The Revenge of Brian Allen

Of all the soccer games I’ve ever been to (not many), the most memorable by far was one of my brother’s third-grade rec games, when his best friend Brian was being persistently harassed by a bully on the other team. This bully pushed Brian around any chance he got, and it was driving him nuts. He kept complaining to the refs, but they refused to do anything about it. Finally, Brian spontaneously combusted. He gave himself a 30-foot head start, sprinted toward the (much) larger bully as fast as he could, and barreled into him with all his might.

And bounced off of him, onto the grass. 

Now Brian was really steaming. Everyone was staring at him, and he didn’t know how to react. So he did the unthinkable. He grabbed his ball (and his dad was the coach, so it actually was his ball) and ran home -- past the field, through the trees, down a road behind the school -- crying and yelling third-grade-level obscenities the entire time.

It was the single-greatest temper tantrum I’ve ever witnessed.

And the best part? Once everyone had recovered from their unadulterated shock over what just happened, they realized the ball Brian ran off with was the only ball on the field!  Not until Brian’s mom got in her car, drove around searching for him, and finally found him a half-mile down the road could anyone play again. Until then, everyone just stood around, not sure what to do next. Whether young Brian had realized it or not, he had exacted the ultimate revenge not just on the referees, not just on the bully who’d been fouling him, but on the entire game and everyone associated with it. 

Which brings us to this morning, and yet another goal taken from the U.S. soccer team by the 100%-worthless FIFA referees. Sure, bad calls are part of the game. And the U.S. can and will continue to fight back. The way we came through in extra time today to advance was too good for words. Americans take pride in overcoming adversity, and this morning, we did it in a big freaking way. Our players have handled themselves with class, and in my opinion, have been an absolute treat to watch this entire tournament. 

But in order to the win the ultimate prize – for U.S. Soccer to really “arrive” on the global stage – we have more games to win. And I just fear the powers that be won’t let it happen. I wrote an entire post a few weeks ago about the various ways this sport isn't fair, but I wasn’t even factoring in officiating biases against certain teams. We’re playing 11-on-15 out there, game after game. Eventually -- and I hope I'm wrong -- it’s too much for even our guys to overcome. 

And if and when that happens – if we get screwed again on the world’s biggest stage – I think it’s time for us to adopt the Brian Allen strategy. It’s time for us to pick up our ball and go home. Enough is enough. If you don’t want us to be good at this sport, FIFA, then fine. We’ve got other ones. We’ll be fine. You can have your “beautiful” game. 

But good luck finding another ball. 

On Cab Drivers, Cleveland, and LeBron's Big Day

July 1^st is right around the corner.  And every fan in New York knows what that means: It’s the day LeBron James’ contract with the Cavs officially terminates, and The King takes his first steps toward joining our beloved Knicks.  At least, that’s what we think.  For a more objective, nuanced opinion, I wanted to hear what the other side thinks.  And with a work trip to Cleveland on this week's docket, I had a perfect chance to do some primary research.

It's not just another day in Cleveland.

One thing I quickly found out for sure: Cleveland’s trying. A flash mob of 200 people gathered at Tower City yesterday (pictured) for a massive song-and-dance sales pitch.  In nearby Akron (James’ hometown), a huge rally is planned tomorrow for “LeBron Appreciation Day”.  And on the day he becomes a free agent, an Indians’ minor league team – the Lake County Captains – is changing its name to the LeLake LeCounty LeCaptains, and every player’s name will add a “Le” at the beginning.  Cleveland wants us to know they’re fighting, and that they fully expect to win.

But the word on the street?  Not quite as hopeful.  Granted, I only spoke to a small sample -- and a large proportion of it was cab drivers -- but still, the results were surprisingly unanimous:

“He’s going.  To New York.  More money.”

“I didn’t think he could say no to the extra $30 mill (he'd get for staying in Cleveland), until Izzo turned down the coaching job.  He must've known LeBron's leaving.”

“I don’t know.  It's tough.  I think he’s leaving.  Probably Chicago.  Maybe New York.”

"You know what?  He's gonna do what he's gonna do.  Bye."

"I'd go if I were him.  He'll make twice as much in New York in endorsements."

"New York?  They buy him?  I heard that.  Guess how old I am?"

This all, of course, was exactly what I was hoping to hear.  But I have to admit, at the time, I felt a little guilty.  Like we were stealing from these people.  People who hadn't experienced a championship (in any sport) in the last 50 years.  I liked Cleveland.  I think it's underrated.  It's quiet.  It's clean.  The people are nice.  One night we went to an Indians game (who by an incredible stroke of luck, were playing the Mets).  Another night we went to Lola, a delicious new restaurant on East 4th Street, which was like a smaller, cleaner, G-rated Bourbon Street.  We walked along the Cuyahoga.  We passed the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.  Cleveland's a proud city.  Tough, yet polite, seemingly just waiting for its big break.

On my way to the airport, I talked up the cab driver again.  I asked him if he'd watched last night's spectacular Celtics-Lakers Game 7.  I figured it'd be a good lead-in.

"Nah," he said.  "I watched the History Channel."
"Really?" I asked.  "The History Channel?"
"Yeah."
"Well...why?"
"You already know what's gonna happen," he said, very matter-of-fact.  "You know who wins, and you know who loses.

"That way you can't get your heart broken."

Be Honest...Do You REALLY Love the World Cup?

The World Cup is coming soon. The "Greatest Sporting Event on Earth". If you somehow didn't know that already, pick up a sports magazine: They'll be at least three articles reminding you. We should love the World Cup, the argument goes, because the rest of the world does.

Well the rest of the world also loves a good halibut.  Doesn't mean I do.

I'm not saying I don't love the World Cup.  Well, I guess that's sort of what I'm saying.  OK that is what I'm saying.  I really like the World Cup, and I promise when the time comes, I have every intention of joining the bandwagon.  But love? FVG doesn't just throw that word around. When an event's best form of seduction is, "Look how much EVERYONE ELSE loves it", it might get my attention, but it won't make me weak in the knees.

Since the original Tea Party -- and to some extent, the one of today -- we Americans make it clear that we're not to be told how to live and what to be excited about.  So while many of us will tune in June 11th (Mexico vs. the hosting South Africans) and June 12th (U.S. vs. England), once it's 87 minutes in and nobody's scored yet, we'll all quickly remember why we spend the other three years and eleven months watching something else.

This is the classic theory why Americans don't love soccer: We think it's boring. We're too addicted to super-sizing and instant gratification to appreciate what a "beautiful" game it is. And maybe we are.  After all, if a game ends up 0-0, it doesn't matter what happened.  Nothing happened.

But I also don't think this tells the whole story. Americans aren't the only ones with short attention spans. The biggest reason Americans don't love soccer isn't because it's unexciting, it's because it's unfair.

The less scoring there is in a sport, the better the chances that the team that deserves to win doesn't. If this "beautiful" game is as "important" as the rest of the world says it is, how can they possibly be alright with their team dominating a game and losing on one fluke play? 

And what about the red cards?  There's no sillier rule in sports: When a player gets ejected for a red card (which is usually thanks to the ridiculously prevalent yet somehow condoned injury-faking), he can't be replaced for the rest of the game, even if it just started! This kept the U.S. from having ANY chance of beating Italy (and advancing past Round 1) in 2006, and considering we're not exactly the world's most popular country, I expect it to happen again in 2010. Can you imagine Rasheed Wallace getting his 2nd tech toward the end of the first half and the Celtics having to play 4 on 5 the rest of the way? The "beautiful" game comes down to who does a better job faking injuries and insulting his opponent's mother/sister to the point of getting head-butted. This isn't a stretch.  This really decided the last World Cup.

Another injustice: No game played that hard for that long with that much on the line (remember: people in other countries KILL over this) should so frequently come down to penalty kicks.  Regular season, fine. But not the World Cup. Hockey playoffs? They play it out. Fifth set of Wimbledon? Play 'til ya can't anymore. Even NFL overtimes (which I can't believe I'm defending) make you score against a defense. 

And what's the most important skill needed to win one of these shootouts?  Guessing!  The shooters kick from way too close for goalies to be able to react, so they're left to make the split-second, gun-to-your-head choice between diving to their right and diving to their left. And then praying. At what point did someone decide this was an appropriate way to end anything, let alone the "Greatest Sporting Event in the World"?

One thing the World Cup does have going for it though, is timing. The NBA Finals end the second week in June, precisely when the Cup starts. Coincidence? Yes, but I'll take it. The World Cup is a just as boring yet way more globally relevant (and therefore, indirectly interesting) alternative to baseball, and keeps us that much more entertained until July 11th.

Just about the time we can start talking fantasy football.

Why She's Probably Rooting Against You

In the beginning of Major League, Indians’ General Manager Charlie Donovan meets with new owner Rachel Phelps to hear her vision for the team.  As he tries to wrap his head around her outrageous plan to decrease attendance to the point where she could opt out of her lease and relocate the team to Miami, it hits the heart-broken Donovan like a 95-mph fastball to the ribs.

“What are you saying? You want us to lose?”

Phelps isn’t the first woman to secretly root against the team she’s supposed to love.  And she won’t be the last.  After all, it’s sound strategy for girlfriends who – let’s be honest – can only take so much baseball.  Losing leads to sadness, and sadness leads to disinterest.   

And disinterest leads to her getting the clicker.

On a night the Mets win, I excitedly stay tuned for the postgame, pore over the box score, and even tolerate Baseball Tonight. 

But on nights they lose, I check out completely.  “Sure, babe, turn on Anthony Bourdain.  Heck, turn on Real Housewives.  It’s fine.  I’ll read the paper.”

The game doesn’t even need to be over for our interest to wane.  My friend Chad has what he calls “the 3-run rule”: He stops watching the Red Sox if they fall behind 3 runs or more.  “It’s just not enjoyable,” he says.  My threshold’s slightly higher than that, but still, other than hearing Keith, Ron, and Gary take calls from Jimmy in Long Island and Seth in White Plains, there’s not much to love about games the Mets are getting pummeled.

(Does this make us fair-weather fans, by the way?  I don’t think so.  It's like when your dog cuts himself and has to wear a lampshade on his head so he won’t lick the wound.  You still love him – you’d just prefer not to see him that way.) 

In the end, of course, the too-heartwarming-to-fail Indians turn things around, fans come out in droves, and Phelps’ devious plan is foiled.  But the average girlfriend isn’t thinking so big.  She doesn’t want to steal your team.  She doesn’t even want you to be sad.  All she wants is a night without baseball.

Can you really blame her for that?

FVG Critics' Review: Basketball Wives

One of Lindsey's favorite shows these days is Keeping Up With the Kardashians, on the E! network.  Normally I hate this show, EXCEPT when Khloe Kardashian's husband -- a.k.a Lakers' forward Lamar Odom -- makes an appearance.  Then I'm interested.

So when I saw an ad for Basketball Wives, a new reality show on Vh1, I dared to dream that the network had struck FVG gold.  Real Housewives meets NBA Basketball?  Kardashians with permanent Lamar Odom cameos? Could this finally be the show BOTH of us DVR?

The brainchild, executive producer, and star of the show is Shaunie O'Neal, fresh off her highly publicized divorce from Shaquille O'Neal, a player who needs no introduction, and isn't given one: We never see him. Shaunie flies to Miami to meet up with her friends and fellow cast members, whom we're introduced to one by one.

-Jennifer Williams (wife of ex-NBA player Eric Williams)
-Suzie Ketcham (ex-wife of ex-NBA player Michael Olowokandi)
-Evelyn Lozada (ex-fiancé of ex-NBA player Antoine Walker)
-Gloria Govan (fiancé of NBA player Matt Barnes)
-Royce Reed (mother of NBA player Dwight Howard's son)

If you think you read that wrong, you didn't. Not one of the "wives" is actually married to a current NBA basketball player. And one of them really is Dwight Howard's baby mama, and yes, she's the designated crazy one -- getting scolded in the premiere for inappropriate dancing with a stripper pole.

At the first commercial break, I asked Lindsey how Wives compared with her beloved Real Housewives.

"Are you kidding?  It doesn't compare. It's a lie. None of them are actually wives of a basketball player!"

I reminded her that Real Housewives at times was a misnomer, too, as some of the housewives had jobs, and others weren't actually married.

"Well whatever," she said. "The Real Housewives have personalities. These women sound like they're reading a script."

I agree. While all reality shows stretch the truth, this misrepresentation cut deeper. You can't base an entire show on a single premise and have it immediately prove to be false. It's like doing a reality show on midgets and having them all turn out to be tall (Wait, does that exist already?). Reality TV works best when it at least feels A LITTLE real, and then lets one or two TRULY crazy -- not reading-from-a-script crazy -- characters take over.

And besides, the show sucked.

FVG Grade: F

The Oklahoma City Thunder: FVG's '09-'10 Most Valuable Team

With a starting five averaging 23 years of age and zero games of playoff experience, it's unlikely the Oklahoma City Thunder will win, or even make it to this year's NBA Finals.  In fact, there's a pretty good chance they'll lose in the first-round.  But as far as Football vs. Girlfriend's concerned, that's irrelevant.  It's icing on the cake.

The Thunder are FVG's 2009-2010 Most Valuable Team.

What makes OKC the obvious choice?  Let's consider the usual "Most Valuable" criteria...

Can you win without them?  I'll put it this way.  If Lindsey (a proud native Oklahoman) is over and the Thunder aren't playing, we're watching 'Kell on Earth'.  My record of getting to watch basketball with Linds on a night the Thunder aren't (isn't?) playing?  Somewhere in New Jersey Nets territory.

Are they consistent?  Any team can be exciting enough to convince Lindsey to watch for a night. There's a whole host of storylines I can fabricate.  But like a patchwork pitching staff, it won't get you through a season.  The Thunder, however, are a joy to watch night in and night out.  This team doesn't take nights off.  And therefore, neither do I. 

Are they winners?  The New York Knicks are my favorite basketball team.  But for Knicks' fans, this season was over before it started.  There was NO WAY I could justify watching the Knicks to Lindsey.  I had enough trouble watching myself.  That's why the Thunder's remarkable turnaround in the wins column was so crucial.  Women lose patience with guys that don't work, clothes that don't match, and teams that don't win.  It's just the way it is.

Likability factor.  In 1947, Ted Williams lost the MVP race to Joe DiMaggio despite winning the league's Triple Crown.  Why?  A Boston Globe reporter left him off his ballot entirely, because he didn't like him.  Voters are human, and they have feelings too.  Fortunately, likability could be the Thunder's strongest suit of all. Take this quote from one of today's preeminent sportswriters, Bill Simmons:

"This is something like my 10th or 11th year with NBA Season Pass. I've never gotten attached to a non-Celtics team before, and I've never played favorites if there were multiple non-Boston games happening at the same time. This year? I find myself gravitating toward Thunder games night after night. It's a real team. They like one another. They're better as a group than they are as individuals. And (Kevin) Durant is the most special non-LeBron talent in basketball. Not only is there nobody like him, but there's also never been anyone like him..."

I sent this quote to Lindsey the other day.  I send her anything positive I read about the Thunder.

"Ooooo, so exciting!" she replied.

Sounds like a girl ready to watch every playoff game!

GUEST POST: Yankees Suck, But Not Really.

by Robby Herman

I know, spring is upon us, the weather is starting to turn, Opening Day is right around the corner.  But I just don’t feel the same excitement this year.  I’m guessing this might have something to do with the fact that I am a fan of the lowly, incapable-of-doing-anything-right New York Mets.

Usually around this time, whether the experts predict it or not, I have a feeling that “this is the Mets’  year”, or “the NL East is the Mets’ to lose”.  But this year is different.  I don’t see any scenario in which the Mets can even challenge the Phillies in the division, let alone make a run for the World Series.  Even if Johan wins the Cy Young, which he will, and even if Reyes finally breaks out, which he will, there just aren’t enough weapons for this to be a playoff team.  In fact, the best thing going for the Mets might just be the Cascarino’s Pizza sold at the upper level of Citi Field.

I'm not usually one to admit that I've lost an argument.  Just ask my dad.  After 3 seasons of Jets' running back Thomas Jones rushing for over 1,000 yards, I still insist that he is the worst running back in the NFL, and maybe of all time.  But I have been arguing with my arrogant Yankee fan friends for years that the Mets are the superior team in New York.  And I finally admit that I am wrong.

Sure, the Yankees have 17 times as much money as any other team in baseball, and can therefore purchase any player they want.  And yes, 75% of their players are on steroids (I’m looking at you, Mr. Rodriguez).  But overall, they are pretty damn good.

Let’s take a look at Yankees vs. Mets, position-by-position.

Catcher: Jorge Posada vs. God Knows Who…Advantage: Yankees.  I’ve never been too fond of Jorge, but he still seems to be a safe bet for 20 homers a year.  Plus, it doesn’t take much to beat out the Mets’ catcher(s).  They’ve signed about 5 this offseason, and I’ve never heard of any of them.  And I follow baseball pretty closely.

First Base: Mark Teixeira vs. sigh..Daniel Murphy…Advantage: Yankees.  I hate Teixeira.  Everything about him.  The way he runs, the way he looks, the way he swings.  But his numbers don’t lie.  As for Murphy, so much fuss is made about his work ethic and his passion for the game.  But who cares? I could have those same attributes too!  You just can’t start for a whole year and only manage to drive in 63 runs.

Second Base: Robinson Cano vs. Luis Castillo…Advantage: Tie.  Cano’s stats may look better, but when you look up “clutch” in the dictionary, his picture is nowhere to be found.  I remember a stretch last year when he went 0-17 with RISP and 2 outs.  Impressive.  Meanwhile, Luis quietly hit .302 last year, and was one of the Mets’ only consistent bats.

Shortstop: Derek Jeter vs. Jose Reyes…Advantage: Yankees, for now.  One is a surefire Hall of Famer, the other will be in 10 years.  Mark my words.  Reyes hasn’t lived up to the hype yet, but his combination of power, speed, and the strongest arm known to man, will come through this year, and for many years in the future.  But until he wins a championship, or three, he’s not in Jeter’s class.

Third Base: Alex Rodriguez vs. David Wright…Advantage: Yankees. A-Rod is the best hitter in the game not named Albert Pujols.  Wright is not.  Enough about him being “Mr. Met”, and “the face of the franchise”.  He hit 10 home runs and had 72 RBIS last year.  That is flat out embarrassing for a “star” like him.

Outfield: Brett Gardner, Curtis Granderson, and Nick Swisher vs. Jason Bay, Carlos Beltran, and Jeff Francoeur…Advantage: Mets.  Wow.  Advantage: Mets.  That felt good to type.  Now that I think about it, the Yankees outfield sucks.  For a team paying its players more than 200 million dollars a year, that’s a pretty pedestrian bunch.  I know, Beltran’s out for the beginning of the season after his mysterious surgery, but the Mets still have the edge with the big bats of Bay and Francoeur.

Starting Pitching: CC Sabathia, A.J. Burnett, Andy Pettitte, Javier Vazquez, and Phil Hughes vs. Johan Santana, John Maine, Mike Pelfrey, Oliver Perez, and Jonathan Niese…Advantage: Yankees.  One thing I will never admit is that CC is better than Johan.  In fact, no one is better than Johan.  No one has ever been better than Johan, and no one will ever be better than Johan.  But other than that, the Mets have had the same staff for what feels like a decade, and it’s never been good before.  What’s gonna change now?

Closer: Mariano Rivera vs. Francisco Rodriguez…Advantage: Yankees.  Only the Mets could take a 62 save guy and make him bad.  K-Rod had 35 saves, but a 3.71 ERA is pretty ugly and he never seemed to close the big games.  Not that there were many big games last year.  Meanwhile, Rivera’s the best to ever play the position.

The Yanks are loaded at almost every position; the Mets are not.  Even someone as stubborn as myself can’t honestly think the Mets are a better baseball team.  Just don’t let my Yankee fan friends know I’m saying this.  That would be the first argument I’ve ever “lost”.

Baseball: America's Relationship-Friendly Pastime

If you've been reading this blog for a while, you know I like to tease baseball and give it a hard time.  But for all its flaws (too long, too boring, too nerdy, too confusing to bet on, etc.), baseball will always have a place in my heart.  It was the first sport I fell in love with, and to be honest, it still has a lot going for it.

Like, if getting along with your girlfriend or wife is important to you, baseball's the best sport there is.

To understand why, we must become familiar with the terms watchability and missability.  Watchability is the degree to which we can enjoy watching a game.  Missability is the degree to which we're OK with missing it.  Usually they're inversely related: Games with high missability (preseason basketball, golf) tend to have low watchability, and games with high watchability (NFL Sundays, March Madness) tend to have low missability.

And low missability is the #1 cause of fights with your girlfriend.

That brings us to baseball.  Now, I'm not going to pretend baseball's an easy sport to sit through.  It isn't.  But when your favorite team's playing, it absolutely is.  For me, Mets' games are pleasant, enjoyable, and never require my full attention.  As long as the Mets are playing -- and with the exception of the occasional travel day, they are -- baseball is very watchable.

Yet, at the same time, it behooves me to remember that that baseball game I'm watching is merely one out of 162!  That's roughly the equivalent of just six minutes of an NFL football game!  Know how your coach used to tell you after a tough loss "It's OK, it was just one game"? Well, in baseball, they mean it.  A single baseball game -- as exciting as a walk-off home run (or as agonizing as a bullpen-blown lead) can be -- just isn't a very big deal.  And that's what makes it so missable.

No other sport is so highly watchable and missable at the same time.  I can and will always enjoy spending an evening alone with the Mets (until around early August when they're mathematically eliminated), yet I'll never feel too disappointed if I can't.

What could be more relationship-friendly than that?

Gushing Over Gus

Anyone who watched the KSU-Xavier thriller last night went to bed knowing they saw the best game of what’s been the best NCAA tournament in years.  They know as far as sports go, last night was as good as it gets.  Why?  Well, it went to double overtime, but lots of games go to double overtime.  It was a classic duel between two great players, but lots of games are classic duels between two great players.  It had clutch plays and buzzer beaters, but lots of games have clutch plays and buzzer beaters. Don’t get me wrong: these things made the game great.

But what made it the best was Gus Johnson.

WOW!!!

I never paid much attention to who was calling a game until recently, and I think it’s mostly because none of them ever stood out to me.  And I mean that as a compliment.  Announcers, generally, should be like umpires, shot-clock operators, and long-snappers: They’re best when you don’t notice them.

But Gus is a different story.  Gus doesn’t call a game, he lives it.  He’s the announcing equivalent of Allen Iverson – he leaves everything he has on the floor.  I know I haven’t been around that long, but I’m pretty certain no other announcer today, or ever, comes close to matching his energy. 

And it’s totally genuine!  When we listen to Gus and hear him go bonkers, we don’t think he’s doing it to steal the show from the players, we think he’s doing it because he loves what he’s seeing!  He really thinks the action is that remarkable.  His passion seems to know no end.  A third-grade soccer game could get him excited.

Watch someone watch a Gus Johnson game.  Whether their team’s winning or losing, I guarantee you they're smiling.  Gus is so lovable and infectious, you forget who you’re rooting for.  You just don’t want the game to end.

The number one trending name on Twitter last night wasn’t Crawford or Pullen, it was Johnson.  All of the sudden, people are interested in announcers.  “Who’s gonna call the Final Four?” they want to know.  “Is it Gus?”  “If not, WHY?”

Good question.  CBS hasn’t announced the lineup yet, but it’d be a shame if it wasn’t Gus.  I mean, it’s not like we wouldn’t watch, of course.  It’s the Final Four.  The Pinnacle.  The Last Dance.  The End of the Road.  Nothing beats the Final Four.

Except the Final Four with Gus Johnson.

Powerless

One day last May, I was sitting at work when I got a call from my little brother, Robby.  He was bubbling with excitement.

"Bro," he said.  "Can you believe there's only 149 days until college basketball starts??"

Robby talks, studies, and obsesses about college basketball more than anyone not named Vitale.  He finishes his homework by 7:00 every night -- not because he's a good boy, but because that's when the first games start.  If the work isn't done, he'll wake up early and finish it in the morning.

So when all of Southern Connecticut lost power just hours before the NCAA Tournament Selection Show -- thanks to the worst storm the state had seen in thirty years -- I felt bad for the families forced to temporarily relocate to hotels, and the women forced to go to friends' houses to shower and do their hair.  

But there was no one I felt worse for than Robby.

He'd dreamed about seeing these brackets for months.  He studied Joe Lunardi's Bracketology on ESPN.com every day, calling me with hypothetical matchups, asking me who I'd take.  And now they were out for real -- on television and computer screens everywhere -- and the kid who'd been looking forward to them the most couldn't see them.  

There was nothing he could do.  

What did Robby do to deserve this?  Did he piss off the gods in a previous life?  Over-indulgence is a deadly sin.  Was this his punishment for being over-obsessed with sports?  I'm over-obsessed with sports.  Should I be worried, too?

Or maybe the issue is that kids have become too reliant on technology.  When I was Robby's age (I know, I sound so old), I got my scores from a newspaper.  He could do that if he wants.  But that isn't enough for kids today.  They need media that lives, breathes, speaks, and runs on electricity.  It's more engaging, but it also makes you more vulnerable.

Yesterday, Robby called me around lunchtime, dying to talk college hoops.  He still had no TV and no internet, and just ten minutes of juice left on his unchargeable cell phone.  

"Bro, please talk matchups with me."

"I can't, bro. I have to work."

"Just ten minutes bro.  Please."

"I really can't, bro.  I'm sorry."

"Bro," he said, desperate and deflated.   

"It's all I have left."

The 'Beauty' of DVR

The only downside to a Herman family trip to UConn-Louisville (at Gampel! on Senior Day!), was missing the USA-Canada Gold Medal Hockey Game.  
 
But not to worry, right? This is the 21st century! We can 'DVR' it. It'll be just like watching it live....

11:00AM-12:00PM - Greg and I take train to Connecticut; I text Robby to remind him to record hockey game. He does.

12:00-3:00 PM - I preemptively text friends, asking them not to send updates; UConn game begins. Huskies off to great start. 

3:40 - Kid in seat in front of me turns to friend and says, "1-0 Canada."  Dad and I overhear. 

4:20 - After blowing big lead, UConn loses on last-second layup.

4:30-6:00 - Car ride home spent in silence: UConn lost, CD player not working, and all of us too fearful to to turn on the radio because we didn't want to hear the hockey score.

5:30 - Text from Lindsey. I contemplate not reading it, but trust it's not about the game. Lindsey: "Pizza 33...YUM."

5:45 - Robby convinces me to tell him what I knew about the first goal.

6:15 - Home, and finally start watching.  Mom tells us Robby's SAT tutor is coming at 7:15, so Robby fast-forwards whenever possible.  Fast-forward button gets stuck.  We miss the first goal. Greg accuses Robby of doing it on purpose. No one's having any fun.

6:35 - Canada scores again. We begin to worry game's not worth watching, fast-forwarding whenever possible. 

6:55 - USA scores!!!  Canada up 2-1 heading into final period. But USA with momentum.

7:15 - Robby's tutor arrives...with fifteen minutes left in third period. We take hour break. No one's happy about it.

7:20 - I go on Robby's computer to check train schedules for getting back to New York. I open a new window, so I don't see anything, but forget Robby's that home screen is ESPN.com. I see image of ice rink, with players from both sides.  Canada might have been celebrating, I'm not sure.  I convince myself I'm not sure.

7:25 - No longer trusting the internet, I go upstairs and read a New Yorker article about mountain people in the hills of New Jersey.  

8:15 - Robby's session ends.  We turn on DVR.  It's somehow skipped ahead to eighteen minutes left in overtime.  Overtime?!?!  We rewind to find out what happened. USA incredibly tied the game with 25 seconds left in regulation. And we missed it.

8:20 - We watch overtime from eighteen-minute mark. I ask Robby if he remembered to tape the show after in case game runs over allotted time. He didn't. Yelling and blaming ensues.  If game doesn't end in next 15 minutes, we run out of tape.  No one enjoys overtime.

8:30 - Sidney Crosby beats Ryan Miller to end the game. Canada wins, but Miller wins MVP. Even though USA lost, I feel nothing but pride for our guys. I watch us graciously shake hands with the Canadians. Hockey might not be up there with my favorite sports, but this tournament was truly spectacular. Honestly, I didn't want it to end.

8:32 - DVR cuts out.

Biathlon vs. Girlfriend

Lindsey was never under the illusion that just because football was ending meant I'd start going leaner on sports.  Sports-watching doesn’t dissipate, it adapts. 

I just think she figured she'd be competing with college basketball, not mass-start biathlon.

I've always liked the Winter Olympics better than its warm-weathered counterpart, but it's never been like this. With the notable exceptions of human-interest stories and figure skating (unfortunately, Lindsey’s two favorites), I can honestly say I've enjoyed watching every second of this year's Olympic coverage.  And the more obscure the event, the more I like it.

Everyone loves the downhill skiing, but what about the cross-country skiing?  Everyone loves the hockey, but what about the curling, short track speed skating, large hill ski jumping, and 10km nordic combined?  They’re completely random, and no one in our country cares. 

But I think that's why I like them.  Because even though we might not care, somewhere in the world there are people who do.  Somewhere in the world, this is the Super Bowl.  And these events take us to those faraway places.

I picture a small town in Finland, a curling stone’s throw from the Arctic Circle.  I picture the townspeople arriving home from work on a frigid Friday, starting a fire, and pouring themselves a glass of Glögi.  And somewhere in that town, I picture a girlfriend, desperately trying to convince her boyfriend to take her out to dinner.

“You know I love you, honey,” I picture him saying.

“But Nordic Combined’s on tonight.”

A Fan is Born

Last Friday, Scott's wife Orit gave birth to their first child: A six-pound, eight-ounce baby boy named Asher.  He's my first official friend's kid.

I'd normally take a moment to wonder what Asher's childhood might be like.  But in this case, it isn't necessary.  I already know.

Long before the two of them got married, I remember us all going to Mets games together.  On the way to the stadium, Scott would 'test' Orit on the Mets lineup and positions in the field.  It wasn't enough for her to know Beltran, Wright, and Reyes, however.  She had to know everyone.  "We've been over this, honey!  Jose Valentin hits 8th!"

In January 2007, when Scott first called me to tell me he was getting married, I caught an unmistakable twinge of guilt in his voice.  "The date's October 26th," he said.  "And I'm not happy about it. 

"The Giants play the Dolphins that day....and it's Game 4 of the Mets' World Series -- assuming we make it."  My mind started racing, thinking about the ways we'd check scores.  "I know," he said. "I don't know what to do."

At the hospital, the night after Asher was born, Orit woke from a nap to find Scott holding the baby with one arm, and checking espn.com on his phone with the other.  "I was telling him about the Mavs-Wizards trade," he said.  "I can't believe they got Caron Butler!"

On Monday, I went to visit baby Asher.  The new parents and I sat and talked for a while, and I even got to hold him for a bit.  It was an incredible -- and totally surreal -- experience.  It's one thing when your friends start getting married, but when they have kids?  That's when you know you're a grown-up.

I thought of the pictures of my parents' friends holding me when I was a few days old.  That was me now!  I imagined us all sitting around the dinner table twenty or thirty years from now, and telling Asher how far he's come, and how 'I remember holding him when he was just a three-day-old baby'.  Just the way my parents' friends do when they see me.  Then Scott hit me on the shoulder.

"So anyway," he said, as I rocked his baby to sleep.  "How bad is UConn this year?"

It's Gotta Be the Shoes

Knowing tomorrow was Super Sunday -- and that Lindsey would devote her entire day to me, my friends, and football -- I spent last Saturday shoe- shopping with her and Maria.

Most of our shoe-shopping experiences are essentially the same.  We walk in, Lindsey disappears, assistants ask me if I need help, quickly realize I'm a lost cause, I make my way to the guys' section, pick out a pair I could maybe see myself wearing but not really, Lindsey sees me and tells me 'don't even think about it' -- which is fine because I wouldn't have anyway -- and I take a seat to watch her do her thing.

And believe it or not, this makes me happy -- because I look at her face, and she's just beaming. Nothing on our beautiful earth brings her more joy than shoes.  She floats from aisle to aisle, boot to boot, holding up pair after pair that look exactly the same, chooses one, and then asks my opinion. "They look great, babe," I say, because there's no reason not to.  She's gonna get 'em anyway.

Another reason shoe-shopping doesn't bother me (even though I know I always complain about it)?  I totally get it.  I know what it's like.

Eighteen years ago this weekend, the eight highest-flying basketball players in the world gathered in Charlotte for the 1991 Slam Dunk Contest. 'The Rain Man', Shawn Kemp, was the favorite, but little-known Celtics' rookie Dee Brown ended up stealing the show.  Right before his championship-clinching dunk, Brown bent down to give the little inflatable basketballs on his black Reebok Pumps a few memorable squeezes. Then he darted toward the hoop, soared into the air, covered his eyes, and thundered home the "blindfold" dunk we all still talk about today.

And then I immediately sprinted -- possibly faster than Brown did -- up to my parents' room. 

"Mom," I said, panting.

"I gotta have those shoes."

Girlfriends Say Goodbye To Football

ANNIE (girlfriend of Ramsey): "This was my first football season with Ramsey.  I didn't know what to expect.  I think it was worse than I prepared for!"

MORGAN (fiancé of Chad): "I remember when I thought it was so cute how Chad and all his friends played this fantasy football game together.  How nice!  What great bonding time!  It went downhill quickly."

ANNIE: "I'd try to be a good girlfriend and go to the bar with him to watch the game.  To my surprise, going to watch the game at a bar with Ramsey is like going to the bar by yourself.  He doesn't talk at all -- just complains about the Bears."

LINDSEY (my girlfriend): "Football is always on.  If it's not a game, it's a report about the last game.  Or the next game.  It's always something."

MORGAN: "I have this vision of Chad sitting on the couch in his underwear at 7:30 on a Wednesday morning with his laptop -- something about trades needing to be in by 9.  I won't miss that."

ANNIE: "Another time I went to the bar with him for eight hours to watch the Steelers play the Bears.  We had to show up at noon for a 4:00 game, because we had to "get a good seat".  I won't make that mistake again."

LINDSEY: "The obsessive score checking.  If you tear your boyfriend away for some very important event -- a life event, or a major disaster (because those are the only things that would be worth your boyfriend missing the game for), he obsessively checks scores the entire time."

ORIT (wife of Scott, and 9 months pregnant with their first child): "Football season -- and the Giants in particular -- bring Scott so much joy, and I'm supportive of anything that makes him happy.  But my due date is very close to the Super Bowl this year, and if the Giants were still in it, I think he might stay home and watch the game."  (It would be on at the hospital, Scott assured her.)

ALLI (wife of Jason): "I love football as much as anyone, but it's too aggressive sometimes.  Why do they always have to zoom in on the loser?  Hasn't he suffered enough?"

KARA (wife of Karl): "My husband's allowed to watch all the football he wants, as long as he irons while he does it.  Does this mean I have to start ironing again?"

MICHELLE (girlfriend of Devin): "I'm excited!  I get to watch The Bachelor on the big TV instead of the little TV on Mondays."

CARLY (girlfriend of Frank): "I'm excited Sundays are now viable alternatives for Frank and I to do things together."

MICHELLE: "I'm also looking forward to Devin being sober on Sundays."

KRISTEN (girlfriend of James): "I'm looking forward to the Super Bowl!  I couldn't tell you who was in it the last five years, but I can tell you who won our office pool and which bar we went to!"

MICHELLE: "He usually just stumbles in, eats a lot, and goes to bed."

BECCA (wife of Steven): "What am I most happy about?  I'm most happy FANTASY football is almost over!"

(Apparently Becca hated it so much she didn't realize fantasy football is over, and has been for quite some time.  Though some would beg to differ...)

MORGAN: "This is a bit of a trick question, because we all know fantasy football NEVER ENDS.  I witnessed my first fantasy 'practice draft' this summer.  Eight boys of all ages shouting out names of people I've never heard of, without missing a beat."

LINDSEY: "It's grown men debating heatedly about players as if they're friends with them.  It's mock drafts (the correct term, well done Linds) that have no purpose and no end.  It's the reality that you have no idea who everyone's talking about and you just want them to stop for five minutes, but they never do."

MORGAN: "It was clear these boys had been doing this with each other -- and possibly alone in their rooms -- for quite some time."

LINDSEY: "I'm not exaggerating.  If I try to change the subject, Matt's brother Robby literally interrupts and says, "Wait, why aren't we talking about fantasy?"

BECCA: "There's definitely things I'll miss, though.  I might not know all the fancy plays and rules, but there's nothing better than tailgating, playing flip cup, cheering on your team, and watching cute boys in tight pants running around the field."

ALLI: "I don't think I'm the only girl that will say Football Sundays are my favorite time to "cook".  Chips, salsa, cheese balls, little weiners all wrapped up in blankets.  It's beautiful."

LINDSEY: "Even the smallest amount of interest from you in any of the games, any of the teams, or any of the players, makes your boyfriend beyond happy.  I like that part of it.

ALLI: "I'm excited to see the Chiefs turn it around next year.  They had a terrible season, but I think they're ready to turn the page."

MORGAN: "Chad and I are spending three weeks after our wedding traveling between Fiji, New Zealand, and Australia.  During this time, I'll experience some of the greatest moments of my life.  But the moment I'm most looking forward to is when we're lying on the beach in Fiji, or standing on a glacier in New Zealand, and Chad suddenly freezes, freaking out about who Robby Herman will start for his fantasy team that weekend.  And I'll take further delight in watching him, paralyzed with confusion by the time zones, struggling to figure what day and time it is in the U.S., and if it's too late to make that Wednesday morning trade.

"I can't wait for next football season."



Super Bowl Pick


Indianapolis (-5) vs. New Orleans (Sun. 6:25 ET).  All I wanted was a split last week, so I could have a shot at a winning record.  But like Tony Romo and Jessica Simpson, it wasn't meant to be.

Last Round: 0-2
Record to Date: 41-43-3

Conditioning Class: A Story of Love and Heartbreak

I started taking conditioning class at my gym a few weeks ago, and at first, I couldn't even make it through without a break (which is even more embarrassing when the 70-year-old next to you doesn't need one).  But after a few classes, my legs started finding their rhythm, and I even rediscovered a bit of my old athleticism.  Soon after, Lindsey said (unprompted) I was looking 'buffer'.  Heck, I felt buffer.  

But the best part of class was the instructor, Mike.  Mike pushed us to the limit, but knew when to let up.  He had fun with us, but commanded respect.  He was always on time, but didn't get mad if we were late.

And most importantly, he thought I was the best.

Mike usually just watched students do ladder drills, but when it was my turn, he'd step in behind me and follow at top speed, pushing me to work harder. 

"You know you're only the third person I've ever seen who can backpedal on the ladder without looking down?" Mike asked me one day.
"From my DB days," I answered, like a true meathead.
"Aha. I knew it was something!"

Every night after class I'd come home raving to Lindsey.
"Babe, guess what Mike said today??"
"You're not gonna leave me for him, are you?" she'd joke.

But I really was smitten.  I couldn't wait for next class.  Mike was the best thing to happen to my post-athletic career.

After class this past Saturday, I was stretching my hamstrings while Mike made the rounds.  I'd never talked to him outside of class before, so I thought it would be a good time to pick his brain on the NFL a bit.  I couldn't wait to hear his insights on the AFC and NFC Championship games.

"So who do you like tomorrow?" I asked him. 
He looked confused.  "What do you mean?"
"In the games.  Who do you like in the games tomorrow?"
"Oh," he said. "Well, who's playing?"
Haha, good one, Mike.  "What?"
"Who's playing in the games?" 

He wasn't kidding.

So I told him who was playing, and he started giving me some long-winded, football-for-novices answer about Peyton Manning being really good.  I don't know.  I wasn't listening.

All I could hear was the sound of my heart breaking.

BREAKING NEWS -- NASCAR

"Denny Hamlin, the popular preseason pick to unseat four-time defending champion Jimmie Johnson, tore the anterior cruciate ligament in his left knee while playing basketball, but will not have surgery to repair it until after this season." (AP)

No offense, NASCAR fans, but if you can tear your ACL and still play, it probably isn't a sport.

Who Owns Purim?

This past Monday, the NBA couldn't seem to tell me enough about their twelve-game smorgasbord in honor of Martin Luther King Day.  It was almost as big a deal as they made of their Christmas coverage, clearly trying to 'own' these holidays the way the NFL owns Thanksgiving.

Well, if owning holidays is becoming the rage, then plenty are still up for grabs.  And FVG has some suggestions for the ones upcoming....

Valentine's Day (2/14): The Westminster Dog Show needs to make a move here.  It's always within a few days of Valentine's Day anyway, why not make it a holiday tradition?  I mean, it's not like any girl's gonna let her man watch a real sport.

Presidents' Day (2/15): Washington and Lincoln played horseshoes. Teddy Roosevelt loved to hunt. Gerald Ford was a standout football player, and the Bushes loved baseball. But it's Obama time now, and as we all know, he looooves to fill out his NCAA bracket.  Until horseshoes makes a comeback, this is yours to lose, college hoops.

Lindsey's Birthday (2/26): This is just to help me remember it's coming.

Purim (2/27): I can't remember what this holiday's about, but let's go ahead and give it to the NBA in honor of Omri Casspi, the Kings' rookie shooting sensation from Tel Aviv.

St. Patrick's Day (3/17): ESPN could show some initiative here and televise a professional drinking contest...  Or they could just show a Celtics' game.

Passover (3/29-4/6): The Haggadah says that "On all other nights we sit, but on this night we recline."  So whichever sport owns this holiday would have to be really relaxing, and slooooow.  Wait a minute....

That's the first week of baseball!


Conference Championship Picks

Jets (+8) @ Indianapolis (3:00 ET).  This little playoff run by the J-E-T-S has been painful, but at least it's been profitable.  They're a hot team, people.  Ride it out.

Saints (-3.5) vs. Vikings (6:40 ET).  I think two Favre interceptions plus a Peterson fumble equals a Saints win by more than three. I also think that no matter what happens, we'll be treated to another offseason of non-stop Favre retirement talk.  I've given up.  It's never gonna end.

Last Week: 1-1
Record to Date: 41-41-3

Dreaming (Literally) of Glory Days

...Three plays before, they'd run a screen to my side for a huge gain, and I wasn't about to let it happen again.....I sniffed it out this time, and keyed in on the running back. I had to get to him before the guard got to me. So I shed my blocker, sprinted toward the back, waited for him to catch the pass, and...BOOM!!!!.....

And just like that, I awaken to realize I'm not, in fact, playing high school football again. I'm on a plane home from the Dominican Republic. The 'running back' was an old lady in the row front of me, startled that I'd just form-tackled her seat back. Lindsey, who'd been asleep on my shoulder, fell forward and smashed her head on the tray table.

My dream had become a bit too real for everyone.

It wasn't the first time, either. During one of our early sleepovers, Lindsey awoke to me furiously screaming "Pass me the f***ing ball!" I've also been caught at the bottom of a pile ("Get off me!" with a violent scissor-kick) and the victim of poor officiating ("That's a FOUL!"), amongst others.

Springsteen cheerfully mused about guys dreaming of glory days. But I don't think he meant it like this.

I literally dream that I'm back in the game.

I'm not sure why it happens. (If you search the internet for the meaning behind your dreams, it just tells you you have anxiety.) Maybe I need to start playing more football? A group of friends invites me to join them Sunday mornings, but I turn them down because 1) I don't want to get injured, and 2) I don't want to miss the beginning of the 1:00 games.

But I don't think that's it, anyway. Besides, it's too coincidental that this dream came the morning after I'd missed not one, but two NFL playoff games, because of our Dominican Republic vacation.

Clearly, the lesson to be learned here, is to never let that happen again.


Sunday Picks
(Sorry for not picking yesterday's games. Like I said, we were away.)

Dallas (+2.5) @ Minnesota (1:00 ET). New Orleans and Indy bounced back nicely from their lackluster regular season finishes. I think Minnesota's case was different. They weren't packing it in. They're just not as good as they were to start the year.

Jets (+7) @ San Diego (4:00 ET). This is somewhat of a hedge, because if the Jets keep this close and perhaps even beat San Diego to make the AFC championship as I fear they might, I won't be able to bear it.

Last Week: 3-2
Record to Date: 40-40-3

1,001

During a playoff game last year, I estimated that over the course of my life, I've drunk a thousand beers I didn't want, just because a big game was on and I felt like I had to.

“Good story,” Ramsey said, flinging a Bud Light at me. “Here’s 1,001.”

Since the beginning of time (or at least the invention of light beer), unnecessary beer-drinking's been as much a part of big games as unnecessary fights with your girlfriend at halftime.

Why are some games more beer-worthy than others? Why don't Ramsey and I feel compelled to crack one open when the Knicks play the Bobcats? I’m not sure there’s a formula for it. I think you can just tell once the action starts if you’re feeling emasculated or not, and then make a beeline for the fridge if you are.

Your initial hesitation is usually well-founded. You're either hung over from the previous night (body), or worried about being hung over for tomorrow (mind). Neither stops you. They only make you drink slower, and enjoy it less.

But isn't that what it's all about, anyway? It's not like beer was created to beat Pepsi in a taste-test challenge. Beer is about the occasion. There are certain times we drink beer, and we don't question it. We simply join the party.

So tonight, when you're watching the National Championship, and your roommate tosses a Bud Light at you, and you'd rather let it hit you in the face than drink it, try not to think about it.

Just enjoy 1,001.

Weekend Picks

In case you didn't see my college bowl picks, FVG loves Bama (-4) tonight, and needs them to pull through to get back to .500 for the year. Here are the rest of our picks....

Jets (+2.5) @ Cincinnati (Sat 4:30 ET). Cincy will come with a better effort than last week, but that won't make them any healthier on defense. As much as I hate to admit it, Rex Ryan's team is playing with swagger.

Dallas (-3.5) vs. Philadelphia (Sat. 8:00 ET).  I've gone back and forth on this game, which means I should probably sit it out.  FVG doesn't have that luxury.

New England (-3.5) vs. Baltimore (Sun 1:00 ET). I think Edelman plays the Welker part better than people think this week. And the Pats were 8-0 at home this year.

Green Bay (+2.5) @ Arizona (Sun 4:40 ET). I like this even more if Boldin doesn't play. But even if he does, I still think it won't be enough. Green Bay's clicking on all cylinders right now.

Last Two Weeks: 6-4
Record to Date: 37-38-3

Our #1 Fan

My dad's never been super-fanatical with pro sports. He watches all his favorite teams' games, but if he doesn't have a rooting interest, he's OK with doing chores instead.

But when it comes to his sons' games, that's another story. And today, on his 37th wedding anniversary (and the day after his 1st ever Senior Citizen Discount -- a dollar off his ticket to Up in the Air), I want to take the time to remember some of his top moments.

4) November, 2009: It wasn't that he chose Robby's football game over a birthday, it was that he chose Robby's football game over HIS birthday. His 60th, in fact: A trip to Nashville my mom had planned for months. Did it matter that as an underclassman, Robby might not get in the game? "You never know," he said.

3) October, 2003: Imagine being a benchwarming freshman on the Penn Sprint Football team, traveling over six hours to play Cornell in the freezing Ithaca rain in front of maybe 10 fans, and then finding out your dad is one of them? "Wow, thanks for coming," Greg said after the game. "You really are insane."

2) December, 1995: My dad went to every single one of my freshman basketball games. I don't think the other parents even knew the schedule. "Dad," I remember pleading. "You can't come to all my games. It's embarrassing." So he'd wait until the game started (once I was distracted), and sneak into the bleachers.

1) September 2008: But when Dad started showing up to his PepsiCo beer league softball games, Greg knew he had the winner. "We can't even get the players to show up," he'd say. Even Dad admitted he felt a bit strange watching voyeur-like from beyond the outfield.

But if Greg ended up getting the game-winning hit with two outs in the last inning, he wasn't about to miss it.

NFL Week 17 Picks

I have a theory about Week 17: Teams playing with nothing to lose fare well against teams with everything to lose. These are the games that meet my criteria:

Cleveland (-1) vs. Jacksonville (1:00 ET).

Kansas City (+13) @ Denver (4:15 ET).

Oakland (+10.5) vs. Baltimore (4:15 ET).

Last Week: TBD

Record to Date: 31-34-3

FVG's Guide to Bowl Season

For boyfriends, watching the bowls used to be simple: There were just the right number of games, and they were all on New Year's Day -- the day the whole country lays in bed with a headache. There were no expectations from girlfriends. Just wall-to-wall, uninterrupted football.

But inevitably, college football got greedy. And greedier and greedier. Not only did they add games to the mix (from 8 in the '60s to 15 in the '80s to a whopping 34 today), they spaced them out over what's now a three-week bonanza, beginning last Saturday with Wyoming's overtime upset in the New Mexico Bowl.

So for boyfriends today, the challenge is greater than ever. The stretched-out bowl season is littered with holiday parties, family gatherings, and dinners we allegedly promised to go to. It's too much to keep track of. We have to go in with a plan.

FVG's recommendation: Look at the bowl schedule beforehand, and make a list of five to ten games you don't want to miss, along with a brief reason for why you don't want to miss them. Then take it your girlfriend, and get it approved.

Here's ours:

1) The Champs Sports Bowl (Miami vs. Wisconsin, Dec 29, 8:00 ET)
I don't know if you saw ESPN's (fantastic) documentary, 'The U', or not, but I know Miami's players did. And when those impressionable young men see the way their predecessors took college football by storm with their dominant play and excessive celebration, they're gonna be inspired...and we'll be in for a show. FVG Pick: Miami -3

2) The Sun Bowl (Oklahoma vs. Stanford, Dec 31, 2:00 ET)
Lindsey's team vs. "Great White Hope" Gerhart. I get a free pass on this one, but even if I didn't, this'll still be a fun one to watch before before New Year's Eve hoopla commences. FVG Pick: Oklahoma -8

3) The Capital One Bowl (Penn State vs. LSU, Jan 1, 1:00 ET)
What else are you gonna do, get out of bed? FVG Pick: LSU +3

4) The Rose Bowl (Ohio State vs. Oregon, Jan 1, 4:30 ET)
Enjoy this better-than-usual (and finally USC-less) Granddaddy of Them All as you continue to nurse your granddaddy of a hangover. FVG Pick: Oregon -3.5

5) The Sugar Bowl (Cincinnati vs. Florida, Jan 1, 8:00 ET)
I've never seen a team more outwardly pissed off at their coach than the Bearcats when Brian Kelly left for Notre Dame. They seem way more motivated than the teary-eyed, heartbroken Gators, who have no famous Tim Tebow speech to inspire them this time. FVG Pick: Cincinnati +11.5

6) The Papa Johns Bowl (South Carolina vs. Connecticut, Jan 2, 2:00 ET)
Not to be confused with the Little Caesars Bowl, this pizza interests me for personal reasons: I want to love UConn football like I love UConn basketball. If Randy Edsall commits to the school the way Jim Calhoun did, I think it can happen. FVG Pick: UConn +4.5

7) The Fiesta Bowl (Boise State vs. TCU, Jan 4, 8:00 ET)
I'm actually not that interested in this one, even though I know I'm supposed to be. I just don't get why they would put these two teams against each other when the whole idea is to see how they'd fare against BCS-conference teams. Maybe we'll have a dinner party that night. FVG Pick: Boise State +7

8) The BCS Championship (Texas vs. Alabama, Jan 7, 8:00 ET)
You don't need to give a reason for this one. FVG Pick: Alabama -4

Last Week: 2-1
Record to Date: 31-34-3

January 30-31 -- The Perfect FVG Weekend Getaway

I want to tell you in advance of an opportunity to sweep your girlfriend off her feet, and whisk her away for a weekend of fun and romance.

And not miss a second of football.

There's an upcoming weekend -- Jan 30-31 -- that falls beautifully between the conference championship games and the Super Bowl. So even though it's right at the NFL season's climax, there's actually no football to miss.

(I know, this year they're doing the Pro Bowl that weekend. But the Pro Bowl's only real purpose is to make you wish you were in Hawaii. And it's not even in Hawaii this year. So now it has no purpose.)

And don't worry about your cover getting blown: It would never occur to her you were crazy (or smart) enough to think that far ahead about the NFL schedule. She'll just tell her friends what a thoughtful, romantic, handsome boyfriend she has.

So be 'spontaneous'. Last year I surprised Lindsey with a trip to Charleston. We had the best time. We still talk about it. And every time we do, I earn points.

This year we all got into the act: Chad, Devin, Frank, Ramsey, and I are taking our girlfriends to Vermont. We're gonna ski, eat, drink, relax, make snowmen, sit by the fire, listen to music, play board games, and whatever else we feel like doing. And not even once will we consider watching football.

Aren't we just the sweetest?


Weekend Picks

Dallas (+7.5) @ New Orleans (Sat 8:20 ET). Maybe playing away from their angry mob of fans will do the 'Boys some good. Saints are 1-5 ATS in their last six against the NFC.

Kansas City (-1) vs. Cleveland (Sun 1:00 ET). A bad team coming off a good win with a few extra days to celebrate? Cleveland's gonna lay an egg here, big time.

Miami (+4) @ Tennessee (Sun 1:00 ET). I understand why Miami's not favored, but this team kicks it into another gear down the stretch. It's awesome.

Last Week: 2-2
Record to Date: 29-33-1

Why I Like the Dolphins

Usually when you tell someone what NFL team you root for, they follow up with something like, "Good year for you guys", or "What are you gonna do about your QB situation?" These are expected and appreciated, because they imply that the questioner approves of your choice of team, and trusts you're a good fan.

But when I tell people I root for the Miami Dolphins, I don't get follow-ups like "Nice win last week" or "Can you believe how Ricky's running?"

I get, "Why the heck do you like the Dolphins?"

And I never have a good answer. In fact, most of the time I don't even have an answer. I just get aggravated and bark something like, "I don't know, I just do."

Most fans don't realize how good they have it. All they have to worry about are wins and losses. For me, Dolphins' losses are just a part of it.

I have to justify my entire reason for being.

So why am I a Dolphins fan? After years of getting defensive and dismissing the question, I realized I honestly didn't know the answer. So I sat in my room and did some soul-searching.

Here's what I came up with:

It started with my dad. Like most kids, I rooted for who my dad rooted for. But my dad didn't have a favorite NFL team, so I decided the next logical choice was my grandparents. My mom's mom lived in Philadephia, and my dad's parents lived in Fort Lauderdale. It was the Eagles or the Dolphins.

This was where it got a little fuzzy, but in the end, I'm pretty sure it came down to an NFL mail-order catalog, and deciding what color jacket I wanted for my 8th birthday.

The picture says it all. Wow.

So from now on, I'd like to ask anyone wondering why I like the Dolphins to please refer to this post. Because while it's certainly not the best reason for liking a team, it's my reason. And it's just gonna have to do.

Whew, now I feel better.

Sort of.

Weekend Picks

Baltimore (-13) vs. Detroit (1:00 ET). I like Baltimore taking their frustrations out on Detroit here. They're 9-0 ATS this year against teams with a losing record.

Miami (+3) @ Jacksonville (1:00 ET). Not much of a home-field advantage here. Governor Charlie Crist is pleading for Jax to draft Tim Tebow so more people will come to their games. Never a good sign.

Oakland (+1) vs. Washington (4:05 ET). Washington's played a lot better the past few weeks, but so has Oakland. I don't see how the home team is getting points here.

Arizona (-3.5) @ San Francisco (Monday Night, 8:30 ET). Arizona's 5-1 ATS on the road this year, so forget about the Painted Ladies in that silly picture, and jump on the gravy train.

Last Week: 2-1

Record to Date: 27-31-3

The Dorm

Two years ago, Chad sat me down in the living room to have a heart-to-heart. After six years of living together -- through college, Boston, and two places in New York -- he was leaving me, to move in with his girlfriend. A few months later, he packed up and left 7M.

And moved three floors downstairs, to 4J.

A year later, it was my other roommate, Devin. He really enjoyed living with me and Ramsey (who took Chad's place), he said, but it was time for him to move in with his girlfriend. He went two floors down, to 5H.

Our building had become The Dorm.

Ever since we finished college -- when we scoured the city of Boston for a six-person apartment -- my friends and I have had a tough time leaving each other. So when the time inevitably came to move in with our girlfriends, it only made sense we'd figure out a way to soften the blow.

Some of you might think it's cute. Most of you might think it's pathetic. Two years ago, I might have agreed with you. But now, having seen it in action, I'm starting to think it's genius.

Our friends' relationships are thriving. Ramsey and I watch just as many games with them as we used to. The girlfriends love the alone time. And Devin -- who's known to sleepwalk and lock himself out --  now has a three times better chance of not ending up in the hallway.

Oh, and no one paid a broker's fee.

My generation takes advantage of hindsight. We've watched half our parents' marriages end in divorce, and we get married later than they did because of it. Not surprisingly, divorce is down. We understand the advantages of easing into things. Perhaps this is our latest innovation: A way to move in...without moving out.

Tonight we're throwing an Around the World party, with a different drink in each of our rooms. Yep, just like in college. For being a loyal reader of my blog, you're more than welcome to come.

The Dorm definitely felt weird at first. But clearly, we've embraced it.

And when Judgment Day comes for you and your friends, I recommend you consider doing the same.

Weekend Picks

Cincinnati (-2) @ Pittsburgh (12:00 ET). Cincy wasn't even supposed to be good this year, let alone undefeated and BCS bound. Enjoy Brian Kelly, Bearcat fans. He won't be around much longer.

Alabama (+6) vs. Florida (4:00 ET). Ingram wins the Heisman, Bama wins the SEC, I hate Nick Saban even more.

Nebraska (+14.5) vs. Texas (8:00 ET). This year's title picture has been way too neat, hasn't it? It's time for Big Red to mess things up.

Alabama-Cincinnati BCS title game, anyone? Hmmm, doesn't quite have the same ring to it.

Last Week: 1-6 (I knew posting my record each week was a bad idea)
Record to Date: 25-30-3

Observations from Thanksgiving '09

My grandma's getting wilier in her old age.

My brother Greg wasn't feeling well, so Nana made him tea.....and spiked it with whiskey. She had no plans to tell him, so I didn't either.

The sides are better than the turkey.

And it's not even close. I think people only say they like turkey better because they're afraid Sarah Palin will find out, and accuse them of not being real Americans.

If this were 20 years ago, Lindsey's family would have a fresh batch of home movies.

We were at her parents' house a while back, and her mom played all her home movies for me. Every one of them was from Thanksgiving. I think it's the only day they remembered to tape. Still, it's more than I can say for my brother Robby. I think we have his first birthday, and that's it.

When speaking to senior citizens, it doesn't matter how loud you say it, you still have to say it twice.

Our family beagle, Ricky, CAN'T go 12 straight hours trying to get everyone's food.

He took a half-hour nap.

Thanksgiving is still the best holiday. Period.

Including Robby's team's thrilling 30-28 win over Greenwich, I watched 12 hours of football yesterday.

Bring it on, Christmas.

Then Along Came David

Once upon a time, Thanksgiving was challenging. Aunt Sandy and Uncle Dan would come with my three cousins, Katherine, Sarah, and Patty. The three of us boys loved football. The three of them didn't. Uncle Dan liked football, but he didn't like us.

It was football vs. family. Not a choice anyone should have to make, especially on the greatest of holidays.

Then along came David.

Six years ago, David took a liking to Katherine. Soon after that, they started dating. And soon after that, he started showing up at Thanksgiving. (They're now married.) David loved football, just like we did. And he was a Lions fan, one of the two NFL teams that play every Thanksgiving.

Suddenly, it wasn't football vs. family anymore. David wanted to watch with the boys. Katherine wanted to be with David. Sarah and Patty wanted to be with Katherine. Everyone wanted to be with the veggie dip.

And so we all sat together in the family room. The girls braided each other's hair, and the boys watched football until their eyes hurt. And Uncle Dan was happy, because he liked football, and he liked David, too.

We lived happily ever after.


Thanksgiving Weekend Picks

Illinois (+21) @ Cincinnati (Fri, 12:00 ET). I like Ron Zook in the spoiler role here. He might not win, but he'll cover the number.

Alabama (-10) @ Auburn (Fri, 2:30 ET). These are the lines Bama's been covering all year (and I've mostly been on the wrong end of).

Pittsburgh (-1) @ West Virginia (Fri, 7:00 ET). Two straight picks for the two worst Dolphins' coaches ever? I'm not happy about it, but I don't think the Backyard Brawl will be much of a fight.

Boise State (-12) vs. Nevada (Fri, 10:00 ET). I'll take the team trying to score BCS style points to cover a big spread.

Florida State (+25) @ Florida (Sat, 3:30 ET). Tebow's last home game, blah blah blah. This is still Florida State, not Florida International. 25 points is too much.

Georgia Tech (-7) vs. Georgia (Sat, 8:00 ET). This doesn't mean I'm not sad about UGA VII, though. He was a good dawg.

UCLA (+13) @ USC (Sat, 10:00 ET). Why fight it? USC now 2-8 ATS...

Last Week: 4-1
Record to Date: 24-24-3