A Congrats to the White Sox... Well, Sort Of...

Congratulations are due to the Chicago White Sox. Ugly step-sister in their own city, the South Siders brought the Windy City its first World Series title in 88 years. A remarkable season by manager Ozzie Guillen and his team of castoffs. They were the best team in baseball for the first half of the season, an OK team for three months and the best team again for the month that matters. They tore through the playoffs and deserve credit for a great postseason and some excellent pitching performances by Jose Contreas, Mark Buehrle, Jon Garland, and Freddy Garcia, but lets not get ahead of ourselves. They were the best team this year, they are not amongst the all-time greats. It’s irrelevant, because it could never be tested, but I doubt the Sox take either of last years World Series teams (or last years Astros for that matter). They received some favorable calls (and deserve lots of credit for making those calls count, something the Astros were unable to do), received clutch hits from rare spots, and benefited from off performances by all three of Houston’s aces. Perhaps these are just sour grapes considering I picked against them in every round of the playoffs, but… Ok, ok you’re right, the White Sox deserve the utmost credit, from GM Kenny Williams who built a very good roster, to Ozzie Guillen who pushed all the right buttons, and (most importantly) to the players who put the bat on the ball when it counted, fielded their positions well, and made the right pitches at the right time. As a wise manager once said, “this is a simple game, you hit the ball, you catch the ball, and you throw the ball…” Well this year the White Sox hit the ball, caught the ball, and threw the ball better than anyone else.

Who Cares What Really Happened, as Long as We Maintain the “Human Element!”

What this World Series, or the entire playoffs for that matter, really showed, was the absolute need for instant replay in baseball, and not just on questionable homeruns. What I cannot for the life of me understand is the argument that the game is improved by keeping the “human element” involved. The human element? Huh? As ESPN columnist Rob Neyer pertinently pointed out, ‘The human element is the guys doing the pitching and hitting and fielding.’ Obviously replay should not be used to determine balls and strikes, that is just ridiculous, but there is no reason that every viewer in the world should know that the ball which “hit” Jermaine Dye was a foul ball while the umpire sends him running down to first. Perhaps worse is that the umpires seem unwilling to congregate and discuss plays. In the playoffs there are 7 guys in black on the field. Even if the plate umpire could not see that the ball hit Dye’s bat, the second base umpire should have had a clear sight line. Yet, instead of congregating to ensure the right call (ala football) they support errant calls in a ridiculous avoiding of culpability. Fans are intelligent enough to understand that calling a baseball game is incredibly difficult and 98% of the time these guys do a great job, but not admitting their mistakes does not make them look perfect, it makes them look like idiots. As in hockey, instant reply could be done by someone in a booth. It need only take a minute (despite what we seem to think, that’s more than enough time to accurately make the call with replay) and the correct call could be radioed down to the field. Simple, fast, and it would allow the true human element to determine the game’s outcome.

Crazed Fanatics and The Letters Which Amuse Me:

Wanna fix the Yankees? READ THIS. Cano for Hunter/Romero. Re-sign Matsui. Sign Ryan and Farnsworth. SIGN Furcal to leadoff and play second. BAM, World Series Champs - Jamie (NYC).

There are two things I love about this email, first is Jamie’s belief that Torri Hunter AND JC Romero can be had for Robinson Cano. It’s the same blind faith that makes Yankee fans so lovable and so annoying. Like earlier this season when some NYer wrote how easy it would be for the Yanks to improve themselves - they just needed to go out and acquire Johan Santana or Chris Carpenter. To which I thought heck yeah, why not both, and while they’re at it, surely the Sox would trade David Ortiz to their hated rivals, and the Yanks might as well also fly to Jurasic Park and get themselves a T-Rex to play centerfield. His range would be better than Hunter's and he could eat hitters who tried to run on him. Listen Yankee fans, I know it seems amazing, but you actually do not have the ONLY TEAM. The people you trade with are teams as well, and usually they want something useful back. Cano had a decent rookie year, but he is not a superstar in the making, and while the Twins may be looking to move the increasingly expensive (and slowly declining) Hunter they are not going to give up a gold glove fielder with 30 HR power AND a quality bull pen arm for a player with limited potential. The second thing I love, is the idea that those four moves automatically ensure a World Series title. Ahh the optimism, it’s wonderful. Considering their leadoff shortstop had a .389 OBP is another leadoff shortstop (converted to a different position at that) really what they need (especially one who had a .348 OBP)? What about their starting pitching? Wasn’t that a bigger problem this year than anything else? Isn’t another year of age only going to make things harder on old men Randy Johnson and Mike Mussina?

Do you see the Whitesox repeating next year? Their rotation will be better with Brandon McCarthy, El Duque might be the best long reliever in the game. Iguchi will be better in his second season, along with Jenks. With Crede's Beltran-esque post season, I couldn't imagine him not turning it up next season. We might see a healthy Frank Thomas. We just won the world series and we're going to be even better next year. - Vik (Chicago)

Do I see the White Sox repeating next year? No, but since I picked against them all year this year that’s probably good news for you. However, before you start engraving the placque you might want to rethink a few of your statements. First, were is the evidence that your pitching will be better next year? Each of your pitchers had career years this season. Was each of them an ace hiding in wait until now? Or, more likely, were the White Sox fortunate enough to have each of them peak (and stay healthy) in a single season? Only Buerhle had a season which approached his career topography and only he can be expected to maintain that level. Certianly your chances will be bolstered by the arrival of youngster Brandon McCarthy, but as good as he looked this year, what is the history of success among young pitchers? Not particularly good. You might have a better rotation, but more likely two or more guys will spend time on the DL, and their records wont look quite so spectacular. El Duque might be the best long reliever in the game? Doubtful, El Duque hasn’t made it through an entire season this century, and even while healthy he is beginning to show signs of just how old he is (35? 37? 39? 482?). Iguchi will be better in his second season? Yes, you are right there. Along with Jenks? Unless he chokes on a hoagie in the offseason. With Crede’s Beltran-esque post season, I couldn’t imagine him not turning it up next season? Really? You mean the same way Beltran himself turned it up this season? Or isn’t it possible that Crede had stretches like this all year long, but they were just engulfed by stretches of mediocrity? He got hot, at the best possible time. Be happy, ecstatic even, just don’t expect him to be Mike Schmidt next year. And we might see a healthy Frank Thomas next year? True, and you might see Jim McMahon return and lead the Bears to the Super Bowl this year, but I wouldn’t count on it. Not to mention that your best hitter’s a free agent who has the attention of two first base needy, financially wealthy teams… I don’t know why I cannot just say yes, yes you are the favorite to repeat, but I actually can’t see you winning your own division.

Emerging Out of the NBA's Abyss

Each of the big four sports leagues has an abyss; a city were floundering (usually cheap) owners hire incompetent, bumbling management and decade long playoff draughts ensue. The NFL has the Arizona Cardinals, MLB has the Tampa Bay Devil Rays, the NHL has everybody who contributed to the neutral zone trap, and the NBA, well the NBA has the Los Angeles Clippers… the Atlanta Hawks… and the Golden State Warriors. Each of these teams is mired in a long standing tradition of ineptitude. Giving away good players (the Clippers), taking on unfortunate contracts (Warriors), having public ownership squabbles (the Hawks), and constantly defying low expectations with worse results, all of which leads to losing, losing, losing and (are you with me here) and losing some more. Yet each of the three goes into this season with renewed optimism. The Hawks splashed around free agent money and are looking to leave behind their basement dwelling as the NBA’s worst team. The Clippers revamped their back court, which they hope can mesh well with a burgeoning front court; and the Warriors, well the Warriors didn’t do anything, which given their torrid finish to last season must be considered a prescient move. For franchises of this ilk, myriad expectations often go horribly, horribly awry (see Clippers 2002 – 2005), yet for one of these three the playoffs shouldn’t just be a wistful dream, but an actual reality. For this week’s installment of Achanceyougottatake Sports, we take a look at the NBA’s abyss teams through the beloved format, The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly…


The Good:

Last offseason was just another stellar botch job by Warriors management. New head honcho, Chris Mullin, having finally usurped control of the team from the maligned Garry St Jean, grossly overpaid for guys whom he considered “quality locker room characters.” While I agree with his conjecture to bring in players who work hard, play defense, and present themselves well off the court, if you’re going to give them long term, big money contracts they have to be able to score a little too. Giving your backup center and backup point guard a combined 12 years and 90+ million is just plain stupid, but smart, very smart, was trading cap space (which never works out as well as teams hope, see Hawks 2003 – 2005) and your marginal starting point guard for Baron Davis. The Warriors finished the season as the NBA’s hottest team because the addition of Davis gives them the NBA’s most potent backcourt. Mullin followed that with a spectacular draft and for the first time in years the team heads into the season with realistic playoff aspirations. Shooting guard Jason Richardson has developed into a bonafide allstar, complementing his ridiculous athleticism with an all around game. The presence of Davis means they no longer need to rely upon scoring from borderline bust Mike Dunleavy, instead they can allow the Duke forward to connect on open shots which Davis and Richardson create. They do have question marks, most important of which will be Davis’s health. He has a wonky (a technical term) back, which has forced him to miss an average of 27 games for the past three seasons and back trouble never really goes away. The other question, is who’s going to play defense for them. Mickael Pietrus gives them an athletic stopper off the bench ¬- although they would be better served starting him at small forward over Dunleavy – but they lack a legitimate shot blocker and rebounding remains an issue. Still, if Davis stays healthy, this team will be able to score in bunches, given their talent and Phoenix’s roster turnover, I would wager that the Warriors will lead the league in scoring. If they can hold their opponents to 100 points a night, they should steal that last playoff spot away from Memphis.

The Bad:

Every year the Clippers seem to have a preternatural ability to derail the train before it really gets chugging… and really it’s a shame that they continue to squander the considerable talents of forward Elton Brand. The Clippers went into the offseason with three primary goals, re-sign free agent forward Bobby Simmons, find an experienced point guard to tutor prep-school phenom Shaun Livingston and add an experienced shooter. Predictably the Clippers failed at two of the three. They lost Simmons to Milwaukee when the Bucs offered him 47 million over five years. Teams often get caught into overpaying young players who have breakout seasons, when the best thing for the long term good of the franchise is to say goodbye. The same thing derailed Toronto when they overpaid to keep Antonio Davis, Jerome Williams, and Alvin Williams after the team’s ’02 playoff appearance. So while I applaud the Clips for drawing the line on Simmons, they then turned around and grossly overpaid for shooting guard Cutino Mobley. They not only gave an inferior player virtually the same money (40 over 5), they gave an inferior player five years older virtually the same money. Nobody else was offering Mobley anywhere near the 40 million the Clippers offered him, what were they thinking? Simmons’ stats are better across the board, he doesn’t need to dominate the ball, and he’s a much tougher defender. It’s what I call the Joe Johnson rule, If 47 million is too much for Simmons, then your team is right in taking a pass, but try and recoup something for him (as the Suns did with Johnson). The Clippers best move was shipping oft-injured ill-positioned PG Marko Jaric to the T-Wolves for temperamental PG Sam Cassell. While Cassell is a head case, he’s also an extremely gifted guard who can pull the team on his back and carry them for short periods, at 6 million his contract is reasonable and since it expires after this season it’s a short gamble before you give the reigns to Livingston. But putting Cassell in the backcourt with Mobley, and alongside Corey Maggette on the wing, two questions become relevant: 1) When are these three ball hogs ever going to get the rock to Brand, and 2) Who in the world is going to play defense? Those two problems will be more than enough to de-rail any momentum and condemn the Clips to another bad season.

The Ugly:

If things are bad for the Clippers, then they are truly ugly for the Hawks. They have an eroding fan base, questionable coaching, even more questionable management, and 85 small forwards trying to play five different positions. Will they be better than last year? Sure, but only because they have a little more talent, the kids are one year older, and - lets face it - at 13-69 it would take immeasurable skill not to be better, but this offseason was nothing if not ugly for the NBA’s worst run franchise. The signing of Joe Johnson turned into a public spat when primary owner and NBA governor Greg Belkin attempted to block GM Billy King’s move. Belkin, who already was ostracized from the Hawks other owners, was taken to court (never a god sign for the health of the franchise) and ultimately bought out. While his removal was likely inevitable, he was right to object to the Johnson deal. Not only were the Hawks grossly overpaying Johnson, but they were then giving up young guard Boris Diaw (likely no big loss) and two draft picks (likely a HUGE loss). First of all, I love Joe Johnson and I wish the Suns had been able to tie him up to a reasonable contract, but he is not worth 14 million a season. That is franchise player money and he simply isn’t a franchise player. Last year Johnson finished second in 3pt shooting, dropped in 17 a game and covered adequately for Steve Nash when the floppy topped Canadian needed a breather. At a glance, all of those things, and his age make him a great addition, except that it is reasonable to assume that Johnson’s numbers were inflated because he played alongside Nash and Amare Stoudemire. After all, what is the central tenant of an MVP: improving the play of those around him. Well, the Suns had two MVP’s last season and Johnson had plenty of open looks as a result. At seven million he’s a steal at fourteen an albatross. The worst part for the Hawks however is that they didn’t sign Johnson to play his natural position, instead (because they already have fourteen other swingmen…) they intend to shift him over to point guard. Yes, the man passes well for a shooting guard, but he passes well for a SHOOTING GUARD. Whatever else Johnson brings to the table, he is not adept at penetrating the lane. If Johnson were such an able PG, then Nash’s absence would not have been so noticeable last season and the MVP would not have been a short white guy from Canada… Worst of all for the franchise, everything else the Hawks are struggling with was put into perspective when center Jason Collier died of heart failure last weekend. A terrible tragedy for the lowliest of NBA franchises.

A-Dressing the Need for Better Attire

I’m sorry, but there is not an issue in sports that I care less about right now than NBA commissioner David Stern’s dress code. On the one hand, people in all segments of life are required to dress a certain way while representing their profession. For some it means donning a mank polyester shirt emblazoned with your employers insignia, for others it means donning slacks and a unfortunately patterned, silk noose. It isn’t a cultural thing and it certainly isn’t a racial thing. I’m white, yet when I leave the house for work, my employer expect me to dress in a certain manner (although I’m not sure why, because the sweatpants and holey t-shirt I’m wearing right now look dy-no-mite). Forcing the players to wear appropriate “corporate” attire, isn’t denying them their ethnicity, Allen Iverson can still wear his do-rag over his corn rows when away from the arena (just as my father does when he’s away from the Hospital, have you ever seen corn rows on a bald man, it’s special!), it’s just asking them to do what millions of other workers, of all ethnicities, do in thousands of other professions every day. On the other hand, if Stern thinks that having his players dress like Michael Jordan, David Robinson, or Magic Johnson will give them the professionalism of Michael, the class of the Admiral, or the charisma of Magic, well, he’s gravely mistaken. The NBA is suffering through a severe widening of the gap between fan and player and while Stern hopes that a dress code will make his players more approachable to fans over thirty, some players reaction to the proposal only magnifies the chasm.

“I don't see it happening unless every NBA player is given a stipend to buy clothes,” Marcus Camby

Oh really Marcus, because the 7 million you’ll be making this season wont be enough? Maybe you and former teammate Latrell Sprewell can pass around a hat at games which will allow you to buy a suit and tie and help him feed his family on 9 million a year. Given such a crass level of public ignorance among a select few of their players (I have no doubt that Sprewell and Camby are among the ignorant minority, but they are a vocal minority) it doesn’t matter whether the NBA dresses their guys in bright pink bunny suits, the people are still going to think they’re a$$h%#@$...


Let Them Eat Cake

Speaking of Latrell Sprewell, I cannot help but take amusement from his situation this offseason. Last year, after the T-wolves offered him a reasonable (if not slightly inflated) three year contract offer, the mercurial shooting guard infamously said, "Why would I want to help them win a title? They're not doing anything for me. I've got a lot of risk here. I've got my family to feed." Well, that winning attitude coupled with the fact that he’s no longer a very good player has meant that instead of the 21 million over three years, Spree is looking at a one year MINIMUM contract… Seems as though the man once famed for choking his coach will have to find a way to feed his family on only a million a year, oh the humanity. If Latrell is really wodnering how he's going to feed his family this year, then perhaps he should take the advice of famed humanitarian Marie Antoinette and "let them eat cake."

A Ten Year Old at the Plate With the Bases Loaded

Which side of the line do you fall on? Are you happy living in what is perceived as the “age of parity?” Or do you pine away for a simpler age? A time when you knew the San Francisco – Dallas winner would be dousing Gatorade over the head of their coach on Super Bowl Sunday, or the era you knew that the Canadians would be drinking from Lord Stanley, the Lakers and Celtics battling for hardcourt supremacy, and (perhaps most polarizing of all) you could bank on the maniacal domination of the pinstriped evil empire. The leagues themselves love parity, and why not. For Paul Tagliabue and the head honchos in the NFL offices it makes economic sense to champion the chances of each team each year. After all, even the most die hard fan eventually succumbs to decades of despondency. They love that they can regale the downtrodden with tales of the ’99 Rams, who went from a weepy eyed Dick Vermeil led 4 – 12 to a weepy eyed Dick Vermeil led Super Bowl victory. Thus, all 639 remaining Cardinal fans need not despair, while they might stink this year, next season could be completely different (well, ok, maybe not for the Cardinals, but there’s still hope for the NFL’s other franchises).

For casual fans the enticement is obvious, your team could rally at any time and if you time your jump well enough, you can always hope onto the bandwagon to wave your very own Rally Monkey in the playoffs. But for me, a man (well, boy really) whom my Girlfriend would bemoan as the biggest of sports fans (poor girl didn’t know what she was getting herself into…), well for me, parity is good and all, but a dynasty, well a dynasty’s the cat’s pajamas, or the dog’s tuxedo if you will.

On Saturday as I sat down to watch what might have been the single most hyped college football game in history, I wondered what exactly it was that had me cheering for USC to continue their phenomenal streak of 27 wins by defeating Notre Dame. I’m not from Los Angeles, I didn’t do any of my studies at the University of Southern California, nor did any of my close relatives. I don’t particularly dislike Notre Dame, so it isn’t as though I am pulling a reverse cheer or anything. Really, the only reason I pulled on the old USC pom-poms was because they are the two-time defending National Champions trying to win an unprecedented third straight title. So why do I cheer for the dynastical Trojans? Certainly a large part of my support comes from my history obsessed nature, Unless a team does something particularly special (like the perfect ’72 Dolphins) a team which wins one or two championships simply isn’t as historically significant as the team which steam rolls to three, four, five… it isn’t as though the one offs are forgotten, but nobody talks about the 94-95 Rockets being one of the greatest teams of all time, they do however discuss the greatness of the 91-93 and 96-98 Bulls.

Yet as I watched Pete Carroll’s Trojans epic victory over the Fighting Irish of Notre Dame, I realized that my passion for dynasties goes far deeper than any historical reasoning. It strikes right at the heart of me as a sports fan: the child in me has never grown up. I remain, eternally, the ten year old boy standing in my backyard, bat in one hand, tennis ball in the other, game 7 of the World Series, my team down 3, bases loaded, count full, and I’m swinging for the fences… No child dreams of being the utility infielder who never makes it off the bench; they dream of greatness: of feathering that perfectly weighted pass from behind the net, like Gretzky; jumping up and down, hands extended, fingers pointed skyward after another Montana like touchdown pass; or of shedding the defender like tissue paper before draining the championship shot with a la Michael Jordan. The child in me watches dreamily, while the adult in me cherishes the opportunity to witness someone do sublimely what I cannot. Without question the enthrallment to brilliance extends beyond the sports realm. I am fascinated by genius, not the sort denoted by the Intelligence Quotient, but true genuine brilliance, of the sort that allows a six year old child to play Mozart with the ease most adults play chopsticks. Yet sports is the realm that makes the most sense to me, if for no other reason than because it is on the field where the ten year old boy in my heart wants to be: standing on the Notre Dame field, 80,000 rabid Catholics screaming for blood as though I were a pagan battling a lion to the death. Only in this case, death is the season, my place in history, the hopes of an entire University and its millions of supporters. And the lion is a Notre Dame team which has shown nothing but heart, pride, grit, and strength in taking me to the brink of defeat. What does it feel like, on 4th and 9, the game all but lost, 80,000 people bursting out of their seats in anticipation of Victory, what does it feel like to shake off a terrible day and throw a perfect pass for a 61 yard gain. Or better yet, what does it feel like as time virtually expires to push, shove, fight, scrape, and ultimately spin and fall into the end zone. Do you realize at the time that you are making history?

Watching it on television my heart was exploding, each pound surely sending surges of blood through my body, but to be there, in the house of Knute Rockne, the Four Horsemen, and Touchdown Jesus, to be there in front of 80,000 people, not to mention the millions who were watching on television and the millions more who had been drawn into watching the final moments, well, well… I’m just not sure that my imagination is good enough to “be Matt Leinart” as he falls over that goal line. But I do know that either way, it will be there tomorrow night sinking the winning putt, hitting the game winning home run, or, maybe, just maybe leading my team to greatness.

Why I Love George Steinbrenner

Some people have a misconception of what I do. I am not a journalist, I am a columnist. A journalist lives in a world which must be represented as existing without bias (unlikely, but hideable); a columnist however, well we have the pure unadulterated joy of presenting opinions. And opinions, well, opinions really are nothing if not based within bias. This is why I find it very hard not to cheer unabashedly for that stubborn of stubborn, cantankerous of cantankerous owners: George Steinbrenner. I can hear your gasp from here, ‘my god, I never suspected Achanceyougottatake Sports of being a closet Yankee supporter…’ Ahh, but here’s the rub, I am nothing if not a fervent (if pessimistic) BLUE JAYS supporter, which makes me detest the Yankees with a passion normally reserved for mosquitoes in summer. Maybe I do not hate them with the same feverish passion of a Red Sox fan (another team I cannot help but detest…), but I find their continued success both depressing and nauseating, like watching a homeless person extricate a cigarette butt from the roadside gutter. This is why I cannot help but love George Steinbrenner. He is nothing if not abused publicly for his iron-clad control of the Yankees, but I think he is a national treasure. Frankly the man should win an award, a medal, heck, give him the medal of valor, or rename the darn thing after him. He’s a fantasy geek who cannot stand losing, but of course, fantasy geeks do not actually understand the subtleties of the game as much as they think they might. It’s easy to say, I want Alex Rodriguez, Randy Johnson, Gary Sheffield, and Jason Giambi and if you’re a fantasy player, or an owner with a 200 million budget it’s even easier to go out and get them. But as the 2003 Lakers or 2002 – 2005 Real Madrid can tell you, all the superstars in the world, and a buck fifty will get you a cup of coffee (which actually isn’t even true, because where in the world can you buy a cup of coffee for a buck fifty any longer?). As the fan of a team which hasn’t finished above third in 8 years, let alone winning the World Series four times, it might be hard to see their plight, but the Yankees loss in the ALDS was their earliest playoff exit since 1995, and worse still, it ensured a fifth straight World Series-less season. And apparently the George is fuming. To which I say... ehhhx-cellent!

I love George Steinbrenner because when the Yankees lose, he goes, proverbially, off the deep end. He fumes, he exhorts, as his friend the Donald would say, somebody gets fired. It makes for good press, it’s funny, but best of all… it’s bad for the Yankees. People forget that when the Yankees run of World Series titles began, it was with Steinbrenner relegated to the sidelines. In an exceptional “Steinbrennian” moment, he had been “suspended for life,” for paying gambler Howard Spira 40,000 to dig up dirt on Dave Winfield (Winfield was suing the Boss over 300,000 which Winfield’s contract stipulated Steinbrenner donate to the player's charity… naturally the boss had not, ya just have to love him, why pay the charity when you can pay a gambler far less to smear Winfield!). Fortunately for all of us, the life suspension only lasted 3 seasons and in 1993 the Boss was reinstated, but it was enough to remove him from the day to day operations of the team. The roster that won championships in 1996, 1998, 1999, and 2000 was the sole responsibility of Gene Michael and his deputy Brian Cashman. It was only after the freak broken bat 2001 World Series loss that the Boss stepped in and started making demands. Each offseason since, his demands and his chase of players have given the Yankees a completely new direction. A little like Chicken Little, only running around screaming about the sky falling with his head cut off… The beauty is that George is based in Tampa, where he is surrounded by “his baseball people.” But they naturally differ from the New York baseball people, giving the Yankees a confused morass at the top which has produced a wondrous succession of haphazard results. I mean, how do you insult a playoff warrior like Andy Pettitte with a low ball offer, a guy who has won more playoff games for you than any other pitcher? But George, thank you for doing so, because not only did it make your team a little worse, it convinced Roger Clemens to join his best friend in Houston and make history with two insane seasons. to think we might have missed out on seeing the most exceptional swan song in history if not for your prescient, benevolent ways…

So this off season, after another disappointing postseason, I can trust that the Boss will reward my love with another cagey off season. Please George, throw big money at Florida pitcher AJ Burnett (a pitcher bound to combust in the New York spotlight); designate Alex Rodriguez for assignment after his “Dog-like” playoff performance; neglect to see what an exceptional managing job Joe Torre did this year with an ill matched roster. That’s right, fire his ass. I mean really, the bum hasn’t brought home a World Series ring in FIVE seasons, what good is he. Hire Lou Pinella, a fiery manager whom we know you will have some wondrous public spats with. Please, it wont just be entertaining, it will be bad for the Yankees and that is something I truly love.

Playing Darts in the Pub after Eight Pints (or my vain attempts at playoff predictions):

Last year, the Cardinals and Astros played baseball at an exceptional level for seven games, only because the Yanks and Sox were clashing in the North East, nobody noticed (well, nobody outside of the mid-West anyway). It’s a shame really, because with the exception of Boston’s ninth inning game 4 comeback victory, the NLCS consistently produced better games. The teams hit a NL record 25 homeruns, including walk off homers to settle both games 5 and 6, the home team won each and every game , and the Cards ultimate victory could certainly have swung the other way with a little luck. This year, baseball fans are fortunate enough to have another crack at watching topflight baseball. Last year both teams packed power up and down their lineup, and had solid staffs that were missing stellar starters (both of this years game 1starters, Petite and Chris Carpenter, missed last years playoffs through injury), but this year sluggers Scott Rolen, Jeff Kent, and Carlos Beltran are not playing, while Larry Walker, Jim Edmonds, and Jeff Bagwell are diminished by age. What the teams have instead are balanced, crafty lineups, capable of squeezing out runs with timely hits, savvy base running, and controlling the games with dominant pitching (both starting and relieving). The Astros pitch a little better, but the Cards hit a little better. It almost comes down to the flip of the coin, which means I’m going to give the edge to the home field advantage holding Cards.
Cards in Seven.

The ALCS is also a match of extremely even, well balanced teams. Neither are great offensively, with only one pants wetting slugger apiece (the Angels’ Guerrero and White Sox’s Konerko), but both teams pitch well, play solid defense and do the little things which win games. Frankly, I’m just happy not to have to watch Yanks – Red Sox again, although I imagine that executives at Fox are not with me there… The Angels are hamstrung by both potential fatigue (the Sox swept the Red Sox, while the Angels crisscrossed the country to beat the Yanks in five) and (worse) by the loss of ace Bartolo Colon, but I like something about their manager, Mike Scioscia. He’s crafty, he’s been here before, and I think he makes the difference.
Angels in Six.