Grit, Guts, & Glorious Winners

Look! Ponder the magnificence that is Derek Jeter! So thoughtful, so emotive, so fetching in black and white! Derek Jeter plays shortstop for the New Yankees. He is a very good shortstop. He has a career OPS+ of 121. That is very good. He is also the second best shortstop on the New York Yankees, but that is another rant for another time.

Derek Jeter is a very bad fielder. He handles balls hit right at him very well, but he can’t get to balls hit, well, not right at him. That means Jeter turns those ball from outs, into singles. This is a bad thing. Unfortunately, the only people who realize that are people who think about the game intelligently (read: not sportswriters). Bill James has written that Jeter “… was probably the most ineffective defensive player in the major leagues, at any position”. Worse than everyone else in baseball is pretty fucking bad.

But the media fucking loves this guy. Peter King thinks this guy is the best player of our generation. That is why I hate Derek Jeter. The guy is the worst fucking fielder in the league and he gets a gold glove, not once, but three times. What the fuck? I know that gold gloves don’t mean anything, unless Greg Maddux wins them (then they count double). (34 Gold Gloves! Holy Mother of God Fucking Shit!) However, not only is Jeter the media’s second favorite circle jerk material (BRADY!), but he has an even worse flaw. He’s fucking boring.

Derek Jeter might be the most boring player in baseball. He hits well. He doesn’t field ground balls. He is a gritty, gutty, winner. He dates models, who, while also pretty, are also boring (they can’t field short either). That is about it. He never has anything interesting to say, which is awesome for a guy the media fucking loves, and is therefore reserved a 15 minute block on SportsCenter every night. I get, you are going to give it 110%. 1 game at a time while not thinking about the next game. NOT EVER!

Fuck. I wish Jeter sucked A-Rod, at least then he would be interesting. But no, time to go date another lifeless supermodel. Lame. Jeter should kill a guy, like O.J. Peter King. Or bang hookers like George Herman Ruth (that’s what true Yankees do). Or recover from a crippling crack cocaine addiction, like Josh Hamilton.

Or pee on rookies, like Greg Maddux.

That guy’s fucking awesome.

Derek Jeter is not fucking awesome. I know for a fact he has never peed on a rookie. Wimp.

In conclusion:

this guy

and this guy

are fucking awesome.

This guy

loved hookers.

And this guy

is a douchebag who sucks at fielding.

Class Dismissed.

Rick Reilly is the highest paid sportswriter in the country. He is also a complete hack. In this semi-regular feature we will take Reilly’s latest columns down, Fire Joe Morgan-style.

My favorite olympic sport? Translating anthems.

Who knew, Rick Reilly translator extraordinaire! Maybe that’s how he justifies his salary, because his 800 shitty words a week sure aren’t doing the job.

Here come the Olympics, when we are reminded of the unquenchable spirit of the athlete, the true fellowship of nations through sport—and the Spam-brained quality of most national anthems.

Really, Spam-brained? What does that even mean? Tasty to Hawaiians?

It’s so sad when bad anthems happen to good countries. America, for one. Ours goes up and down so many octaves only certain German shepherds can hear all of it. Still, I’ve covered eight Olympics, and our anthem doesn’t come close to these:

Is it really that sad? I mean, how many people actually listen to national anthems? And, anyway, isn’t the knock on our anthem that it is hard to sing? I can hear it just fine.

Also, apparently you need to have covered eight Olympics to have heard non-US national anthems.

Andorra. I look forward with great zeal to the day when a 350-pound Andorran shot-putter with phone booths for arms stands on the podium and sings: “I was born a princess, a maiden!” Hey, with today’s medical breakthroughs, it’s possible.

Wow, he starts it off with a tranny joke. Hey! Leave that alone, Rick! That there’s blogger territory.

Thailand. This anthem is played each day at 8 a.m. and 6 p.m. It declares, “Every inch of Thailand belongs to the Thais.” Odd. Was anyone under the impression it belonged to Diddy?

No Rick, I think they are referring to the fact that their country has been under constant threat of invasion for the totality of its existence. Is that really the kind of zany national anthem lyric that deserves to be in a national column? I think not.

Algeria. “We have taken the noise of gunpowder as our rhythm and the sound of machine guns as our melody.” This is why no one invites your band anywhere.

Oh man, the Algerian Civil War was so fucking hilarious! Good one, Rick!

Sweden. Here is a national anthem that has almost nothing to do with the country it honors. It’s mostly about the Nordic way of life. Swedes are like that. Once, at an Olympic soccer game, I listened to Swedish fans chanting and singing. Finally, I asked one what they were urging their players to do. “The players?” she said. “We simply chant: ‘We are from Sweden, we have come a long way and we are drunk!’”

This is why Swedish people are cooler than Rick Reilly. Unfortunately this is the only reason Swedish people are cooler than Rick Reilly.

Russia. Another country that has gone through more national anthems than Amy Winehouse has rehabs. The latest, adopted in 2000 by order of then-president Vladimir Putin, goes like this: “Russia, our homeland, most beautiful of all nations, sing it loud or you’ll farm icicles in Siberia rest of days.” (Okay, I made that up.)

Blah blah blah, Amy Winehouse Joke, blah blah blah, Russia=Soviet Union, blah blah blah. Real topical, Rick.

However, it does seem Rick knows what Stalin’s mustache was up to. Kudos to him. Fuckin’ Commies.

And here’s a cool fact: Afghanistan’s anthem was banned during the reign of the Taliban. Now it’s back.

A cool fact? Not a depressing fact? Or maybe a horrifying fact? Wait, no, you’re right, the Taliban were fucking cool-guys!

That’s pretty much it. While I am disappointed I didn’t see much translation, just other national anthem’s lyrics, followed by hacky jokes, at least we got the hacky jokes. Oh well, see you next week!

The world of professional women’s beach volleyball is all a-twitter over the immense win streak the May-Treanor, Walsh pair have accumulated recently. Color me surprised that anyone actually knew there was a win streak. I didn’t know anyone actually kept score during a women’s volleyball match.

I thought people just…watched.

My dropped jaw aside, this win streak impresses me. I mean, 101 consecutive wins, that’s…well…a lot of beach volleyball to sit through and actually care enough to win. So, yeah, that’s pretty good…

Almost…too good.

Un-doctored image from http://www.southofboston.net

I like soccer. I find it quite nice to watch, well… when no one is broadcasting baseball games. Or NFL games. Or basketball games. Or episodes of the Simpsons, Futurama, The Wire, Pushing Daisies, Generation Kill, King of the Hill, and pretty much any show Adult Swim touches. So, as long as nothing else is on, I like to watch soccer.

I mean, what’s not to like about a sport that can feature guys like this? Or this?

But, really, I guess I should probably say I like football instead of saying I like soccer. I really don’t like watching Major League Soccer. It’s…just…kinda…boring. It’s rather hard to put my finger on the reasons behind this. I mean, besides the whole “everyone with great talent plays for teams in parts of the world that are not the United States” thing.

However, I think SI might have hit on a contributing factor.

Only by offering Eddie Johnson money — in the neighborhood of $850,000 — could MLS possibly keep Cooper happy in the league for the long-term.

Wow. That’s enough to keep a good player around in the MLS? An offer including a signing bonus of 2freakingtimes that much wasn’t enough to make Ryan Grant come to work today.

But such a staggering salary would elevate him to DP status and far surpass the salaries of strikers like Twellman and Carlos Ruiz, and make it much harder for the league to keep prolific goal scorers without busting open its coffers. It could also set a dangerous salary benchmark for a talented third-year league veteran who has hit double figures but twice.

If paying a talented veteran radically less than the Bears pay Rex Grossman to “play” “quarterback” has the potential to drain your professional sport league’s reserves of cash, well, you probably need to rethink you branding.

Maybe start calling it the Major Fun Soccer Mimicking Extravaganza League (of Awesomeness and Delight). And maybe give away some free bobbleheads! Or sell hot dogs for one dollar!

If it works for single-A baseball clubs, it will work for soccer.

This is Ned Colletti. He is the Dodgers GM.  He is very bad at his job.  He likes Gritty old winners, like Andruw Jones, Juan Pierre, Jeff Kent, Nomar Garciaparra.  He dislikes players who are good at baseball, like Matt Kemp and Andre Either.  But he really hates Andy Laroche.

Here’s Andy. Hi Andy!  Andy LaRoche is a very good 3B prospect.  Baseball America ranked him the 31st best prospect in baseball this year. He is only 24.  Despite getting hurt this year, Andy LaRoche put up a 444 OBP in AAA ball this year! So, Ned Colletti rushes him into third base this season, since he can contibute now and will only get better. That’s what any sane person would do. Right?

Wrong.  Ned Colleti trades two good prospects for two months of Casey Blake.

Casey Blake is okay at baseball. He is pretty average at third base. Before the season, Marcel’s Batting Projection pegged him at an ok 760 OPS.  It also pegged  Andy LaRacoche at a 760 OPS.  So, we could expect roughly equal production from them this year.  But one of the players is a cheap 24 year old prospect who will only get better, while the other is a two month rental who costs two good prospects.

What does Ned Colletti do? He makes that bad decision.  The Dodgers really must hate Andy LaRoche, as he has only gotten 59 at bats this year. And they are trading away prospects so as to not play him. And Ned Colletti was seen throwing molotov cocktails at his car. And has written, “I hate Andy LaRoche” at least 150 times in his diary.

Clearly, Andy LaRoche is banging someone’s wife.

I spent a little too much time reading about meaningful and soul crushing things this weekend (read: Iraq). I’m stuck thinking that everything I could write about here doesn’t even scratch the surface of true relevance – a notion which I have contradictory feelings about even when I’m not in this mood. I don’t want to soil any sports that I actually care about by writing about them when I’m like this. So, I’m going to write about something I consider so irrelevant and I care so little about that I don’t give a fuck if I come off as a snarky, pretentious dick: Nascar.

I just glanced at SI’s and ESPN’s Nascar section to find something topical to bitch about. I couldn’t linger for long, my hippocampus was beginning to atrophy. Apparently, someone named Kyle won some race recently. I think he drove in circles for a couple of hours. That’s as far as I got, because just reading about Nascar makes me want to stab myself in the eyeballs.

I have a bad taste in my mouth related to Nascar. In my hometown, there were many fans of Nascar. In my hometown, there were many people growing up with me that held racist beliefs. There was overlap. A house with a Nascar flag on my bus route also flew the Confederate flag. During my time in high school, there was an incident involving several white students wearing shirts emblazoned with the term “White Pride” to school. This caused some nervous shuffling and staring at feet on the part of the administration until the kids were told to take their shirts off.

I later asked around about the controversy. I hoped to write a short piece for the school/community newspaper (bit of a story about why it’s both) about it. Wanting to be fair, I interviewed one of my peers that had worn one of the shirts. I asked him why they had worn the shirt, he replied, “Well, the niggers and spics can wear whatever pride shirts they want. I’m white, we should be proud of our race.” (Suffice to say, I gave up on the article.) He was wearing a hat emblazoned with the number 3. I later found out that was a Nascar hat.

So, I formed a pretty negative view of Nascar. Everything surrounding it just seems charged in a sort of pro-White, pro-male, pro-Confederate/South, pro-laissez-faire, pro-conservatism manner. There’s what, one female in Nascar? I remember the sports media making a huge deal that there was finally another black driver – in fucking 2004 there had only been two. As though that somehow represents progress. The executives, the sponsors, and the sport itself seem dedicated to a kind of culture that fosters ignorance, sexism, and racism.

And the fans just follow along in this bullshit. While googling for this piece of writing, I found this. That seems like something the racist fucks I went to school with would just eat up. And, from the extremely slow pace at which racing diversifies (Nascar seems perfectly fine with the lack of diversity), it seems like this segment of professional racing promotes an environment conducive to ignorance and racism among its fans.

To say what I’m pussyfooting around: near every person I’ve met that follows Nascar closely had – at the least – ignorant, hateful, racist views.  Since I have no hope of writing anything objective today, I’ll just state my own ignorant and hateful view that I know not to be true: Nascar fans are a all a bunch of stupid rednecks.

Now, I shouldn’t say this. I shouldn’t do this! I shouldn’t hold the belief that certain people are ignorant or stupid or or racist simply because they like watching a few cars drive in circles at high speed for hours. I shouldn’t utilize my experience with a few Nascar fans to form an opinion about all of them. I really don’t. I know it’s not true. Not every Nascar fan delights in racism and ignorance. I know this to be true.

However, I also know that the fans and participants in Nascar have overwhelmingly voted for and supported Republicans in recent years.  So, let me have my fun. Let me make some baseless observations. Let me get something out of my system, because if I don’t, I might just explode.

The Nascar fans voted Bush. The Nascar fans voted for many of the men and women behind the disaster that is the United States’ current foreign policy. They voted for the people that capitalized on fear to motivate military action. They voted for the people that sent us to Iraq on false (and often vaguely, if not explicitly, racist) pretenses.

The people the Nascar fans voted for have gotten us into a disaster, unmitigated and draining.

I was just driving to the store, listening to the New York v. Boston game. A-Rod was doing something or other, I don’t know, it was Yankees v. Red Sox. Who the fuck cares? If I really wanted that kind of douchefest, I would watch Baseball Tonight.

Anyhow, the game cut to commercial and I heard a very convincing car advertisement. It was a Hummer H3 ad. The ad spoke about all the great features of the Hummer, cash-lubricated transmission and poor person/minority repellent in the exhaust, but those weren’t the compelling part.

No, the thing that made me decide to make an illegal U-turn and buy a Hummer at that moment was something said near the end of the advertisement. The ad noted the drive for the need to have a Hummer in your driveway and on your all-terrain trips to the corner store: the ability of the Hummer to move you to the exotic, hard to reach destination of the Appalachian Mountains.

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Yep.

Look at the Fuwa. Ponder their deep, soulless eyes. Know that you are staring into the pit that is death itself. The Chinese know. They know the truth of these adorable doom-bringers. Each one portends a disaster. Each of those disasters befell China this year.

Oh, look! What a cute little panda!

WRONG! This cute soul-sucker caused the earthquakes in Sichuan. This little bastard has killed more people than all but three of the other Pandas! Maybe four. They’re sneaky like that.

Jingjing supposedly symbolizes the harmony between man and nature. You know, the harmony that involves nature continually killing fucktons of us. (Insert hacky global warming joke here/)

Huanhaun. This is the “rebel,” responsible for all of those disruptions of the Olympic torch relay. What, did you think people suddenly started caring about “human rights”?

Here’s a test:

Do people care about what Roger Clemens inject in his ass? Fuck yes!
Do people care about atrocities committed against people on the other side of the world (it’s so far away, what can I do!)? Fuck No!

Yingying resembles an antelope or something. He’s probably responsible for the “problems” in “Tibet.” Whatever.

Now this one, Nini, she’s a real little shit. The real terrorist of the group. Fucker takes out a whole goddamn train. Why? Because fucked up terrorist bird-panda-lizard mutants hate public transportation. You’re lucky this monster has no idea about buses.

Beibei. The eco-terrorist. A town using too much water? She floods the whole goddamn town. “They can have all the water anyone could want,” she says. And she stares.

You see? The Fuwa won’t be happy until we all slump, dead before the stare of their soulless button-eyes.

But some still doubt their horrible power. Oh, they are just cute, cuddly animals. What harm could they cause?

Well, Stalin’s mustache was cute and cuddly too. Look at how many people it killed.

Value Adjusted here. We’re debuting what we hope to be a weekly feature, our Friday Conversation. We intend for this to be a fairly free-form, back and forth, discussion of some concept or happening within the sporting world that had some significance during the week. The DJ and I will alternate choosing the topic of discussion. The DJ will choose the topic on the second and fourth Friday of each month, and I will choose the topic every first and third. If there’s an odd number of Fridays in the month, the topic will be determined by a poll of the readers! We’re hoping to do other things in the future to get readers involved with this feature, but we’ll talk more about that when we get…uh…readers. We might also try to get some guests on this, but Bill Simmons didn’t respond to our emails, voicemails, letters, telegrams, singing telegrams, or notes we left scrawled on his front door in rats’ blood. So, maybe next week.

Before The DJ starts us off, you should watch this shiny video! (Credit goes to: Awful Announcing)

DJ Fabulous Fred: For the first installment, we’re discussing brawls in sports.  As we all know, Brawls are so vital to the concept of sport, that their existence is required for an activity to become a sport.  Tennis, golf, swimming, cycling, running: no brawls therefore clearly not sports.  Football, baseball, basketball, and legislating: all clearly sports.  In fact, I think we all remember a few days ago when the WNBA finally became a sport. How could we enjoy sports without the threat of some hulking moron whipping a 90 mph fastball at our heads, sending us to the hospital?

I shudder to think of that world.

Value Adjusted Phineas: I think I’m going to have to mostly agree with the DJ. There’s nothing I enjoy more than seeing Kyle Farnsworth charging at, well, just about anyone looking at him askance. It really reaffirms the notion that I’m watching an athletic competition.

However, I think you may be a bit narrow in his brawl-based criteria for status as a sport. I think the three activities you highlighted are no-brainers; football, basketball, and baseball provide ample opportunities for brawling, thus satisfying this criteria for sport status.

However, I question where you draw the line in your selection of sports. Are only certain brawls applicable when considering whether or not something is a sport? Do we include athletic competitions that have had only a certain number of brawls as sports? Do the brawls have to have happened during a certain period of history? Must they have occurred at the professional level of the athletic activity being considered for sport status? And on and on. Perhaps additional criteria need to be set before this is a viable mechanism for determining status as a sport.

After all, I’m pretty sure these cyclists engaged in brawling while attempting to engage in a athletic event. Perhaps you can confirm, DJ.

DJ Fabulous Fred: Well clearly the brawls need to take place at the professional level for it to be considered a sport. Who gives a fuck about amateurs? Brawls don’t need to frequently occur, but you need that feeling that, at any given moment these fucksmiths could beat the hell out of each other.  As for those cyclists that was clearly a performance enhancing drug induced hallucination and not a brawl.  You know how those cyclists are. Have you every tripped balls on EPO? It’s Fucking Awesome!

Value Adjusted Phineas: Ah, do you then feel all brawls occurring in the proximity of the usage of performance enhancing drugs are hallucinations? Because, I think I’d have trouble including baseball (and football) as a sport, in that case…

DJ Fabulous Fred: Well first off, we know that no one in the NFL takes steroids. Except Shawn Merriman, but he’s sorry.

Secondly, we need to know what kind of drugs people are on. Steroids make you mad, not hallucinate. They just add to the aggression already present. Tripping just makes you look like you are fighting while you think that you are bouncing off lily pads on your way the cheesemoon. In conclusion, Steroids=Crazy Brawls EPO=Awesome Saturday night.

Value Adjusted Phineas: Well, I will have to concede that point to you. I clearly do not have the experience with the effects of performance enhancing drugs you have…

However, beyond what I still consider as a murkiness within this criteria, I wonder what impact utilizing this criteria will have. How do we, as viewers, understand these brawls (other than staring at awe of their display of unbridled human potential for rage and slapstick styling)? How are we impacted? What do they do to the people participating in the sport? For that matter, what do they do to the sport itself?

DJ Fabulous Fred: MAKE IT AWESOME!

Value Adjusted Phineas: Sigh.

See you next Friday!

Devin Hester knows how to play football. Really well. Unfortunately, Devin Hester plays for the Chicago Bears, a single-A baseball team miscast into the NFL.

Considering these laws of reality, one might be a bit perplexed at the team’s course of action leading to the current situation in Chicago. The Bears, realizing their own offensive ineptitude, (rightly) want Hester to continue playing for them. They also want Hester in a more prominent position on their offense, at receiver. This makes sense; as Hester excels in just about all of the areas that qualify a person for playing wide receiver.

However, the Bears don’t want to pay him anything more than they already are. The Bears want to keep Hester on their team, also expanding his role, while paying him far less than ESPN pays Rick Reilly to “report” on “sports.” Does this make sense to anyone? This is a guy who can return failed field goal attempts for touchdowns.

But, no. The Bears do not appreciate that ability. They would rather try to win a game of points solely under the power of their defense than keep players with insanely high ceilings happy. So, Hester hasn’t reported to camp.

I think Hester made the right move. The Bears show that they undervalue him by refusing to secure him with a long term deal. And what choice does he really have? He’s still under his rookie deal. He is pretty limited in his choices related to his contract.

He can skip camp in an effort to push the Bears into offering him what he’s worth, or he can…well, do nothing else, really. If he gives in to the Bears without a new agreement, he risks injury in camp. He’s making the choice any player with great potential ought to in this situation, if his or her head sits straight.

In spite of this, Hester’s absence SHOCKED the Bears organization today. Other facts that shocked the team today: football requires a quarterback, you can generate light using electricity, and the Earth orbits around the sun.

Hester’s action also caught various Chicago Tribune writers by surprise. Some seem hurt, others might even be a little offended! This caused them to say a few stupid things:

Hester wasn’t done sounding ungrateful and stupid: “I’m like this — it’s not worth it to show up.”

To be charitable, Hester is not the most accomplished public speaker, nor does he seem like a guy who rejected a Rhodes scholarship in order to play in the NFL.

Subtle racism is courtesy of Steve Rosenbloom. Steve Rosenbloom, everybody!

The Bears want to pay Hester as the top kick returner in the league, except that Hester wants to get paid like a top receiver, except he’s not a top receiver, except that he is a top receiver on this retch-inducing offense.

Steve seems a little confused. Hester averaged 15 yards per reception last season when he played as a receiver. Small sample size, yes, but that’s still pretty respectable.

Rosenbloom does get one thing right in his cantankerous hate. The Bears do want to only pay Hester as a top kick returner. However, he ignores everything Hester brings more to the receiver table beyond other returners at his pay grade. No, Steve Rosenbloom feels that Hester is just being “ungrateful.”

Steve Rosenbloom’s career day advice: be great at what you do, then do even more for the same amount of money, otherwise you’re ungrateful. And stupid.

Other writers at the Chicago Tribune describe Hester’s action as “ridiculous” and suggest the Bears trade him. Maybe after the trade Kyle Orton will gain his wings and become an actual quarterback. Or maybe the rules of football will suddenly alter, allowing only defensive players to score points. Yes, the Bears will be a great team, if only they trade Hester!

It really makes me sad to see the day when Jay Mariotti writes something that makes sense. Thanks a lot, Chicago Tribune and the Bears, you’ve probably brought about the end of the world or something.

In other news, Ryan Grant may not show up at camp without a new agreement. This tactic is ridiculous, stupid, and ungrateful. I think the Packers should trade him immediately.

I grew up in a state without any pro teams. The best we had was a short lived arena league football team and a AAA baseball affiliate.  I was left a sports orphan.  I grew up with no one to root for.

However, it is near impossible to watch and enjoy sports without picking a side.  When you have no one to root for, you pick someone to root against. Who you hate. That is how I have enjoyed a large amount of sporting events. Hate. Fuck Duke, fuck the Yankees,  fuck the Red SAWX and the Cubbies.  Fuck the Packers.  And fuck the Patriots.

I couldn’t have cared less about who won the Super Bowl last year, yet I was transformed into as big a  Giants fan as anyone.  Yes, that was almost entirely because one of my roommates is from Bawston. I couldn’t bear the thought of the impending Brady media-serviced rim-jobathon. Does that mean I enjoyed the victory any less? I don’t think so.  It was a great game, and, because I had a rooting interest, I was able to maximize my enjoyment.

Think of me as a sports pragmatist.  If you are strictly a lover, you can only enjoy the games that your team plays in. Maybe only the times that they win.  But as a hater, I can enjoy a greater variety of games.  Be it Notre Dame getting smacked around or Brett Favre throwing up yet another JV-style interception, I will be there, getting my twisted rocks off.

Don’t think that I am entirely devoid of team allegiance, dear reader.  I am deeply devoted to my Alma Matter and The Brew Crew.  My hate doesn’t consume my sports enjoyment, it just adds a little spice.  And really, who among us doesn’t like seeing Brady get smacked around a little bit?

Brett Favre wants to play football next year. Anyone catching a glimpse of ESPN over the last month can confirm this. The media, salivating and frenzied at the scent of any sign of a dramatic storyline, has kept the public clued in on any miniscule detail related to Favre’s desire.  I grow tired of this deluge, this story, this figure.

I grew up in Wisconsin, just outside of Green Bay. Football assailed me from every direction. So, I am a fan of the Green Bay Packers. Further, as I am from a particular age group, I grew up cheering for a team featuring Brett Favre as the field general. He stood as a god to a young boy watching on the television or at training camp. He’s seemed reliable and steady and true. Favre stands as a bookend of my experiences as an NFL fan.

The situation surrounding Favre and the Packers this month bugs me as a fan of this pedigree. Others have analyzed and detailed the general narrative far more eloquently than I can. I will say that, after following Favre at the head of my chosen team for so long, I expected a far more level headed approach to retirement on his part. However, I’m interested in the reaction of Packer fans to this hullabaloo.

The fans have, well, seemingly split. Some, like me, wish Favre would have stayed retired. We wish that his actions had not drawn the whole of the NFL world into a squabble over whether or not Ted Thompson and the rest of the Packer organization act as spreaders of evil, communism, and lies through their – decidedly forward looking – moves. Another faction thinks Ted Thompson and Mike McCarthy exist as perfect personifications of Satan.

This faction feels that the Packer front office has shat upon team history. In their eyes, the organization abused the ever so playful – he really loves it out there and is having so much fun all the time in those Wrangler jeans – football hurler standing as the idol of modern Packer fandom. Vileness incarnate is afoot, and these individuals have decided to fight for their glorious winner, Saint Favre. They won’t rest until Favre holds his rightful position as starting quarterback for the Packers; sensible use of the exclamation point be damned.

I can see where they’re coming from. I mean, I lived in the suburbs Green Bay for most of my youth! I also have a huge man-crush on Favre.  If I had to choose between making out with Brett Favre and not making out with Brett Favre, I would make out with Brett Favre.  Just like any other real Packer fan.

That doesn’t stop me from thinking the people spouting vitriol towards the Packers’ front office and staff are short-sighted, gibbering madmen here. Why do I not writhe in fury at the thought of someone else taking the spot Favre held for a really long time?

Let us first consider the situation with Aaron Rodgers. Hold a moment, let’s not; other people have already considered the dread potential implied in Favre’s actions between the Packers organization and the apparent starting quarterback. I’ll just state that the people that scream about the stupidity of the Packer organization’s actions in relation to Favre clearly care not whether or not the team has a season after 2008.
“Favre was and is at the top of his game! He has all the intangible qualities needed in a player!” they cry. “Forget that Rodgers!! We’ll go to the Super Bowl next year with Favre!!!”

“Well,” I say, resting my face on the palm of my hand. “He had a good year in 2007. But what of the constant passage of time Favre surely experiences?” No response. “Think of regression toward the mean! He’s one year older now, 38 is not young!”

It means nothing to the die-hard legion of the Favre.

Now, I know that Favre put up some of his best standard numbers last season. He broke a bunch of records and it was a cool time to be a fan of the Packers and Favre and the NFL. However, I don’t think Favre will excrete magic and wins next season just because he performed beyond expectations for him last season. Intangibles are intangible for a reason.

Furthermore, one might consider some outside factors that could have contributed to Favre’s success last season. What if the teams he went up during the season had somewhat “meh” defensive ability against the pass? That might have helped his numbers a bit, eh?

When looking at the game by game statistics for Favre’s 2007 season, one notes that Favre posted 10 games out of 16 with a passer rating above the 83.5 average across quarterbacks in the league last year. Favre played against 8 different teams in these 10 games (NYG, SD, 2xMIN, DEN, KAN, CAR, 2xDET, OAK). According to the DVOA system, 4 (MIN, CAR, DEN, DET) had pass defenses that ranked in the lower half of the league. This suggests that, for more than half of Favre’s above average games last season, he was throwing against teams that, one might conjecture, possessed defenses that were not consistently on the plane of existence that Favre existed on. It was as if defenders were supposed to be cheesemakers, but they always forgot the ideal temperature for the growth of lactic acid bacteria when Favre passed.

As such, Favre might have been helped by throwing against defenses that weren’t really performing that well against the pass. This doesn’t explain his whole season. However, it does suggest that there might be more to performance last year (luck, context) than a sudden and everlasting boost in ability and skill. It also informs against the idea that Favre will automatically win and take the Packers straight to the Super Bowl no questions asked. FootballOutsiders.com’s ranking of Green Bay’s offensive line as #1 in pass protection last year also hints against the whole “he now possesses mystic win powers coming out of his ears” argument for Favre as an unquestionable starter.

I wish nostalgic Packer fans wouldn’t scream, “Down with Rodgers – Favre 4 ever!” They ought not heap such scorn on Rodgers. Instead, I think they ought to try considering the issue while keeping the future of the Packers as a team in mind and considering the laws of physics that even Favre is subject to.

And, hey, even a monkey could have gotten us to the playoffs with that kind of pass protection.

I think a good place for us to begin our torrid journey, o’ dear non-existent reader, is with the curious case of one Mr. Elisha Nelson Manning. You see, before last season Eli Manning was awful at football – atrocious! Fucking Cooper Manning was probably a better quarterback.  And he played wide receiver.  And has spinal stenosis.

However, you should not fear for the young Manning boy. One day in February, everything changed for little Eli. Here! I made a handy chart to explain this wonderful transformation.

Who doesn’t love a nice handy chart!

God football writers would have us believe Eli sucked at football before the third of February. Afterward, thanks to one beautiful night, he was amazing at football.  Only one game took place, yet Eli Manning transformed himself – he utilized sheer moxie and can-do attitude – from a fucktard of a quarterback to the best quarterback since Sliced Bread Jesus.  Mmm, delicious, delicious sliced bread Jesus.

How can we take anyone who believes that you can entirely judge a player’s ability on one fucking game seriously?  If David Tyree doesn’t catch a football against his fucking head, Eli is still the shit-storm of a quarterback that he probably is.  But, no – Tyree DID make that catch, Eli is a WINNER now.  Hopefully now he can be brilliant like Brett Favre (Jesus) and turn the act of throwing interceptions into gunslinging. It will be a symbol of his magical winner power, rather than his shittiness as a quarterback.

Fuck.

Football is a game that, by and large, is played by large, brutish morons.  We have no problem with this.  In fact, we draw great pleasure from this. Watching giant human beings beat that crap out of each other is endlessly entertaining. The problem is that football is a game that is written about by large, brutish morons.  We enjoy this fact to a radically smaller degree.

This is true for a lot of other sports. Really. We read SI.

We created this blog to promote a more objective view of sport. A more nuanced view of the games.  A more verbose view of these pastimes.

We all know a certain large volume of verbosity equates to an equally large volume of great writing.

So, be it a Peter King column about how much that fat fuck loves coffee, another column about Brett Favre’s magical ability to win games utlizing only throws that result in interceptions, or a Jon Heyman invents yet another deragatory term for smart people, or anyone uses the words Mother and Basement in the same sentance in a non sarcastic way. fear not, dear sports fans. We will be there!

Hello, readers from the future.

As we sit here, we hear of many problems. There’s war, poverty, depression, and the ever lurking menace of communism staring our world in the face every single second of every single day.  However, those topics stand within the realm of other men; philosophers, perhaps. We are not here to speak exclusively on those topics.

No, we are here to talk about sports.

We will talk of the great ball diamond, of the hulking men whom battle over the pigskin, of the glorious contest for the ever elusive basket.  We might talk about other things that interest us, at times, but sport is our raison d’être here.

However, we may go about things in a manner that curves and winds differently.

Others might mention grit and guts while describing the players of the games, they will speak of the intangibles. That is very well. We may slide into that area. We apologize in advance. However, our writing will probably feature numbers more prominently than descriptions of character.

We do not lean this way because we consider ourselves experts of any sort. No, we are simple fans of this game. Like many others, we watch the games on our televisions, celebrate the success and victory of teams we love, and cringe at season ending blows. We are fans, indeed; fans who enjoy, in addition to the subjective qualities, the objective side of the game.

As such, we pledge that we will resist, so much as we can, the usage of the term “has so much fun playing out there.” We, instead, will endeavor towards the usage of statistics in our writing.

It will be a battle, as we intend to talk about Brett Favre tomorrow.