Salvador Perez is sentenced to a (short) life of catching

Watching Salvador Perez break is a lot more fun than knowing he will break.

Written by Kyle Magin

Salvador Perez, the lovable, goofy 6’5” Kansas City Royals backstop is 25 and already well on his way to his baseball dotage. The amiable Venezuelan takes foul balls, the ends of bats and wild pitches off his face, chest, arms, hands and fingers constantly.

He took three in the first three innings of Tuesday’s smackdown of Toronto alone and you could tell Joe Buck was choking back the urge to say ‘he got his bell rung’ in this PC age of concussion awareness as the giant catcher was taking smelling salts in the Rogers Centre dugout. During game 1, Jays’ slugger Josh Donaldson’s bat caught Perez’s forefinger on his catching hand as the third baseman followed through on a swing. For the rest of the inning, Perez received the ball gingerly, pulling his hand out of his mitt at every spare moment and visibly wincing whenever a pitch came in. He’s always smiling about this abuse and getting back into his crouch, and announcers like to compliment his toughness, so it’s kind of endearing and even morbidly entertaining at this point.

Perez isn’t the first big catcher to take a beating. For smaller, quicker men like Pudge Rodriguez or the Jays’ Russell Martin, receiving the ball is a manageable grind, one that shortens careers by a few years mainly because squatting for a living and dealing with clinically insane pitchers will do that to a person. For large catchers—like Perez, the San Francisco Giants’ Buster Posey and Minnesota Twins’ Joe Mauer—the years erode away a lot quicker. Their bodies attract a lot more punishment.

Thing is, Posey and Mauer both had something Perez does not have—elite-level bats. You would have heard of Posey—career .859 OPS, career.351 batting average with runners in scoring position, 26.9 at-bat to home run ratio—and Mauer—.845 OPS, .352 RISP, 45.6 AB/HR—even if they didn’t catch. You can make a lot of money playing first base with worse numbers. Perez is a nice player—.737 OPS, .311 RISP, 32 AB/HR—but  aside from hitting homeruns at roughly the same rate as Posey, he trails the other two by a significant margin in almost every important batting category. Move Perez to first base or somewhere in the outfield corners—positions where elite-level bats with off-brand defensive abilities are routinely stashed—and he’s a marginal big-leaguer, at best.

The Twins and Giants, to a lesser extent, have pretty much decided that their big catchers are too valuable to do much catching. Major injuries caused by collisions and the daily grind behind the plate have sidelined both of them for significant stretches during their careers as backstops. Mauer moved over to first base a few seasons ago and this year enjoyed a bit of a career renaissance now that he doesn’t have to take the beating every day. Posey is in the midst of a three-year reduction in his catching duties—he was the behind the plate for 106 games this year, down from 111 games last year and 121 in 2013. It’s expected that he’ll continue to find starts at first base—where his workload has increased for three straight seasons—and DH during interleague play to preserve the pop in his maple Marruci bat. While both were gifted at receiving, working pitchers and policing the basepaths, nobody enters a Maserati in a demolition derby.

Perez, in that context, is most definitely a Ford. The man was born—if not made—to catch. He’s the two-time defending gold-glover with a knack for handling his pitchers and is among the best defensive catchers in the game when it comes to putting a righteous scare into would-be base stealers. He’s a lynchpin in the Royals’ greatest run of success in nearly 30 years and a fun player for his fans to enjoy. But there’s no life for a mediocre-hitting catcher when catching isn’t physically possible any more. There won’t be any sustained stretch of starts at first base, where the qualifications for the job are such that Mo Vaughn remained employable well into his 275 lb days.

And that’s the rub with Perez. He’s fun to watch, but he’s not good enough to protect, so barring a consistent improvement in his hitting, KC will get a front-row seat to the wreck.

Who to Bet and Who to Forget — 2015 MLB playoff edition

Just prior to the season’s start Kyle Magin and Andrew J. Pridgen wrote a Bet It or Forget It column—a capsule of every MLB team’s odds to win the World Series. Like a drunken Tinder spree, we placed faith in some sleepers, missed on some keepers and mostly were skeptical of the obvious winners.

Here then, the follow up as we see pre-season odds (in paren) have changed dramatically. If you’re looking to keep your mind off the predictable Sleepaway Camp-style massacre that is the verbal stylings of Joe Buck, Tom Verducci, Erin Andrews and Ken Rosenthal—yes Harold Reynolds, that doesn’t leave you much to work with—gambling is the only way to go.

Refrain from wagering—ushering a month of no-stakes baseball—at your own risk.

Kansas City Royals 9/2 (30/1)

AJ: Forget it. I like what the Royals did in the offseason—shedding Shields and Country Breakfast and letting Aoki flit away to the Giants. And they’ve done nothing but improve during the regular season—notably reanimating Johnny Cueto. But, the team is DOA in the LCS. Ned Yost’s Royals certainly dominated a sort of stripped-down AL Central. The Tigers demo’d the kitchen and bathrooms in July and the Twins and Cleveland are simply both happy to not be 12 games below .500 at this point in the season. Baseball Prospectus gives the Royals a 92.7 percent chance to win the division and a 97.3 percent chance to make the playoffs, but doesn’t say much about how deep they’ll go. Yost (like Mattingly) is about as good between the lines as the Crayon streaks on a children’s menu and therefore I’ll pass on the odds-on favorites to hoist the Commissioner’s Trophy.

KM: Forget it. Ned Yost remains a conundrum for this team. He’s obviously one helluva player development man–probably one of the best in the business from the manager’s step in the dugout–as evidenced by the maturation of guys like Lorenzo Cain (an off-brand MVP candidate, he’ll get votes), Salvador Perez and Mike Moustakas. Yost appears to keep it loose and his guys respond. That’s great for the regular season, but the postseason is the province of tinkerers and chess-players in the cut of a Joe Girardi or Bruce Bochy. Men who can play the matchups and respond tactically to everything the other team has to offer. With the Royals’ pitching staff looking shaky headed into October, you need a gamesman, not a statesman.

New York Mets 5/1 (25/1)

AJ: Forget it. I was high on the Mets at 25/1 prior to the start of the season saying that Cuddyer, Murphy and Wright are the closest Queens has had to a murderers’ row since Mookie, Daryl, Ray and Gary. Um, I was a little wrong about how they’d get there but right about the fact that they would. Young arms define the Mets who, if not for the Pirates and Cubs, would be the most intriguing squad in the NL, maybe baseball. I’m still brushing up on Noah Syndergaard’s fastball as well as the stuff of Jacob deGrom and closer Jeurys Familia. The lack of scouting on these guys may have Mr. Met dancing all the way to the NLCS. However, it’s there a run-in with the aforementioned NL Central wild card or the Cards/Dodgers that ends this turnaround season.

KM: Forget it. Iron sharpens iron, and for most of the season the Mets have been slicing through the NL Least like a hot knife through butter. The team absolutely fell apart this weekend against Washington, their only real competition in the East, after the suddenly innings-limited Matt Harvey left an 8K shutout only to watch it get blown wide open. It would require a miracle to get past Zack Grienke and Clayton Kershaw with the Dodgers and then one of the battle-tested Central teams in the LCS round. The Amazins’ don’t have it in them this year.

Toronto Blue Jays 5/1 (30/1)

AJ: Bet it. Kyle, I didn’t take our neighbors to the north in the pre-season but I’m, again, shuffling over with the masses even at no-so-great 5/1 odds. They’ve got the pitching. They’ve got the hitting. They’ve got the infield. They’ve got the home-field advantage. And they’ve got the would-be MVP. This year, because the AL is offering mostly Jell-o and iceburg, I gotta go with the only team with flavor. I just can’t believe it’s from, *gulp* the home of Anne Murray.

KM: Bet it. Tales of Jays’ fans ability to travel and sell the living hell out of the Rogers Center (they were middle of the pack before the Troy Tulowitzki/David Price acquisitions) are starting to circulate far and wide. 47k screaming Canadians are not what you want to face come October, when the Maple Leafs have yet to really break their hearts and the whole damn country’s sporting world will revolve around Front Street and Blue Jay Way. When you’re not worried about the fan base, you’d better get worried about a recovering Tulo, a dominating Josh Donaldson and David Price putting 10Ks on you every game.

Los Angeles Dodgers 6/1 (13/2)

AJ: Forget it. $307 million payroll. The most famous Cuban ballplayer since Castro? The two best arms in baseball? How can they miss? 1) Chicago. 2) St. Louis. 3) Pittsburgh.

KM: Bet it. Clayton Kershaw and Zack Grienke are the stuff of nightmares. Brett Anderson and Alex Wood are pitching like guys who can end a series, though. Anderson is 2-0 with a 2.31 ERA in his last four starts and is looking every bit the Billy Beane performer the A’s originally signed him to be. Wood, if he can stay healthy, just went 8 innings with one hit allowed in his last start, where he threw a measly 78 pitches. This is a rotation even Mattingly (maybe, probably) can’t fuck up.

St. Louis Cardinals 7/1 (12/1)

AJ: Bet it. Folks are starting to sour on the Cardinals because of injuries and their propensity (see: Kyle’s comments below) to fade down the stretch. However, the Matheny Cardinals are a team built for playoff success and it always seems the years they’re most underestimated or most seen as spoilers (see: 2006 vs. Detroit and 2011 vs. Texas) are the years they shine. Carlos Martinez (13-7, 3.02 ERA, 1.29 WHIP) has flushed away the memory of injured Adam Wainwright like last night’s Panda Express. In injured Matt Holliday’s (.303/.417/.421) place, Bay Area product Stephen Piscotty has stepped up with the some of the truest hitting and most fun last name to say all year. Throw in a healthy Tommy Pham, Brandon Moss and Mark Reynolds, the latter pair filled in for Matt Adams while he was out, and you’ve got the deepest bench in both leagues. The red birds will play past Halloween.

KM: Bet it, but bet it light. The thing about St. Louis is that either of their potential LDS opponents (assuming it’s the Cubs or Pirates) have seen them a ton this season and are improving in their head-to-head matchups, with Chicago winning 4 of their last 6 heading into the playoffs and the Pirates at 2-1 in their last series with one more to come next week. Both Central squads have the book on the Cards, and with Yadier Molina hobbled with a hand injury, St. Louis has a less-loaded deck to deal from. That said, Mike Matheny is in every way Don Mattingly’s superior if the two match up in the NLCS.

Texas Rangers 8/1 (40/1)

AJ: Forget it. I didn’t like them at 40/1 and I surely won’t like them at 8/1. I will give it to Texas though, they’re the Annie Wilkes of baseball teams. They should’ve been done after 2011. They should’ve been done after 2010. Hell, they should’ve been done after George W. traded Sosa to the Cubs in 1991. But they manage to never go away. Prince Fielder and Shin-soo Choo have made respectable mid-/late-career runs this year and Adrian Beltre has made a mini-comeback of his own in the second half. Mike Napoli and Mitch Moreland on the back end of the order give the Rangers depth, but the team’s rotation isn’t playoff-ready. Cole Hamels can still throw like an ace, but after that there’s a bigger drop-off than when Van Halen hired Gary Cherone. Yovani Gallardo in game two and Derek Holland taking the mound game three and…need I continue?

KM: Forget it. The push required from the Rangers to catch and pass the Astros and then hold them off for two weeks is going to be exhausting. Don’t forget that the Angels are only 4 games behind in the division and just 2.5 behind the Astros for the last wild card spot and are headed to Arlington for a four game series to finish the regular season. This team has to keep its foot on the pedal for 14 straight days just to earn a shot at potentially playing Toronto, if not a one-game wildcard matchup for the right to face Kansas City. Tall order.

Pittsburgh Pirates 10/1 (25/1)

AJ: Bet it. First off, the positives if you’re a Bucs fan: Three (potential) playoff appearances in as many years is a huge, huge accomplishment and shows that it’s smart spending and smarter play that keep baseball’s small cap franchises relevant. A ridiculously good bullpen: During a one-month stretch just after the All Star Break, the Pirates’ pen was a cumulative sub-1.40 ERA thanks to Detroit cast-off Joakim Soria, southpaw Antonio Bastardo and flame thrower Arquimedes Caminero—not to mention Mark Melancon (98 percent save conversion rate), Tony Watson and Jared Hughes have all shown they learned a thing or two from last year’s playoff dream-killer and eventual WS champion Giants. Hell, I know things aren’t looking as good on the offensive front, especially with recent notable injuries (see: Kyle’s take below) but if Pittsburgh gets the opportunity to wave the yellow towels and fire up the Sister Sledge as the bullpen gets going, magic can happen.

KM: Forget it. The Pirates were finished when Jung-Ho Kang went down last week with a broken leg. The do-everything infielder from Korea has been one of the true treats to watch this season–the KBO’s first export to hold down an every-day job as a position player in the big leagues. As much as McCutcheon was the straw that stirred the drink, Jung-Ho made that infield defense sing from three different positions and was providing a lot of the pop the Bucs no longer get from Aramis Ramirez and Josh Harrison. The Pirates are all but assured of a playoff spot but don’t really have the luxury to rest because catching the Cards is still a possibility. I have a really bad feeling that their season will end one night into the playoffs.

Chicago Cubs 12/1 (16/1)

AJ: Bet it, but don’t let sentiment get the best of you. I like the Cubs (especially at 12/1) as much as any Old Style swiller to go deep in the playoffs. And, besides the Pirates, I think they’re the most likable team in baseball right now—so much that I’m going to start selling bootleg Cubs Care Bears on etsy to subsidize these picks. Also, I don’t buy into the hype that a young team can be intimidated. If there’s anything I learned from obsessing over the 2010 Giants, it’s that youth and ignorance actually can go a lot further when the bunting and Joe Buck descend upon your home field. And the Cubs have the world’s best infield, probably ever. BUT, it’s playoffs and playoffs mean pitching dammit. Pitching, pitching, pitching—especially relief (see: Pittsburgh). Joe Maddon’s Cubs don’t have the starting five to make this a strong, big-money play. Do Jon Lester, Jake Arrieta, Jason Hammel, Kyle Hendricks and a questionable Dan Haren scare anyone save for maybe the one guy who is still playing head-to-head fantasy baseball? No. Arrieta and Lester are the only innings eaters in the rotation so that leaves Neil Ramirez, Trevor Cahill and Fernando Rodney to hold it together from the pen. Fortunately for the ivy dwellers, that threesome, plus closer Hector Rondon, seem to be hitting their stride at the right time. Should the Cubs make it past the WC round, those arms will be up right away with the Cards. To me, if this last weekend’s series did portend anything, it’s the Cards know there’s a difference between September and October baseball.

KM: Bet it. I watched the Cubs all weekend, and my biggest takeaways were as follows: 1) Their bullpen can be electric. Fernando Rodney has been around the block in the postseason and Pedro Strop is nearly unhittable at his best. 2) Addison Russell is the baddest man on the planet wearing a glove right now. At a time of year when runs come at a premium, nothing gets past the Cubs shortstop. Two plays stick out–a Saturday dive to his backhand side and toss in a one-second motion to end the Cardinals’ comeback bid and a Sunday play where he rocketed himself over second base to handle a throw from catcher David Ross, then reached between his legs to tag out a runner. He’s so far into the zone defensively that it’s intimidating. 3) Starlin Castro is finding his groove. At the ripe old age of 25, the Cubs and Chicago fans appeared ready to close the book on the once-phenom. He lost his starting shortstop job to Russell, was benched for a week and moved over to second on his way towards the exit. Thing is, the switch worked and he’s collected 32 hits, 7 home runs and a litany of doubles and RBI since mid-August. He’s on the come, and adds to a Cubs arsenal that already includes Anthony Rizzo, Kris Bryant, Jorge Soler and Kyle Schwarber.

New York Yankees 15/1 (25/1)

AJ: Forget it. Especially now that it’s cool to root for the Mets. You know, it’s been so long since the Yankees have been post-season relevant, it’s almost worth considering at 15/1 for old times’ sake. But then there’s what’s actually happening on the field. Still-injured Masahiro Tanaka is supposed to take the ball game 1 in the playoffs and Joe Girardi’s woeful (but not hapless) Yanks wilt from there. Nathan Eovaldi is out and Adam Warren is on a non-Scott Boras-enforced pitch count. It’s only a matter of time before the Bronx flatlines and re-loads with free-agent starters for a run in 2016.

KM: Forget it. You just can’t paper over the team’s starting pitching once every opponent is playoff-quality. Plus, do you really want to bet on the Yankees when their probable wildcard matchup could be Dallas Keuchel, Cole Hamels or Jared Weaver?

Houston Astros 20/1 (60/1)

AJ: Bet it. This is a pride bet for me. The Astros are a year, maybe two away, but I want to see them go deep into the playoffs and with four AL teams (Texas, Houston, NYY and KC) all sort of just OK, I have to think if they slip in. The Stros are just young and plucky (<–that’s right!) enough to advance a round or two. Should they find themselves in The Show, who knows? This is a $5 to win $100 bet, max though as all recent signs point to the Astros’ dream season coming to an end with nary a wild card berth to show for all the orange H hats they moved over the last three months. The Astros starting hitters strike out a quarter of the time (not surprisingly, the same amount as the baby Cubs)…those Ks plus jitters are prohibitive from moving much past the LDS.

KM: Forget it. Look, this team just lost 4 straight to the Rangers and has spent the last month getting drubbed by pretty much every playoff-bound team they’ve faced. This week will tell us a lot with series against both Texas and Anaheim, but I think the Process is still a year away from providing results.

Los Angeles Angels 50/1 (10/1)

AJ: Forget it. Although I’m tempted to give the streaky Angels the nod for the fact that their odds have so desperately slid since pre-season, there’s no Rally Monkey in the hinterlands of Yorba Linda this year and definitely no bullpen to get them past the WC. Anyone know Scott Spiezio’s (and his playoffs-grown flavor saver) number?

KM: Forget it. Like the Rangers, the balls-out sprint required to make the playoffs by the Angels is going to be consuming and exhausting. I like Mike Scioscia a lot–I think he’ll get them into the postseason with Mike Trout, some spit n’ glue and a whole lot of black magic. Once they’re there, though, the wild card game could mash their bullpen and a potential showdown with Kansas City’s speed-based offense just doesn’t pencil out for them, pace-wise.

Minnesota Twins 50/1 (100/1)

AJ: Forget it. The Twins have to win at least 8 of their remaining 13 to have a chance for a wild card berth. The last time the Twinkies won 8 of their final 13, Kirby Puckett was climbing fences and Frank Viola was baffling Paul Molitor with filthy 82-mph breaking stuff. The Twins stayed relevant all year which is more than I can say for fellow L’Etoile du nord(er) Michelle Bachmann. If you do take ‘em at 50/1, hedge that a little with Cleveland at 100/1.

KM: Forget it. The Twinks have been assigned a closing schedule that will end someone: seven with the Indians, three with Kansas City to end the season and a three game shot of the Tigers in there for good measure. The Indians (more on them presently) play like Dale Earnhart and even with KC’s foot off the gas you’re likely not going to get more than one gimmee from the defending league champs. Check back in 2016.

Cleveland Indians 100/1 (25/1)

AJ: Bet it. The teams are taking it down to the dinner bell with a genre-defining showdown at Target Field in Minneapolis. The Twins thus far lead the season series by a pair of games despite being outscored. The Tribe has an eight percent chance of getting a wild card berth with the Twins’ odds slipping below six percent. Both teams trail the Astros in the wild card by at least four games, though Houston is showing signs of fading as well. All that said, I don’t need to go deep into Cleveland’s lineup other than the fact that I know Tom Berenger is showing Charlie Sheen it’s not just about throwing fast and living fast…it’s about embracing the moment. At 100/1, I’m embracing that moment.

KM: Editor’s Note: Kyle decided to abstain. Once the Major League references start, there’s really nothing more to say.

 

Court’s adjourned: Now it’s time to put Bonds and Clemens in the Hall

Hemingway had booze, Ron Jeremy had Viagra and fat Elvis had…food. So why, even after the highest court in the land has cleared the names of Barry Bonds and Roger Clemens, will Hall of Fame voters refuse to acknowledge the greats of the live-ball era based on suspicion of using performance enhancers?

By Andrew Pridgen

A federal appeals court Wednesday overturned Barry Bonds’ felony conviction for obstructing justice, which is the only charge the feds could hang on the former Giants’ slugger for the alleged crime of using performance-enhancing substances.

Bonds and pitcher Roger Clemens (fully acquitted in 2012), arguably two of the best baseball players of their day, if not all time—and the poster boys for the steroid era—should now have a clear path to the Hall of Fame.

But they won’t.

The Bonds overturn didn’t make headlines or get its 15-seconds due on SportsCenter. But that doesn’t matter. Bonds and Clemens have officially crawled to freedom through five hundred yards of shit-smelling foulness I can’t even imagine, or maybe I just don’t want to…and came out clean on the other side. The foulness in this case came in the form of a spendthrift congress, eager federal prosecutors and a media full of Joe Buck Pollyannas who buoyed the cause. Despite tens of millions in taxpayer dollars, the witch hunt did not post a single notch in the win column for the crusaders or sycophant scribes.

Every charge filed against the seven-time MVP and seven-time Cy Young Award winner, without bluster or fanfare, has now been dropped. While it’s impossible to ignore the preponderance of circumstantial, not to mention physical evidence (yes, Bonds’ head got so big it looked like it should’ve been attached to a string—though the bloat may have been part ego), Bonds and Clemens are—in the eyes of a court and a public so very bloodthirsty for a conviction—innocent.

And yet their reputations remain tarnished.

Wednesday’s 10-1 decision by a U.S. 9th Circuit Court of Appeals panel was the “scoreboard” moment Bonds and to a lesser extent Clemens have been waiting for. Charges originated in the form of the Mitchell Report, an independent investigation given to Bud Selig, then-commissioner of baseball, about the use of steroids and other performance enhancing substances on the diamond.

The report, released in December, 2007, led to a 20-month investigation. The probe was the handiwork of former US Senator George J. Mitchell (D–ME). His postmodern red-scare cause has since been taken up by, amongst others, Henry Waxman (D-Calif.) and Frank Pallone, Jr. (D-N.J.). The skirmish was also mollycoddled by a majority of the baseball writers and commentators who suddenly became so squeaky clean and pious, cigarettes had to be airbrushed out of their Norman Rockwell desk calendars.

They banged the drum ad infinitum about how Bonds and Clemens sullied the purity of the game, which is the equivalent to saying you don’t want to get a stripper’s G-string dirty with a dollar bill. Baseball is a game born of and for cheats. It’s America’s game and America was founded on the tenets of the stealing of lands, the introduction of disease to get the upper hand and turning out tribes, races and fairer genders in order to get ahead. Whether it was plantation owners who stopped wanting to pay taxes or billionaire hedge fund managers who, again, don’t want to pay taxes, the American-bred-and-perpetuated notion of baseball is to spit, bloop, tag, tug, scuff, cork, hit-and-run and steal the way to victory. It’s a game more puerile than pure and in its purist form the victors have already been spoiled.

The self-anointed guardians of this cherished game are the Baseball Writers’ Association of America—holier-than-thou annual selectors of who gets a Lionel Richie Hello bust in Cooperstown. Unfortunately, the organization and its charges are aging more rapidly than when Walter Donovan chose poorly in Last Crusade.

In its singular move to stay current this century, the BBWA gave web-only writers eligibility to vote in 2007, with a huge caveat: the first criteria is sites which specifically qualify for MLB Playoffs credentials (see: ESPN and Sports Illustrated). Deadspin, the industry standard for online/alternative sports coverage, resorted to BUYING a vote from BBWA member last year to be counted.

While the BBWA has recently curated its image by appointing a woman (Susan Slusser) and a black guy (LaVelle E. Neal) to consecutive terms as president of their association, the majority of the electorate is dying in time to the newspaper industry that carried them for the last century. Unless the banned substance Roger or Barry was allegedly doing turns out to be CIALIS, it’s a safe assessment the 60 percent no-vote for their 10 years of Hall eligibility (reduced from 15 in 2014) will perpetuate if not grow.

Because of the slow turnover of its gatekeepers, the giant generation gap at the BBWA will be reflected in the Hall. Writers who are currently in their 20s, 30s, 40s and even 50s who have had to create careers in new media or pursue the sport of writing on the side won’t get the same opportunity to vote as did the sportswriters of previous generation(s).

Shrinking the eligibility on top of that was the BBWA’s deft assurance of its own tattered and staid approach. It will leave a legacy that locks out the generation who grew up marveling at the individual feats of Clemens, Bonds and their contemporaries; resulting not in bringing justice to the Hall as much as a notable lapse in judgement.

Even if Bonds and Clemens were not the best of their time, their brazen testimony to uphold the cheating legacy of America’s Pastime should be recognized and codified for the ages. Bonds’ obstruction of justice charges came from his rambling reply to a prosecutor about whether his former trainer, Greg Anderson, had ever given him an injectable substance. The bizarre testimony made Bill Clinton’s “I did not have sexual relations with that woman” look more amateurish than a Tuesday open mic night. Clemens’ vehement and sanctimonious dropkicking of the Mitchell Report in front of Congress, subjecting himself to perjury and serious federal prison time, was so fucking ballsy Cooperstown should build a wing in his name and stick him there along with the game’s best bullshitters Cobb, Rose, Mantle and, fuck it, Shoeless Joe, too.

In the clearing of Bonds’ name this week, justices brought up the harmful and collusive nature of the original trials which has also diminished the players’ chances for a redemptive legacy in the media and ever-lapdogging court of public opinion.

“Making everyone who participates in our justice system a potential criminal defendant for conduct that is nothing more than the ordinary tug and pull of litigation risks chilling zealous advocacy,” Judge Alex Kozinski wrote in an opinion signed by a quartet of other judges. “It also gives prosecutors the immense and unreviewable power to reward friends and punish enemies by prosecuting the latter and giving the former a pass.”

And:

“In this particular case, we must determine whether a single truthful but evasive or misleading answer could constitute evidence of obstruction of justice,” Judge N.R. Smith wrote and had signed by three judges. “It could not.”

The government can still pursue charges against Bonds, but it won’t. And Hall of Fame chad-punchers can still try to cock block based on a myopic, discreetly aged-out, heels-dug-in mentality that has led to their real-time irrelevance. I can only hope current voters remember mistakes on top of mistakes will only bury them in the stench of their own false sense of self-worth. Probably not the legacy they are looking to leave.

During their careers, Bonds and Clemens never failed a drug test administered by Major League Baseball. They were never suspended for possession or use of banned substances. They were never censured by their individual teams or the players’ union for nefarious behavior.

They did, however, have their day in court.

And they won.

Pints and Picks Week 10: If your name’s not in here you probably don’t exist

Each week DPB’s Kyle Magin and Andrew J. Pridgen will pour on the prose with Pints and Picks™. Who to wager and what to drink while doing it. Here then, is their point-counterpoint for Nov. 8, 2014. Or, if you’re in the car, simply scroll down for the recap (they may be verbose, but it’s better than clicking through a slideshow).

AJ: Whoooooa Boy KM, big weekend ahead.

Before I get into my picks on possibly the best match-up weekend of the 2014 season and the only one with any influence on this fake semi-final/final four-team ‘playoff’ thing—I will tease with the fact that all my match-ups will be of the marquee variety (not the Magin dregs betting) this week.

I will feature:

Bama and LSU
Oregon and Utah
TCU and K State
Notre Dame and ASU
and
Michigan State and OSU

To kick things off, however, I’m going to (surprise!) take a detour down a more personal road.

Saturday is my ‘return to racing.’ I know this sounds very Armstrongean or Bondsean, but it’s not meant to be.

I’ve been on about a 9-month hiatus from throwing a bib on and trying to get after it as an angry and ever-so-noticeably above varsity weight age-grouper. I’m not one of those guys who’s all sinew and likes cutting pro women off on the road bike, rooty trail or open water to make myself feel like I’ve got more hair on my shaved head than the crop circles that are left.

But there’s something about race day. About the weight-shifting interminable time in line for the port-a-potty and the glorious pre-race deposit. The cold sweat that collects on your palms and fingertips as the starting line is toe’d. That expectant but shrill and surprising clap of the gun and those initial steps, all nerves and knobby knees and “I’m not only not going to put up a personal best, but I’m not going to finish.”

Getting excited for something difficult, something that pushes out of the comfort zone, out of sleep, out of conformity, is certainly an underrated experience in today’s spiffy culture. If you can’t swipe it with your index finger, why bother?

I’m not the only one who feels this way. American’s spending on organized road and trail runs, triathlons and endurance races has increased more than 10-fold over the last decade. The largest road race, the Atlanta Journal-Constitution Peachtree 10k, drew almost 56k participants last year. That’s a small city of runners. The ING New York City Marathon eclipsed 50k last weekend and that’s turning away more than 80 percent of the applicants.

So there is something there in all of us. Something that says we’re looking to push—just a little bit—and see what happens. Something we need to share with a group taking the hard road to Point B.

This weekend I’m making an easy entrance back into my age group in the Santa Barbara half-marathon. It’s a seaside course that’s relatively flat and fast. Earlier this year, it became pretty clear I wasn’t going to eclipse my Santa Barbara Marathon time from two years ago (I blame the six-month-old who sleeps in the room next to me and can say “Da!” a bunch of times in a row), so I decided why not make it back with a fast half. (Technically my ‘return to racing’ was codified at this year’s Squaw Mountain Run, but that was more an off-the-couch effort in the wake of getting up 4x/night for feeding; my mulligan.)

This is the first time I’ve felt at least somewhat race-ready in more than a year. And I just want to give a quick shout out, because I rarely use this space to thank her, to Robin Sims, who was sliced in half six months ago and could not get out of the hospital bed for three days while she tried to cope with the stress of not only being a new mother, but having to handle me as a new father. Trust me when I say the latter was certainly the most disconcerting.

She has been patient and relaxed and, above all things, dedicated to getting back on the road and the trail as life screamed and cried and pooped around us. She has stuck to a feeding and training and work schedule that would take three of me to ponder and four to fail at, and has done so with strength and ease and nary a breakdown. I don’t tell her ever how proud of her I am. A mother and a runner, and damn good at both. When we race, we all race as individuals, but I am so so very lucky to be on her team come Saturday.

Ok KM, this means I will have a race recap next week, but till then, I pass the baton to you and ask, will you accept the week 10 marquee-pick challenge?

Kyle: AJ, I’ll join you on most of those picks, but I’m far too fond of rooting around through forgotten leagues and sports in search of gems to give up on the Okie-style noodling that informs my weekly choices. One man’s trash.

That said, you’re exactly right that this is as meaningful a weekend in the CFB season as we’ve yet seen. I’ve left this conversation once or twice thinking we’ve put lipstick on a pig, but this week I’m trying to keep myself from pre-game hype video-level platitudes. I’m going to break down the following:

OSU and MSU
K. State and TCU
Bama and LSU
Utah St. and Wyoming
and
B. Hopkins vs. S. Kovalev

For people who haven’t been paying attention, OSU-MSU is a real, proper grudge match.

When I was a kid OSU was a bit of an anomaly in the Big Ten. Even more than Michigan, which was just as (arguably more from year-to-year while John Cooper was in Columbus) nationally relevant at the time. The Buckeyes had a bit of cool about them. They recruited Florida guys, had some of the biggest badasses on the block (see Boston, David), and by the time the millennium turned over were a coast-to-coast style superpower in a way that nobody else in the league was. It bred an arrogance even the turned-up noses in Ann Arbor didn’t deign to show: We’re above you, our peers are Miami and USC and Notre Dame. Fuck your rust belt.

Ironically, under Urban Meyer, the Bucks feel a little more home-grown. Whether it was the sanctions or the pantsing administered by the Spartans in the B1G title game last year to thwart their march toward the title, OSU has turned their animosities inward. Side-light rivalries against MSU and Penn State have taken on added significance for the crimson n’ cream crowd. They suddenly seem cognizant of the search for respect everyone else in the league is constantly going through–sorta like the hot chick who stayed behind while everyone else left for college and began to realize her insights into the latest Kardashian news wasn’t so valuable to a peer group who no longer worshiped at the altar of her feet.

This new awareness has manifested itself nicely in a rivalry between Meyer and Michigan State’s Mark Dantonio. Meyer entered the league stealing everyone’s recruits—Dantonio’s included–and it felt like sweet payback when Dantonio upended Meyer’s 2013 season in Indianapolis. Suddenly the Bucks had to deal with the locals again. With an early-season loss to Virginia Tech that looks worse by the week, Ohio State has been forced to find its salvation within the conference, and that combination of desperation and levity is making for a much more intriguing match-up. It’s about kids from my side of the Toledo strip against kids from your side getting into the trenches (and what will likely be some freezing-ass weather Saturday night in East Lansing) and going toe-to-toe. I’m excited.

Alright, I’ll dig into the number on this and the rest after throwing it back to you, AJ.

AJ: KM, since we’re giving props all over this entry’s face this week (and really the readership on PNP is a loyal quorum so basically, especially after the second graph, anything goes; see: Week 9’s Pat Burrell story not causing any semblance of a kurfuffle), I want to kind of focus on the Oregon/Utah match-up before I check down the rest.

I was living/working in the Beehive State when Utah received a fistful of tokens to run free in the Pac-12 arcade in 2010. At the time, I knew the U of U as a commuter school where all the kids from South Jordan or Sandy or Centerville Wards tried hard not to drip their zit cream onto your Jimmy John’s and call it dressing. It’s a dry campus with a salty pizza parlor and the best burger joint ever. And a lot of blond girls who are just not, um, discriminating enough to want to go to BYU.

I made it pretty clear to my U of U alum friends, all drunk off three 3.2 beers at The Republican (or the Tavernacle—actual bar, just a half block from the big Mormon thingy where hot girls from all over the world approach you and try to get you to join and wear their special underwear) that BYU should’ve gotten the invite. Better sports history, period. Prettier campus and, well, Provo is the one true level playing field for visiting teams with no, um, temptations at night (or are there?) …In fact, I think the Cougs would’ve paired perfectly with the still-dormant Colorado Buffalo, while the U was not quite ready for prime time.

Thankfully, I was proven wrong as the Utes have blossomed into a football and potential basketball powerhouse and are drawing athletic and academic talent from the West Coast. Who wouldn’t want to go to school 20 minutes from the best stashes (not ‘staches) in the West. Yes, Utah is the greatest snow on Earth™ (apologies to your Sierra backyard KM).

Anyone who’s thinking that there’s not enough fun to be had on a 36-hour SLC smack down for a visiting team is w-r-o-n-g. Sure SLC’s best bar still has dueling pianos and you have to drink old and poorly stored Deschutes out of a bottle if you want to cop a buzz before your fifth trip to the baño, but there’s so so much to do, including:

• Red Iguana. Think you’ve had a good mole, think again—yes, it’s worth the wait. Believe the hype.
• Epic Brewing. High-point beer but made with care. Not just the big, hoppy IPAs they shove down your gullet in the Bay Area or Pac NW. Ditto Uinta for better-than-good local craft brews.
• Decades Vintage Shop. Sure you’ve been to Haight Street and DUMBO and you’ve passed up every ironic shirt (or paid $75 for a vintage PBR Beefy Tee). Go check out Decades. It’s like going back to the ’90s thrift stores (when they actually had vintage clothes from the ’70s). Their buyers are discerning and since much of Utah cleans its closets out only once every three decades, you’ll be the benefactor. Last time I stopped by, I got a Western shirt that would make a Cash roadie cry, a Leisure Suit fit for a Furley and a vintage Rambo: First Blood T-shirt (size XL which fit me like a child’s medium—but oh well) for under $40. Hipster bliss.
• The Depot or Kilby Court. LOTS of bands have to stop and get gas and a burrito in SLC en route from SF to Denver or Denver to Portland. Take advantage of these incredible little venues. You’ll be able to say you saw ______ with 18 of your closest maybe-Mormon friends when they’re headlining the second stage at Coachella or Outside Lands in two years.

If you go, please also look up my favorite Utahn Jeremy Pugh. Jeremy grew up Mormon and then decided against it and has been drinking and writing and pontificating with erratic vengeance to make up for it ever since. He’s down to go out and to talk about physics or Louis CK’s first show (the one on HBO nobody remembers but was genius) or cats or karate or the time he blacked out during a Dylan show at Deer Valley and woke up making snow angels in a sand trap four miles away on a Park City golf course. He gets whatever movie reference you throw at him but isn’t the annoying bro who has to quote it back, though he can quote Gilmore Girls. He has incredible stories about terrible women and their violent exes that are compelling enough to make you want to buy him another round as his voice goes up an octave and hiswordsruntogetherfornoreason. He gets really hungover and still goes skiing. He shaves and grows his beard back in a day. He’ll show up with an extra Egg McMuffin for you. He writes beautifully but only when he’s not trying and, like most good writers, his best stuff comes out in conversation and you can see him trying to remember it as he’s saying it—but he never does. He moved to Hawaii and got too tan and too relaxed and not frustrated enough, so he had to move back to Utah. He underestimates his value but has never, ever made life less fun when he’s in the room. All this and he finds time to tweet about Yurts—fuck yeah.

In other words, he’s 100 percent Utah. More Utah than Johnny Utah. And I like that. And yes, 100-percent Utah means hospitality. You could knock on Jeremy’s door this Saturday and say you read about him here and 12 hours later …in Wendover, he’d still be bleary-eyed asking you if you want him to buy another round.

OK, as far as the game goes, the Utes, who I believe could still take it to three of the top four SEC teams (looking at you Mississippi, Auburn and Bama) at home, showed a chink in their armor against P-12 South rival ASU and that is, they can play fast (Fresno State) or they can play physical (Michigan), but they can’t play fast and physical.

Last week the usually venerable Utes offense was held to 241 yards against ASU’s strong and tough D. Oregon has shown their front five is just as hungry and their DBs are slightly quicker than the Sun Devils. The ground game went missing from the Utes playbook in early October and unless Devontae Booker can establish himself quickly, it’s pretty much going to come down to see how long it takes for the pocket to collapse on Mariota. With three seconds, he can do a lot of damage in the air or on the ground as he’s poised to re-iginte the Olympic torch and break 200 rushing yards and 1,500 passing at Rice-Eccles.

Take the Ducks -8 and remember, Brighton and Solitude are already turning and @saltlakeeditor is always down for whatever. Win. Win. Win.

Kyle: AJ, I work in a BYU-alum owned-and-operated 9-5. Yours are the only positive words I hear about the U on a regular basis–I think its position in Utah’s ‘gentile belt’ may malign its reputation in these parts. I find that my BYU acquaintances only really get riled about three things—the president, basketball and the Utes. The prez trounced their boy, Jimmer Fredette can’t get good NBA minutes even though he’s as effective as Ray Allen any more, and Utes fans say awful things to the Cougars faithful when the Holy War is in Salt Lake. That’s the sum total of their gripes with the world, and while I really appreciate the lack of complaining, they really put their all into those slights.

Utah State, out in the boons of Logan, seems to escape their ire. It’s where you go when your old man isn’t in tight with a bishop, it’s not always an athletic equal to the programs in Provo, and it’s apparently constantly 10 degrees there, so I guess the cold encourages piousness. (Freshman receiver Gregory Weichers—the product of a BYU alum–may have blown up that end of the narrative yesterday, though.)

Anyway, I like to check in on the Aggies from time to time because they play some of the stoutest defense in the west and have been known to throw serious kinks in the Utes and Cougs’ seasons. This year, though, they’re playing a sort of front-runner instead of spoiler narrative.

Utah State -6.5 @ Wyoming
The Aggies (6-3, 3-1 MW) take on the Pokes (4-5, 2-3 MW) in hopes of staying alive in the MW’s Mountain division. The top three teams on that side of the bracket–it’s the class of the league–all have one loss; USU, Boise St. and Colorado St. USU still has Boise in its sights and while it lost head-to-head against the CSU Rams–who have a pretty cake schedule from here on out–they’re still very much in the hunt for the league’s title game. With gametime temps expected to be just about freezing in Laramie (I suspect it’s always just about freezing in Laramie. That Matthew Sheppard movie looked like the coldest goddamn cinema experience since The Day After Tomorrow), I’d look for the Ags’ top 25 defense to bottle up any Cowboys attack and give their offense a short field to work with all night. USU to cover.

Kansas State +6 @ TCU
KSU’s Bill Snyder is probably the last really wily sonofabitch in college football. He has zero polish with the media and appears to win recruiting battles nobody else is fighting with him. Yet, year-in-and-year-out, he’s a thorn in the Big 12’s side and a darkhorse national contender. His offense isn’t overly impressive when it comes to yardage totals in either the rushing or passing games, but they seem to always have a short field to work with and have converted 100 percent of their Big 12 chances in the red zone for scores this year. They convert 50 percent of their third downs overall but manage to hold their opponents to just 39 percent. To top it all off, Snyder’s bunch is 2-0 against the spread on the road this season. TCU is good, if not great, at everything. But, the Horned frogs are giving up an average of more than 40 points over their last five games, and had a hell of a time last week with a West Virginia squad that doesn’t have nearly the defense that’ll step off the bus from Manhattan this week. I like Snyder’s boys to keep it within a touchdown.

Bernard Hopkins 5/2 by decision vs. Sergey Kovalev
Vegas again likes Bernard Hopkins just a little less than it likes his opponent, Sergey Kovalev (7-2 by decision). A bet the Krusher’s way probably isn’t terrible–you can actually get some fairly good numbers on him knocking out the Alien. But, if this thing goes the distance and it’s close, the cards are most definitely going BHop’s way. He’s the name. The Atlantic City crowd will be heavily behind the Philly boxer’s campaign Saturday. And, almost nobody knows how to make a round look like it’s going his way than Hopkins, who couldn’t knock out one of those fainting goats but can connect with enough of his light blows to register on a judge’s scorecard.

Alabama @ LSU +6.5
The Bayou Bengals’ defense is truly, truly filthy. Opponents have reached LSU’s end zone just 17 times this season and convert less than 30 percent of their third down tries. #3 Ole Miss was abused two weeks ago in Baton Rouge, managing just a touchdown, and the Tigers are 6-1 against the spread at home, 7-2 overall this season. True enough, at 7-1, the Tide are still firmly in the playoff hunt and not likely to pull any punches Saturday. That said, I’d look for Les Miles’ squad to keep it close.

OSU @ MSU Under 56
It’s going to be bone-chillingly cold and probably wet in East Lansing Saturday night. The Spartans’ defense isn’t quite what it was last year, but almost all of the dings against it have come on big plays through the air. The Buckeyes’ passing attack is far from vaunted which’ll keep this thing on the ground at Spartan Stadium. The Spartan defense hasn’t given up more than 22 points at home this season. I look for a low-scoring affair.

Alright AJ, get your bad luck out of the way pre-race…

AJ: Oh, me again? Sorry, I was dreaming of Crown Burger.

We’re in novella territory here so I’ll be giving you the rest my picks in a voice inspired by the writing of James Franco.

Alabama @ LSU +6.5
I think Dennis Quaid in that movie about LSU (with Jessica Lange and John Goodman) and the points are enough for me to take the Tigers over the Crimson Tide. Crimson Tide reminds me of Prince of Tides, even though I know they’re two different things.

Kansas State +6 @ TCU
These are two places I’ve never been and will probably never go. I bet when you watch porn that’s supposed to be in a dorm room but is really in an abandoned Quiznos near Torrance, it’s inspired by one of these schools. Why is there a Kansas State? Did someone actually not get in to Kansas? Take them and the points to find out.

ASU -1 vs. Notre Dame
You know those ads that look like hot chicks in mugshots that always pop up? Arizona State has most of those girls. They’ll win by three touchdowns on Saturday.

Michigan State -2 vs. OSU
I can’t tell if this is a game between two important one-loss teams or one important one-loss team and just another team. I think it’s the second one. If that’s the case, Michigan State has already won.

The PnP Recap:

Last week:
AJ: 2-4
Kyle: 3-4

Overall:
AJ: 18 for 31
Kyle: 16 for 23

This week:

AJ:
• Oregon @ Utah -8
• Alabama @ LSU +6.5
• Kansas State +6 @ TCU
* ASU -1 vs. Notre Dame
• Michigan State -2 vs. OSU

Kyle:
• Utah State -6.5 @ Wyoming
• Kansas State +6 @ TCU
• Bernard Hopkins 5/2 by decision vs. Sergey Kovalev
• OSU @ MSU Under 56
• Alabama @ LSU +6.5

Pints and Picks Week 9: A parade to the ticket window

Each week DPB’s Kyle Magin and Andrew J. Pridgen will pour on the prose with Pints and Picks™. Who to wager and what to drink while doing it. Here then, is their point-counterpoint for Nov. 1, 2014. Or, if you’re in the car, simply scroll down for the recap (they may be verbose, but it’s better than clicking through a slideshow).

AJ: It should be noted Kyle that children at play are not playing about; their games should be seen as their most serious-minded activity. That’s a quote from a guy called Michel de Montaigne who was an underemployed writer during the Renaissance. He didn’t have a Twitter account but I’m pretty sure he would’ve wanted one.

That’s as good an opening as I’ve got this week and though it’s going to be a little cringe-inducing, I have to take a moment and shout Scoreboard from on high—or rather, beneath the pile of losses I’ve been stocking up on like fall leaves of late. I’m bad against the spread and worse with it. It’s gotten to the point where degenerates are looking down at me and thinking of lending me a hand, or at least a five-spot at the window. I was going to be rock-bottom for Halloween, but I can’t find my costume. So, I’ll gesture to my ticket with the Giants at 12-1, 10 out of 10 seed in the Wild Card to win it all …doubled-down with my WS victory prediction. No, I had no idea Madison Bumgarner would grow a unicorn horn and Pegasus wings, but that’s why the play the games.

In truth, I’m a little exhausted KM. Your young’uns from the way underrated AL Central (if we have anything in common it’s that our respective divisions of choice—mine the NL West—are Dangerfieldean in scope and scale for the rest of the known round ball vs. round bat world) and yet, like herpes …they always seem to be in the conversation when it matters. Fancy that.

Before I roll out a modest four-pack (see: last week’s post) of predictions this week (bet against me, I dare you not to lose), I want to point out the best of/worst of media coverage from the World Series.

Best: Roger Angell, New Yorker. The man puts the senior in senior editor. He’s been writing for the NY’er since Rosie was riveting. At 94 years young, he’s sharper than most writers one fifth his age. His coverage of Game 6&7 especially are a couple of vignettes that caused me to choke down tears. Not for the subject matter, but for the fact that this treasure won’t last forever.

Game 6

Game 7

Runner-up goes to the NYT.

Michael Powell’s visit with Kevin Bumgarner (Madison’s Dad) game seven is another tear-jerker. It’s not just about a proud papa, it’s about a place frozen in time, and wouldn’t we like to walk into the restaurant and congratulate Madison …on his new horse:

Richard Sandomir’s critique of the Fox crew’s coverage of the WS is beyond compelling and veers into crushing. Sandomir didn’t even really go after Buck yet still shot more holes through the malaise than Martin Riggs at the range.

It was inevitable, but to catch Harold Reynolds in multiple lies …not to mention just misstep and fragment after misstep out in broad daylight brings an air of truth that Fox’s plummeting WS ratings may, in fact, have nothing to do with the action on the field. Watching bats bend in slo-mo is still cool though. Don’t care what anyone says.

I also wanted to end this on kind of a sad note. The San Francisco Chronicle and newly refreshed site SFGate (which looks like your nephew did it playing with free WordPress themes) truly truly stumbled and fell in this year’s World Series.

The Chronicle has always been a cream puff of a publication; which is fine, it matches the town. One thing they could rely on was the columnists. Herb Caen invented the genre and Art Hoppe who perfected it. The Chron features a handful of scribes who hark to an era where newspapers, especially the Hearst flagship, mattered.

Their prose may have mattered too at one point but between the likes of Bruce Jenkins, Scott Ostler, CW Nevius and Anne Killion, nary an original thought or spry missive was penned in this dynastic Giants push. And this isn’t being ageist, they just can’t write like your typical spry nonagenarian.

Peter Hartlaub is the paper’s current wit and why he wasn’t deployed to KC for a taste of the town (its people, its culture, its revelatory downtown scene, it’s quickly hipsetrfying neighborhoods… and of course, its barbecue) …is and will forever be a mystery.

The datelines of the aforementioned read Midwest, but lines like: It couldn’t get much wetter than the team’s clubhouse party, Champagne flying in all directions, delightfully soaked ballplayers hugging, roaring with laughter, sometimes just staring at each other in amazement. And it seemed every conversation found its way to Madison Bumgarner, who came out of the bullpen to pitch the last five innings — two hits, no runs — and win the Series’ MVP award …might as well have been penned from the staff lounge on 5th and Mission. My only hope is the three are busy finally unmasking the Zodiac.

OK, KM, if you want to jump straight into the action, be my guest, please. Let me sit here and lick my wounds with the knowledge that the greatest World Series of my time was covered better from 2,915 miles away.

Kyle: AJ, a tip of the cap to your squad. As far as the Chron goes, c’est la vie. They need to give the A’s beat writer/columnist team of Susan Slusser and John Shea the reigns when the big money is on the line and leave the uninspired coverage to the senior circuit’s regular season.

What’s got me melancholy is the continued presence of Florida State at the top of college football’s leaderboard. Like everyone else in the country not from the banjo-est parts of North Florida, I was rooting for Louisville Thursday night before Jameis Winston and the ‘Noles defense snatched victory from the jaws of defeat in the final minutes of the contest. After a few such escapes in final stanza this season, FSU’s campaign is starting to take on the air of inevitability–especially with the soft nature of its remaining schedule. We’re going to be dealing with the beneficiary of a botched rape investigation (Winston) and his apologist coach (Jimbo Fisher, who somehow functions in an adult world with the name Jimbo) in the first-ever playoffs and they appear to be close to unbeatable. All we really need is one misstep–one loss–to banish this pair back to the seedy Sunshine State swamp from whence they came. It doesn’t appear to be coming.

With that said, here are my picks for week 10:

TCU @ West Virginia O/U 70
If I seem like a broken record, head down to the next pick. Every week, there’s a big Big 12 matchup where some team nearly covers the over on its own. TCU drops 50/game, the Mountaineers 37. And, although Gary Patterson’s calling card is defense, they’ve had trouble with some of the Big 12’s vaunted passing attacks in Baylor and Oklahoma. West Virginia has no analogous problem–they consistently get into shootouts in big game situations. So, again, take the over.

Auburn +2.5 @ Ole Miss
Hotty Toddy, your chickens have come home to roost. For all the signs of dominance Ole Miss shows—the nation-leading defense which holds opponents to 42 percent on third down conversions and logs roughly two interceptions per game—a few cracks are starting to appear, as well. The Rebels convert just 31 percent of their own third downs—they got over on just 5 of 17 tries last week–and the signs of wear are showing on quarterback Bo Wallace, who is struggling lately to complete even half his passes. Auburn has no such issues, and I expect the Tigers to run the Rebels’ losing streak to two in a row in Oxford.

Western Michigan -7 @ Miami (OH)
I need to brag on my hometown for a minute. The WMU Broncos (5-3, 3-1 MAC) have averaged roughly 34 points per game this season after an abhorrent 1-11 effort in 2013. Freshman running back Jarvion Franklin is quietly turning into that mid-major guy you should be, but aren’t, paying attention to, with his 5.4 ypc and 19 touchdowns. The RedHawks (2-7, 2-3 MAC) are as uninspiring as their nickname this year and get hammered at home by a WMU squad looking for bowl eligibility in coach PJ Fleck’s second year at the helm.

AJ: KM, thanks for talking me off the ledge there. I was about to cancel my subscription stop reading the Chronicle for free.

Before I jump into my fab four for the week I just wanted to say that I love how you’re grinding it out with the forgotten conference schools. From where I sit (back row, middle) you’ve pretty much announced yourself a niche industry as one who takes lines on under-researched/under-exploited spreads …and makes money. If it’s on a Bleacher Report slide show, it’s nowhere near your betting slip.

Nice work there and perhaps you can build your empire from this penny-stock state of mind (seriously). Every movement starts with a whisper.

I’d also like to say that I’m a little bereft. Four years ago tonight I was in the City celebrating a Giants’ World Series victory parade with the guys I grew up with. It was the time of day Paul Simon likes to write about, and my buddies and me—many of whom cut our baseball-loving teeth ditching class and drinking 40s by the gray tower in the Candlestick parking lot—were starting to fade just before the house lights went up.

We were pretty hammered and winding it down in the Marina Lunge (because you have to be hammered and winding it down to be in the Marina Lounge in the first place) when who should appear before us but The Machine Pat ‘The Bat’ Burrell. He sidled up next to my buddy Brady at the bar and started chatting him up like a high school crush (turns out they had an acquaintance in common, but whatever). We offered PTB a beer and a backer but he said he’d been drinking since ‘Maybe Wednesday” and still needed enough in the tank to make it back to his place and, you know (as he motioned over his shoulder to not one, not two, but three glassy eyed Marina girls in wine tasting boots who were, um, waiting at a safe distance) do his thing.

Anyway, PTB hung for a sec and took a couple fake pulls off a Bud Heavy bottle before he frenetically turned and started to go. We gave him all good jobs/and pats on the back and he obliged with an involuntary nod. As his harem made themselves look busy on their phones, he took a step away from the rail and suddenly turned around and re-joined the group.

“How come you’re all dudes. Why aren’t you guys out getting pussy tonight?”
(Silence)

He then began to point to each of us individually and say:

“You’re a no pussy-getting motherfucker.”
and
“You’re a no pussy-getting motherfucker.”
and
“You’re a no pussy-getting motherfucker.”
and
“You’re a no pussy-getting motherfucker.”
and
…”You’re a no pussy-getting motherfucker.”

…And so forth (it was awesome.)

Finally he pointed to Brady, his original wingman and said. “And you. With your long ass face on your giant face-head. You’re the no-pussiest-getting-motherfucker-of-all.”

And then reared his head back and roared for like 18 seconds. By then his three ladies in waiting had become two. He glanced their way, noticing one little Indian had left and said, ‘Good.”

And then bid us goodnight.

Anyway, that’s why WS celebrations are the best.

Got one more Kyle? If no, I’ll go straight to the picks.

Kyle: AJ, I feel like you’re baiting me into trouble by fishing for a kicker. The devil on my shoulder when I go to pick up a modest win from the 9 am games and realize I have enough time to get down on an afternoon ticket I should avoid. That said, I’m incredibly suggestible, so let’s do this…

Texas Tech @ Texas -5
I’m playing this hand of hold ’em blind, research-free (read: I’m a few tall boys deep because the boss man cut us loose early today.) Hook ’em!

AJ:

Real quick:

Purdue @ Nebraska O/U 62
Purdue hasn’t hit the over yet this year, the Huskers have once. The final on this is 24-14. No brainer on the under here.

Auburn +2.5 @ Ole Miss
Like Kyle said, Tigers roll in and roll up the one-loss Ole Miss(es) Rebel Black Bear …things. Really, there’s nothing to see here but boat shoes and Easter Egg polos. I’m pressing my contact at Lloyds of London for the odds of a sinkhole opening up in this game and swallowing both student bodies whole. Take Auburn and the moneyline.

Washington State +7 vs USC
Cougars and the points here all day. Mike Leach’s Cougs have gotten the worst final-minute breaks of any team in the conference and are about four games better than their 2-6 record suggests. SC has already given up.

Arizona +4 @ UCLA
The Wildcats are on a mission to tie it up with ASU as the tops of the Pac-12 South. As we learned from the Oregon/UCLA game, the Rose Bowl is about as good a home-field advantage as the thunderdome. Arizona and the points.

The PnP Recap:

Last week:
AJ: 4-7
Kyle: 4-6

Overall:
AJ: 16 for 29
Kyle: 13 for 20

This week:

AJ:
* Purdue @ Nebraska under 62
• Auburn +2.5 @ Ole Miss
• Washington State +7 vs USC
* Arizona +4 @ UCLA

Kyle:
• TCU @ West Virginia over 70
• Auburn +2.5 @ Ole Miss
• Western Michigan -7 @ Miami (OH)
• Texas Tech @ Texas -5

How the 2014 World Series has made baseball something it hasn’t been for decades, fun!

Ned Yost said it but you were all thinking it by now: “I’m sitting there thinking it’s Game 4; it’s tied 2-2, this is a phenomenal series, it’s exciting, it’s fun. And we got another great game tomorrow that we get to play.”

There it is—and that’s from the mouth of the manager who just lost game four. He’s skippering a team which hasn’t won a pennant in 29 years and neither he nor his players seem to care that it’s been three decades or three weeks. They’re not just happy to be there, they’re happy you’re happy they’re there.

I get why most of America is rooting for the Royals. It’s a Cinderella story and one the game and its oft-beleaguered but most intriguing “small markets” (a misnomer: revenue-sharing insures all markets are big markets) needs.

That said, I’m not quite sure folks are rooting as much for the blue and white as they against the region that makes you buy devices you don’t need every year and a half and makes multi-millionaires billionaires out of assholes like Sean Parker who decide to do things like fuck up forests in order to stage a Hobbit wedding and then write a check for $2.5 million in fines like it’s a parking ticket.

But a closer look reveals the San Francisco and the Giants’ smoke and mirrosmanship is an accurate reflection of today’s professional baseball.

Allegiance to a team is like saying you’re a fan of Tide or Clorox or Coca-Cola. That you not only enjoy their product, but you actually cheer it and the front office on from afar. Your fandom—of any franchise—is simply padding the pockets of the handful of owners. In this case very wealthy owners who through gate sales, TV deals, development rights and concessions, stand to make a mint off your experience.

But let’s put all this aside, shall we? Because when you think too hard about the land of venture capital you realize some 19-year-old right now is developing an app that simulates a whiteboard on mobile that’s going to be used in meeting spaces across the world for like two months. In the meantime, someone bigger is going to gobble up this piece of shit technology and that same icky little savant is going to have a cool half-billion dollars in the bank, enough to never have to go to McDonald’s again, unless he wants to go there with actual LeBron.

…Because it’s all scalable economies. Because your time is valuable, to the teams, the networks and their advertisers. It is the millions of little yous that give teams like the Giants a ninth zero after their first comma and put teams like the Royals who were purchased for less than their current payroll in 2000, not far behind. So at the very least, by watching and cheering and feeling something more—you are actually contributing to someone’s vacation estate on Larry Ellison’s Lanai.

And for the first time perhaps since 1991 when the Braves and Twins seven games of spectacular baseball (three of which went into extra innings) and ratings bonanza (a 29 share), real baseball is being played out there.

I’m talking Giants third baseman Panda Sandoval plucking a grounder bare-handed and whipping it to first for an impossible out. I’m talking Royals’ center fielder Jarrod Dyson laying out in the wet grass leaving Dad-sized divots in his wake for a crucial mid-rally out. I’m talking about the kind of shut-down relief pitching that baseball hasn’t seen—well, ever. The 21-year-old phenom Brendon Finnegan, at five foot eight still short enough to deliver your paper (if you still took a paper) yet outsized enough to gobble up and grind out the heart of the Giants’ old-guard of the postseason.

If Finnegan is all finesse and no flash, his foil would be the Giants’ mercurial rookie reliever Hunter Strickland whose game-two meltdown was so profound they had to scrub him off in the showers like Meryl Streep in Silkwood. He’s all bombast and 97-mph heaters with no movement (except over the fence: the rookie owns the MLB record for round-trippers given up in a postseason with five …and we’ve got three games to play).

There are more story lines than a season four of the Wire: The enigma: Hunter “The Preacher” Pence and his scooter (we get it Joe Buck, he rides a scooter) and signs. The superstar in waiting: Eric Hosmer and his star-making performance at the plate and as a vacuum down the first-base line. The future: Fresh-faced Joe Panik, the New York native and the one that got away from the Yankees organization (their belated “You’re Welcome” for SF’s Joe called DiMaggio), announcing his arrival by combining with Brandon Crawford to create a vortex where grounders go to die in the Giants’ middle infield. The chosen ones: A four-man KC outfield platoon of Alex Gordon, Lorenzo Cain, Norichika Aoki and Jarrod Dyson are so quick to the ball oftentimes their infield and pitchers linger after the final out, standing there in a fugue state trying to count up the notches in their heads.

What started out to most of this country as an undercard match-up: an underestimated Giants squad sitting on the dock of the bay in the permanent shadow of the $2 billion hedge fund-owned Dodgers with the $235 million payroll and a manager who can’t quite figure out how to win with the Cuban answer to Barry Bonds and the second-coming of Koufax; and a Wild Card from the misbegotten and oft-forgotten flyover division that is the AL Central. KC who woke up the nations (and their own upstart fan base) the last two weeks of September with a brand of baseball that, well, looks like 9-to-5 guys putting on their hard hats and running the base paths and getting timely hits and pitching like every out actually does count. It’s everything fictional author Terrance Mann set out to write about when he stepped into that corn field.

Yes. Baseball is back. Real baseball. Your grandfather’s baseball. Post-war baseball. Baseball with suits and ties. Baseball with steals and signs and stealing signs. Black-and-white baseball. Baseball worthy of the scorecard it’s remembered upon.

And one more thing: In just three more games, the Bud Selig era—a 22-year dirge blemished with a strike-shortened season, a cancelled World Series, a generation of puffed-up drug-addled cavemen which he spawned in his own lab only to turn his back upon, an All-Star game ending in a tie, Armando Galarraga’s getting cheated out of a perfect game, the All-Star game …deciding on home field advantage (?)— comes to an end. Fitting, to say the least, the players have finally revolted. And this year, in Selig’s swan song, this hand-wringing, sac-bunt swinging, inning-ending double-play bringing, purist’s journey has brought ’em back.

Mighty Bud waving his revenue-sharing wand has done everything in his power to usurp the game of the one thing it has always been: fun.

His mission to turn a child’s game between the lines into a bottom line …has failed.

Pints and Picks Week 4: No bye week for bad bets

Each week DPB’s Kyle Magin and Andrew J. Pridgen will pour on the prose with Pints and Picks™. Who to wager and what to drink while doing it. Here then, is their point-counterpoint for Sept 27, 2014. Or, if you’re in the car, simply scroll down for the recap (they may be verbose, but it’s better than clicking through a slideshow).

AJ: Kyle, why are there bye weeks in college football? I mean, I get why they’re there in the NFL—basically an opportunity to get arrested in the club and for the league to fuck with fantasy owners who deserve to be fucked with. But there’s no reason for this in college other than maybe to see what FCS campus gets the biggest spike in date rape and frat house electronics raids over the idle weekend.

I only ask this because bye weeks in college used to not exist and now that they do, it brings an even bigger air of “professionalism” (air quotes) and indentured servitude to the amateur gridiron ranks. If the NCAA said, “We schedule bye weeks around midterms because academics” I’d be good with that. Happy even. But the real reason is to stretch out the post-season and turn college football into a 20-week endeavor (i.e. almost two-thirds the academic year) for the almighty bottom line—of which the athletes themselves see not a penny (and that’s where the lap top thefts come in).

Since you’re pretty good about finding out the why of things the way I’m good at identifying the season of Magnum PI (and episodes) where he tries to track down the ghost of his allegedly deceased wife, let me know if you know.

Otherwise, I take it now that you’re off the schneid you’re not taking a bye this week.

Me, I’m still trying to feel this week out like a Junior High dance. There’s no match up that stands out as a stone cold lock; and it has to be watchable to be (not a word: betable). <-One of my cardinal rules—the other is to never trust a Yelp reviewer whose mouth is wide open on their profile photo.

For now, a couple quick comments:

• Why is Wyoming traipsing around the country in pursuit of getting bitch-slapped? Is it like an anything-is-better-than-staying-home-and-risk-getting-shot-in-the-face-by-Dick-Cheney thing? First Oregon and now Michigan State? It kind of reminds me of those Pat Hill-era Fresno State teams which burned through their Southwest miles to go get rolled up by the SEC and ACC and Big-10 before limping back to the parched Valley and dominating, um, Wyoming …and most of the rest of the Mountain West. To be fair, Wyoming does have a slightly guttier squad than they originally got credit for (think corn snow-fed defense) and should give Sparty fits for at least a quarter or two. If you can get a first-half prop bet for the Cowboys at +10 or above, that’s better odds than your drunk-as-fuck out-of-town guest trying to pull a credit card advance on the gaming floor.

• Missouri on the road at South Carolina getting only 6.5. The Gamecocks are hotter than a rescue pit mix locked in a ’93 Aerostar in the parking lot of the Piggly Wiggly since forgetting Manziel was in the NFL and dropping their opener against Texas A&M. The Cocks have won three straight and Missouri is reeling from what should’ve amounted to a midweek January stumble on the hardcourt to the Hoosiers at home last week. Can Mizzou regroup or will South Carolina’s Mike Davis and Brandon Wilds harass QB Maty Mauk who already has four ints to go with 14 teeders …and, you know what, this spread sucks. Fuck this game.

…I’m going to pause right there and say I was running some errands with a buddy during the lunch hour today (he’s planning a birthday party for a one-year-old which basically means crappy burgers, a weird sheet cake that is actually just flypaper with white frosting and a couple of fifths because apparently one is too young to remember seeing your folks and their friends black out) and we ended up at Costco. Still $1.50 for a polish and a soda.

The thing is, we were the only sub-octagenarains dining there. All these Burns-postured McMurphys who’d escaped from “Serene Gardens” next door were gumming on these intestines and entrails pressed into a tube while gangsta leaning off their Rascals made me wonder: Do the old folks know something I don’t? Like, If I have one meal left, it’s gotta be Costco (because it is glorious, especially when you remember to ask for the slaw) or does it just kill a lot of time to try to gum down a dog the size of your shriveled and veiny neck midday on a weekday when you’re at the station of life when time, quite literally, can’t go any slower—and yet, you don’t have much of it left.

I guess what I’m really trying to say is, I just have a lot more questions than answers this week.

Kyle? You there? You still reading?

Kyle: AJ, the middle school dance analogy couldn’t be more apt. I have an overwhelming urge to skip this week completely and tell all of our readers I was off doing some really cool stuff. In reality, I’ll probably be reading Madeleine L’Engle and trying to stay up for MadTV and hope my father (who, coincidentally, is visiting this weekend) doesn’t come out and turn it off when they swear for like the only time in the whole show.

MadTV featured the stylings of Michael McDonald (not this one, not that one, this one), a USC alum, and that’s my segue into talking about one of the only games that probably matter this weekend. With no ranked matchups, it’s going to be interesting to watch Oregon State-SC (-9) in the sense that it’ll be interesting to see your neighbor walk out the door with his 14-year-old dog tomorrow. Hey, still on the right side of the dirt, eh Fido?

The 2-1 Trojans are a technically, I suppose, still in the playoff race. Stanford exposed SC’s inability to get anything done in the red zone with a run game that’s hampered when it doesn’t have room to breath in a game the Trojans won 13-10. Boston College pantsed SC’s run defense in a 37-31 victory on Chestnut Hill. Both of these tell me the men of Troy aren’t yet sound in their line play. Mike Riley’s Beavers aren’t very good at running the ball on aggregate—they’re 91st in rushing in the nation—but in the first quarter, few offenses are as effective at running and passing the ball as 3-0 Oregon State, who put up more points early (10.5) than every other team in the Pac 12 North. If they can kick the Trojans’ line in the teeth early, I think OSU Quarterback Sean Mannion can play keep-up with a very potent SC passing attack.

Surveying the rest of the college football landscape leaves that bye week to be desired.

American Conference favorite Cincinnati visits Ohio State as a 15.5-point dog, and that’s halfway intriguing. Looking at the rest of this schedule is sort of like looking at the area surrounding Charleton Heston after that ship crashed in the first Planet of the Apes. Guess we’ll have to get walking.

AJ: Kyle, nice call on bringing the pops to town during the week of bettors doldrums. Now, instead of sitting indoors and inhaling the second-hand smoke of the sports book, the two of you can ramble around the Sierras inhaling the first-hand smoke of arsonists.

I think we agree this is a trap week as far as NCAA wagering goes. None of the spreads seem at all enticing and, as you pointed out, the dearth of compelling matchups (besides conference-centric spoiler games like Stanford at U-Dub) make this the week to take a BCS breather—and set the crosshairs on October baseball.

Namely Mr. Magin, the prospect of four very disparate and very under-(over?)achieving-for-different-reasons West Coast franchises making it to the playoffs.

It’s a Freaky Friday moment for baseball West of Lovelock. You’ve got the perennial lovable A’s who went out and made a splash at the trade deadline, only to wallow in the second half like so much locker room sludge through the AL West with dead arms and a listless clubhouse en route to a wildcard berth.

You have the predictably unpredictable Giants across the bridge who had a fiery start and a nine-game lead in May only to lose two-time world champion aces Matt Cain from the starting five (still unknown injury) and Tim Lincecum (still undiagnosed velocity problems) but somehow picked up where Oakland left off and went not with the big trades but with the white-flag youth movement: Hunter Strickland, Chris Hesten, Erik Cordier and even skipper’s son Brett Bochy have all contributed on the mound. Back-up backstop Andrew Susac has been clutch off the bench and in spelling Buster Posey and infielders Joe Panik and Matt Duffy have been key contributors plugging the middle whilst performing at the plate. The suddenly youth-infused G-men didn’t have enough in the tank to catch the boys in blue with the quarter-billion-dollar payroll and the world’s greatest stadium, but they do have a good chance of beating the Pirates in the wildcard sudden-death scenario and finding themselves the object of Joe Buck’s scorn again.

In Southern California, it’s a battle of swollen payrolls and depleting expectations. The Halos, who had all but given up on The Last Investment Albert Pujols till he decided to come out of the orange groves and hit a respectable .273 with 28 bombs and 104 RBIS (and he’s not done yet). Mike Trout is baseball’s lone superstar right now and the singing cowboy’s starting rotation featuring innings eaters Jared Weaver (18-8, 3.52 ERA), CJ Wilson (13-10, 4.61 ERA) and Matt Shoemaker (16/4, 3.04 ERA) suddenly looks like baseball’s best even without the services of Garrett Richards (13-4, 2.61 ERA). The hedge fund-backed Dodgers’ have the best pitcher in baseball in Clayton Kershaw. The once-in-a-generation starter-next-door has mastery of three pitches usually thrown in a way three different pitchers might; fastball, 90-plus, a makes-you-swing-from-the-heels slider in the high-80s and an elevator curve in the mid-70s. It’s like facing vintage Barry Zito, Pedro Martinez and Greg Maddox—in one at-bat. Kershaw recently notched his 20th win, has an ERA under 1.80 and tosses 100-pitch complete game shutouts like Drysdale the get away afternoon after a Saturday night bender. Kershaw alone almost makes one forget that any player who came up under Castro thinks hitting the cut-off man is a Fredo Corleone reference.

You got your Tigs Kyle, but the prospect of not only an all West Coast World series, but LCSs makes me giggle. I know Fox shares Erin Andrews’ resting bitchface scowl when it comes to the knowledge that KC, not NY will be in the playoffs and Mr. Jeter’s farewell bonanza is but a week away from coming to a cleaned-out-locker and teary press conference halt. All that historic footage from the pre-device ’90s shelved for roll out at Cooperstown in 2020. And what the fuck will Ken “He shoulda been-a dentist” Rosenthal talk about as Buck cuts Harold Reynolds off on the cutaways with no DJ?

With that, I’d like to be a sort of World Series wager Sommelier. First off, like a fine wine, many teams age into BETTER odds of winning Bud Selig’s final Commissioner’s Trophy as the season matures. But like your great aunt’s Bradford Exchange plate collection, not all teams go up in value. At the start of the season the last-place Red Sox were 12/1 (ditto Rays). The aforementioned Yankees, who are now 300/1 to take a Champagne bath, started out at 14/1. The Orioles who started the season at 35/1 are now 13/2—not bad for a runaway division champ. And your Motor City hardballers are a solid 6/1. For my money though, I’m liking either the A’s or the Giants at 12/1 to bring the hardware back to the Biggedy. After all, Giants fans, it is an even-numbered year.

Kyle, I know you’re headed out the door to see nature’s splendor with the man who pulled you out of oblivion and plopped you on this big blue-infused chunk of spinning granite, but I KNOW you’re laying down your World Series picks this week… so, (Pacino voice) what’dya got?!

Kyle: AJ, I’ve never been more happy to talk baseball during betting season, a sport I usually avoid at the book like the plague. It will also grease the wheels of conversation with the old man while we’re waiting for his knees to stabilize after I drag him up a few thousand feet above his normal playing altitude.

I, too, think the road to the World Series is definitely coming through California. Too many hardball-related planets are aligning with the Golden State. Dave Stewart is LaRussa’s new lapdog in Arizona. Scully is back again next year! I found out, just this week, that they still have an MLB team in San Diego.

As a Tigers fan, I hate to say it, but the Los Angeles Angels of Disneyland at 9/2 to win the series is the best bet at the book. Jeff Weaver is a horse, Matt Shoemaker has walked one guy for every 9 he’s struck out since the break and Wade Leblanc hasn’t given up a run in his last two starts headed into the postseason. Everybody has been getting on in front of Albert Pujols and he’s been driving all of them in—he’s got roughly an RBI per game over the last month, while Mike Trout continues to ape Barry Bonds with his slugging prowess. Gordon Beckham and Howie Kendrick have gotten on-base as often as anyone in the league over the last month. There’s just no way I see someone getting around this time save some massive power outage from Pujols and Trout.

In the NL—and I know this won’t be popular with much of our readership—I like the Dodgers. I don’t love them at 9/5, but in the “who’s going to win this thing” sense, I think we’re geared up for a freeway series. Which, wow, Randy Newman is going to RAKE royalties from FOX. It’ll make Erin’s Dancing with the Stars schedule manageable—I won’t have to put up with her whiny-ass Instagram posts from a private jet about #grinding from coast to coast.

We’ll get some hoity-toity reminders from the New Yorker about all the poor-ass people who got bulldozed out of Chavez Ravine 60-plus years ago to make way for one of the top-five stadiums in baseball. It’ll be gross and engrossing, all at once.

The Dodgers’ Matt Kemp, Justin Turner, Carl Crawford and Scott Van Slyke have been hitting the living shit out the ball over the last month—all four are in the top-15 of OPS over that stretch. Even with Puig’s second-half power outage, I don’t see how anyone else keeps up with the boys in blue. Selig passes out his last trophy south of the Grapevine.

AJ: Gotta agree it may be Los Doyers’ year and hey that Randy Newman song was supposed to be ironic; like how big a shithole-where-small-town-dreams-go-to-die-with-a-gooey-tarpit-center LA is. It makes me laugh every time the Dodgers notch a W and it bounces off the Hollywood sign and into the night. I love it! I love it! I love it!

Oh, yeah, the Huskies are better than David Shaw’s listless and unproven farm squad. Take the dawgs and the 6 points against the Cardinal (at home!) for a share of the Pac-12 North lead.

The PnP Recap:

Last week:
AJ: 3-3
Kyle: 1-2

Overall:
AJ: 8-12
Kyle: 1-7

This week:
AJ:
• Washington +6 vs. Stanford
• SF Giants (or Oakland A’s) at 12/1 to win the World Series

Kyle:
• Oregon State +12.5 @ USC
• LA Dodgers (9/5) or LA Angels (9/2) to win the World Series

How the 2014 MLB All-Star Game got Blue Crushed®

Invariably and almost irrevocably, every time I start to feel a little bored agitated by a sporting event of great import (the NBA Finals, the NHL Playoffs, the Super Bowl, the Valero Alamo Bowl …the PDC Darts Championship) I find myself scanning through the 700 channels.

And I find Blue Crush is on premium cable.

Blue Crush vs. Major Sporting Event happens so often I’ve developed a Countdown to Switching Over to Blue Crush Point Deduction System™ (works especially well on Fox broadcasts).

Every major sporting event starts with 100 poitns. If it falls below 50, I’m allowed to watch Blue Crush until Faizon Love’s ‘Da nah nah naaah’ scene. If the score falls below 25, I’m allowed to watch Blue Crush through the one-night-stand with the Pro Bowl quarterback scene. If the score falls to zero (or below), I’m “forced” to watch Blue Crush through the closing credit gag reel.

Them’s the rules.

In other words, once enough points have been deducted from said sporting event’s watchability, it has officially been declared: Blue Crushed®.

It’s not that Blue Crush is the most special movie in the world*, it’s that, well, for my two-something hours of time invested, I get more enjoyment out of azure shots of Kate Bosworth fetching rocks from the bottom of the ocean back before she was all red lips, elbows and knee caps.

Below, my Point Deduction System (pat. pending) —or—how a sporting event can lose enough steam for me to switch over to BC quicker than you can say: “What do I want? Oh my god, I want Penny to quit smoking and go to college. I want, I want to be able to pay the phone, electric and rent in the same month. I want a girl to be on the cover of Surf magazine. It would be great if that girl were me, but any girl would do. I want… I mean I wish my mom would come home, and I really, really want to win Pipe Masters tomorrow, that’s what I want.”

Note: Each sporting event has its own unique set of “rules” that can also be easily modified to suit a drinking game, albeit, with baseball it’s never good to devise a drinking game with Joe Buck in the booth. You’ll be more blacked out than Dodger fans by the third inning.

On the occasion of the 2014 All-Star Game in Minnesota Tuesday night, the game’s first pitch was at 4:27 p.m. PST. As luck would have it, Blue Crush was starting on HBO West at 5 p.m.

By 5:13 p.m., the Point Deduction System enabled me to permanently click over just in time for Anne Marie, Eden, and Lena to get worked at Pipe in front of the locals before scurrying around the Ihilani Resort & Spa at Ko Olina in their hottest-maids-ever outfits.

• Joe Buck expectorates just prior to or after commercial break because he’s a beat off: -3

• Joe Buck makes dated pop culture reference that he tries to pass off as relevant (“This Cuban’s defection was a bigger game-changer than when Ted Danson started dating Whoopi.”) -5

• Joe Buck disapproves of players’ facial hair by making crass joke, “he’s a great hitter and an inspiration for all the homeless i step over when I’m in Oakland.” “I bet he’s the kind of people you see on public transit.”: -5

• Joe Buck admits to never enjoying any destination Southwest flies or any state that isn’t mostly buoyed by corn subsidies: -3

• Erin Andrews starts asking too-long questions like she’s in the “Is there anything you want to know about us” portion of a job interview: -4

• Erin Andrews tries to manufacture Richard Sherman emotion out of completely mundane moments and falling disarmingly short: “What were your thoughts when you were pulled with two runners on and nobody out?” A:”My thought was it’s the All-Star Game. It was nice to be out there and have fun, I guess.” -5

• …Erin Andrews doing it all in a first-job interview blazer: -6

• Longer-than-dinner in-game interview with (fill in blank of retiring Yankee here) runs over a key pitching change, the go-ahead run being scored, a wild pitch or use (or conspicuous non-use) of baseball’s replay. Nobody in the booth seems to mind.

• Fox teases to the “New Star of Sunday Nights” which is a sitcom knock-off of Two Broke Girls. (side note: why can’t anyone do a bad knock-off of Alf. it would stand to reason that it’s time for puppets—jewish alien puppets—to make a comeback. -12

• Speaking of Jewish Alien Puppets, Ken Rosenthal: -8

• Ken Rosenthal tries to evoke Costas by referencing Roberto Clemente when talking to anyone in a Pirates uniform: -4

• Troy Tulowitzki walks up to The Sign, by Ace of Base: +20

• Shot of animatronic Bud Selig: -4

• Shot of Mr. Burns and animatronic Selig sitting in same box: plus 38

• Joe Buck regales audience with stories of Selig’s tenure as commissioner but fails to mention ownership collusion, being complicit with the PED/Steroid era to save job post-strike but prosecuted it to the fullest extent of federal law when the tide of public opinion turned; then being complicit with it again; the 2002 all star game (ended in tie: his call), the World Baseball Classic; the amount he’s profited by his own policies as still-owner (shhhhh) of the Milwaukee Brewers Baseball Club (in spite of fake ownership transfer to his daughter and fake sale to Mark Attanasio); racketeering charges Selig faced for trying to contract the league and get rid of the Twins (leaving the Midwest market open for Brewers business only) in 2001; earning at least $14 million/year as commissioner for pretty much making it job one to screw the Astros and the A’s at every turn (strangely to the benefit of the Brewers, see: 2008 Playoffs): -12 (for each)

I guess assigning such high point totals to the omission of commissioner Selig’s transgressions in this, Melty Ice Cream Face’s last All Star Game, weighed the programming a little in Blue Crush’s favor.

Then again, it was a wholly more satisfying experience watching Anne Marie’s luau meltdown than the alternative: witnessing live the horror of the DH getting home field in this fall’s Fall Classic because Mike Trout hit a chopper up the line that third baseman Aramis Ramirez thought was foul ignored and didn’t make a play on.

Trout was MVP for that almost-hit that didn’t get replayed in the era of replay.

…But Anne Marie took home the quarterback, caught a monster wave at Pipe, got signed by Billabong AND scored the cover of Surf magazine.

*Blue Crush may not be the best movie in the world but it’s the best movie in the world directed by Cougar from Top Gun who looks like he landed on his feet after turning in his wings.

The best Super Bowl party prop bets ever

We KNOW you’re Super bored of the Super Bowl “square game”, so we’ve come up with a list of Super Bowl prop bets you can make at your own Super Bowl party.*

Number of drunk guys calling out “Omaha” back at the TV every time Peyton Manning does in the first quarter:
Over/under 5 1/2

Number of guests who laugh the first time they do this:
Over/under 8

Number of guests who still find it funny by the third quarter:
Over/under 1/2

Will the seven-layer dip last past kickoff (minus the gross, drippy corner nobody touches)?
Yes +300
No -500

Number of times Joe Buck uses the word “inappropriate”:
Over/under 15

Number of times it’s actually inappropriate for him to be using the word inappropriate:
Over/under 15

Will Joe Buck refer to Russell Wilson as being “of mixed race”?
Yes +680
No -425

Will he then stumble over another sentence or two before subconsciously sending it over to Pam Oliver?
Yes +550
No -335

Will Joe Buck make a clever reference to the marijuana-friendly laws of the Seahawks’ and Broncos’ home states by saying something subversive like, “I’m sure there are a lot of Pot Luck parties going on in Denver and Seattle today” or “The game’s an eighth of the way through which means most of Washington and Colorado are watching a blacklight poster instead and trying figure out how to order pizza.”:
Yes +420
No -420

Number of times Joe Buck believes “that should’ve been a flag for unsportsmanlike”:
Over/under 28

Number of times Joe Buck says “weather is a factor” in spite of the fact that weather is not a factor:
Over/under 37

Number of times Joe Buck refers to the Manning family with the same reverence as an Irish Catholic mother of three would the Kennedys in 1965:
Over/under 5

Will Joe Buck say something vaguely racist and condescending but revelatory in his mind in reference to Marshawn Lynch and Richard Sherman like, “They grew up in neighborhoods where gang activity was rampant and even bars on the windows couldn’t keep trouble out.”
Yes +975
No -90

Will Erin Andrews have her ears covered regardless of the weather:
Yes +1,280
No -900

Will Peyton Manning take all the stickers off his Super Bowl Champion hat and bend the bill before putting it on:
Yes +800
No -600

Will your neighbor come over to “borrow some ice”:
Yes +300
No -200

If so, will he end up staying for the duration of the game and drink your beer and maybe try to flirt with your cousin’s friend that you were maybe supposed to talk to?
Yes +800
No -600

Will someone accidentally knock the remote to Diners, Drive-ins and Dives during the third quarter?
Yes +250
No -180

Will everyone be OK with it staying on for a segment, because, you know, Philly Cheesesteaks:
Yes +250
No -180

Will MTV’s Kennedy or Pauly Shore be mentioned?
Yes +.000000560
No -11,987,383

“All I know is their cheerleaders have chaps.” Does this convince the room to root for the Broncos?
Yes +850
No -215

How many times will ADD guy try to get a game of corn hole, flip cup or beer pong going on the patio?
Over/under 15

Will the guac brought by the coworker you invited because he overheard but didn’t think he’d show up taste a little funny?
Yes +500
No -180

Will everyone say “this guac is great’ anyway?
Yes +250
No -180

Number of times Vizio and Costco get said in the same sentence during the party:
Over/under 15

Will your drunk uncle refer to Bruno Mars as a she?
Yes +250
No -180

Ditto Anthony Kiedis:
Yes +370
No -135

Will someone ask why Will Ferrell is drumming for the Red Hot Chili Peppers
Yes +140
No -120

“If I was doing halftime, first thing David Lee Roth vs Hagar — everyone would watch that!” Whole party nods and takes a sip in agreement:
Yes +550
No -375

Will any of the broadcast crew have bare hands?
Yes +250
No -180

Number of times someone at your party asks “Where are they playing this again?”
Over/under 15

Number of times someone at your party follows that question: “And is it outdoors?”
Over/under 15

Number of times one of the women at the party mentions Beyonce’s performance last year:
Over/under 12

Number of times one of the men at the party mentions Beyonce’s performance last year:
Over/under 20

Average number of red vines consumed from the red vine bucket by halftime:
Over/under 47

Average number of flu strains in the red vine bucket by halftime:
Over/under 7

Number of times some kind of sideline warming device is profiled or otherwise interviewed:
Over/under 3

Number of people who ponder aloud whether Evel Kenievel ever did a Super Bowl halftime:
Over/under 1 (I always pose this question, so, there you go.)

Number of guests who reminisce over the Bud Bowl or when Go Daddy “actually had hot chicks” in their ads:
Over/under 4

Will your mailbox still be standing on Monday?
Yes +250
No -180

*Yes, that’s three references to the Super Bowl, as in Super Bowl XLVIII (3:30 p.m. Sunday, Feb. 2 on Fox at MetLife Stadium, East Rutherford, New Jersey) because, you know …that’s what the $22 billion/year nonprofit supported by HGH-friendly drug testing policies calls it.

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Post by Death of the Press Box.

Boston wraps eighth world championship – No disrespect but …

No disrespect but …You just won your third World Series in less than a decade, so why are you already whining about next year?

No disrespect but …Your tight end’s still a murderer.

No disrespect but …Mark Whalberg’s in the new Transformers movie.

No disrespect but …Your town smells like the caaaah a week after you spilled coffee in it.

No disrespect but …We know it gets cold back there in February but it’s been in the mid-to-high 60s, so why were you all scarf and hatted up like the Fonz in winter?

No disrespect but …You groom your ski slopes with a Zamboni.

No disrespect but …Your MVP didn’t buy into that beard thing.

No disrespect but …Nobody at Cheers ever had a Boston accent.

No disrespect but …Helmets and goggles? What, did Shaun White coordinate your locker room celebration?

No disrespect but …No matter how much you grope Erin Andrews she’s on the next flight back to the West Coast, kind of like, I dunno, every other normal girl from back there.

No disrespect but …Pound for pound, Mo Vaughn is still a better DH.

No disrespect but …Because you invented the Tea Party, I’m holding you accountable.

No disrespect but …You were more lovable when you were losers. See: Chicago.

No disrespect but …Plus Chicago is still sleeping next to the Stanley Cup.

No disrespect but …The only movie worse than that one about how your public school system is so bad they let Einstein with a bowl cut become a janitor was Scorsese’s romantic comedy about a love triangle between Vera Faminga, Matt Damon and Leo DiCaprio.

No disrespect but …Most of us fell asleep during the third act of Argo and just took your word for it.

No disrespect but …It’s s-o-c-k-s

No disrespect but …Now for the next year/year-and-a-half, every time I go to the geeem or the baaaah, one of your expats is going to be dropping the hammer on his accent like he’s passing in the slow lane.

No disrespect but …At least this erases the memory of beating the Rockies in ’07; we all know that one didn’t count.

No disrespect but …Thank God last night’s celebration was well contained within city limits and there were no bridges for a Kennedy to drive off.

No disrespect but …Southie is more hipster-gentrified than Brooklyn.

No disrespect but …Hardly any of you are Irish anymore, so sober up.

No disrespect but …Last time Peter Gammons wrote a baseball column worth reading while pissing, Watergate was still the name of a hotel and we were arming the Taliban against Russia.

No disrespect but …At least you’ll always have Mutts Cutts. Nobody can take that away.

No disrespect but …Next time you coach that old-guy fan to get all underdog/nostalgic on TV, please remind him your payroll is creeping up toward $200 mil just behind the Yankees and the Dodgers.

No disrespect but …You can claim Aerosmith, the Pixies, NKOTB and The Cars but you also have to claim Godsmack.

No disrespect but …I still think you made a huge mistake by shipping Moonlight Graham back down to the minors after only one at-bat. Come on, give the kid a shot!*

*Ok, so what if Archie Graham was really a New York Giant? Then why did Costner take Vader to Fenway to see the scoreboa– ugh, never mind.