Pats Light Shines On

As the Pats prepared a fourth and 1 quarterback sneak, their fragile gem of a perfect season on the line, a jumpy-handed Ravens assistant coach signalled the time out. At that moment the future fractured into two paths, What Might Have Been, and What Is. The attempted quarterback sneak by Tom Brady only existed in the land of What Might Have Been, but in that land Brady got popped! Halted in his tracks a yard behind scrimmage, he toppled over, defeated, the Pats perfect run ended. Demoralized, the Pats lose their mojo, lose to Pittsburgh, lose to Indy in the playoffs again and see the reputation of their cantankerous head coach sullied by their epic collapse as the rest of the league delights.

But none of that happened, because in the Land of What Is, the Pats are protected by a glowing light, a mysterious force which guides them and made the Ravens call timeout. It doesn't matter whether this magical light is in the "T"-shape of that Ravens coach's hands, in the eye of the referee who ruled Jabar Gaffney's hot potato routine in the endzone was a TD catch, or in the mouth of the back judge who rattled Ravens defender Samari Rolle with his alleged in-game epithets. Any one of these ripples in the space-time continuum might have been sufficient to derail the Ravens upset bid by itself.

On a night where the Pats were outhustled and outplayed, and looked far from dominant, its amazing that they always seem to have just enough pixie dust to sprinkle on the field when they need a little luck. One thing is clear, the Pats "We're not on a quest" quest for a perfect season has taken on a life of its own. Emboldened by a chance at football immortality, Pats opponents are taking aim at The Streak itself and coming up with the games of their lives.

Unheralded, uncelebrated and most would say unskilled QBs A.J. Feeley and Kyle Boller had career days chasing anti-Pat history on consecutive weeks. That is a clear indication that The Streak is exerting a powerful influence on Patriot opponents, an influence which is growing exponentially as the season approaches its final chapters.

Next on the Pats agenda are the Steelers, in great shape to end the perfect season and have their efforts live on for years of NFL Films glory. Steelers are no 25-point underdog like the Eagles, the Steelers have a revitalized Big Ben, Steelers have that D, Steelers have something to prove for their youthful new head coach who bravely declared "This is no Appalachian State vs. Michigan." All of which would only lead one to the conclusion that this time the Pats are REALLY going down.

However, until the spell is broken and someone finishes a victory to the final second, its hard not to believe the orb of light will rescue the Pats once again. Furthermore, Tom Brady's desire to silence the annoying Mercury Morris of the 72 Dolphins has gotta be considered another exponentially growing force.

The Buns Rule Wrigley

We came down from Milwaukee on I-84, our bellies filled with bratwurst and German beers. We were flush from a Brewer victory and 12 stadiums deep in our family’s quest to make it to all 30 MLB parks. Halfway to Chicago I shed my new Prince Fielder Brewers t-shirt and new Brewers hat and donned my Cubs shirt and hat. We came into the Windy City anticipating the quintessential Wrigley Field experience. Sadly for us, that’s exactly what we found, that fateful and wet night on the North Side.

Did you know that the first team to take the field at the ballyard now known as Wrigley was not, in fact, the Cubs, but a squad known as the “Buns?” Back then, (in 1914), it was called Weeghman Field, named for Charlie Weeghman, who built it for his baseball team that played in the short-lived Federal League. Weeghman had made his fortune as the owner of a thriving string of Chicago luncheonettes called “Weeghman’s”. Lacking an official team nickname, legendary baseball writer Ring Lardner helped give rise to the unofficial name “Buns” as a reference to the typical luncheonette fare.

The Buns were the only team ever to celebrate a championship on the field now known as Wrigley, in 1915. (By then a fan vote had named Weeghman’s squad “The Whales.”) Even this faraway and forgotten title had its asterisk. The Whales benefited from two rainouts which did not get made up, affording them (after winning the second game of a darkness-shortened doubleheader on the last day of the season) a fractional .0009 percentage edge over the St. Louis Rebels, who actually won 87 games on the season to the Whales’ 85. The Federal league folded after the Whales won the last game, and Weeghman bought majority shares of the Cubs and moved them to his field on the North Side.

World War I at once spelled doom for the leisurely luncheon counter lifestyle and introduced gum-chewing cynicism throughout the world; consequently Weeghman saw his fortune dissolve as William Wrigley’s wealth multiplied. When the gum magnate bought out Weeghman in 1918, that was the official beginning of 89 years of remarkable failure in the still-continuing saga, known as the Cubs “curse”. It’s a saga that does anything but leave a minty fresh taste in their fans’ mouths.

The Wrigleys’ legacy is plain as day the moment you walk into the park, even now in 2007. The field is impeccably groomed by a groundskeeping crew at least three times as large as any I had seen at other stadiums. The park itself is a jewel, the team, traditionally, not so much, evidence of the allegedly reversed priorities of the Cubs’ ownership. P.K. Wrigley (William’s son) notoriously did not care about the team’s success as long as he could reap the stadium’s profits. A pirated scorecard sold to my Dad in front of the stadium was filled with these same accusations of the Chicago Tribune, the present owner.

In keeping with this greed-before-baseball philosophy, you’d expect the Cubs to milk the concessions as much as possible in a rain suspension situation. That’s exactly what we witnessed. After a soaking rain kept the tarp on the field for 30 minutes, we waited and waited for our game with the Cardinals to resume, even waiting long after the drops had completely ceased. We ate the hot dogs and drank the beer of necessity, trusting in our hearts that the end of the real rain must mean there would be baseball.

Alas, after a full two hours of delay, the announcement was made that the game was called. Fans booed loudly and those in the outfield bleachers littered the warning track with garbage, in protest for wasting two irretrievable hours of their already dismal lives (as Cubs fans). Interestingly, no announcement was made about not throwing garbage on the field. The army of groundskeepers just came trotting out to scoop it up in their big garbage bags, like it was part of their job, like they were expecting it, like it was just an acceptable expression of Cub-fan frustration.

We learned that casually throwing on the mantle of Cubs fanhood for one night is a potentially perilous proposition. There are many years of baggage and many hardened scars that you instantly put on when you toss that blue cap with the red “C” on your head. The hot dogs, however, really were the best we had at any park this summer; I guess great dogs are necessary as the last line of defense against fan riots. They’re grilled to a blackened color and served with onions, in a perfect poppy seed bun that really makes the dog experience. The Buns, after all, have Wrigley’s only winning legacy to uphold.

Vick, Donaghy Reflect Dark NFL, NBA Truths

Michael Vick and Tim Donaghy underscore negative fan perceptions of their respective leagues. Yet somehow Barry Bonds ends up making baseball fans feel better about their sport, even if the majority of fans choose to hate him openly.

Dogfighting is a startling analogy for the NFL itself. The vicious hits and spiteful taunting that have become commonplace create an environment where cruelty at times seems celebrated. Players flaunt a lack of concern for their peers’ safety (or even dignity, in the case of some taunting) in a way that feels mercenary and “dog eat dog”. Vick seems to have taken the delight in cruelty to a new level. That he would use his wealth and celebrity to create a veil of secrecy under which dogfights could take place really is a scary and powerful answer to the average fan’s question of what lies in the soul of an NFL player.

New NFL commissioner Roger Goodell can attempt to institute a culture shift and distance the league from Vick. David Stern is not so lucky with the Tim Donaghy nightmare, as referee control of games and excessive fouls are already the biggest problems with the NBA, even without gambling and fixing in the mix.

The NBA has constant whistle interruptions, the last minutes of games are sliced into infinite fractions of time, with commercials in between. The overblown arguments and clashes of wills between referees and players plays out like a pro wrestling match. A referee already has too much control over the game and it seems like he can easily change momentum for one team or another based on his mood if he, say, had some indigestion or had just gotten in a fight with his wife, or of course if he owed some money to the mob. Absolute power corrupts absolutely. As the league became a highlight reel, windmill dunk, sneaker commercial of a pro wrestling league with a ball, it also became whistle-heavy and scripted, and, it seems, totally corrupt.

Meanwhile, with Barry Bonds a homer away from Hank Aaron, MLB has had ages to get its story straight. The Bonds/steroids/record saga, for any young child watching baseball, is a massive passion play about how cheaters don’t win, and how crime does not pay. It’s still a significant number being crossed out of the record book, but Barry has been stripped of his fanfare and denied his celebration. He’s not exactly sitting on the beach sipping champagne having gotten away with the crime of the century.

Whereas the hate of racism stained Aaron’s chase, Barry’s pursuit has lost even more to hate. But it’s a reversal of the situation the heroic Aaron had to face. The anger against Barry is a righteous indignation, a diatribe against cheaters. It’s a dose of “justice of the people” meted out one booing fan, one clever sign, one perfectly timed media allegation at a time.

So while the NBA and NFL are totally caught with their pants down, MLB has become a forum through which good values and ideals ultimately get expressed and have a voice. The cycles and traditions of baseball have always been ingrained in American culture and always have been a mirror of the times, whether in the Black Sox Era, Jackie Robinson's first game, Aaron’s chase, and now Barry’s march, in what's already being called a Steroid "Era". Baseball will go on, Barry, ultimately will not really win, and people feel good about that.

Lastings by a Nail

The Mets 3-2 nail-biter was won by a fingernail. The fortunately unbitten fingernail on the outstretched finger of Lastings Milledge, who needed every millimeter of his digits as he glided just wide of the glove of Reds catcher David Ross, and scraped the corner of home plate for the Mets winning run. Milledge’s feet seemed to stutter-step as he left first early on the two out Ruben Gotay single, so the sneaky slide just barely made up enough for the time he lost before his speed kicked in.

Milledge was recalled from AAA New Orleans today, and represents some hustle and zip in the lineup, as the Mets waive goodbye to 57 year old Julio Franco, who is going straight into the Senior PGA. Also making the most of his opportunity was Gotay, playing second for the injured Jose Valentin, whose finger was bandaged up after breaking up a fight in Puerto Rico during the All Star break. The solid .342-hitting Gotay made team history homering back to back with Jose Reyes to start the game, which, oddly never happened since they started this crazy Mets journey back in 1962.

Its vexing that the veteran Valentin would get injured during what one assumes was a liquor- soaked late night situation during his shore leave from the Mets ship. Mets fans hope that looking back, Jose would rather the two combatants have bashed each other senseless while he lounged at home drinking mango juice and reading the Ted Williams book about hitting. While Gotay seems ready to be leaned on increasingly, its Milledge who will be quickly exposed if he fails. With the curse of injury to anyone who plays leftfield striking Moises Alou, Endy Chavez and Carlos Gomez, fate turns the lasting glow of its spotlight to Lastings Milledge.

Billy Wagner meanwhile, managed to bounce back from the two run homer he allowed to the Indians’ Victor Martinez in the All Star Game with the save. There is a mental disconnect when you throw closers into the dreaded “non-save situation” during the Midsummer Classic, so it was reassuring to see Wagner return to his dominant form when back in his ninth inning role, with all the “save situation” theme music and ceremony he seems to require.

Mets' Maine Man

John Maine began his outing tonight in most auspicious fashion, becoming the first player in major league history to strike out four batters in an inning. Astros leadoff hitter Craig Biggio waved at a subterranean strike three slider, as did #2 hitter Hunter Pence. When #3 hitter Lance Berkman lost his bat in a flailing strike three attempt, it went flying into the on-deck circle, striking #4 hitter Carlos Lee and knocking him flat. Four batters felled in one swoop of a first inning.

Maine went on to fan a career high nine batters in the much needed, tide-turning 6-2 victory in Houston, coming after a late night escape flight that capped a brutal sweep by Colorado.

In the sixth, with runners on first and second and none out, Maine whistled a flame-trailing 94-mph offering high and tight past a lunging Berkman. Capitalizing on the big whiff, he crossed up Lee, who was way out ahead of a vicious and tantalizing slider for strike one. He later went back to the inside heat for a swinging strike three to Lee, and then got Loretta to pop up harmlessly, stepping right out of trouble with a calmness and even emotion you don’t usually see in second year players.

For seven solid innings the Astros offense was pushed down and prevented from breathing by the stifling Maine, until he ran out of gas in the eighth, 119 pitches deep. Lee, got his revenge with a run scoring double and scored himself on a Loretta single. With the score 5-2, the Mets were able to tiptoe out of further damage thanks to Pedro Feliciano, who struck out an angrily looking Morgan Ensberg, silenced the Astro rally and “set up” the closer Billy Wagner for a nice n easy ninth.

Maine’s rousing effort stopped some pretty serious Mets bleeding. After the Mets experienced a Rocky Mountain reduction of their psyche at the hands of Colorado – 47 Coors-aided hits and 34 runs allowed in 3 increasingly demoralizing losses - they were grateful for the poise of Maine and his instant heat out of the gate to set a different tone. Mets play-by-play guy Gary Cohen was inspired enough to anoint Maine as the Mets new “stopper”, and instantly the SNY cameras find the browbeaten visage of Tom Glavine in the dugout, who seemed to somehow sense that his inconsistent performance had just gotten him demoted out of that role.

NY vs. NY a Wagnerian Saga

“Nein, W.” is the answer.

“Do you spell your name with a “V”, Mr. Wagner?” is the question. Or so goes a favorite joke of my classical music aficionado father.

The question for the Mets was how were they going to break a losing skid that saw them drop nein of their last ten games? And how would they do so against the suddenly resurgent Yankees, who have won nein in a row? The answer, like the joke, lies with a Mr. Wagner. Was the tonic for the Mets ills some type of psychological victory? Nein, it was a W, as the Mets triumphed over their Bronx rivals, 2-0 last night, on Wagner’s perfect neinth.

The somewhat unpredictable starter Oliver Perez pitched brilliantly, scattering six hits over his 7 1/3 shutout innings. And the Joe Smith/Pedro Feliciano two-headed monster that picked up the last two outs of the 8th suddenly seems like a serviceable replacement to the one confused head of Aaron Heilman. The perfect 9th Billy Wagner pitched was downright necessary for the Mets. To have blown, or even jeopardized the fragile 2-0 gem the Mets had pieced together would have been more devastating than if they got shelled from the get go.

After getting behind in the count to Posada (with his surprising .349 average) Wagner got Jorge to pop up, then froze Hideki Matsui with an unappetizing offering; an outside fastball that swerved in to skim the black on strike three for the second out. Robinson Cano, seeing Matsui’s open-mouthed hesitation, vowed to swing at Wagner’s nasty outside heat, and flailed at strike three, missing by a foot.

Billy Wagner’s lifetime .188 opponent’s batting average is best among active relievers. His continued ability to locate his feisty arsenal of pitches is needed to unlock the Mets potential, as we enter the heat of summer and the land of the 4-3, 3-2 one run games.

Mets Balk At Their Past

No moment better epitomizes the hope of the Mets young season than the two 12th inning balks committed by the remarkably hesitant Armando Benitez of the Giants out at Shea on May 30. With Jose Reyes juking and jiving on the bases, it was like the Mets past (symbolized by the flinty ego of Armando Benitez in the painful memories of his ’99-‘03 Mets stint) flinching at its immediate future, the irrepressible Reyes. A leg twitch by Armando, a hesitation of will which told of his fear, the smile of Reyes like a deadly and charming feline predator.

After Reyes scored on balk 2 and Carlos Delgado homered, the Mets were dancing around home plate in glee and, in a classic case of “don’t shoot the messenger,” Benitez was immediately shipped off to the Marlins in exchange for a fellow reliever, David Messenger. While the positive symbols were obvious to any Mets fan whose gastrointestinal health suffered when Benitez used to take the mound, it’s hard to celebrate in a season where its been declared “anything less than the World Series is a disappointment.”

Delgado's slump has continued; he struck out looking with the bases loaded Sunday, as the Mets got snakebit 4-1 by the D-Backs. The clutch bat of this wily veteran has provided its share of late inning magic, but cannot be counted on alone. As Beltran sat with a busted knee and Wright, just back from back spasms, looked tentative, the Mets offense, including an all-reserve outfield of Endy Chavez, Ben Johnson and Carlos Gomez, was punchless and beatable.

The Mets, at some point in their quest, will meet an opponent who won’t flinch. Reyes clearly will always be dancing and deadly and will be smiling a lot. And Delgado will be magic sometimes. However, in order to triumph, the Mets will need Wright and Beltran to be not just at their average selves, but stepping it up to that other level.

Gallows Readied for Torre

The recent failures of the Bronx Bombers have left Yankee Nation wearing its smugness and arrogance like the Emperor’s new clothes. The NY Post quoted a CT woman who was commenting on quotes by Anaheim shortstop Orlando Cabrera after a recent Bronx outing. Cabrera had the audacity to say Yankee fans, essentially, were mean spirited louts who would rather berate opposing players than see “good baseball.”

“When’s the last time the Angels drew four million?” asked Yankee fan Lisa Prisco in response to Cabrera. This kind of circular logic dominates the Yankee mentality, the notion that their history of success and being a bigtown favorite makes them more than human. YES announcer Michael Kay will tell you once an hour in a network commercial that the Yanks have won the most championships in the “history of sport.” (First of all whose version of “history”? Are we including the ancient lacrosse wars fought on this continent centuries ago?)

The ineptitude of the superhuman Yankees has reflected on Torre, evidenced by a portion of “The 4 Million” booing Torre on a mound visit with the derisive tone Cabrera decried. The weight of the Yankee expectation and payroll creates an illusion… it MUST be Torre’s inability to lead a team of high priced all-stars to blame for their failure. As Torre is the symbol of a program gone awry, and the inevitable gallows are prepared for a leadership change, this Mets fan believes Torre is being wrongly blamed.

In fact, its more circular logic… “it must be the over-the-hill Torre’s fault because the Yankees couldn’t possibly be this terrible on their own” is how the sentence finishes in the mind of the booing fan. In fact my Yankee friends, you are this terrible because you are this terrible, and the Cashman plan of the all star smorgasbord is not really working. The right mix of leadership, system-grown talent, and heart does not exist on their roster this year, plus the pitching simply is bad and/or banged up. Firing the veteran Torre wont change that.

Only the belief in the fundamentals which Mr. Cabrera eloquently described as “good baseball” can change that.

Abolish "The Cycle"

I can’t believe they implicated Mom in the idiotic media charade that is “The Cycle”.

This Sunday, Mother’s Day, Fred Lewis, rookie centerfielder of the San Francisco Giants, playing in only his 16th big league game as a daytime sub for Randy Winn, hit an imaginary and unimportant smorgasbord of hits known as “The Cycle.” Immediately, the journalists who have suffered through the Giants’ 15-2 dismantling of the Rockies are reporting: It’s a Mother’s Day Miracle. “I called to tell her I didn’t get her anything,” Lewis was quoted as saying, “until now.”

In defense of Fred Lewis’ Mom and the good of baseball, it should be pointed out that the unusual combination of single-double-triple-home run is nothing but an artificial statistical oddity, and the fact that Lewis attained it does not make his Mom love him any more, and should not be a substitute for buying her flowers or at least a nice card. Game winning hits and clutch performances should be celebrated above all. If you want to celebrate a statistical oddity, wouldn’t four homers be a hitter’s perfect game? Or two grand slams? If you were going for the individual statistical gusto in a blowout game, and you had a homer, triple and double, why on earth would you want a single instead of another home run?

Yet that was exactly the unexpected situation which the rookie Lewis found himself in. “There were fans behind the on deck circle who were yelling that I needed a single” Lewis reported. He obliged with a quick little singles swing and a ball lined into right against the beleaguered Colorado bullpen, as “history” was made. There should be much less significance to this “full house” of all the hits, the media really needs to let up. Or if they must persist with “The Cycle”, at least have the decency to leave Mom out of your circus.

Coach Rob Stood for Respect

On a week including the resolution of the Final Four and the beginning of the baseball season, I would never have guessed that Grind It Out Sports would be addressing a college football story. Granted the Georgetown game was a big disappointment…even though Hibbert outplayed Oden in the most hyped matchup of 7-footers since Olajuwon-Ewing over 20 years ago, an uncharacteristic string of Hoya turnovers opened the door for Conley and company to score on fast breaks, as the Buckeyes kept Georgetown at bay to advance to the finals. A finals which was more a coronation for the Gators than a game as Ohio State never really got involved. The game, which was played right after the first Passover seder was disappointingly “like any other night” in which the Gators superior talent and depth allowed them to coast to victory.

None of that seems as significant as the passing of former Grambling State head coach Eddie Robinson this week at age 88. “Coach Rob”, as he was affectionately known by his players coached that team for 57 years, and is not only a bridge to the past, but a man whose unique presence made a meaningful contribution to the changing social environment of our country.

Just the sound of Grambling State’s former name connotes a bygone era in our country: “Louisiana Negro Normal and Industrial Institute”. Robinson took over the coaching job at this traditionally black college in 1941, and in a segregated America his interpretation of his coaching duties included making sandwiches for his players when they went to road games, since they were not welcome at any restaurants along the way. "Coaching is a profession of love.” Robinson would say, “You can't coach people unless you love them." Anyone whose Mom or Dad made them sandwiches can relate, but what must it have meant for these young men, away from the home for the first time, to have the soothing, upbeat, and gentlemanly presence of Robinson to give them courage and teach them what it means to be a man – in a nation where they were treated as less than men.

That Robinson set the record for coaching wins is a fitting tribute, less to his X’s and O’s than to his consistency and unwavering dedication to his purpose in life. He found at Grambling a platform that allowed him to touch the lives of thousands of young men, 200 of which went on to the NFL. Within the reach of his little college he was able to lay down his own rules. Saying that he treated each player “like he wanted to marry my daughter”, Robinson created a place where every individual was respected. It just took America a little while to catch up to him.

Thanks for the legacy you created for all human beings to learn from, and rest in peace Coach Rob.

Hoyas Scrape the Tar Off Heels

Every year for the past 15 March Madnesses, I complete brackets against my brother and father for a Champion T-shirt and the bragging rights that it brings. This year my brother Andrew had the first ever perfect Elite 8 AND Final Four, very impressive, clinching victory before the last three games are even played. Andrew thinks in spreadsheets and has a deadly and unsentimental ability to divine winners, skills which have greatly contributed to my 3-12 lifetime record in the Reichman Pool. Andrew's latest victory has taken away some of the joy I would otherwise feel at picking 3 of the Final Four correctly this year, possibly for first time ever, with only Texas A&M betrtaying me. Furthermore my Hoyas-over-Bruins final outcome prediction still looks like a great call.

Most amazing of all were two emotional, nail-biting, come-from-behind Georgetown victories.
G'town advances past Vanderbilt on a clutch bank shot by Jeff Green in traffic with 10 seconds remaining. Green backed into the lane, almost lost the ball in a black-jerseyed haze of the Vandy double team, only to uncoil and go glass to put the Hoyas up. This after Hoyas had to gradually claw their way back from a big Commodores lead, as big 3s from Vandy's Byars and Foster forced all the time off the clock by the time the Hoyas were able to creep close.

And then, in the last game before the Final Four, the Meadowlands showdown between the Hoyas and UNC, won in incredible fashion by the Hoyas in a case of divine intervention. With the coffin lid closing on them, Georgetown showed Grind It Out heart and fearless determintaion coming from 11 down in the final 10 minutes to scrape the Tar right off the Heels of NC. A succession of good defensive plays by Green, Sapp and Hibbert kept allowing the Hoyas to shave UNC's lead, climaxed by Green's pass over the basket to a wide open Ewing Jr. for 2, and then the ultimate - Jonathan Wallace for three with 31 seconds and he cans it(!) tying the game at 81. In OT its off to the races as Wallace, the smallest player on the court, sneaks through the back door for two and the Hoyas never look back, going up 12 before the Heels get their only OT basket. The Heels Hansbrough, confounded by the swarming Hoya D loses concentration with traveling calls, missed foul shots and the Hoyas never blink steaming through to an almost unbelievable victory. The powder blue seas parted for G'town as just abourt everything that had to go right did over the last 10 minutes of the game and OT.

Sixteen Candles

A look at those burning the brightest in the tournament so far...

Best Game (Texas A+M vs. Louisville)
This game was a war. The lead changing hands every possession. Everybody in foul trouble. Exhausted. Each possession taking the game to new heights. This game was a heavyweight fight to the final bell. Texas A+M survived against Louisville, led by their fearless point guard Acie Law IV and a surprise 21 points from defensive Captain (Dominique) Kirk, who boldly went where he had never gone before with his career high. Player of the game though was Louisville's freshman point guard Edgar Sosa, who went 20 above his average dropping 31 on the Aggies...including 15 of 15 from the charity stripe UNTIL...less than a minute, Aggies by one, and he misses them both!! After a Cardinal foul, Aggies miss both of theirs as well, but Sosa's unnecessarily rushed and too deep 3 bricked off the rim and A&M prevailed. The Freshman took Louisville farther than they could have ever expected but in the end couldn't close it.


Cheating Death (Ohio State vs. Xavier)
The X-Men comic books are about regular people who get superhuman powers after they get too close to a nuclear explosion. Similarly, the X-Men of Xavier University are an ordinary team that played with the strength of a super hero, irradiated by their in-state hate of Ohio State, who stole their coach and is too afraid to schedule regular season games against them (*last contest over 20 years ago). Xavier had the Buckeyes flatlining, leading the game throughout and holding a 9 point advantage late. Ohio State then executed a stunning turnaround, capped by a perfect 3 by Lewis with but a second left in regulation and the Buckeye nation erupting, sending it into an overtime that they would dominate against the suddenly crestfallen Musketeers. Is this is a case of a champion showing the guts to walk through fire or a simple case of the Buckeyes not being that great a team? Next round against TN will show…

Best Dunk
Patrick Ewing Jr., who threw down a stirring reverse slam reminiscent of his Pops (who was there supporting him) at the most key 11th hour.

Best Block
Vandy survivied in double OT against Wash St, thanks to an unbelievable soaring swiping block by their leading scorer, Derrick Byars, as the Cougars were shooting what might have been the winning shot.

Big East a Subtitle for Hoyas?

Time is frozen. Georgetown’s Jeff Green, the basketball cradled in his forearms. Bent into a 45 degree angle whose corner is wedged into the thigh of Notre Dame’s Luke Harangody. Game tied less than a minute left. Time unfreezes at the perfect instant as he steps and curls toward the basket, gliding through Harangody’s forearm shove and uncoiling the ball in a catapulting hook shot at the top of the lane. The ball strikes the front of the rim. The ref’s whistle blows at Harangoday’s blocking foul. The ball hits the backboard. The ball falls softly through the basket. The tide turns as Georgetown takes a lead they will not relinquish, and, following a businesslike throttling of Pitt in the finals, they walk out of Madison Square Garden Big East champs for the first time since 1989.

The tournament and a potential number one seed awaits, but what does this classic and emotional sub-championship foretell of the Hoya’s fate in the true contest that awaits? All the complementary pieces needed to support the sublime and versatile Jeff Green are in place. The fine ball handling and 47% three point shooting of point guard Jonathan Wallace give Georgetown the prerequisite floor general. Jessie Sapp slashing at the basket can break down a defense when their pinpoint passing goes through a stretch where they can’t find a good shot. And 7’2” behemoth Roy Hibbert remains Coach Thompson’s ace in the hole, grabbing dunks and rebounds in moments when his size advantage seems unfair, yet his minutes always managed by Thompson so to never have his clumsy stiffness on the floor at the wrong time. Add the final ingredient, the X-factor hustle of role player Ewing Jr diving after lose balls, grabbing key steals, appearing out of nowhere for the offensive rebound and putback.

One could view the Hoyas as a lock for the NCAA title, but could not the jubilation of their conference title satisfy some of that hunger and desire which is needed for the journey ahead? At Grind it Out Sports, we’ve learned how ridiculously impossible it is to attempt to answer these questions coming into the tournament, and seek only to point out that Georgetown’s clutch performance in their defining moment creates a yin/yang situation whose upside could be a title and whose downside is a possible fizzling out of intensity resulting in a Sweet Sixteen loss to a lower seeded opponent.

Similarly, we examine the defining moment for each of the other tournament favorites, with the yin/yang question whose unknowable answer holds the key – either to tournament glory or humiliation.

UCLA’s defining moment was the only 3 points scored by their leader Arron Afflalo in their loss to Cal (first game of Pac 10 tourney). “Worst game ever” in Afflalo’s own Comic-Book-Guy-like opinion. This “I’ve hit rockbottom” epiphany could be the turning point toward a more determined Bruin effort just at the right time, or it could be just a plateau on the way to the real crash landing, if Afflalo gets tight and comes unglued again.

UNC’s moment came courtesy of a nose-breaking, Kobe-Bryant-style arm swinging by Duke forward Gerald Henderson. Suddenly bloodied, quiet Tar Heel leader Tyler Hansbrough first has an emotional reaction to fight back, later is thrust into a media spotlight, and eventually plastic masked for the following games. His anger flushed out, Hansbrough could be more aggressive and cutthroat with the mask on. Or a subpar performance in their ACC tourney title run could mean his spirit has been broken as well, which leaves UNC up the creek.

Florida, who just waltzed through a crummy SEC to a conference tourney title, saw their defining moment come when they were struggling right before. While getting trounced on the strangely designed court at Vandebilt, forward and emotional leader Joakim Noah exchanged shoves with the opposing coach under the basket where the Commodores bench was placed for some reason. Later a sulking Noah got his curly pony tail into a further tizzy, flinging his towel to the ground in a dramatic display. The passion of Noah and his mates in pursuit of a repeat title could keep them focused down the stretch, or the fallback of a title under their belt could make them lean back, make excuses, and give up.

The defining moment for Wisconsin and Ohio State is later today in their head to head matchup for the Big Ten tournament chamiponship. Regardless of who wins, you can almost rest assured the loser will be angrier, will have more left in the tank, and will do better in the tournament.

Finally Kansas. Sorry Jayhawks, you don’t deserve a defining moment after losing in the first round each of the last two years to Bradley and Bucknell. The defining moment for the Jayhawks comes in the upcoming tournament, where their recent colossal failure will be the story when they take the court…will they respond by erasing or widening the agony of their fans?

Active Seniors

Mostly mental. That’s how you could describe a trend through this week in college basketball. Home underdogs, often clad in orange, slaying visiting giants on Senior Day. The emotions of defending your turf one last time, taking pictures with Mom, shouting senior students getting louder than ever out of nostalgia. All the makings of classic upsets, and nothing but further confusion for serious bracketologists.

On Monday, the Orange entities, formerly known as orange men, coasted on a 14-0 second half run to a rousing defeat of the mighty Hoyas, ending Georgetown’s 11 game winning streak. Syracuse came out inspired to play smashmouth defense, placing distracting orange imps in front of Jeff Green every time he attempted to shoot. (He went 3-of-13). Senior Demetris Nichols burned the Hoyas with his inspired 3-point shooting and later would join fellow senior Darryl Watkins atop the scorers table in an arm-waving farewell to the raucous people of orange descent. The extra motivation for Cuse was evident in their aggressive desire to end the season partying down (as opposed to partying down slightly less if they had lost).

Tuesday saw a similar result down in Knoxville. Tennessee women’s coaching legend Pat Summit regaled the crowd, while in a cheerleader outfit, with her version of “Rocky Top”, a sharing of spirit with men’s coach Bruce Pearl who covered his bare chest in orange paint to salute the women’s team earlier this season. “Rocky Top” refers to the rocky soil of the Volunteer state preventing the growth of corn, and yet those plucky Tennesseans managing to get their corn out of jars. Against Florida, Tennessee was able to open up another kind of jar, this one containing some whuppass. A 17-0 first half run and 50-31 halftime lead paved the way for another feel-good orange senior celebration.

Then Wednesday the victorious orange was of the burnt variety, as Texas outlasted their in-state rival A+M in a double overtime thriller. Aggie point guard Acie Law IV had incredible answers to the Horns with laser-guided non-rotating three balls to tie things up at the end of regulation and overtime one. Unfortunately for the agricultural and mining interests in the state, Law couldn’t get down a bunt after the two home runs, as overtime two and the game ended on his intentionally missed free throw, which was unintentionally not rebounded by the Aggies. Texas freshman sensation Kevin Durant is essentially more of a senior himself, as his 30 point 16 rebound performance was surely his farewell to the Austin faithful, as sneaker companies have lured him to the NBA to become the new Kevin Garnett.

Presumably, when the whistle blows both teams want the victory the same amount (a lot). Yet on Senior Day that home team wants it more than a lot. Will this extra gear be available for these orange underdogs in the neutral emotion of the neutral site NCAAs? And are top seeds G’town, FL and A+M vulnerable? All signs point to “who the hell knows.”

Winter is DUI Season

Woods beats Henry 3 and 2 at match play
Peyton redoes deal, saves Colts cap room
Illinois G Smith surrenders to police
Pacers Tinsley, Daniels charged in fight
Dolphins sign Holliday for $20M, 4 years
DUI hearing for Colts’ Rhodes postponed
Cincy’s Thurman pleads no contest to DUI
Chief Illiniwek to perform for last time

Yahoo sports is listing 8 top stories this evening…amazingly half of them are drunken athletes out of control. Three athlete DUIs (counting Illinois G Smith, who was in fact detained over a horrible DUI wreck which left his teammate with a critical head injury). Four liquor-soaked ballers in all counting Pacers Tinsley who was charged with felony intimidation for his bar fight. And Cincy's Thurman has to do 90 days in the slammer for his repeat violation. Sadly, the days of alcohol fueled craziness and athletes are in full swing. Why? Perhaps the $20M in 4 year contract above sheds some light on the sense of entitlement some ballplayers have.

Compare the drunken free-for-all above with the maturity and sacrifice of Peyton restructuring his contract to keep the Colts on top, and the continued slaughter at the hands of the unstoppable Tiger Woods, Inc., and you either have a profound contrast or a world waiting for March Madness and baseball.

Meanwhile Chief Illegalwek has been banned, but is rumored that he will take to the streets of Champaign, IL for bootleg pep dances.

Norv By Norv-west

The Chargers hiring of Norv Turner as head coach today can be compared to a date in which you offer to take your companion to Wendy’s, she objects, you offer to take her someplace better…only to pull your car into McDonald’s across the street. Norv is a poor man’s Schottenheimer – on a good day! Turner was noticeably ineffective in his years with the Skins and Raiduhs – earning a whopping one trip to the playoffs (with Washington). Just ask an Oakland fan about his 1-11 record in division games with the Raiders over his two years, and, assuming you don’t get a silver and black medieval mace to the face, suddenly Schottenheimer’s 5-13 playoff record won’t seem so terrible. Schottenheimer at least brings a successful regular season and a consistent competence at making the playoffs.

The Chargers, fresh off their botched showdown with Belichick and co. were nonetheless Vegas favorites moments after the Super Bowl ended. Vegas knows the casual fan who just suffered through three hours of Peyton in the rain would love nothing more than to dream that next year a new champion will emerge. The gaudy offensive production of Tomlinson and company and their 14-2 record perhaps MUST make the Bolts a favorite in the circular reasoning of America’s millions of brainwashed fantasy players.

One wonders, will Norv immediately have to inherit Marty’s “LaDanian is the best player ever” viewpoint as a condition of taking over? LaDanian can get four touchdowns in every game and they still wouldn’t be an inch closer to the Super Bowl if Norv can’t strategize a playoff win…likely against Belichick and/or Dungy no less. Norv’s inability to lead a team seemed to have him relegated to coordinator status for good, yet clearly the Chargers wanted to go with head coaching “experience” which is like saying we’d rather go with someone predictably mediocre than some young guy who is untested. No one has more experience being predictably mediocre than Marty Schottenheimer, who is a better Norv than Norv is, even.

The powder blue and yellow lightning bolts of SD seem forever doomed with this one to enter the realm of classic teams that apexed short of the Super Bowl. Not even a strategy of giving the ball to LeBron Tomlinson every single play will make these Cleveland Cavaliers of the NFL successful if they aren’t managed properly as a team, and remain unable to adapt to changing circumstances under pressure. Can Norv change that? You know the Raiders are licking their chops at two chances to show the world the answer is “no.”

Hoya Toughness

Georgetown showed Grind It Out tenacity in defeating Villanova Saturday, capturing the latest opportunity for a measure of revenge for the eternal Hoya pain from the ’85 title upset. Nine consecutive victories for Georgetown have fans dreaming that the current “Ewing Jr. Era” will represent not only Patrick’s role player son’s presence on the team, but also a taste of the same NCAA glory his pop achieved. Let’s just say they have at least achieved an “Iverson Era” level of success, which feels good for fans after a lean decade there.

Georgetown’s 7’2” Roy Hibbert may get the publicity, but the Villanova game showed it’s the sharp shooting and toughness of Jeff Green around which the Hoyas revolve. Green’s fake 3 and smooth step-out to drain a laser 15-footer put Georgetown ahead for good at 56-55, and was the last field goal of the game. The fake worked nicely because of Green’s silky quickness and also because he is potentially deadly from outside. Green absorbed a smack in the face in a rebounding scrum a play later and shook off the circling tweety birds to nail two clutch free throws as the Hoyas triumphed 58-55.

The versatile Green, who finished with 19 points, 9 bounds and a career high 8 blocked shots, was aided by the sparkling play of NYC native playmaker Jessie Sapp, who thrilled audiences by sinking a shot at the halftime buzzer well beyond halfcourt in an effortless leaping shot putting motion. Told he was not winning a car for this effort, Sapp continued to hit clutch threes in the tight second half, also showing his ability to slice and dice in the lane.

Hibbert was not allowed to play offense by Nova, and got his only touch in the paint on his second of only two baskets with 2:59 remaining. G-town went right back to him off the inbounds on the next possession, but his sluggish and flat footed up-and-under move was easily blocked by Nova’s Sheridan. For whatever reason the towering Hibbert can’t seem to generate his own offense in the paint at times. Hoya coach John Thompson Jr.’s brilliance has been harnessing the giant project’s contributions while not allowing his rough spots to cost the team the game. With the clutch hands of Green waiting for the ball, Georgetown has been deadly.

Rex a Tyranosaurus of Failure

Super Bowl XLI will always be remembered for a stirring, inspiring performance amid a torrential downpour. And in addition to Prince’s halftime show, the Colts won a football game.

Kelvin Hayden’s interception for the Colts closed out a soggy day for the Bears. On the ensuing challenge replays it could be seen that his foot touched down within a single blade of grass of the sideline before he took off on his 56-yard touchdown run, the only score of the fourth quarter, the one that iced it. Rex Grossman’s pass was a lazy looper, floated into coverage.

When Rex was intercepted by Bob Sanders two passes later, it was clear the much anticipated scenario of Grossman costing his team the game would be the story of the day, ahead of the monsoon (first inclement weather in Super Bowl history) and the sizzling opening with Devin Hester scoring while Billy Joel was still performing the national anthem. With Rex unable to sustain a drive (nothing longer than 2:22), the D was left out in the rain for days. Grossman allowed the Colts to control the clock with his inability to get first downs, then allowed them to win the game on his poor judgment on the two interceptions, thrown sloppily and deep downfield.

Peyton’s primary contribution was to facilitate the fine running of Rhodes and Addai by not dropping the ball. The two Colt runners deserved to be co-MVP’s in place of the suddenly monkey-free QB. The Hester return and five first quarter turnovers gave the game a wide open feel early, but Peyton’s conservative ball control march to victory made the second half considerably less entertaining.

Clearly, Peyton’s hours of experience at getting pelted by rain while filming Gatorade commercials proved very useful Sunday. Rex on the other hand could have been benched for his poor decisions and lackluster execution. If some purple shoulder pads could have been found for Prince perhaps the result would have been different.

From McGee to Randel-El: Super Bowl Magic Moments

Brunch with your girlfriend. Laundry. Loading your iTunes. Reflecting on past Super Bowl glories. The two-week break before the Super Bowl provides opportunities for all kinds of enjoyment, on this the first Sunday Without Football. The sting of this day is taken away by the fact that we can look forward to The Biggest Sunday of Them All in seven days. Its as if the NFL has to wean its fans gradually off football; the break prevents the shock from being too great after the Bowl, since we have all gotten a taste today of the way Sundays will soon feel for many weeks. Suffice it to say that if you are sitting down to a plate of nachos and a beer to watch the Pro Bowl in a couple of weeks, you seriously need help letting go.

Superbowl.com provides a fun 5-question quiz which determines what team you should root for if still undecided. Give it a shot if you haven’t tried it yet, definitely good for a few laughs. The quiz told me what I already know, that I will be rooting for the Bears Sunday. Although I must say its hard not feel like the Colts are destined to win this one. More than anything in their epic come from behind win over the Pats last Sunday, I was impressed by Peyton Manning’s fire after throwing the interception that put Indy in a 21-3 hole. As annoying as it is to have his “being a leader” constantly drummed into our heads by the media, you could see his emotion at that moment, and he really did manage to keep his team focused and competitive when lesser players might sulk their way through the next couple of plays.

This week I ask the question, what were the great indelible moments in Super Bowl History? I take a personal approach, adding where I was, and the circumstances of my viewing the game into the mix. Beginning with my understanding of those early legendary Bowls before my birth, I give you the epic Grind It Out Sports Super Bowl Magic Moments.

Super Bowl 1 (1967) Green Bay 35 – Kansas City 10. Legendary night of partying for seldom used Packers WR Max McGee, who had an amazing 7 catches and 2 TDs motivated by pure fear, not wanting coach Vince Lombardi to know how hung over he was. After hiding under the covers and then sneaking back to the bars after curfew, McGee was still buying drinks for young LA ladies as the sun was coming up, since he didn’t expect to see a single pass, having only caught 7 all season in what was to be his last year. An injury to the starting WR thrust McGee into the spotlight. Future Super Bowl eve partiers would not exhibit McGee’s ability to bounce back and be a hero.

Super Bowl 3 (1969) New York Jets 16 – Baltimore 7. The legendary guarantee and equally legendary lambchops of Mr. Kissing Suzy Kolber himself, Broadway Joe Namath. This is the first known “guarantee” in sports, magically coming true against huge odds, and thereby for a short time giving credence to the word. Today, a sports “guarantee” is nothing more than a really strong prediction, a lock of the week if you will. Hundreds of “guarantees” since then have been false, with no consideration to the guarantor, the fans.

Super Bowl 4 (1970) Kansas City 23 – Minnesota 7. “They’re running around like a Chinese fire drill”. The late great Hank Stram of the Chiefs, first coach to be miked up on the sideline, pacing the sideline in his arrowhead-logo blazer, slapping his palm with his rolled up program.

Super Bowl 7 (1973) Miami 14 – Washington 7. Dolphin kicker Garo Yepremian picks up a wild snap and suddenly his dream of being a quarterback in the Super Bowl takes over. Garo's wobbly wounded duck of a pass goes sideways and is scooped up by rthe Skins for a 49 yard touchdown run the other way. Second only to the tumbling ski jumper on the Wide World of Sports, this picture of futility was ironically the only blemish on a Dolphins Super Bowl win which cemented their perfect season.

Super Bowl 8 (1974) Miami 24 – Minnesota 7. My brother Andrew is born on this day. This not only inspires years of mostly futile support for the Dolphins in our family, but also represents the first sign of my brother’s strange control over the Vikings, on whom he bestowed a curse which will prevent them from ever winning the Super Bowl.

Super Bowl 10 (1976) Pittsburgh 21 – Dallas 17. The concentration of Steeler WR Lynn Swann leaping to touch a long ball also touched by the defender, planting his foot and leaping again to snare the tipped pass out of the air.

Super Bowl 11 (1977) Oakland 32 – Minnesota 14. Raiders coach John Madden, in his black shirt and blue polyester pants, his curly hair swooped into a big puff, being carried off the field by his players with a classic look of joy…which allows him to “Boom!” - break into broadcasting.

Super Bowl 12 (1978) Dallas 27 – Denver 10. The first super bowl I can really remember watching although I can’t recall any of the game. My only memory is the image of the big beard of Broncos QB Craig Morton. Gimme a break, I was 8. However this began an uninterrupted run of Super Bowl viewings.

Super Bowl 13 (1979) Pittsburgh 35 – Dallas 31. Lynn Swann again, this time leaping into the endzone for the deciding TD.

Super Bowl 14 (1980) Pittsburgh 31 - LA Rams 19. I remember rooting for the Rams and their plucky underdog QB Vince Ferragamo, who held a 19-14 lead coming into the fourth quarter. Another Bradshaw bomb for the Steelers, this time to John Stallworth was predicted by family friend Bob Z, whose confidence in the favorite Steelers underscores my first taste of the perilous road of rooting for underdogs.

Super Bowl 15 (1981) Oakland 31 – Philadelphia 17. Scruffy Raiders linebacker Rod Martin grabs his third interception of the day, deflating the Eagles for good.

Super Bowl 16 (1982) San Francisco 26 – Cincinnati 21. Heroic and gritty goal line stand by the Niners D denied the Bengals on four attempts inside the three yard line and tips the balance to SF.

Super Bowl 17 (1983) Washington 27 – Miami 17. Bruising Redskin menace John Riggins, who had bullied the Dolphins all game despite my inept attempts to will the defense to stop him, turns a fourth-and-one attempt into a 43 yard back-breaking fourth quarter TD.

Super Bowl 18 (1984) LA Raiders 38 – Washington 7. Most remember Marcus Allen’s amazing reversal of field for a 74 yard TD. The real play of the game was the interception by unknown Raiders DB Jack Squirek. Redskins QB Joe Theismann, who was backed up deep in his own end threw a little toss in the flat which Squirek turned into a flash of a pick-6, a TD that kept the Skins out of the game.

Super Bowl 19 (1985) San Francisco 38 – Miami 16. A blur of disappointment and Joe Montana on another day of high Dolphins hopes in which no play is remembered.

Super Bowl 20 (1986) Chicago 46 – New England 10. I obnoxiously offered my friend Eric Klopfer (a Pats fan) a 20 point spread on a $20 bet which allowed me to relish the Bears 46-10 victory in smug satisfaction. Who can forget the Fridge scoring that touchdown?

Super Bowl 21 (1987) NY Giants 39 – Denver 20. Giants WR Phil McConkey scoops up a floating tip in the endzone for a TD in a game punctuated by my Mom’s cousin Bob Lichman’s shouts of “little Joe from Kokomo” every time Giants RB Joe Morris touched the ball. Cousin Bob’s joy was my first taste of a fan rewarded for years of suffering and unconditional support.

Super Bowl 22 (1988) Washington 42 – Denver 10. 35 points in a Redskins second quarter blitzkrieg, which I still use as the yardstick for the most points you can possibly expect to score in a quarter.

Super Bowl 23 (1989) San Francisco 20 – Cincinnati 16. I’ll never forget Bengals lineman Tim Krumrie breaking his leg and the gruesome image of his massive limb bending so disturbingly where there was no joint. The game, a rare thriller, came down to that winning drive by Montana as the clock was ticking down, capped by the pass to John Taylor in endzone traffic.

Super Bowl 24 (1990) San Francisco 55 – Denver 10. This one-sided slaughter is memorialized by the Simpsons in which Homer wishes he could be John Elway. He envisions himself spiking the ball in the endzone with a Super Bowl TD, only to learn the score is now 55-10 Niners. D’oh!!!

Super Bowl 25 (1991) Giants 20 – Buffalo 19. Buffalo kicker Scott Norwood goes wide right on a chance to win the game as I am down on my knees in the TV lounge of my college dorm, praying for Big Blue. The sweet taste of victory celebrated with a massive bucket of a margarita at Houlihans.

Super Bowl 26 (1992) Washington 37 – Buffalo 24. In a legendary mishap, Buffalo RB Thurman Thomas leaves his helmet in the dressing room and doesn’t notice until the game is about to start. Thomas misses the first possession, which features two running plays, the Bills have to punt and never recover. Thomas only gets 13 yards on the day.

Super Bowl 27 (1993) Dallas 52 – Buffalo 17, and Super Bowl 28 (1994) Dallas 30 – Buffalo 13. These were the dark ages for the Super Bowl. My girlfriend Joyce remembers how annoying, unemotional and formulaic these games were without recalling the exact teams involved, as many casual fans have, she has blocked out the details. Team America against the bumbling Bills provided no foothold for anyone not specifically rooting for one team. The two years run together without any indelible memories save for one. Huge Cowboys end Leon Lett showboating with a recovered fumble gets stripped by a hustling Bills WR Don Beebe at the one inch line. The fact that these two dismal Bowls are remembered for a quirky sideshow of play which did not affect the outcome of the game is a fitting statement.

Super Bowl 29 (1995) San Francisco 49 – San Diego 26. Only three plays into the game, Niners WR Jerry Rice is gone on a 44 yard breakaway TD. I am watching the game in my Mission District apartment in San Francisco and the crackle of gunfire and explosives can be heard at the exact moment of this early TD, the excitement of the rout being on that early was indescribable. Later there is dancing on the streets, waving of flags and bouncing automobiles in a wild scene.

Super Bowl 30 (1996) Dallas 27 – Pittsburgh 17. In a crushing moment which doomed this game to be remembered for failure, Steelers QB Neil O’Donnell threw a ball right to Cowboy DB Larry Brown, I mean right to him. Inexplicable for the Steelers and anyone rooting for either a good game or the breaking of 11 years of NFC dominance. I was at a San Francisco Super Bowl party where, naturally, we were unanimously rooting for the Steelers. The hostess comes in at that exact moment with a tray of snacks and lets out a big cheer. It was the fourth quarter and she was so focused on the chips and dips that she hadn’t picked up which team was in what uniform yet, and thought Pittsburgh just grabbed the INT. Her errant cheer echoes into the sullen room.

Super Bowl 31 (1997) Green Bay 35 - New England 21. Fleet footed Heisman winner Desmond Howard answers a Pats TD by scampering 99 yards for a Packer TD on the ensuing kickoff, slamming the door shut on the Tuna and the Pats.

Super Bowl 32 (1998) Denver 31 – Green Bay 24. John Elway scrambling for a first down gets knocked 360 degrees in the air, spinning the Broncos to an unexpected victory. Odd to remember rooting for Elway and the Broncos to break the 12 year NFC run and to upset what I assumed would be a dynasty by Brett Favre that never came to be.

Super Bowl 33 (1999) Denver 34 – Atlanta 19. Hanky panky in the late night hours by Falcons safety Eugene Robinson has him arrested for solicitation of a prostitute. After being awarded the Bart Starr award for “high moral character” earlier in the day, Robinson, a married father of two, caps his Super Bowl eve by offering a female undercover cop $40 for oral sex. His bust reverberates through the pregame discussions and when Robinson gets toasted on an 80 yard Elway bomb, his fate is sealed as a Super Bowl villain who feel prey to the bright lights of the big game.

Super Bowl 34 (2000) St. Louis 23 – Tennessee 16. Titans receiver Andre Dyson stretches out for a game tying touchdown as time expires, only to be tackled a yard short of the endzone, capping a thriller. Not to disparage the ending but you could kinda tell he wasn’t gonna get it.

Super Bowl 35 (2001) Baltimore 34 – New York Giants 7. I hosted a snow covered cookout with Giants fans. At a certain point in the third quarter everyone had fallen asleep except me. I had to wake everyone up to see replays of Ron Dixon’s 99 yard kickoff return, which was the only Giants score.

Super Bowl 36 (2002) New England 20 – St. Louis 17. Pats Adam Vinatieri with that clutch 48 yard game winner. But ya gotta remember Brady on that last drive with no timeouts. Great game and I feel nostalgic for the days of the Pats as loveable underdogs.

Super Bowl 37 (2003) Tampa Bay 48 – Oakland 21. In another disturbing example of pre Super Bowl partying gone awry, Raiders pro bowl center Barrett Robbins goes AWOL in Tijuana the day before the game (in San Diego), losing track of where and who he was in an alcohol-fueled bipolar episode. Unable to attend team functions he is sent home before the game. Backup Adam Treu is pushed around by Warren Sapp and company all game, as the Raiders are defeated while wondering why their offensive anchor wasn’t there.

Super Bowl 38 (2004) New England 32 – Carolina 29. After a great game-tying drive by the Panthers with 1:08 left, play of the game was a boneheaded kick out of bounds by Carolina kicker Jim Kasay. Starting at the 40 after the ensuing penalty gave the Pats plenty of time to maneuver Vinatieri into position for another Super Bowl winning kick.

Super Bowl 39 (2005) New England 24 – Philadelphia 21. Eagles QB Donovan McNabb throws up before an attempted fourth quarter drive and is strangely flat and unemotional while attempting in vain to lead his team.

Super Bowl 40 (2006) Pittsburgh 21 – Seattle 10. Steelers cement it on a trick play as wideout and former QB Antwan Randel-El catches a lateral and flings it 43 yards for a TD to Hines Ward.

Pats Protected By Glowing Light

After the Patriots stunning performance against the Chargers, I am changing the name of this column to “Hang Around Sports” for just one week, as the Pats proved that being outplayed by a more talented team is no reason to go losing a football game all of a sudden.

I must admit how colossally wrong I was. Xs and Os are more important than the Belichick/Brady mystique and playoff record? What on earth was I thinking? Of course the Brady/Belichick factor is more important. Of course the Pats were not struck by lightning as I had predicted (perhaps due to the fact that the original New England Patriot, the loveable tri-cornered hat wearing Ben Franklin, actually invented the lightning rod). Of course the Pats amazing run would roll on in the time after Deion Branch and into the year 2007. Jabar Gaffney? Doesn’t matter. Brady, smirking in the postgame press conference, relishing the fact that he could somehow still be an underdog in the Fantasy Football obsessed perception of America, even though he always wins.

The Pats were surrounded by a glowing light all game; realizing this made me want to recant my prediction halfway through the first quarter. When they lost the ball they magically got it back. Brady has the ball come flying out and get tracked by an invisible force field into the arms of Matt Light (one of his Visa 5 layers of protection). SD gets the big interception by McCree with an 8 point lead and Troy Brown is able to stop time, calmly walk over and poke out the ball, and then allow the game, and their drive, to resume. I've seen stuff like that happen on "Heroes", but never before in football. Drives extended by headbutting penalties due to imps buzzing in Chargers' heads. Calling it "Brady/Belichick magic at work" is just man's attempt to explain the shielding light that seems to protect the Pats.

Martyball may not have been responsible for these turnover mishaps, but in the category of things you CAN control, the blame lies squarely on Martyball for the worst, most horrible call of the game. Talking about 2nd and 5, tie game, late fourth quarter. Ya gotta hand the ball to LaDanian, yes, again, just like you did on first down. Marty was unwilling to fully embrace the use of his deadliest and most dependable weapon. He put the ball in the hands of the rookie QB and allowed himself to get beaten on poorly thrown Rivers incompletions, and punted the ball away to Brady and Co. with the perfect 3:30 left, practically leaving milk and cookies in the endzone for them. I contend LaDanian could get you close enough on second down that you wouldn’t be stuck throwing again on third. It’s the playoffs, you go back to the well again and again if you have to.

La Danian lost his cool at midfield after the game – nice job defending the disturbing “dance” of your steroid abusing teammate. Shawne Merriman’s Roid Rhumba is a repeated, annoying taunt in the face of his opponents. It would seem to be the most basic rule of taunting that after you’ve done it ad naseum you can expect to have it done in your face when you lose. LaDanian’s call of “disrespectful” for this case of taunting back the taunter is way off, the only thing disrespectful is the final score being disrespectful to the San Diego fans. Take some responsibility for that instead of playing your sour grapes cards on the Pats organization.

Since I obviously have clouded judgment with my picks, and since I witnessed the Pats surrounded by the glowing light, I have to reverse what my picks would ordinarily be looking at the “Xs and Os”. Its apparent to me that the Pats will win the Super Bowl, beating the Bears in an 85 revenge bloodmatch.

Grind It Out Sports play of the weekend, however, comes courtesy of the Saints Deuce McAllister, when he plowed the pile forward for a TD, his body twisted in a J-shape and his helmet removed by the shifting continents, keying a courageous victory against a game Philly squad.

Lightning Will Strike Pats

I have to give props to the Boise State Broncos for the most exciting moments in football for a long time. Imagine an old black and white football film from the 50s, the Boise St. players with their perfect hair listening to the coach on the sideline. “We’ve run the fumblerooski. And we’ve run the hook and lateral.” The coach is pacing. “Now we need a play to get this two point conversion.” Silence. Then, little Frankie pipes up. “Hey coach, they’ve never seen the Statue of Liberty play, have they?” The coach is puzzled, then his wrinkled brow melts into a mischievous grin. “The ol’ Statue of Liberty….”

Three brilliant trick plays in one game, all of which resulted in scores and all of which left the Oklahoma Sooners looking flat footed and stooge-like. Climaxing in the most perfect Statue of Liberty, the ball magically hidden behind Boise QB Jared Zabransky’s back after the “follow through” of his fake throw, grabbed by the RB for an easy walk to the endzone and a game winning 2-point conversion. The tricks provided a larger than life, courageous, nothing-to-lose victory which allowed the lowly Smurfturfers to capture the hearts and fancy of a nation. May the NFL deliver a fraction of that excitement this weekend.

In the words of Edgar Allan Poe’s The Raven: “Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; - This it is, and nothing more.” The Colts will be nothing more than a visitor scraping at the door of their abandoned city of Baltimore, and will be rebuffed by McNair and Co. The Colts fled their native Baltimore in a fleet of trucks loaded in secrecy, under cover of night, and were already in Indianapolis by the time anyone noticed. Now its time for the good people of Baltimore to savor some revenge. Ravens 27-Colts 21.

Philadelphia fans consider themselves “long suffering.” Go to a Phillies game in your Mets gear and you’ll quickly find the fans will gladly take out their suffering on you. Nawlins has suffered too, in life not sports and in a much more meaningful sense. They also have only won one playoff game ever. What gives? The rules of karma say the Phila underdog card gets trumped in the Big Easy by the strong arm and leadership of Drew Breezy, and a crowd that will be off the heezy. Saints 34-Eagles 27.

All the talk about New England is about the intangibles, the x-factors, the Brady factor, the Belichick factor, the Brady playoff record, the Brady sex appeal, the Belichick playoff record. Everything except the actual X’s and O’s. A few years ago Brady got his first playoff victory in the swirling snow, with a “tuck rule” call that robbed Da Raiduhs. Sunday, the streak of good luck will end, and Cali gets its revenge. La Danian lightning will strike the Pats, and QB Philip Rivers will be good enough. Brady can go back to complaining about the Deion Branch trade after they fall to earth. Chargers 40-Patriots 31.

The long layoff is not good for the Bears. Too much time to contemplate. The layoff wasn’t long enough to bring the return of two of their defensive stalwarts, Mike Brown and Tommie Harris. Rex Grossman will try “extra hard” and that right there will doom the Bears. Seahawks meanwhile, have some mojo working after the way they defeated Dallas. Seahawks 20 - Bears 17.

Seahawks are Wildest of Cards

Big Blue Folds. Did a desperate last charge by the Giants keep the game in doubt until the end? Or was Big Blue just doing enough to stall the inevitable, showing tantalizing flashes of talent before crumbling? The valiant Giants D rose up to stop the Eagles time and again, allowing New York to squeak into a 20-20 fourth quarter tie, but no further. This late tie, which represented the apex of the Giants 2006 season, occurred almost as all hope was lost, after numerous squandered opportunities. The Giants showed the skills which could have won the game, and also showed the mental chaos that mostly made winning impossible for them this year.

The images are ugly. Jeremy Shockey lifting the earpiece of Coach Coughlin’s headset to shout at him. Plaxico Burress whining and moping with his visor askew. Tiki Barber sitting by himself with that goofy grin. Worst of all, Eli Manning with his completely blank stare, looking like he had just been lobotomized. I understand he’s not a rah-rah guy but I was starting to get worried about the drool factor the way he was just staring into space. Announcer Troy Aikman, who himself can be quite a stiff, pointed out how Eli was off in another place, but really all the Giants seemed to be islands unto themselves Sunday.

Tiki certainly did not seem to be a man soaking up his last day of battle with his beloved teammates. I’m not sure what was giving him such a sarcastic grin, but he looked like a dude who had to go to a wedding with his ex-girlfriend two days after dumping her. Just sitting by himself with a smile that said “Hi, I’m smiling, but don’t talk to me, I was dragged here and I’m leaving right after the toast.”

Tiki certainly gave a winning effort in his finale, rushing for 137 and consistently picking up key first downs. But where was the pep talk to get his teammates riled up? Look at Jerome Bettis last year, so beloved that his retirement spurred the Steelers on to Super Bowl. You know the Bus had some inspiring words for his boys on the sideline. But alas, just another example of the perplexing aloofness of Tiki, who, unlike the Bus, I fear will never be seated among the Men of the Square Table.

For Giants fans, the end of the season brings more relief than sadness.

Seahawks Discover Clutch. Just as the Cowboys were about to kick a late go-ahead field goal, QB Tony Romo, who has been the holder for every Dallas field goal this season, was victimized by a slippery “K-ball”, which squirted out of his hands. NFL officials say a K-ball is a slicker version of the regular ball which is preferred by placekickers; Romo seemed to believe himself quite slick when he was implicated in a date with Jessica Simpson and seen engaging in pregame sideline flirtation with American Idol Kerry Underwood. Yet on Saturday the concept of extra slickness seemed to work against Romo as his strange inability to grip what would have been an easy field goal erased a probable victory for the Cowboys.

The shoestring tackle of an improvising Romo on the same play moments later at the Seattle 2 by a quick reacting and sure handed Seahawks safety Jordan Babineaux prevented what apppeared to be a sure touchdown. This was one of many nice hustle plays that gave Seattle a chance to steal one, and suddenly give the Coffeetown Ospreys a long absent sense of close-game clutchness. Other key plays included the incredible 30 yard bomb from QB Matt Hasselbeck to Bobby Engram, perfectly placed to the outside shoulder where the defender couldn’t get near it. They included two stellar TD grabs by tight end Jerramy Stevens, best known as the last Super Bowl’s inciter-of-Joey-Porter, who dropped key balls in the pigskin classic. Stevens may have learned from his foolishness as he maintained full concentration on the two difficult TD balls, and Hasselbeck had the true laser rocket arm on Saturday (and not Peyton).

The Seattle D contributed their share of big plays as well. Babineaux’s tackle of Romo was accompanied by the purse snatching executed by Seattle rookie Kelly Jennings, who committed a distract-and-grab theft at the Cowboy 10 on Terry Glenn (previously called a woman by his coach Bill Parcells) for a safety that missed being a TD by a shoelace. No less important was the gang tackle of Dallas TE Jason Witten half an inch from the first down to set up the Romo-botched field goal attempt in the first place. After their dismal Super Bowl, this collection of clutch plays in a game with “crazy” playoff type unpredictability showed a new, tougher Seahawk at the top of the totem pole. (Their fans hope).

My pick of 20-19 Cowboys certainly painted an accurate picture of how this game almost went down. So did my call that the game would be “characterized by another big couple of dropped TO passes and accompanying media frothiness.” Actually one big drop, but it musta been painful for the Big D faithful to watch TO’s right hand not know what the left hand was doing once again, on what would have been a key, drive-extending third down catch in the fourth quarter. It seems fitting as well that Romo, exalted as “lightning in a bottle”, would fall to rookie goat and now will have his clumsiness repeated in slow motion forever in the annals of NFL Films dishonor. He not only had to get consoled by TO, he even felt compelled to issue the “I hate myself now” speech to the media. Ouch, how precipitous is the rise and fall of Romo.

Colts Toughen Up. My prediction of a 14 point Colts victory was dead on. The predicted 41-27 score, admittedly reflecting the conventional wisdom that the offenses would rule the day, was short three touchdowns on each side. Chiefs running back Larry Johnson was absent from the action with only 32 yards on the day – the man who set an NFL record this year for carries in a season had only 15 this game, won by the Colts 23-8. No one predicted that the much maligned Colts D would discover an ability to control the game with smashmouth play in the trenches. Time after time the Chiefs insisted on going back to Johnson, who would get stopped in the teeth of the defensive interior, until KC eventually trailed big and had to go the passing route. A comparison of the number of team first downs early in the third quarter were an unheard of 20-0 in favor of Indy. Statistically, it was the best defensive performance in Colts playoff history, eclipsing some heroic days in their glorious Baltimore past.

After the game a beaming Colts defensive end Dwight Freeney explained that no one outside their locker room believed the Colts could stop anyone. Freeney was a disappointing former sack machine for the Colts this season; after getting between 11 and 16 sacks a season over his first four in the league, in this his fifth season, he managed only a measly 5.5. On Saturday Freeney stuffed Johnson and the run all day and got to Trent Green for two big sacks. The Colts D was a laughtingstock this year and got runnup on plenty of times capped off by an embarrassing 375 running yards allowed in Jacksonville on December 10th. But on Saturday they were the dominant unit on the field, reminding us of one of the eternal mysteries of sports, that the ratio between skill and performance is impossible to predict on a given gameday, and that players are capable of unexpected acts of courage when backed to a corner.

Overshadowed by the heroic defensive performance, but no less important, was Peyton Manning’s willingness to give up throwing the long ball and (after three INT’s) be content with a game plan of easy dumpoffs inside to the running backs and tight ends. Like many fans, Peyton didn’t even know his nemesis Ty Law was on the Chiefs until he intercepted two passes.

We’ve all seen Peyton get hubristic and try to do too much in the playoffs; perhaps this ability to manage the game in changing circumstances provides a different dimension. IF the Colts D dominates like that every game throughout the rest of the playoffs, then they will surely win the Super Bowl. IF, I’m saying, which is a big if. Was their performance an aberration or the sign of things to come? Look to GIOS for a prediction on the upcoming Battle of Baltimore this week, as the Colts return to the city they fled under cover of night, to face the Ravens.

Pats Dismiss Jets. My prediction called for a 20 point Pats victory and a dooming Pennington arm injury. Instead, a 21 point Pats victory was decided by critical arm mistakes by Pennington, the worst of which was a tipped backwards pass turned into 31-yard fumble return by the slow rumbling Patriots nose tackle Vince Wilfork. The 325 pound Wilfork missed three games with a bum ankle and was a surprise return for the game. He alertly scooped up an ignored live ball after Roosevelt Colvin tipped a pass Pennington threw backwards to the receiver standing slightly behind the line.

When Wilfork paused, puzzled as to the liveness of the ball he was holding, a jumping flailing Bill Belichick, who seemed to be auditioning for a role with Cirque de Soleil, told Wilfork, yes, you should indeed run, as the gyrating coach willed the big man down to the Jets 15 before the sleepy Jets D reacted. Call me crazy, but I’ve always been a fan of the forward pass. Not only does it close the door on the Pandora’s box of live-ball, backward pass troubles, but since forward is the direction you are trying to go, maybe you should throw that way, no?

The ensuing field goal following this Jets gaffe provided a decisive 23-13 Pats edge. Victory was sealed by Pennington’s Pick-6 opportunity handed to Pats DB Assante Samuel in the fourth which provided the final 37-16 advantage and crushed Gang Green’s weak comeback hopes.

Tom Brady was sneaky deadly, making no mistakes and throwing strikes to lead his team throughout. Yet one wonders, are the Pats good enough to go to San Diego and not get burned by the LaDanian Lightning? Predictions await.

"Tired" Tiki Wakes Up Giants

So, you know, up until now I had stayed out of the prediction business, and obviously the result of Sunday’s Giants game demonstrates why I am writing this blog and not sipping champagne in a hot tub in Vegas right now. A scaled down game plan took the ball out of Eli’s hands, and called for repeated 50-yard Tiki Barber runs to make up the entire offense. This obviously was a brilliant game plan from newly minted coordinator Kevin Gilbride, since Tiki was gliding through the Skins defense like a furious little waterbug. By extension, its also evident that Tom Coughlin made a brilliant decision to sack previous coordinator John Hufnagel, for whom the blame obviously lies for the Giants ineptitude against New Orleans.

Could this circular logic somehow extend to a playoff victory over Philly? To answer this question I once again turn to the abstract areas of karma and psyche coming into the big game. The Eagles were not supposed to be there without the leader and face of their franchise, Donovan McNabb. Now that their hopes are lashed to the resurrected arm of Jeff Garcia, you’d think they would need some type of positive emotional contribution from the flightless head Eagle McNabb. Yet the loudest talking McNabb at the moment is his Mama, who suddenly isn’t just telling him to eat his Campbell’s soup and annoying his teammates. In Mama McNabb’s blog contribution to her dear son’s website entitled “Bittersweet” she lets the Iggles fans know her true feelings:

"We want our team to win and even go to the Superbowl (sic)…but oh oh if they win the Superbowl (sic) without my son what would be the real outcome with the fans? Will they crucify him? Maybe then the trade talks would begin. Off season madness, worse than last season’s fiasco….Well, lets wait and see, bittersweet."

Oh oh indeed! How you gonna let your Mom talk smack to the rest of the team and to the fans like that! How could Mama McNabb, who diligently spoons out big bowls of canned soup to her extended Eagle family, not have a big bowl of love for Garcia, who should be her number two son right now, and the rest of the gang? Perhaps this heaping portion of Chunky Beef is all she can offer despite a fan base which paid for her house one can at a time.

Without a spiritual compass the Eagles will drift off course. Grind It Out Sports predicts a similar high scoring affair with more of "Tired" Tiki’s magical Disney swan song somewhere over the rainbow sunset. Also look for former GIOS goat Mathias Kiwanucka to get his giant paw in Garcia’s grill at some point, and maybe pounce on a loose ball or two. Expect to see Plaxico Burress complain a lot and yell a lot more when he scores a touchdown. 38-29 Giants.

Rest of the Wild Card Weekend Predictions
This week’s “we’re not lucky, we won” speech from KC Chiefs coach Herm Edwards rivals his “you play to win the game” speech while with the Jets for its simplicity and ability to say nothing while really saying nothing. Nonetheless, KC has to be feeling that there are red horseshoes and red rabbits’ feets dancing in the air right now. Meanwhile the Indianapolis Clots have seen their team mojo coagulate at the end of the season. Two teams headed in opposite emotional directions, and one quarterback that will appear in more than half of the commercials. However on the field, Peyton’s ability to tear his way out of a giant stretchy football while getting pelted with showers of Gatorade Rain will depend largely on his defense’s ability to corral Chiefs running back Larry Johnson. Look for Johnson to get three touchdowns, and Peyton to get four. Add to that a few field goals, a Joseph Addai breakaway run, and a high pitched teenage barista getting his face burned by the espresso maker like 25 times before this shooting match is over. 41-27 Colts.

Mangenius and the Jets against his mentor Bill “the sweatshirt” Belichick…will the pupil teach the teacher again? More importantly will there be another snub at the handshake? Anyone who has been to a crowded bar in Boston can at least partially understand how impossible it must be to think clearly surrounded by screaming inebriated Pats fans. Look for these Jets to get re-routed with four turnovers and a Chad Pennington arm injury when he tries to throw an impossible pass while being sacked. Tom Brady will have an impeccable quarterback rating and his biggest play will be something modest, a 12 yard scamper, a shovel pass, a great screen. Rookie Laurence Maroney will run free and score twice and Chris Berman is guaranteed to sing “Bony Marony” while giving the highlights. 23-3 Patriots.

In a battle between the crestfallen and the downtrodden, untested Tony Romo faces the formerly effective, decisively non-winning Super Bowl participant, Matt Hasselbeck. Dallas-Seattle will be characterized by another big couple of dropped TO passes and accompanying media frothiness, as well as enough interceptions to have the cardiologists of both overweight coaches nervous. But in the end the Seattle fans will end up as misty as the weather yet again. With Parcells, Cowboys are likely to have a few bullets left in their wild west holsters when this nail biter winds down. 20-19 Cowboys.