there), but they proved just about everybody wrong when they made quick work of the lowly Heat in 5. (A team that should just rename itself “The Wades” already. After all why stop at changing Dade County to Wade County!? Go the whole nine yards, will ya!)

Even though Wade put on a staggering performance, hitting shots that seemed to defy every physics law there is, the Celtics were too much for Miami. They even got some of that ‘08 swagger back when Quentin Richardson got into a tussle with KG. By all means it was no convincing performance by the team in green, but they were just getting started.

Next up was Cleveland, a team that was primed once again to meet the Lakers in the Finals, but the C’s were not in the mood to roll over in front of the “King”.(That’s right I put that in quotation marks! Maybe Skip Bayless was right all these years.) Of course with all the frontrunners out there, just about every NBA expert had the C’s go out against the Cavs. (Not me by the way, I was even going to write a post titled “Why the Celtics will win”, but I ran out of time and never was able to finsih it. What you don’t believe me? How dare you? I swear I was going to write that! Why does no one believe me?)

And then Game 2 happened.

Then the Rondo triple double happened.

Then the “Who is that wearing Nr.23 and what they do with LeBron?” game happened.

And finally “Where suddenly being in the Eastern Conference Finals” happened.

Waiting for the Cinderellas in green was a Magic team that had put up gaudy numbers through two rounds by abusing the bottomfeeders of the playoffs. They were an upset ready to happen.

The Celtics, still blossoming in the role of the underdog (a role that is always easier than that of the favorit — no pressure, nobody-believes-in us-factor and nothing to lose and everything to gain), took it to the Magic early and often. They went up 3-0 against Orlando, dismantling them on their own home court twice in the process. Those first three games were highlighted by Vince Carter gagging like Jen…uhm let’s not go too far here, after all kids might be reading this…, Dwight Howard throwing elbows left and right like nobody’s business (even lulled Big Baby to sleep once) and Rashard Lewis MIA-ing (Scroll down to playoffs and check out his numbers against Boston. H-O-R-R-E-N-D-O-U-S!) so badly that it prompted me to check if he wasn’t smiling down from some milk carton. The C’s would eventually wrap it up in 6, but not before letting the Magic stay alive long enough that even I was getting nervous they might write history on the wrong end and become the first NBA team to blow a 3-0 lead.

But after the dust settled I finally came to grips with what had happened. My team was in the NBA Finals for the second time in three years. Now they even had a chance to go up against their biggest archrival, a team that every Celtics fan despises, and deny them the trophy one more time.

It was a run that was too good to be true. You had the canny vets who wanted to cement their place in history with one more ring — Pierce, Garnett, R. Allen. You had the young guns who were finally on par with and in some cases even better than the vaunted Big Three — Rondo, Perkins. And finally you had this rag-tag group of characters, players that had been labeled as headcases and uncochable in the past — Wallace, players that had never been in a winning environment — Robinson, and players that still wanted and needed to proved that they belonged on this team — Davis, T. Allen. (And then you had Sheldon Williams, but let’s not get into that or else I might write some things I might regret.)

And you had all of them playing as a true team. The starters we’re rooting on the bench players. The bench players taking pressure off the starters by putting up solid numbers and displaying great defensive effort. No bitching at teammates, no stink-eyes directed at teammates, no complaining about playing time, no nothing. It seemd like we had caught lightning in a bottle. The right cast of players, showing up at precisely the right time, with the right coach to guide them and the right system for their talents.

Everything was all right in Celtic country.

But then the C’s got clobbered in Game 1. It seemed like all the analysts had been right. “The Lakers have too much length. They have too many weapons for Boston too handle. The Celtics are old. Yada yada yada” even though my confidence was shaken I knew better than to put too much weight on one game. I wouldn’t overreact like everybody else.

So I put on my green lucky Red Sox shirt (Which I hadn’t washed all throughout the playoffs. Needless to say I watched most of the games alone.) and anxiously awaited Game 2, more than happy to watch it at a normal time on a regular TV instead of keeping myself awake with so much  Red Bull and coffee pulsating through my venes that it might be illegal , crammed in front of my tiny computer at 3 a.m. in the morning. (During the NBA Finals I visited relatives in Florida. Thus explaining the lack of posts. Forgive me loyal readers and spam bots.)

And boy, oh boy, my lucky T-shirt and Ray Allen had come to play. Jesus Shuttleswort had prompted Mike Breen to seven “BANGs” in the first half alone by scorching the Lakers from behind the arc. It was one of those games where you knew something special was happening and you were becoming part of history in the process. He only made one more in the second half, nevertheless breaking the Finals record for most threes in a game. The Celts would hang on to win it, but they let the Lakers hang around even though Allen had a record-setting-night. I should have seen the red flags right there, but I was blinded by loyalty and still believing. Especially now that the series shifted back to Boston with both teams tied.

Game 3 was a different story though. The C’s looked sloopy and undetermined. The defense was spotty and so was the effort. Nevertheless they were in it till the end, but nobody was able to make shots for the Celtics and so the Lakers took Game 3 for the 2-1 lead.

While my nervousness was rising I still had this weird confidence that the Celtics would win Game 4. Maybe it was just wishing, but I couldn’t picture this team going out easily. It just didn’t fit. Not for this team. Not this season.

It was a dogfight. Not pretty, but competitive and close. These were two even teams, clawing and fighting for a W. Then Kobe went off in the third. Shot after shot went in, one more ridiculous than the other. But then Big Baby went crazy. I mean literally insane. (I am 96% sure they had to hose him down afterwards.) Grabbing rebounds in traffic, tipping balls in and hustling up and down the court. He even gave us the best unintentional comedy clip of these Finals when he scored, got fouled and screamed at the top of his lungs while drooling … well … like a Big Baby. The Celtics hung on to the lead, with Doc Rivers trusting his bench and leaving them in about as long as you can leave them in without getting lynched by the crowd and evened the series at two apiece. It was on.

Then everything went the C’s way in Game 5. Pierce put on a showcase performance. Rondo had plays that made you hold your breath. Garnett came through. It was just a sound all around performance by a team that was on the verge of winning it all.

I thought we had it. I simply couldn’t picture the Celtics losing two in a row. I somewhat anticipated the Game 6 loss. It was a classic letdown performance. Vintage 2010 Celtics. They had one against the Cavs (Game 3) and one against the Magic (Game 5). Games where you think you just have to show up and cash in the W.

Still I ignored all those red flags. I just had this strange feeling that this was a team of destiny. Even though the Celtics were without Perkins, I could still hear Doc Rivers in the back of my mind: “This starting lineup has never lost a series.” A statement so staggering, so captivating and above all so true! (In hindsight it still holds true. Perkins wasn’t there and he might have been more valuable than all of us could’ve ever imagined. I just ignored it. Maybe I wanted to ignore it. But we are getting ahead of ourselves again.)

We had come too far to let it slip through.

Or so I thought.

My recollections of June 17th 2010 are about as cloudy as those of February 3rd 2008. The two worst losses in my life as a sports fan.

Fast forward to the closing minutes: The Celtics had possessed a double digit lead and had given it away, because they weren’t able to make baskets for 5 solid minutes. I don’t have to look this stuff up. It’s etched into my mind forever like “Always look both ways before you cross the street” or “Don’t run with scissors”.

The Lakers were up by two possesions late. Then Shed hits a three. Artest answers with a trey (aka. the Dagger). Then Allen from the corner with three. Kobe bricks one and then…

… the most important rebound of the ballgame …

…ends up in Gasol’s hands.

Bryant gets fouled and makes both freebies.

There is still enough time left.

Then Rondo gets a rebound off an Allen miss and hits a miraculous three. My exact thoughts at that point were: ” If Rondo of all people makes a three, in the clutch no less, there is no way we can lose this game. We just can’t!” I was still hopeful, but in retrospect maybe it was less hopefulness and more refusal to succumb to reality. (Like that, huh!? I didn’t take psychology in high school for nothing.)

There are 16.2 seconds left. My hands are shaking. I am still in “Don’t-stop-believing-mode”. I just can’t let go. Every sense of objectivity is already out the window.

LA for the inbound after a timout. If this miracle is going to happen for Boston then they steal the ball right here. Pictures of Bird stealing the ball and the legendary call that goes with it flash through my mind.

But no. Not for me. Not here. Not now. I don’t get a “Bird-steals-the-ball-moment”.

Vucjacic gets the inbound and goes to the line. He is as ice cold as winter in Austria. This is the last stand right here.

First one. Money. Second one. In the bank.

That’s game.

An emptiness that I only knew from February 3rd 2008 suddenly overcomes me. I let my guard down. But there was no going back once I hoped on the hope-train. I rode it and it crashed. Went up in flames just like KG’s, Allen’s and Pierce’s dreams of a second ring.

A golden opporunity (literally) missed. A Cinderella story with no Happy End.

In one word: harsh.

Which brings us full circle to that worst feeling in sports.

Losing a championship.

Eventually I’ll get over it, but it will remain a dark stain on my still relatively clean slate of fandom. LA won. Deservedly. They played better, smarter and hustled more when it matter most.

A tough pill to swallow.

BUT…

Just let the record show, that not Andrew Bynum, not Phil Jackson and certainly not Kobe Bryant won the Lakers their 16th championship, but that a lunatic from Queensbridge sealed the deal for LA.

So chew on that Los Angeles!

No related posts.

Love everything about it.

The esthetics of a well-executed fast break or an impeccable jump shot. The beauty of a perfect bounce pass or methodical pick and roll basketball. The tenacity of going for a rebound or completely shutting down your opponent.

These are just some of the aspects I look for when I watch or play basketball.

But the thing I enjoy the most is passing and playing with passion.

Whether it’s playing basketball or any other teamsport (like soccer for example) I have always been one to obtain more satisfaction from setting up a teammate for a goal or basket than scoring myself. I have always taken great pleasure in doing all the “dirty” work. Like outhustling taller guys for rebounds or guarding the best guy on the other team. I love the look on their faces when I snatch a board even though they are two heads taller or steal the ball even though they have been playing basketball longer than I have walked. I try to do everything at 110 % intensity when I play. No matter if it is beating someone off the dribble and driving to the hole or threading the needle for a pass. It’s just in my DNA.

These are some of the things I do well and before I fall off my high horse here are the things I lack:

I can’t make a trey to save my life and by and large I am not a very consistent shooter thus passing up wide open j’s is a staple of mine. I will take chances on defense to go for the steal and get burned in the process.  Sometimes I am too hesitant, instead of just putting my head down and drive to the basket I will make one pass too many. You could say my unselfishness is my biggest flaw at times.

Now I know what you’re thinking.

“Why the eff is he telling me all that???”

The answer is simple.

I model my game after my favorite NBA player. From the pros right down to the cons. Probably more by accident than on purpose, but still.

This player had one of the greatest playoff performances ever on Sunday night. It made me realize once again why I idolize him so much and why he is currently ranked only behind Brady on my list of favorite Boston athletes (The complete list: 1.Brady, 2.Rondo, 3. Welker, 4.Pierce, 5.Garnett, 6.Allen, 7. Youkilis, 8. Pedroia,…, 131. Ortiz, 132. Drew.) It was unlike anything I have ever seen. An all around thing of beauty.

The player?

Rajon Rondo.

Or as he is more commonly known: The Future of Basketball in Beantown.

It was one of those games where you could see history unfold while watching. It was a truly epic act of brilliance. A work of art.

Like with a magnificent work of art you could see all the the small parts converging into one masterpiece. A single brush stroke of the Mona Lisa might not seem as sublime as the whole thing, but if you know how much thought and work went into that one little stroke it automatically equals the grandness of the entire picture.

Every one of his 29 points was a testimony of his incredible willpower and drive. Every one of his 18 rebounds was pure hustle and “wanting it more” (to use some commentator jargon). Every one of his 13 points was an act of unselfishness and being one step ahead of the defense.

Rajon Rondo has played his way into the top three of The Average Fan's favorite Boston players.

And the crazy thing is that I am not even exaggerating when I talk about Rondo’s playoff performance being one for the ages, which is a first considering that I am a) talking about a Boston player and b) a huge homer. But just to put things into perspective: The only players to have ever exceeded Rajon’s Game 4 outing in a playoff game in all three categories are (hold your breath…hold it… hold it.. ok read on)  Oscar Robertson (32, 19, 13)  and Wilt Chamberlain (29, 36, 13). Not bad company, ehy!? Nope, not bad company at all.

We saw glimpses of what Rondo is capable of in last year’s playoffs against the Bulls when he put a depleted defending champion on his back and carried them to four victories. He had 20 points or more in four games while shooting over .500 in four of the seven. He had double digit assists in five games and double digit rebounds in three. I’d call that putting yourself on the map, but there were still holes in his game back then.

Now? Not so much anymore.

Last year he would routinely pass up wide open 15-footers (Sounds familiar?) and make the wrong decisions at the wrong times – i.e. try to make a crazy, ill-advised pass rather than just beat guys off the dribble and force the refs to do their job – (Déjà-vu, anyone?). He just wasn’t ready yet.

This year he is ready. He will take that 15-footer now which forces opponents to play up on him. (Even though the Cavs aren’t actually doing that so far. They would still rather have him take the jumper than have him break ankle after ankle on his way to the cup. And it’s probabyl still the right tactic, but we are slowly entering “pick-your-poison-territory”.) Furthermore he knows when to pick his spots now. He has more of a feel for when it’s time to take over and when it’s time to be the facilitator (aka. Sign Nr.1 of true greatness) and he has his money shot (= a high percentage running floater in the lane) which he can get at seemingly anytime in the game. He is fearless, a very good defender and arguably the best rebounding point guard in the league. In short, a complete player and a point guard in the purest sense.

The direction is definitely up. But how far?

There is no doubt that Rondo is by far THE best player on this Celtics team. But the real question is “What is his ceiling?”. He is only 24 and already one of the five best point guards in the league. (I’d put him at Nr. 1, but I might be slightly biased.) Could he become one of the greatest point guards of all time in a couple of years? (Say, once he starts to knock down the trey with regularity, improves his free throw shooting and developes a reliable post-up game?)

I don’t know.

But I do know one thing.

Rondo has given Bostonians reason for hope. He is the sole reason why we are still in this series. (Well, him and LeBron’s apparent overconfidence/borderline cockiness in the first two games and his mysterious elbow injury.)

He gives the C’s a chance to win against a superior team with a deeper bench, more flexibility and the best player in the game.

I knew that going into this series, but I started believing it in Game 4 when his phenomenal all around performance culminated in a gorgeuos behind the back pass to Tony Allen on a fast break dunk. Rondo floated through the air, disregarded Mo Williams entirely as if he was going for the layup, had the incredible awareness to know exactly where LeBron was (who was chasing him down to execute his patented mega swat sending the ball off the backboard at around 130 mph), waited just long enough, then flicked the ball behind his back to a wide open Allen and left Bron Bron sailing by the basket.

I remember exulting with joy and thinking:

“WOW, THIS IS EXACTLY WHY I LOVE WATCHING THIS GUY!!! THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT I WANT TO BE LIKE AS A BASKETBALL PLAYER!!! THIS IS EXACTLY WHY WE HAVE A CHANCE!!!

And yes, I was thinking in capital letters.

No related posts.

I wonder…

…how many times a game LeBron will make me mutter “Jesus Christ!!!”, “Holy s****”!!! or some variation of that. I will put the over/under for the playoffs at 5.5 and pound the over.

Speaking of pounding:

…why Rose couldn’t get ANY calls from the refs. I mean he was worked like a freakin’ speed bag everytime he drove to the hoop.

While we’re on the refs:

…when the NBA will finally fix their referee issue. Well, at least NBA officials are consistent. Consistently atrorrible (atrocious + horrible = atrorrible or NBA ref). Anytime somebody or something causes a sports blogger to fuse two negative adjectives to describe them or it, you just know it’s bad.

…if this would work: One game (preferrably a playoff game, but can be a big regular season game too) without PA announcer, sound effects, music playing in between breaks, thunder sticks and all the other crap. (Excuse my language, but sometimes I just get too worked up about this shit. Whoops.) I mean do we really need “Walk it out” blarring from the speakers when somebody travels!? Do we really need the announcer to tell us when to chant D-E-H-H-F-E-E-E-N-S-S!? The answer is capital N capital O or NO. We are smart enough to know when to get on our feet and when to keep our mouth shut. Wouldn’t that be so much more fun!? This would open the door for a genuinely great and electric atmosphere. Let’s just try it for one game, huh!? Pleeeease!? I know it would work. Oh, well. Moving on.

…how we should call that one player that every opposing fan just despises. Every team has at least one guy like that. The Bulls have Joakim Noah. Cleveland has Anderson Varejao and the Hawks have Zaza Pachulia. The list is endless. The funny thing is that they are the same exact player too: high energy guy, does all the little things and the dirty work. But for some reason we just love to hate them. So we need a name for those guys. I am open for sugesstions, but until we have anything better I will call them “the Newman gang” (i.e. Joakim Noah is a member of the Newman gang). We all know, watch and love Seinfeld, but we all hate Newman, only we don’t quite know why. Thus, the “Newman gang”. Try to come up with a better pop culture analogy in 5 minutes. You can’t!

Speaking of Zaza:

Mick never came...

…why Pachulia always looks like he stumbled onto the court after being Manny Paquiao’s sparring partner for three straight hours while not wearing the protective headgear. I always wait for him to scream: “Cut me Mick!!! Cut me!!!”

…what Mike Bibby took. The guy has come back from the dead to make every shot. I was waiting for Ashton Cutcher to jump on the court and tell everybody that they’re on “Pranked” and that it’s just Stephen Curry wearing a Mike Bibby mask. Oddly enough that never happened. Someone make Bibby pee in a cup right now!

...and neither did Ashton.

…why Scott Skiles let Jennings rot on the bench for what felt like an eternity at the beginning of the fourth quarter. You don’t bench your best player when you are within striking distance of staging a miraculous comeback. I don’t care what he did to you. You just don’t do that.

…why the first two games where so eerily similar. In both cases it seemed like we were heading for a blowout with the underdog slowly creeping up on us as the game wore on, only to never quite get over the hump.

…why I haven’t smashed my computer with a two-by-four yet. After half an hour of randomly tinkering with the settings the internet finally works again. My computer, everybody! Where haply internet shortages happen!

…how NASCAR wants to draw more attention to their “sport” with ads like the one in grey and blue. At first I was just confused. Then I thought that it was a “Citi” commercial and in the end I was baffled again. I don’t know if that is the way to go, NASCAR. You might want to work on that ad campaign. Just sayin’.

…how this could ever happen: Here is our beginning of the second quarter lineup for the Celtics -> Big Baby Davis, Shed, Tony Allen, Ray Allen, Michael Finley. -> Time to break out the hip flask, baby!

…where Beasley ranks among the biggest draft busts. He has to be right up there with Marvin Williams, right!?

…how much more desperate the NBA can become with selling the WNBA to us. Basketball is basketball! No, actually the NBA is basketball and the WNBA is a layup drill. Glad we settled that.

…how a C’s team that plays like a 50’s college team managed to be a 4 seed in 2010. They play beneath the rim. They are slow and unathletic with no display of energy or intensity whatsoever. I wouldn’t be surprised if Shed came out of the break sucking on a Marlboro Red.

…if there is any way that Wade doesn’t score 30 a game against the Celts. He is beating them silly right now. I bet he could post a triple-double against them with his right hand tied to his ankle and a millstone around his neck.

…if the Boston medical staff replaced KG’s knees with a combination of high-tech springs and shock absorbers. He sure seems to have his hops back. The first semblance of good news for C’s fans this evening.

…if Hubie Brown ever didn’t like what a coach said during a timeout. Doc Rivers could be arguing the benefits of communism in the huddle and Hubie would like it. Gotta love him.

…what has gotten into Tony Allen. He looks…uhm…what’s the word…cooo…cooommpp..competent…that’s it competent! Dare I say that I like Rivers playing him big minutes tonight!?

…if we are one or two Paul-Pierce-threes away from the roof blowing off the TD Banknorth Garden. Great crowd!

…wonder if the Celtics rigged the rims. We are getting all the rolls tonight. Every Heat shot/layup/dunk attempt is dancing off the iron. Home court advantage, ladies and gentleman!!!

…why Mike Tirico refers to a cloudy day with no trace of sunshine as a “nice day”. I guess he’s right, though. After all we are talking about Denver here. Every day without snow is a victory. Same goes for Austria by the way.

…why it seems like the Celtics are getting involved in a mini-brawl every other day. Stern will make them pay for this one, that’s for sure. The refs will be calling against the Celts all night long on Monday. Mark my words.

The Average Fan is still wondering how all the C's were able to fit into the DeLorean.

…why KG isn’t smart enough to know that getting involved in altercations during the playoffs is just plain stupid/ borderline insane. I love “the Big Ticket” and I am all for some bad blood, but you have to gage the situation correctly. Not only was he tossed from the game, but he also gift-wrapped free throws for the Heat in a very close game. Plus, you know there is a suspension looming. Oh, Kevin. (shaking my head sadly)

…how the Celtics managed to hop in the DeLorean to pull off a vintage 2008 defensive performance. Finally they showed some life and staged a nice little comeback. Does that mean they’ll go past the second round? Of course not. But at least they put up a fight. That’s all I am asking.

…if it’s a bad sign if my eye starts twitching. My guess is yes. Hence, head meet pillow and reader meet Part 2 coming tomorrow.

No related posts.

You can’t quite tell by looking outside, because just a few days ago it was freakin’ snowing (Yup, Austria, land of the mountains and crazy weather phenomenons.), but there is one surefire sign that points to a more pleasant time of the year.

Baseball is back.

It’s opening night for America’s favorite pastime. And the first game is none other than the greatest rivlary in all of sports.

Red Sox-Yankees.

‘Nuff said.

So what better occasion than that to break out the first running diary of 2010.

My co-pilot for this game is my buddy Pete. (He is one of the lucky few who have ESPN America. You could call him a choosen one. Good thing I don’t have it otherwise I would probably never see the daylight again.) We are watching at his place which is also coincidentally Madden 2010 central.

But enough chit-chat. Here is what transpired:

(Note: The time is obviously Central European Time so if you are reading this from the U.S. just add 6 hours.)

01:55 a.m.: After Pete beat me like a drum in Madden, a long and uncomfortable promoting of Dr. Dre’s headsets comes to a close. LeBron was his partner in crime and praised them like they were the biggest invention since sliced bread. In other news: Curt Schilling finally stopped babbling away. He does these weird hand signs approximately 536 times in a row while trying to explain why a 1-2 count is so much better than a 2-1 count for a pitch. It should have taken him 2 senteces max to express that. Curt does it in 23. But the hand signs are especially mesmerizing to watch. Could it be that Schilling has joined a street gang and hasn’t told anybody!? Also, both Schilling and LeBron need to work on their TV appearance. They were painful to watch.

02:00 a.m.: We are minutes away from the first pitch. Our illustrious gang of announcers today: Joe Morgan, John Miller and Orel Hershiser.

02:08 a.m.: Off we gooooooooo!!!

02:10 a.m.: Johnson pops one into center field, but Mike Cameron is there for the out. So far so good.

02:11 a.m.: 1-2-3 inning. The all-defense strategy has paid off. At least for one inning. I’m still skeptical…

02:12 a.m.:Pete is asleep. Didn’t even catch the first pitch. Good times.

02:14 a.m.: Jacoby Ellsbury or as I call him Wilmer Valderrama’s illegitimate son rips one into center field. Caught.

02:16 a.m.: First K for CC. He looks sharp. Worry-o-meter is at 6 out of 10 and climbing steadily.

02:18 a.m.: Joe Morgan tells us that Martinez and CC loved playing in Cleveland. Really???

02:20 a.m.: Victor bounces one off the first base bag. Teixeira handles it. Another 1-2-3 inning. Woohhoo.

02:22 a.m.: I can’t tell you how much commercial breaks on ESPN America suck. It’s the same self promotions and NHL history segments over and over. I never thought I owuld miss regular commercials. Thanks ESPN America!

02:24 a.m.: A-Rod pops one up. Beckett gets it and guns it to first for the out. He looks good. Slim and athletic. Well, maybe not athletic, but you know, baseball-athletic.

02:25 a.m.: Breaking news: McNabb to the Redskins. Poor Jason Campbell. It’sn ot his fault he had 43 different head coaches in 5 years.

02:27 a.m.: homer from Posada off of Pesky’s pole. Dammit all. The problem with this Sox team: The can’t afford to make mistakes on defense, because they don’t have enough offense. This breakdown was brought to you in part by the “John Madden sports analysis school”.

02:30 a.m.: I can’t even keep up with jotting down notes. Granderson homers. (Passed on him in my fantasy league. Double whammy.) Swisher singles. This is not good…

02:32 a.m.: Gardner hits a line drive down left field. Four hits in a row. Beckett is in free fall already. Did I jinx him in a matter of minutes by writing in a notebook that he looked good!?!? … (thinking) … Did I mention that CC looks awesome tonight? I did, right!? He is dynamite! Get him the Cy Young award right now!

02:35 a.m.: Jeter cranks one towards Scutaro who tosses it to second for the third out. Phew! Tough inning. Glad we have some great bats to catch up…oh wait…that’s right, we don’t!

02:40 a.m.: Totally agree with Orel: “You can’t win a nothing to nothing game.” What a wise man.

02:41 a .m.: Yooouuuuk with the double!!! I might have reached a bit for him in my draft, but I had my reasons. He is an OPS monster.

02:45 a.m.: Ortiz rolls one towards first. Glad he is here.

02:47 a.m.: Just noticed that Youkilis stole a base. Well, that’s what happens when you scribble down notes frantically while watching a live game without a TiVo or DVR.

02:48 a.m.: Beltre drives in the first run for the Sox. Liked that signing.

02:52 a.m.: With all the uncertainties in today’s ever evolving and changing world I find it comforting to know that there are some things you can always count on. Like Drew getting caught looking. In case you wondered, I conceived this sentence in advance. I am not even joking.

02:53 a.m.: Beckett walks Johnson. Worry-o-meter: 7.5.

02:57 a.m.:Sox turn the double play on Teixeira. There you go. That’s mroe like it.

02:59 a.m.: If I have to watch one more NHL history segment that I’ve already seen a million times there is a 70% chance I’ll ram my pen through my eye socket.

03:01 a.m.: Cameron draws a walk. Up next: Scutaro. Can you tell that it’s the bottom of the order?

03:04 a.m.: Line drive by Scutaro. Caught. A-Rod turns the double play. John Miller noted previously that while Mike Cameron is already 37 he can still run. I beg to differ. I could have crawled back faster to first.

03:06 a.m.: Third out. I wish you could feel the disgust with which I am writing this.

03:10 a.m.: Cano doubles to left field off the wall after Wilmer Valderrama’s illegitimate son blows the catch.

03:11 a.m.: Posada for the first out. That’s more like the Posada we know and love.

03:12 a.m.: Granderson skips one to first for the second out.

03:15 a.m.: 3-2 count. Swisher up. 2 outs. Fans on their feet … aaaaahhnd … ball. Great. Just great. Runners at first and third now.

03:18 a.m.: After throwing consecutive balls Beckett drills one by Gardner for strike number 2. Attaboy!

03:19 a.m.: Gardner milks the pitch count and slams one down center field. Yankees up 3-1.

03:21 a.m.: Jeter singles. 4-1 Yankees. Scutaro misses the diving stop. Doesn’t look like an elite defensive team to me. Not as advertised to say the least. Then again Beckett is going up in flames faster than my NCAA tournament bracket (As opposed to my NIT bracket, I guess. It’s late. Cut me some slack.)

03:24 a.m.: Jeter steals second. Gardner home. WHAT IS HAPPENING?!?!? (Sorry, but I just had to go all capps on you there.) Maybe Martinez should take less time inventing handshakes and more time going through the catcher manual.

03:25 a.m.: What am I saying!?!? I love Victor’s handshakes. You keep doing what you’re doing, Vic. But maybe hit a homer or two tonight. That would be great.

03:28 a.m.: CC back on the mound and right away all his 290 pounds are flying towards first (Which is like watching a lava lamp roll down the field. Mesmerizing to say the least.) to get Pedroia out after Teixeira makes a great play on the ball. To think that we could have gotten Teixeira… We could have had a golden glove AND a bat, but noooooo!!!

03:32 a.m.: Youk up. Pop fly. 1-2-3 inning for the Red Sox offense. I have the disheartening feeling that I’ll be writing that a lot this season.

03:34 a.m.: Top of the 5th. Yanks up by four. Teixeira up first. Just shoot me.

03:37 a.m.: After a Teixeira/A-Rod pop-up, Cano crushes one over Drew and is held to a single, because he thought it’d be a homer. Once again evidence that baseball players aren’t the sharpest tools on the shed.

03:40 a.m.: Time for some Pepsi. I don’t want to pass out like my buddy Pete. At least not yet.

03:43 a.m.: Beckett walks Posada which prompts Francona to make his way to the mound. 5 innings into opening night and our ace is out. Not the way to start the season. Maybe I should start searching the house for some liqour.

03:47 a.m.: Scott Schoeneweis in now for the Sox.

03:48 a.m.: Wild pitch. Runners move up to second and third. Forget liquor. More like heroin.

03:50 a.m.: Schoeneweis strikes out Granderson. Maybe the heroin can wait…

03:52 a.m.: Up now: David Ortiz’ dead corpse.

03:54 a.m.: The guys tell us that Ortiz received hitting advice from Pujols. Maybe a time machine would have been more helpful, because Ortiz pops up a fly ball right on cue.

03:56 a.m.: CC records his third K of the night. he is plwing through the Sox line-up like it’s a Chick-fil-A menu.

03:58 a.m.: Drew with the single. Where is J.D. and what did you do with him?!?!?

04:00 a.m.: Yessssss. Cameron smacks one down left field. Finally the Sox show a sign of life with runners at first and second and 2 outs.

04:02 a.m.: Scutaro creams it to the same spot as Cameron did. Wild throw by Gardner! Runners advance one more. 5-2 ball game with runners in scoring position. This sequence got my blood flowing again. Gooooo Sox!!!

04:05 a.m.: Ellsbury strikes out and strands two runners in the process. So much for getting my blood flowing…

04:06 a.m.: Planning my first trip to the bathroom tonight. Don’t worry I’ll keep you posted. I know you are dying to know about my pee-schedule.

04:10 a.m.: ESPN reminding us that the womens NCAA final four is going on right now. Sure, I’d like to pass up watching the greatest rivlary in sports for a chance to catch the latest lay up lines. Count me in.

04:13 a.m.: Jeter with the single. How is he still doing this!? i want him to pee in a cup right now. Call a time out and bring out a cup to first base. I don’t care that this is family TV.Something is going on here.

04:15 a.m.: Johnson with the third out. Time to take a leak!

04:18 a.m.: With the tank empty I am ready for your 2008 AL MVP.

04:19 a.m.: Walk for Pedroia. M-V-P!!! M-V-P!!! M-V-P!!!

04:20 a.m.: Peter just started snorring. Always a pleasant sound.

04:22 a.m.: But who cares!!! Martinez just hit a double prompting the first Yankee Pow-Wow of the night. Love it!

04:23 a.m.: Crowd comes alive. Youk up. 3-0 count. No outs. Runners at second and third.

04:25 a.m.: YEAAAAAAH!!! Stand-up triple for Youk!!! 5-4 game. Bonus points: When the Yankee outfielder went to pick up Youkilis’ ball at the right field wall you could see a bunch of middle fingers right in his face. Oh, the joy, the satisfaction!!!

04:29 a.m.: Ortiz breaks his bat and gets thrown out. Leading to CC being taken out. Because, you know, once a dead man starts making contact with your pitches, it IS time to go. Good riddance!

04:31 a.m.: In comes David Robertson to face Beltre who quickly hits one down the middle. Tie game!!! Yessir, we are back!!! I always knew we had the bats to do it!

04:33 a.m.: Drew enbales Beltre to advance. Up now: Mike Cameron.

04:34 a.m.: Cameron rattles one toward third base for the third out. But who cares! We are tied!!!

04:38 a.m.: Ramon Ramirez facing Teixeira and quickly issuing a free pass.

04:38 a.m.: A-Rod whips one off the Monster. Worry-o-meter: 8. Reason: Ramirez, Ramon.

04:39 a.m.: Pete just woke up, saw the 5-5 score and muttered: “Exciting game, huh!?” He has no idea. And as quickly as he woke up, he falls back into his comatose state.

04:41 a.m.: Apparently Francona has a worry-o-meter too. He just took Ramon out and put Okajima in. Wise move.

04:42 a.m.: Or so I thought. Yankees quickly are up by 2. Where is Ramon when you need him???

04:48 a.m.: Double play! D-E-F-E-N-S-E!!!

04:50 a.m.: As Steve Tyler sings “God Bless America” I can’t help, but notice that his daughter is hot. The only thing that is a bit off-putting about her is her mouth (Tyler-esque). I guess it’s a bit of a Mike ( “The Situation” from “Jersey Shore”)/ Mike’s sister situation. Where to relatives look so alike that it would mess you up. I would probably feel lile I was making out with Steve instead of his gorgeous daughter. Not that I would ever get the chance to confirm or deny that.

04:54 a.m.: Scutaro with the single up the middle. 2-3 so far on the night for the Scooter. Who knew?!

04:56 a.m.: Ellsbury doing his best drew impression and striking out looking.

04:58 a.m.: WOOOOOOHHHHHOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!! Pedroia blasts one over the Monstaaahh. Tie game again!!! We might be watching an instant classic.

05:00 a.m.: Martinez up. One out. Bottom of the 7th.

05:02 a.m.: Martinez hits one right at Cano who misshandles it, recovers and gets the out. The World Champs seem nervous.

05:03 a.m.: Youk with a high one off the wall for a double. Did I mention that I have him on my fantasy team? Aaaahhhwww-yeah!

05:04 a.m.: The Yankee bullpen carousel keeps spinning as Damaso Marte comes in to face Big Papi.

05:06 a.m.: Marte starts off with a wild pitch. Youkilis takes third. The Yanks look rattled. A sight I utterly enjoy.

05:08 a.m.: Another wild pitch!!! this time off of Posada’s glove. Youk scores!!! First lead for the Red Sox all night. 8-7. Hell yeah!!!

05:12 a.m.: The Yankees bring in Joba. Beltre puts on his warrior face, but line drives for out number three. Oh well, at least I got a first look at AB’s angry face. Or maybe it is his concentration face? I can’t tell.

05:16 a.m.: With the flame-throwing Bard in for the Sox the worry-o-meter goes down a couple of notches. I can’t quite explain why, but he makes me feel safe. Oh, wait … I know why … BECAUSE HE THROWS FRIGGIN’ BULLETS!!! BRING THE HEAT!!!

05:19 a.m.: Brett Gardner aka. the white officer with the buzz cut from CSI: Las Vegas for the first out.

05:24 a.m.: Bard walks Johnson. Wynn comes in to pinch run for him. Teixeira up. This doesn’t bode well. At all.

05:25 a.m.: Teixeira breaks the bat. Easy out. Exhale.

05:26 a.m.: As Neil Diamond belts out “Sweet Caroline” with the whole stadium following his lead a feeling of envy overcomes me. I wish I was in that stadium right now. Time to flush down those somber thoughts with some Pepsi to boost my already dangerously high sugar level through the roof.

05:31 a.m.: After Joba gets out Drew, Cameron drills one down second base for another single. Is it too early to purchase a Mike Cameron jersey?

05:38 a.m.: Scutaro takes first on a walk. Wilmer Valderrama’s illegitimate son up now. Still hitless.

05:41 a.m.: Pop fly Ellsbury.  Good day! – But Fez… – I SAID GOOD DAY! (Only the five people who watched “That 70’s show” just got that reference. Oh, well.)

05:42 a.m.: Good thing we have Pedroia. He quickly drives in the insurance run. Runners at first and third. 2 outs. Martinez up. 9-7 Boston.

05:45 a.m.: Long at bat for Martinez. He is making Joba work. Always a good sign, those long at bats.

05:46 a.m.: Surely enough I immediately have to eat my own words as Victor pops one up for the third out. Feel the power of the notebook jinx.

05:49 a.m.: here we go: Top of the ninth. Papelbon vs. A-Rod.  … Katching!!! First out!

05:50 a.m.: Papelbon vs. Cano. …. Ellsbury snatches the ball in center field for the second out.

05:51 a.m.: Papelbon vs. Posada.

05:52 a.m.: Base hit.

05:53 a.m.: Papelbon vs. Granderson. 0-2 count. 2 outs . Fans on their feet.

05:54 a.m.: Collective moaning after umpire Joe West doesn’t count a close one.

05:54 a.m.: Granderson makes contact. Final out!!! Subtle double fist bump by me.

05:55 a.m.: Not what I expected, but a win is a win. The defense wasn’t very intimidating, but the offense … oh man … the offense! After last season I almost forgot you could score more than five runs in a game. Anyway, great way to start the season. I will celebrate with a McDonald’s Egg McMuffin, because after four hours of nerve-wrecking MLB action I am S-T-A-R-V-I-N-G. After that I’ll pass out Peter-style until probably 5 p.m. and be a zombie for the rest of the day. But you know what? It was definitely worth it!

GO RED SOX!!!

No related posts.

That’s 19 days of Cinderella stories, Stepmother stories (That should be the opposite of a Cinderella story, right?), major upsets, minor upsets, perennial power houses blowing out opponents, colleges you didn’t even know existed hanging with the big boys for way too long, announcers going bonkers, coaches jumping around like little kids (either because they’re angry like a little kid who didn’t get any candy when shopping with mum or because they’re happy like a little kid on Christmas morning), buzzer beaters, overtimes, double overtimes, triple overtimes (if we’re lucky) and…uhm … did I forget something? .. Oh, yeah and I think they’ll play some basketball in between.

Sounds like a blast, right?

Wrong.

Well, it would be if there wasn’t one little gimmick that annually spoils the festivities for sports fans around the country.

That’s right, I am talking about the bracket.

Usually this might be a dreaded sheet of paper, but not if you follow the Average Fan's impeccable strategies.

Sure it sounds dandy and sweet at first, but at the end of the tournament, yours, mine and probably 95% percent of all the brackets look like the bottom scratch paper in your office’s scratch paper box. (You know which one I mean.) Every other team is crossed out and there might even be profanity written on there.

And I would be ok with that. I mean after all if everybody is wrong then it’s no big deal, right!?

Wrong again.

Because not everybody is wrong. There is a specific group of people out there who always do well on the bracket. You know who I am talking about: It’s always the one guy who doesn’t care about sports (and often times doesn’t even know what sport is being played) who wins the office pool. It’s always your mum/sister who picks teams by who cute their names sound who win the family pool. It’s always your buddy who asks stuff like “Why do they only play two quarters?” and “Why are they cutting down the nets?” who wins your friends’ pools.

The point is it’s never the guys who actually watch the games, spend hours on trying to figure out who has the best team and who prepare like it’s the SATs all over again.

It’s never you.

But fear not loyal fan and reader of the Fan’s Perspective, because you will win this time.

I have thrown myself into the ambiguous world of sports apathy. (No easy task, I can tell you that much!) I have put myself into the mindsets of all those “A bracket? And you can win 20 bucks? Cool, I’m in. It’s about football, right?” – people (aka. the one’s who always, always, always win). I have abjured all the pleasures of sports enthusiasm. (Don’t worry, it’s just for now.) In short I have sacrificed everything so you can win. (You’re welcome. I don’t ask for anything in return otherr than maybe that you tell everybody you know about this site. Humble, huh?)

So here are some strategies you can use to make your bracket spotless. In the words of the immortal Fiddy cent: Let’s get it poppin’ shorty!

- The colour strategy: Always a strong choice. Why waste hours and hours figuring out who will beat who based on strength of schedule and stats, when you can fill out a bracket in a matter of seconds by just going with your favorite team colors! You like orange? BUMM! Welcome to the second round, Syracuse! Who likes grey? Nobody. Bye-bye, Georgetown! Piece of cake, huh!? This strategy is endorsed by mums, little sisters and of course painters across the nation.

The Average Fan would pick the mighty Mean Green to win it all if it wasn't for the fierce Catamounts.

- The mascot strategy: Let’s be real for a moment: Who the heck thinks a Mountaineer (West Virginia) could beat a bear (Morgan State)? I mean read a book, geez! Everbody knows Mountaineers were killed left and right by bears once upon a time. I don’t even care that West Virginia is the 2 seed and Morgan State the 15 seed. Bear beats Mountaineer. Done! And don’t even get me started on those Buckeyes. I mean a nut!? C’mon. This startegy is endorsed by Biologists and Historians from … wait for it … wait for it … that’s right colleges all around the country. (By the way: If you choose to go with this strategy then feel free to pencil in the University of North Texas for the championship game. Mean Green? It’s all over if they can just get by the Catamounts (Vermont). I’m not even sure what a catamount is, but it sure sounds bad-ass.)

- The “I know someone who knows someone who’s cousin went to this school” strategy: Think of it as a version of “Six degress of Kevin Bacon”. We all know people who went to all kinds of colleges. So the more distant and obscure the person who went to the college of Team A, the more likely Team A is to lose. Say you know somebody who went to Wofford (First go ahead and give him a “Sorry, dude.” from me. Wofford? I am sure it’s a fine school and all, but that’s just brutal.), let’s say it’s your uncle. Then let’s say your best friend’s ex-girlfriend used to always buy groceries at this store where there was this janitor whose stepmother went to Wisconsin. They play each other. Wisconsin has to battle about a gazillion degrees while Wofford is basically one degree around the corner. Therefore Wofford wins. You have to admit that’s infinitely more convenient and accurate than all the tape watching you always used to do. This strategy is endorsed by savants and other people who remember EVERYTHING.

- The name strategy: Some colleges just have better names than others. It’s just a fact. Take Minnesota for instance, sounds boring, right!? But now take Xavier. Strong name. There is no way the X-men loose to pedestrian-sounding Minnesota. Besides the coolness of certain names (Baylor for instance sounds like a can-of-whupp-ass crossed with Shaft) you also have to consider exotic team names. Robert Morris University? If I didn’t know that they were playing Villanova in the first round I would say that it could be anything from a fine steak house in Manhatten to a cigarette brand from the south. First-round upset. Lock it up.

Ok, so there you go. Four awesome and scientifically proven (duh!) strategies to make this your year. You can do this. You can be the one everybody will hate. You can be the guy/girl with a perfect bracket.

Now go out there and make me proud!

No related posts.

By now you should know that I am a huge Bill Simmons guy. He is not only the reason I started writing, but he is also the one who pushed me towards reality TV.

I started off with the Real World/Road Rules Challenge and I was hooked immediately.

Then of course along came “Jersey Shore” and all hell broke loose. That show was so ground-breaking and mesmerizing that not only did the unintentional comedy scale have to be recalibrated, but also the whole concept of reality TV needed to be reevaluated. (As soon as a show prompts somebody to use two re-words in one sentence you just know you have something special.) Unfortunately the show had to end at some point and so I was left with a huge reality TV void.

I had to fill it somehow.

Then the Sports Guy came to the rescue and turned me towards “Survivor”. Again, I was like a pothead in Jamaica. I devoured all four episodes in record time and thought of ways to work the show into a post.

And then it came to me: 16 cast members left. 16 NBA teams contending for playoff spots/seeds. What better way to combine my love for reality TV with my love for professional basketball then by comparing every team to a character on the show!?

So without further ado…. Survivor cast meet your NBA playoff teams!!!

EAST

Cleveland – Boston  Rob – Well, obviously, right!? (I just sounded like a 16-year-old teenager. Throw in a “whatever” and a blond wig and I could be Hannah Montana. Not good. Not good at all) On the one side of the hyphen we have the strongest and most versatile team in the league, a mortal lock to be in the Finals (then again, we said the same thing last year… wait a minute why am I refuting my own point. Forget what I just wrote.) and on the other side we have the best-equipped, savviest and most competitive castmember.

Boston Rob

Both are the odds on favorite to win it all (at least in my book) and both can only be brought down by either a major upset (Like Russell manipulating everyone to the point where the entire tribe turns on Rob. Highly unlikely but if soemone could do it it’s Russell. By the way wait until you see who Russell is paired up with, you’ll see that this analogy makes more sense than you think. Plus you’ll find out that I put waaaay too much thought into this.) or by beating themselves. (Like Mike Brown screwing up and in effect forcing LeBron to leave Cleveland come summer. They would probably have to put Brown in some sort of witness protection program if that happens. I am not even joking.)

One more thing: Boston Rob is by far the most likeable castmember. (And I am not saying that because he even wears his Red Sox hat during challenges, which, you have to admit, IS pretty bad-ass.) He is like the Anti-Russell.

Orlando – James - How can you watch James and not think of Dwight Howard? Both are physcial specimen unlike anything we have ever seen. They are so ripped and buff that we might have to invent a new adjective to do them justice. I don’t even feel envy when I watch them, I am just in complete awe.

James

( I don’t even care if I sound gay. They possess athletic bodies that are just so mesmerizing that you cannot not be stunned.) Of course, the similarities go beyond the physical appearance of James and “Superman”. Both, James and the Magic, seem destined to melt down when it matters most. Sure, both look strong and better than ever right now, but both don’t appear to have the mental toughness to go all the way.  James already lost his temper numerous times and threw various castmembers under the bus, so it’s only a matter of time until he gets voted off. I feel like the same will happen with the Magic. I know I am in the minority, but I am also the same guy who told you pretty much on a weekly basis that Favre would eff up when it matters most. Just sayin’.

Boston – Tom – A sore subject for me, but I’ll walk you through anyway: Both seem strong and you’d think that both still have something left in the tank,, but ultimately both are too old. Tom has gotten by with his unbelievable charisma (a 9 out of 10 on the charisma scale with 10 being Obama) and his resourcefulness.

Tom

Same with the Celts. They have done a good job covering up their flaws so far, but as the season wears on they start to trickle out one by one. The most obvious one is their inability to protect fourth quarter leads. They blow games at an alarming rate, especially the last couple of weeks. KG is a shell of his former self. Shed is a disgrace. And all those years playing a high-intensity sport haven’t left Allen and Pierece exactly unscathed either. The only hopes for the Celts are Rondo (can’t/doesn’t want to take over games) and Perkins. You might want to throw Robinson in to that last group, but right now the sample size is too small. Anyway you look at it, this Celtics team is no championship caliber team and Tom has the odds stacked against him as well.

(One last thing: When I am saying Tom is too old I mean too old for the physical day-to-day demand of living on a tropical island and having to do excruciating challenges in the scorching heat or pouring rain.)

Atlanta - Danielle – She gets my vote for hottest female on the show. I don’t care that her face reminds me of a vampire when I look at it longer than 10 seconds. (She has some Cheryl Hines, too. So now we finally have an answer to the age-old question: What would Cheryl Hines look like if she had been bitten by a vampire?) The bottom line is that her rack is extraterrestrial.

Danielle

She is just a pleasure to watch. You know what else is fun to watch? That’s right, the Hawks. Who knew!? Their athleticism is off the charts and it seems like they finally gelled. Joe Johnson is having a career year. Josh Smith finally got his head screwed on straight. Crawford is having his best shooting season since his sophomore year and is puting up a career-high in points. The same goes for Horford who improved his FG percentage significantly.  Everything seems to fall into place for the Hawks, but one question remains nevertheless: Just like Danielle they have gotten by relying on basically one trait only. For the Hawks it’s their freakish athleticism and for Danielle it’s her boobs. But will that be enough to carry them all the way? I seriously doubt it, but we’ll see.

(By the way when I say that Danielle has stayed only because of the fact that she is insanely hot, I’m not joking. Sorry to burst the bubble ladies, but I am pretty sure that the physical appearance of female castmembers factors in very, very, very strongly into the male castmembers’ voting decision. It doesn’t speak to our intelligence, but that’s how men work.)

Toronto – Courtney – I can watch people vomit on television without flinching. I can watch open-heart surgery on TV without passing out.

Courtney

Heck, I can even watch one of those gorry horror movies (à la SAW) without looking away (That would be the toughest though, because I actually hate horror movies.) But I CANNOT for the life of me watch Courtney. Here body is so thin it physically hurts me to watch her. I turn into a grimacing epileptic every time I spot here hip bones sticking out like coat pegs. I am sure she is a sweet girl and all, but that woman needs help, because she doesn’t look healthy at all. But before this turns into an episode of Dr. Phil let’s focus on the Raptors: They are the same way. Painful to watch. On top of that they are one of the most uninteresting teams in the league. Seriously, try to come up with one compelling reason to watch them. You can’t. And you can’t convince me to think otherwise. Moving on.

Millwaukee - Colby – From a totally uninteresting team/character to the exact opposite.

Colby

Both, Colby and the Bucks, are extremely likeable and you really want them to advance, but the odds are stacked against them. Colby already had to sweat it out early during the last tribal council and the Bucks lack of playoff experience will in all likelihood come back to bite them. Plus Colby’s bio reads: “For me, it’s all about the extreme challenge and the epic adventure.  A million bucks is a pretty good motivator as well.” Bucks? Coincedence? I don’t think so.

Miami – Amanda – Again, the similarities are eery: Amanda is kind of cute in the beginning, but the longer you watch here the more unattractive/ flawed she gets.

Amanda

Same with Miami, first you see Wade put up highlight reel after highlight reel, but when you watch them closer/more often you find out rather quick that Wade is all they got and that he can only carry them so far.  Amanda’s ceiling is limited as well. She will only advance as long as she is no threat to the power players.

Chicago (note: When I was writing this, Chicago was up on Charlotte. You can fill in Charlotte for Chicago and Bobcats for Bulls if you feel like it. Knock yourself out.) – Jerri -  I don’t no what to make of Jerri just as I don’t know what to make of this Bulls team (Cop-out alarm!!! Cop-out alarm!!!). Jerri is unpredictable to me. I don’t know what her strategy is. I don’t know if she is “hooking up” (a very loose interpretation of this phrase in this case, since so far there was just some cuddling going on, as far as we know anyway) with Coach in order to strengthen her position within the tribe or if it’s real affection. (Think about that for a  moment … real affection for Coach! Don’t tell me she isn’t an enigma.)

Jerri

And this unpredictability is exactly what makes her so dangerous. You just don’t know. The same goes for the Bulls. I could totally see them pulling off a first-round upset (which they almost did last year), but I could also see them folding like a camping chair. You just don’t know

WEST

L.A. Lakers – Russell – Perfect match! Both are plain evil and both will fall victim to their big ego(s). Kobe wants to win every game for the Lakers and is trying to manifest himself as not only the greatest Laker ever, but also as the greatest player ever (see the ego, there it is again) by trying to rack up as many game winning buzzer beaters as possible. He is taking the last shot. No questions asked. Of course, opponents know that by now and that’s why they can key in on him. For example: When Orlando played the Lakers on Sunday Kobe took the last shot instead of going for the high percentage option and letting Gasol post-up. But enough with the Lakers, let’s take a look at Russell.

Russell

I don’t know if he is actually a psychopath/lunatic (think Ron Artest crossed with Charles Manson) with a Napoleon-complex or if it is all a farce to protect his position as a power player. Whatever it is, it’s not working. He tried to work his black magic, but people seemed to have caught on to his manipulating. They are starting to turn on him and if you think they despise him now just wait until they discover that he was the one who hid the machete. They might tar and feather him on national TV. Don’t rule it out.

Dallas – Tyson – Not only does Tyson look like an extremely skinny Nowitzki, but he is also as unsteady as the Mavs. He seemed like he was a total a-hole at first, taking shots at various castmembers in the interview sessions.

Tyson

(Not like he is the only one, but still, man up and say it to their faces, will ya!) Similarly, the Mavs seemed like another pedestrian edition of Dallas basketball in the early going, but then everything changed. We found out that Tyson has a warm and fuzzy side when he comforted Coach and even granted him a man-hug and we found out that the Mavs, who made various trades to  give them more athleticism and length resulting in a still ongoing winning streak, might be here to stay or should I say advance.

Denver – Parvati – Just as she enchants every castmember with here aura and charme, the Nuggets suck all NBA fans/experts in with their gaudy playing style. Both are everybody’s darling and both could go very far if they keep playing their cards right.

Parvati

(One last thing on Parvati: Is it just me or is there something odd about here face. It seems to go from insanely cute to unbearably weird in a matter of seconds. She is like one of those fancy pictures in museums: You have to see her from the right angle at the right time. Maybe she just puts on less make-up then the rest or maybe I should stop watching under the influence. Oh, well.)

Utah – Coach – Both are stronger than the last time/ last season, but both also might lack the mental toughness to withstand the pressure of the later rounds.

Coach

Plus, now that the Jazz have roped their fans in as they do every year,you just know they will be thrown out in the second round (possibly in the first) sending their fans into a similar emotional state as Coach was in after he got called out by Sandra. (By the way, love it that Sandra of all people takes a shot at Coach’s work ethic when she isn’t exactly tearing up the place either. But that’s what people do when they are on TV, they talk before they think. Of course, this isn’t solely limited to TV. Just flip through some of my old posts. Yessh.)

Phoenix – Candice -Alright you made it this far so it’s time to let you in on a dirty little secret: Candice is sneaky hot. She has a cute face and her body isn’t anything to hide either. In addition to that she is totally overachieving. She is playing the game the right way (copyright by Peter Gammons): Going around manipulating and strategizing.

Candice

She’s not just another pretty face. Nope, she is actually trying to win this thing and put herself in the best position to do so. Even if her efforts sometimes fall short/backfire, at least she is doing something. Coincidentally, that is basically the way I would describe the 2009 Phoenix Suns. They are a fun to watch, smart and overachieving basketball team. I mean, c’mon their strongest lineup consists of three players who have been in the league a combined 35 years!!! Nevertheless they could go far and surprise some people down the stretch, because of the way they maximize their strengths.

Oklahoma City – JT – What can you say other than: Nice story and watch out for both down the way.

JT

At first we thought that both weren’t ready yet for a deep run (When JT formed conflicting alliances it seemd like he might be gone ratehr quick. But then he was able to bounce back.), but KD and the gang and JT are trying to prove us wrong. (Well, I will exclude myself there, because I already told you to watch out for OC in my season preview.)

San Antonio- Sandra – She is a scrappy veteran just like the Spurs are a veteran team, but both are coasting on past achievements rather than present deeds.

Sandra

Nobody can really explain how the heck the Spurs are still able to play this strong when their team is falling apart left and right (e.g. Parker’s injury) just as nobody knows how Sandra has positioned herself as a power player without really doing anything significant and why the other castmembers consider here to be so integral to the team. Both the Spurs and Sandra are nothing, but hot air.

Portland – Rupert – Both are fighting through adversity courageously, but both are marred by injuries.

Rupert

(For the Trail Blazers it’s Oden/Przybilla and for Rupert it’s his broken toe.) So their ceiling is bound directly to how well they are able to cope with their limitations.

Phew! It took a while, but we finally made it. Now that we lined up the Survivor castmembers with the contenders of the Association, the playoff picture should have become a lot clearer. But hey, don’t thank me, thank the Survivor franchise, Jeff Probst and all the castmembers for satisfying our reality TV fix and making our lives a little sweeter in the process.

No related posts.

I had to take some time away from the game…er…writing. I had lost my love for it, but I hope you can find it in your heart to finally read me again. You will never see anybody write as hard as I will from now on. (Alright I think I hit every sports press conference cliché there is. I want to thank Jordan, Tiger, Tebow and every other famous sports figure that was forced to apologize and/or step down for a while.)

Sometimes you have to pull a Tiger and have a little action on the side...err... I mean apologize to your fans and sponsors.

Now that football season is over and I can only look forward to the Pats trading down 348 times this coming draft and somehow screwing it up in the end. (If they don’t take a RB in the first three rounds I will freakin’ light my computer on fire and roll it down the hill. I might as well buy a new one right now. Sigh. But hey at least Manning is the Manning of old again when he morphed back into the choke artist we always knew and loved. Hallelujah!!! Life just got a little sweeter.)

Now that my Celtics are trying to break the unofficial records for oldest NBA team ever and most late game leads squandered in a season.

Now that my Red Sox are desperately trying to become the most boring baseball team in recent history (no personality + no hitting = no excitment/fun/joy).

Now that I mentioned every depressing sports story that is effecting my life way too much it is time to focus on more delightful news.

That’s right I am going olympic hockey on you. After all the last time I did a hockey post … (sifting through my posts… sifting…sifting…more sifting… suddenly turning pale)

WHAT I NEVER DID A HOCKEY POST?!?!?

Why did nobody tell me!? I am deeply sorry Canada for not mentioning your number 1 sport. (Or 2, depending on the state of curling now that the Canadian women lost in dramatic fashion against the Sweds. Yes I watched it and yes and I just used dramatic and curling in the same sentence. Granted I fell asleep when I watched, but that was just because it was 3. a.m. and I was plastered out of mind. So there.)

But now let’s not lose any more time and cut right to the chase:

Today Canada and the U.S. will face off in one of the more anticipated hockey matches in recent history. Team USA  is the clear underdog (even though they beat Canada a few days ago. Oh snap!!! That just happened!!! Who said that!? I probably just lost half of my Candian readership, but screw it: U-S-A!!! U-S-A!!!), which of course invites a lot of comparison to USA 4- USSR 3.

Whenever I hear about the 1980 Miracle on Ice a particular feeling overcomes me.

Jealousy.

Jealousy is the first thing the Average Fan feels when he thinks of the "Miracle on Ice".

I am jealous of all Americans who were old enough to witness this greatest upset in sports history, just as I am jealous of all the people who were there for Jordan’s prime or all the Red Sox fans who had the fortune of living through the ‘04 postseason.

But there is a huge difference between the first and the latter two examples. We will see another Jordan sometime (Heck, we might be witnessing one right now. Get it “witnessing” and LeBron? Glad I am here.) and we might even watch another team go through a 80 (maybe 80+) year drought and then win in spectacular fashion. (Every Cub fan just perplexedly looked up from their 1908 sports year book.)

But we will never ever ever see anything like USA 4- USSR 3.

Here is a little anecdote to illustrate my point (I feel like I am writing the SAT all over again. Some exciting stuff.):

The first and to date only time (although I will probably rent it today just to get into the right state of mind) I watched “Miracle” was, oddly enough, on an overnight flight from Germany to the states. I was probably about 13 or 14 years old and (as you probably could imagine) my eyes were glued to the little screen three rows in front of me. It was riveting. I had always been a fan of goose bumps sports movies, but this took it to another level. It was mesmerizing to watch. I remember thinking what a riveting story that was, but at no point did it occur to me that it could be based on a true story. Imagine the baffled look on my face when I found out afterwards that it was in fact based on a true story.

The point is that this upset actually happening seemed so unlikely and implausible to me that I was convinced all throughout the movie that it was just some made up Hollywood story. And I was not an unimginative kid by any means.

The Miracle on Ice was at the time and  always will be (At least until the Tunisian curling team wins against Canada. That’s right two curling references in one post. Try and stop me.) the greatest upset ever. I mean it was college kids playing against the BEST team in the world that hadn’t lost an Olympic hockey game since 1968 and won 8 of the last 9 Olympic hockey gold medals including the last four. It was like some Little League team going up against the Steroid All-Stars (think McGwire, Bonds, Clemens and all the other 90’s stars coming fresh off another circle). Just unfathomable. Forget the sheer unlikeliness of the event itself, the fact that these unique circumstances will never be recreated should be reason enough to never see something the likes of the 1980 Miracle again. At the height of the Cold War you had the two superpowers of the world playing for more that just a medal. Now combine that with one of the greatest calls in sports broadcasting history (here for the long one and here for the one with the famous “do you believe in miracles” call, both give me goose bumps on my goose bumps every time) and you have a sports memory that I am truly jealous of because I know that it will never be replicated.

But of course there is always a silver lining. In this case it’s tonight’s game. Sure it is not by any means anything like the Miracle on Ice (after all I just wrote roughly 500 words to prove that), but if team USA can pull off an upset it might just be enough to liquidate at least some of my jealousy. With that said there is not much left to say besides:

U-S-A!!! U-S-A!!! U-S-A!!!

No related posts.

And for two fan bases it did.

For everybody from the outside looking in (media, casual fans, fans of the other 30 teams) it will “just” be another Super Bowl. One more larger than life sporting event in a long list of historic games.

But for the Saints and Colts fans it will be much more. (Hear me out, before you hiss “Well, obviously!” at your computer sarcastically.) This game will alter the lives of thousands of fans. Maybe that 62-year-old life-long Saints fan who used to go to games wearing a paper bag will finally see his team succeed on the biggest possible stage. Maybe that 9-year-old Colts fan will witness his team’s second championship in four years and watch his favorite player cement himself as the greatest player of all time. (“Where are the damn painkillers!!! WHERE ARE THEY!!!)

The point is that this game will mean so much to the respective fan bases that only somebody who was fortunate enough to capture all the emotions that come with watching your team win a championship can understand.

In 2008 I became one of those blessed ones. I watched my beloved Celtics end their drought and finally win a ring again. (I know the Pats and Sox won too, but I only became a Pats fan during that Eagles-Pats Super Bowl in ‘04 when I was first exposed to football and immediately fell in love with the Patriots and I didn’t start to  really follow the Red Sox until after ‘07. So I don’t count those championships. And don’t you dare call me bandwagony. DON’T YOU DARE!!!) I remember staying up countless nights (and by nights I mean the wee hours; games would start at 2 a.m. and end at 5 a.m.), most of them school nights, and cheering on my favorite basketball team. I would wear my green St. Patrick’s day edition Red Sox shirt for away games and my blue one (Hey, what can I say,  I love St. Patrick’s day.) for home games all throughout the playoffs. Heck, I even exclusively used a green cereal bowl for my obligatory halftime snack, because it brought them luck. (Don’t worry, of course, I washed it everytime. As far as you know, anyway.) I remember falling asleep during the the beginning of the third quarter of the famous comeback in Game 4 of the Finals only to wake up in the fourth again and stare at the score in disbelief. My Celtics had stormed back from a 20-point deficit with 6:04 left in the third quarter to pull within 2 points at the beginning of the fourth. They eventually won the game and put a disheartened and downbeat L.A. team away for good in Game 6.

These are the moments you remember your whole life. These are the memories no one can take from you. These are the stories you hope to tell your grand-children one day. These are the experiences we live for as sports fans.

Come Sunday night one of the aformentioned fan bases will enter this exclusive club while the other will be wondering what hit them. In the end the Super Bowl is exactly what its name says it is: It’s a game of superlatives. One team/fan base will feel ineffable joy and the other will fell indescribable pain. That’s what makes this game so great. That’s what makes it so super.

Now before those of you who are susceptible to tears fill the joint with salt water, let’s quickly move on to the actual game and break this bad boy down:

New Orleans Saints

The Saints have two things going for them and only two: They are damn close to “Nobody-believes-in-us” status (to borrow a term from my mentor, the great Bill Simmons) and every non-Colts fan out there will be rooting for them on Sunday. And really how can you not? With all that city has gone through and all the suffering these fans have endured, there is nobody with a heart in his chest who won’t root for them. Throw in the fact that the Colts just won one a few years ago (Which will always steer the casual fan away, because when it comes to sports the casual fan is like a good Samaritan. He/She likes to spread the love and see those teams succeed that haven’t done so in the past. First ever bible reference. Somewhere Kurt Warner just cracked a smile.) and you have a karma cocktail that might jus be strong enough to have the Colts hugging the toilet.

But other than those intangibles (a.k.a. the official Tim Tebow stat; By the way if my Pats take Tebow in this year’s draft I will be more bummed out than the time I found out that Santa Claus isn’t real. Whoops, did I just lose my entire 6-10 demographic!?) there is not much of substance left. The Saints really are only in the Big Dance by virtue of yet another Brett Favre late game, season-ending interception. (Sorry, Minny fans, but I warned you all season long. I told you to keep your guard up and to not trust this guy. I would be pounding my chest much harder right now if I didn’t feel such empathy for the state of Minnesota. Snow shoveling and Brett Favre!? That’s not even fair anymore.) They are basically the Bizzarro 06-07 Bears. (who played the Colts in Miami; Coincidence!? I don’t think so.) Insetad being great on defense, the Sainst are a prolific offense and the other unit, in this case the Saints defense (in the Bears’ case, basically Rex Grossman) is holding the whole team back. The Saints were outgained by their opponents by a combined 159 yards this postseason. I am gonna go out on a limb and say that that’s not a good sign. Minnesota was the better team and should’ve won. Now you can’t fault the Saints for being opportunistic, but you can’t count on Manning to make an across-the-body-throw and float one in the middle of the field either.

The Sainst have God and the world on their side, but the question is if that’ll compensate for their lack of skill on the field.

(Obviously that’s a bit of an hyperbole. The Saints still are a unbelievably good team with a HOF quarterback spreading the rock around and a terrific coach calling the plays on offense.)

Indianapolis Colts

Well, what can you say about a team that essentially hasn’t lost a real game all season except that “they are who we thought they were”. Namely the best team in football. Now sure we can’t crown their ass yet, but the Saints cannot let them off the hook either. (Always a great watch. Not much more to say than: “Thanks coach!”)

They have a HOF quarterback playing at the highest level we have ever seen anybody play the position. They have an undersized, but fast defense (If I have to hear one more TV analyst/expert say that, I think I’ll have to blow chunks.), which might just be weakened enough by a banged-up Freeney to keep this game a close contest. Their rushing attack is basically non-existent, but why drive a rusty, old station wagon when you can fly business class. Now granted their special teams isn’t really that special (no kick/punt returns for TDs this postseason combined with a measly 6.6 yards per punt return and a pedestrian 24.7 yards per kick return), but who needs dat (Let’s hope Roger doesn’t read this otherwise he’ll have my ass sued quicker than I can say “greedy old man”.) when you have a quarterback who can make Austin Collie look like a superstar.

And really it all comes back to this: The Colts are Peyton Manning. He goes down they go down. But here is the thing: He won’t go down. Manning has developed a savy habit of keeping himself healthy. He has mastered the game to a degree that is ridiculous. Peyton is just so much better than everybody else (And by now you should know how much it pains me to say so.)

That is why I will bet on the Colts (the Colts winning it, combined with Manning as Super Bowl MVP, combined with the Colts winning by 1-6 points and the game ending in regulation; It’s the Super Bowl, hop on the gambling train and don’t look back!) and that is also why I will pick the Colts with my last pick for this NFL season. (What a travesty! My last pick should be one of joy and happiness, instead I’ll be grumpy all day, because I picked my most despised foe to win yet another Super Bowl. I will now slam my head against the desk one more time, for old times sake.)

Gut pick: Colts

++BONUS CONTENT++

How to save the Pro Bowl

I didn’t watch the flag football game also known as the Pro Bowl, but I am gonna go out on a limb and say I didn’t miss anything. After all the NFL’s version of the All-Star game has very little to do with real football: no blitzing, no hits, no running, no excitment.

It’s a joke, but maybe there is a way to get this right after all. To do so we have to disect the problem first.

Here is the thing: First of all football is not the right sport for an All-Star game. Take basketball for instance, the guys are having fun, they’re putting on a show, you’ll see hellacious dunks, flashy dribbles, and so on and so forth. Now granted there isn’t much defense, but it still is fun. Same goes for baseball. Football on the other hand is a sport you just can’t play half-heartedly or to borrow an A-Rodian term — loosie-goosie. The game of football is one of intensity and tenacity. Don’t get my wrong baseball and basketball are too, but you can still have watchable games if you loosen up.

So really the NFL has two options regarding the Pro Bowl: a) either cancel it, which they won’t do, because they like to rake in the green by the truckload, or b) have them play for something that’s worth playing for, a prize if you will.

Now since a) ain’t happening let’s look at b):

Why not borrow from baseball and have the two conferences battle it out for home-field advantage in the Super Bowl.

How you ask?

Glad you did.

So last year the NFC won. This would mean that the Saints would receive two thirds of the Super Bowl tickets. They could sell those tickets to their fans and have a significant home-field advantage in the process. The other third goes to Indy.

And BAMMM!!! You have a Pro Bowl that all of a sudden will be exciting as hell, because the best players of the National Football league have a reason to play hard. You’ll have a Super Bowl with a great crowd, because all the casual fans, celebs, CEOs and rich people will be replaced with real fans who actual give a crap and don’t just go there to be seen or turn the whole thing into one big business dinner with a little football on the side.

This is the part of the post where you’ll say: “”Wait a minute, but if the NFL is all about making some dough why would they cut the ticket prices for the Super Bowl!?”

And that is were the real genius of the idea comes into play. The NFL will be able to make all that money back through the Pro Bowl, because now that once meaningless game is basically the hottest must-see sporting event in all the land. Everybody will want to go and see the best of the best battle it out in a real game with tremendously high stakes. Every player will play his guts out, because a) they mostly come from already great teams which is why they have a reasonable chance to play in next year’s Super Bowl and b) you never know who might get there in the end with the Saints being this year’s prime example. So really there is no downside.

Everybody wins and I finally have a reason to watch the Pro Bowl.

No related posts.

I taped my fingers up like a MMA boxer, dusted off my lucky St. Patrick’s Day Red Sox shirt (which single-handidly won the 2008 NBA championship for the Celts) and put matches under my eyelids à la Tom & Jerry so I won’t miss one second of basketball delight.

But enough intro. Time to get this baby on the road.

9:33 p.m.: This live stream is like the only semi-hot chick at a sausage festival: Not something you would normally go for, but given the circumstances she/it will have to do.

9:38 p.m.: Aaaaand the tussle begins. Beware Paul! That Ron Artest is a lunatic you don’t want to mess with. I heard he once charged into the stands.

9:40 p.m.: Sweet ball movement by the Celts and BAMM!!! Jesus Shuttlesworth with the deuce.

9:43 p.m.: Arrrrrrwwwww… this stream is killing me. Maybe it’s time to switch to another “bar”…

9:45 p.m.: Bryant just backed down Sugar Ray and dropped two. Insert the truck-backing-up-sound.

9:47 p.m.: Alright I’ve had it. I can’t wait for a commercial break… I need to switch streams right now. I’ll be back in a sec.

10:02 p.m.: I’ve tried everything short of switching internet providers and lighting my sorry excuse for a computer on fire.

Nothing.

I can’t get a stream to work which means that this live running diary has come to a screetching halt. My dearest apologies to the one guy out there who is still reading this live entry. Sorry, man, I tried.

Anyway, let’s hope that I can get these technical difficulties fixed in time for the next live running diary (also basketball might be too fast of a sport for the live running diary thing). Enjoy the rest of the game if you can and be sure to check back for the Superbowl preview this week.

Until then… BEAT LA!!!

Related posts:

1. Rivlary Renewed aka Patriots vs. Colts