The FVG Move-In, Phase 1

Because of our staggered leases, Lindsey and I are moving in together in two phases. The second phase -- the more "permanent" one -- will begin Nov. 1, when we settle down in a one-bedroom of both of our choosing. The first phase begins on August 1st, with Lindsey moving in...to my studio.

Lindsey's worried about where all the stuff will go. I'm not. Not because I know where the stuff will go (my studio is 350 sq feet), but because it's just not the kind of thing I worry about. I'll hang up more coat hooks.

Lindsey's worried the cramped lifestyle will cause us to get in more fights. I'm not. I'm sure we'll get in fights, but honestly, who worries about fights they haven't even gotten in yet?

There is one thing I am worried about, however. Quite worried.

How do we make it three months with one TV?

Hey...how ya doin?

In a one-bedroom apartment, you can have two TVs, both going at the same time. But in a studio, that doesn't work (well, it could -- sports can be watched without sound if necessary...  Somewhere in Manhattan, Lindsey just said 'no'). And unlike storage space, watching unhealthy amounts of sports is NOT something I like to compromise.

Fortunately, the timing isn't as bad as it first seems. August is a wash -- the 2nd worst sports month there is. Football starts in September, but remains largely a weekend entity until November. The Mets won't be making the playoffs, and the NFL could even start late this year, which would only help.

It obviously isn't ideal. I'd prefer not to have to check the Bravo schedule as often as I check the football schedule, or even consider watching a game tape-delayed on DVR. But I signed up for this. Love is about sacrifices.

Some are just harder than others.

ADDENDUM: Lindsey and her roommates got their lease extended one month, making the new FVG move-in date September 1st (a.k.a. the first night of the football season)... What a way to start!

Welcome to the Dark Period

After the NBA Finals ends, I watch postgame coverage until way past my bedtime. I'm a sucker for watching them celebrate. They work impossibly hard for this. The least I can do is share their moment with them.

But there's another reason I watch until SportsCenter starts running it on loop, and it's not because I hate the Tony awards. It's because I know that once my TV goes off and my head hits the pillow, The Dark Period begins.

The Dark Period is the two-and-a-half month stretch from the final horn of the NBA Finals to the opening kickoff of college football. And boy is it boring. We're talking baseball, soccer, bullfighting, and golf. We're so deprived, we look forward to the Hot Dog Eating Contest. We explore our other interests and spend more time outside. We, you know, be social.

There can be exceptions. Last year, we had the World Cup. Next year, we'll have the Olympics. The Mets might one day be relevant (they're actually overachieving a bit this...OK fine I'll stop). But it's mostly darkness. Literally. Without live sports, I usually don't even turn on the television.

Lindsey called me shortly after the game ended, and asked me if I was sad that basketball was over.

"Very," I said. "It's the Dark Period now."

"I know," she answered. "But it's gonna be OK."

Her tone was oddly genuine, and for a second, my heart filled with hope. Did she know something I didn't? Was she about to surprise me with a trip so amazing I wouldn't even think about sports? Had she solved the NFL labor dispute and convinced them to start a month early?!?! 

"Why is that?" 

"Because while you were watching the game, I was watching Bravo, and saw previews for new seasons of Flipping Out, Platinum Hit, Rocco's Dinner Party, and Real Housewives! There's so much to look forward to!!!"

The wind left my sails, and The Dark Period began.

"Can't wait."

Bravo's Counterpunch: "Real Housewives" For All Seasons

I’ve always appreciated sports’ spacing. If the Mets could just find a way to be decent through August, I’d have viable sports options every month of the year. During her first football season with Ramsey, Annie asked Lindsey at what point the obsession ends. Linds shook her head in resignation.

“Never.”

Well, after seeing a preview for Real Housewives of New Jersey followed by a preview for Real Housewives of Orange County Reunion during a commercial of Real Housewives of New York City, Bravo’s clearly decided that two can play at that game.

Much like sports, Bravo’s found a way to make sure its #1 moneymaker – and Lindsey’s favorite show – never ends. When one series finishes, two others begin. They've borrowed sports’ playbook, and worked it to perfection. After each RH episode is over, you can “Watch What Happens Live” with Andy Cohen, and recap what you’ve just seen (Linds usually does). This is Bravo’s answer to SportsCenter. After each season is the Reunion – now as much of a staple as the show itself. This is Bravo’s playoffs, where tensions are at an all-time high:

My initial intent was to create a monthly Real Housewives schedule, to prove the show’s permanence, and so I could plan around it. But it was impossible -- seasons never start at the same time each year, and never last the same number of episodes. Only a female could live with this type of uncertainty.

One more parallel between sports and RH? The future doesn’t look good for either. The NFL might not have a season next year -- this we all sadly know. But according to a very reliable source, Andy Cohen recently said that “no new Real Housewives series are in production, and Real Housewives of Miami would be the last installment in the franchise.”

“Whatever,” Lindsey said. “Wikipedia doesn’t know anything.”

It's Not About Me

The Oklahoma City Thunder made it to the Western Conference Finals last night. My buddy Mike, who roots for the Mavs (the Thunder’s next opponent), immediately texted me and said “Guess we’re enemies for the next two weeks”, implying that I’m such a big Thunder fan now that things will get metaphorically ugly between us.

“I guess,” I responded.

I get so torn when I talk about the Thunder. They’re my second-favorite team, by far. And with a sports-obsessed fan like me, a second-favorite team often eclipses the passion of a lesser fan’s first favorite.

But, a true sports fan can’t have a second-favorite team. I spent my first two years of friendship with Ramsey convincing him he couldn’t root for both the Bears and Giants. All of us did. And he relented! How can I be such a hypocrite? The Thunder aren’t my team, they’re Lindsey’s team, and she can’t even watch a full game without shopping on Piperlime.

Fantastic variety.

But, as Linds is fond of saying when I come down with the common writer's malady of self-centeredness, “This isn’t about you”. And in this case, she’s right: It’s OK to love OKC for reasons having nothing to do with my newfound ties to Oklahoma.

It’s OK to love OKC players because the players love each other. They’re the anti-Heat, taking their talents to Mickey Mantle’s in Bricktown after each game to hang out with and embrace the fans. And it’s OK to love OKC for those fans, who endured quite a tragedy of their own six years before 9/11 ever happened, and voted over and over and over again to pay extra taxes toward the creation of a new stadium, believing that one day a professional team would come along and give the city something to rally around. I’m not making this up. Check out the video here.

In yesterday’s Game 7, the fans wore “Rise Together” shirts (and by the end of the game, Kevin Durant had one on, too), because that’s what they all did: They went from total devastation to a brand new team losing 29 of its first 32 games to the Western Conference Finals. When a team and a town are one, it’s amazing to see what they can accomplish. It’s OK to love OKC because what they’ve achieved is bigger than basketball.

And it’s certainly bigger than me. 

Fashion Over Comfort

It was a chilly December afternoon. Freezing, technically. Yet here was my co-worker Melissa walking next to me -- CARRYING a heavy, hooded sweatshirt -- complaining and shivering.

"It's SO cold."
"Put on your sweatshirt!"
"This sweatshirt?"
"Yeah, the one you're HOLDING!"
"No way, it's ugly."
"But you're freezing."
She may have considered wearing it for a brief second, but probably not. Instead, she decided to teach me a lesson I should've already known.

"Fashion over comfort."

Even in extreme conditions, women will always make this choice. How else do you explain high heels? They cut your ankles, give you bunions, and turn the simple task of walking into an extreme sport. It's a good thing porcupine scarves aren't fashionable. (Wait, are they?)

Yet before I pour it on too thick, it's only fair to realize we're guilty of it, too.

Especially when it comes to sports...

1. WRISTBANDS ON BODY PARTS OTHER THAN THE WRIST

It itches, and disrupts blood flow, but the minor discomfort is completely worth it given how awesome it looks. It makes your muscles look bigger. It doesn't have nearly the same effect if your muscles aren't big to begin with, but still well worth it.

Lindsey's take:
Wait, this isn't functional? If not, at least make them in seasonal colors. 

2. UNBUCKLED CHINSTRAPS

Unwise, unsafe, and uncomfortable: If you had to wear an 8-pound weight on your head, would you want it flying around everywhere? Not to mention it gets you a $10,000 fine. I mean, it does look a little bit cool and reckless, but seriously? It's your head!


Lindsey's take:
I bet they wouldn't leave their belt unbuckled...

3. DREADLOCKS, IN A SPORT YOU COULD BE LASSOED BY THEM
I just want to cry out when I see this: "It doesn't have to be this way!" Not only is it horrific, but it gives defenders another way to tackle you. It's the tackle-football equivalent of wearing an extra flag around your waist.

Lindsey's take:
I like it. Shows a sense of style and individuality.

4. TATTOOS
I guess once you're playing it doesn't hurt, but can you imagine the discomfort in getting all of them? These days there's a bit of an arms race to see who can get the most tattoos in the most unlikely places. Right now, the Birdman's looking tougher and tougher to beat.

Lindsey's take:
What's "free"? His neck? The tattoo? I don't get it.

5. "PLEASE, MELISSA, JUST PUT ON THE DAMN SWEATER"

If you really crave attention, this gets the job done: People will notice, and at some point, the camera will find you. But at what point? You have no idea, so you have to remain shirtless. And it's - so - cold! The only way this even seems possible to me is if you take so many bowling ball shots in the parking lot you can't feel your skin...in which case, you're gonna end up in the hospital anyway.

Lindsey's take:
If you're gonna have your shirt off in the middle of winter, at least get a spray tan.

FVG Attempts to Boil Itself Down to a Science

Jodie can't take the ambiguity.

The problem with the typical Football vs. Girlfriend conflict is there's never a definitive right answer. She wants to do this. You want to watch that. There's no magic formula to determine who wins.

But today, I'm attempting to change that. On a scale from 1-10 below, I've rated every live sporting event I can think of, with a "10" being virtually un-missable, and a "1" being virtually unwatchable. We'll call this List F. I also had Lindsey rate every possible reason for keeping me from watching said sporting event, from the birth of a child to buying a purse. That will be List G.

The idea is that once the two lists are finished, you post List F next to List G on the refrigerator with the magnet your dentist gave you, and have an pre-determined, totally-objective verdict to any FVG case. If Chad's got the Red Sox as a 7, and Morgan has "discussing weekend plans" as a 5, then sorry Morgan, discussing weekend plans will have to wait 'til the end of the inning. And be over by the time the next one starts.

Matt's LIST F*:

10: Super Bowl, College Football National Championship, NCAA Basketball Tournament

9: NFL Playoffs, NBA Finals, NBA Playoffs, NBA Draft

8: NFL Regular Season, College Football Bowl Game, College Football Regular Season, College Basketball Championship Week, Winter Olympics, World Cup

7: NFL Draft, MLB Regular Season (Mets), NBA Regular Season, NBA All-Star Saturday Night, NBA Draft Lottery, College Basketball Regular Season

6: NCAA Tournament Selection Special, Summer Olympics, Hot Dog Eating Contest, Tennis Major Final

5: NFL Preseason, NBA All-Star Game, College Football Spring Games, NBA Summer League, NBA Preseason, World Baseball Classic, Golf Major Championship Final Round, Tennis Major

(This is the point at which I'll look for something other than sports on TV, if you were wondering.)

4: CFL, Westminster Dog Show, Triple Crown Horse Race, NFL Scouting Combine

3: MLB Playoffs (assuming no Mets), MLB Preseason (Mets), MLB All-Star Game, Little League World Series, Pro Bowl, College World Series, NHL Playoffs

2: Home Run Derby, Scripps Spelling Bee, International Soccer, Tennis, Poker

1: MLB Regular Season (non-Mets), MLB Preseason (non-Mets), MLB Draft, NHL Regular Season, Golf, MLS, PBA Bowling, NASCAR, X-Games

(If there's any live sporting event I've forgotten, it's probably a 1.)


*Surely, there are LOTS of variables that can't be accounted for -- the most significant being which two teams are playing. Obviously last year's Lakers-Celtics NBA Final carries much more national appeal than last year's Giants/Rangers World Series. But other than specifying Mets and non-Mets games for baseball, I decided it wasn't worth noting because it made my head hurt, sort of like reading too much of this italic font.


Lindsey's LIST G:

11: Wedding (your own), Baby being born, Child's birthday

10: Wedding (immediate family), birthday party (hers)

9: Parents' Night at School, Surgery

8: Wedding (extended family), Romantic Weekend

7: Friends in town, Parents in town, Taking a class together

6: Romantic dinner

5: Commiserating about work, Watching a Bravo show together

4: Going to the movies, Work Christmas Party, Royal Wedding

3: Shopping (for me), Informal Work Get-Together, Renting a movie

2: Going for a walk, Going for a run, Going to a Broadway play

1: Shopping (for her), Museum Opening


Lindsey ran into difficulties ranking as well, such as "Which friends are in town?", and "Whose baby is being born? MINE????"

I'd tell you to go do this on your own, but to be honest, it probably won't solve anything. There's just too many nuances, caveats, and other French-sounding words that come into play. I think the one thing I did learn from this exercise is that the FVG dilemma never really can be boiled down to a science. 

Which means I guess you'll just have to keep reading this blog!

American Idiots

For his birthday, my parents gave Greg two tickets to the first Knicks' home playoff game since 2004. My dad never formally claimed the second ticket, but Greg and I assumed it was for him. After all, he bought the tickets, and he’s been a Knicks fan since, well, a long time ago.

So it shocked both of us Monday night when Dad told us the other ticket was mine…

"Sometimes I give myself the-eee creeps."

Because he couldn’t go…

Because he was going to a play.

We were aghast, as Dad desperately tried to defend himself:

DAD: There’s no intermission. I’ll get to see the end.

US: How could you?

DAD: It’s the final showing of American Idiot. Billie Joe Armstrong’s making a guest appearance!

ROBBY: Who?

DAD: It’s not an elimination game. It’s the only one I’ll miss!

US: You call yourself a fan?

DAD: They either win, and I’m happy, or they lose, and I’m glad I missed it.

US: It’s the playoffs!

DAD: I didn’t know when the games would be!

US: (silence)

DAD: What am I supposed to do? Mom got me the tickets as a gift.

ME: So you should be able to do what you want with them!

But my last comment caused me to hit the brakes. The exchange was beginning to sound strangely familiar. I thought back to a g-chat conversation Lindsey and I had a little over a week ago, about a wine tasting class she had gotten me...as a gift.

ME (to Lindsey): So when are we doing wine tasting? 5/12?

LINDSEY: Oh yeah, good news about that. They can do the earlier date, 4/21.

ME (to myself):  Oh no.

LINDSEY: I figure we’ve put it off long enough. Time to just do it, right?

ME (to myself): Not if Game 3’s that night. 

ME (to Lindsey): I thought we had said 5/12.

LINDSEY:  Well, you said you could do either.

ME (to myself):  I DID say I could do either. Why the heck did I say I could do either? I knew full well when the first round would be! This must’ve been during the six-game losing streak. I lost focus.

LINDSEY: Can you not do 4/21 anymore?

ME (to myself): I could say no, but she’ll ask why. And I’ll have to explain it’s because there’s a 45% chance there’ll be a very important Knicks game that night.

ME (to myself): Whatever, it’s my gift. I should be able to do what I want, right?

ME (to myself): Right. See how that goes over.

ME (to Lindsey): Yeah, 4/21 is fine.

Was Dad any less of a Knicks fan than I was? Of course not. We were two boyfriend/husbands stupidly leaving our playoff fate to chance in order to avoid what at the time felt like unnecessary conflict. 

He paid dearly for it. I didn't.

Let's go Knicks!

Bravo TV Report Card, Spring 2011

It’s been a while since I’ve done one of these. Much has changed in the world of Bravo TV since then. But really, has it? Let’s go to the report card and find out:

There's a new twinkle in her eye.

Bethenny Ever After: The reality TV equivalent of a lead singer’s head getting too big and leaving the band for a solo career. I expected it to work out, in this case, because Bethenny’s band sucked. You had to figure when she got married and started her own show it would be an upgrade. Not really. Bethenny’s lost her edge a bit. She’s in love now, which means she’s less cynical and more happy. Which is great for Bethenny, but not for me. I’ll give BEA the edge over RHONY, because at least now Bethenny’s playfully bickering with a man (as opposed to un-playfully bickering with a swarm of women), but only by a reconstructed nose.

FVG Grade: D-

Real Housewives of New York: They really miss Bethenny. Not literally, of course, because they all hated her, but in terms of the show being watchable, this was a devastating loss. It’s like when I was 11 and the Mets traded David Cone to the Blue Jays at the trading deadline for minor league prospects. I frantically found my Dad and asked, “Dad, why would we ever trade David Cone? He’s our only good player!!!” I understand now that moves like this make sense for a team’s long-term viability. But in the short-term, they’re just that much more painful.

FVG Grade: F-

Million Dollar Listing: When the three main characters are doing what they do best, I like this show. These are some of the best young realtors in Southern California, and since I only ever deal with the dregs of NYC’s rental market, it’s nice to know there are caring, talented go-getters out there. It’s when Bravo manufactures cat-fights between them – and makes them have staged lunches with female friends where no one ever eats – when MDL gets annoying. Maybe this is how they get the women to watch, but it doesn’t seem to me like you need it. After all, that’s what the Housewives are for.

FVG Grade: D+

Pregnant in Heels: The title is terrible. I don’t even get it. All women wear heels, so who specifically is this referring to? The main character, Rosie Pope, is cute, spunky, has a pretty (and most likely fake) Australian accent, and is great at what she does. Which is…a “pregnancy consultant”. WTF is a pregnancy consultant? Who comes up with this stuff? And that’s just it: Anyone who’d legitimately seek out the help of a pregnancy consultant has to be entertaining television. And sure enough, the pilot included two expecting couples: The first hated babies and had a husband whom Lindsey was 98% sure was gay, and the second spent upwards of 15K to “focus group” a baby name (which they insisted isn’t a name, but a “brand”), only to go against everyone’s recommendation in the end and pick the name they wanted in the first place (Bowen). It was awesome. I loved it. I even asked Lindsey when the next episode would be on. She said it’s tonight. Hmmm, Lakers-Spurs…

FVG Grade: B-

Don't even get me started.

Watch What Happens Live: As if the Real Housewives weren’t horrible enough, now they bring a bunch of them on afterwards to talk with Andy Cohen about the show we just spent an hour watching. Seriously. Why must you do this to me, Bravo? Cohen intentionally brings up the most heated moments from the show in order to cause…you guessed it: even more fighting! And, of course, Lindsey loves it! All girlfriends do. This marks the first time I’m actually mad at Bravo. They know exactly what women’s guilty pleasures are, and exploit them without any regard whatsoever for boyfriends who might be stuck watching with them. You owe me one, Bravo. Now go find me another Rosie.

Grade: F minus minus

Well, Looks Like July and August Will Be Open

Every year, around this time in early April, I summon the baseball gods and offer them a deal:

"Today kids across the country will look longingly down at their birthday cakes, close their eyes, smile, and make a wish: That this year their favorite baseball team wins the World Series. It's very sweet, but it puts you in quite a bind, doesn't it? After all, only one out of 30 teams can actually win, right? It's not fair to you. It's not fair to them. That's why this imaginary conversation is different. I'm not here to ask for the Mets to make the World Series. I'm not even here to ask for the playoffs. All I want is for us to be IN PLAYOFF CONTENTION through the barren sports months of July and August. After that, they're free to blow it. Trust me, they won't need your help doing that anyway."

Seems reasonable, right? Almost half the teams in the league fulfill this requirement every year. I'm basically asking to be on the right side of a coin flip. Yet, even with a team loaded with talent (well, sort of), and a top-5 payroll, year after year the gods deem my request too greedy.

So this year, I didn't even ask.

This year's Mets are looking a lot like two years ago's Knicks: A new, seemingly competent management team brought in to clean house, shed fat, rebuild with youth, and help us forget the past few years ever happened. Eventually, I believe they will. I trust these new guys. I have to.

But short-term, it really doesn't look good. Santana's out until July. Beltran's an injury waiting to happen. Reyes is 28 and we're still talking about his "potential". The Braves are good. The Marlins aren't bad. The Phillies have the best rotation EVER. Hanging around through August this year seems less like a reasonable request and more like a best-case scenario. Lindsey's Aunt Pepette invited us to her family's cottage in France next summer. Can we go this one?

Beautiful, isn't it?

But maybe this year's Mets aren't two years ago's Knicks. Maybe they're this year's UConn, who I didn't think would still be playing in March, let alone April.

And look at them now.

Maybe this year's Mets have a surprise for us. Maybe this year they don't just contend into July and August, but September and October! Maybe this year, the Mets make us all eat our words....

See how stupid we are, ladies? Just like that, you can make us believe anything.

Why You Should Let Her Into Your Fantasy League

"Touché, FVG. Touché."

For me, the most incredible story of this year’s NCAA tournament isn’t VCU, nor their Cinderella dance partner Butler. It isn’t even my UConn Huskies, who somehow made the Final Four in a year I thought they’d finish under .500. For me, the most unbelievable part of all this Madness has been just how much of it I’ve been able to watch. It’s absurd. I’m right up there with Digger Phelps.

For this, Lindsey certainly deserves credit: I’ve made it clear this is my favorite sporting event, and she’s been totally understanding. But this “event” isn’t just one game. It’s sixty-three.

Understanding only gets you so far.

No, the real reason why I’ve watched more of the tournament than most boyfriends could dream of is this year is because Lindsey was invested: She (and two of her best friends) played in my annual NCAA basketball pool. And from there, we never looked back.

You should’ve seen 'em: Watching, cheering, checking standings, texting, tweeting, commenting, mobile uploading, and everything else one could possibly do during a game. Real Housewives and Millionaire Matchmakers everywhere had their hands on their hips in shock. Women may never love sports the way men do, but they do love playing games, competing, and winning. And let’s be honest, everyone loves a little gambling.

Come fantasy football season, these are things worth remembering.

Now, to be clear, Lindsey would never WANT to be in my fantasy league. She’d rather have Marc Jacobs, DSW, and Target blow up at the same time. But if your wife or girlfriend does show interest (and many do), don't be an idiot. Let her in.

This isn't about gender equality, it’s about smart boyfriending. Lindsey and her friends' participation transformed my March Madness experience entirely. I watched more. We watched more together. She even watched without me. That kinda stuff just doesn't happen.

So if you’re in a pinch and need a 10^th or 12^th player (we've all been there), and can get your league-mates to ease up on the vulgarity (ummm…), and she really, really wants to play, the potential benefit to you is off the charts. You’re foolish not to consider it.

If she commits to playing, she will get into it, she will work at it, and she will want to watch on Sundays, whether you're there or not. She has to. She can’t win if she doesn't.

You just better hope she doesn’t beat you.

Flowers. Duh.

We were in Costa Rica for Lindsey’s birthday this year, and that morning I surprised her with breakfast in bed...and flowers. She loved the french toast, of course. She always does. But she couldn’t take her eyes off the flowers. She mentioned them upwards of ten times that day, and lamented that she couldn’t take them back to New York with her. It was Kirk Gibson pinch-hitting in the 9^th against Oakland.

It was a home run.

I’m almost embarrassed it’s taken me so long to truly understand the usefulness of flowers. Men love football, eating, and spilling on themselves. Women love flowers. Women always love flowers. They’d be fine getting them every day. Yes, women like surprises, but flowers supersede surprises. If it’s Valentine’s Day, she KNOWS she’s supposed to get flowers. Doesn’t mean you should surprise her and get her a desk lamp. 

I think the problem is that women are typically so difficult to understand, it’s hard for men to trust how idiot-simple this is. Or maybe it’s that men just don’t have the same kinship with flowers. I know I don’t. Sure they’re nice, and even beautiful sometimes. But you can’t do anything with them. And then a few days later they die. You get more mileage out of a goldfish.

If you want to see more of Brandon Flowers, get Daisies.

I’ve also found there’s levels to getting flowers. If it’s for no reason other than to tell her you love her (which you absolutely SHOULD DO), something simple from the corner store will do. But if it’s a special occasion (Valentine’s Day, Birthday, etc.), call up a florist (I find the less arranging I do myself, the more Lindsey likes it). And don’t get cute: Send ‘em to work. She doesn’t care if you’re there when she gets them: All she wants to do is show them off to Jen and Amelia when they come by for 1:30 status.

Got a game you need to watch, for reasons you know you won't be able to explain? Don’t bother trying. Just pick up a bouquet on the way home. And if you really want to knock it out of the park, think ahead, hire a pro, and get her something you know she won’t stop talking about.

Sometimes, it really is that simple.

"I Don't Envy the Committee"

"It's not easy watching sports all day, Dan. Let me tell ya."

Has Notre Dame's late-season surge earned them a 1-seed?
Has Colorado played themselves off the bubble?
Does Lindsey truly know how much basketball I'll be watching next Thursday-Sunday?
Do employers really think we're sick/have family engagements when we don't show up next Thursday or Friday or both?

With March Madness finally upon us, there's lots of questions to be answered. But one thing's for certain: At some point, when discussing which teams the Tournament Selection Committee should or shouldn't put in the tournament, a college basketball analyst will look into our eyes and say:

"First of all, let me tell ya: I don't envy the committee and the job they have to do!"

Really?

The committee's "job" is to watch as much college basketball as possible, perhaps take a few notes, and then meet with their fellow committee members to collectively make basketball decisions the rest of us eagerly salivate over. If at any point their girlfriend were to walk into their "office" and say, "Are you really just gonna sit here and watch basketball all day?", they could respond, "Sorry, honey, now isn't a good time. I'm working."

Stop me when I get to the part that isn't awesome.

Now, I have no idea who these mysterious committee members actually are. Maybe they have another job on top of this one. Fine. But I'm guessing that one ain't too bad either. You don't qualify to be on the Selection Committee because you did a really good job roller-skating to people's windows at Sonic. Any way you slice it, these are people who spend their lives designer-suit-deep in college basketball, and get paid handsomely for it. Which brings me to my next point.

Look at the people saying they don't envy the committee. What do they have in common? That's right -- their jobs are awesome too! Dick Vitale presumably spends his days watching basketball, ordering room service, talking about basketball, and waxing his head. It's hard to imagine him envying anybody. This is like one Senator saying they "don't envy" the job of another. Guess what -- you both got it pretty good.

All I'm saying is this: No matter what Dickie V or any other talking head says in the coming days, I do envy the committee.

And I'm guessing I'm not alone.

A Well Planned Surprise

Happy Birthday!!!  OK bye!

Lindsey had her birthday evening all figured out. We’d arrive home from the airport, get cozy on the couch, order Luzzo’s, turn on the Oscars, and talk about dresses.

Never was I happier to have planned an all-girls surprise party.

Tonight also happened to be Knicks-Heat. On national television. With Carmelo.

I won't go as far as to say this was the reason I planned the party. But let's just say I was aware the game was being played.

The surprise went swimmingly. Linds was too focused on dresses and pizza to suspect anything. We made small talk with the guests and told them about our trip. But Lindsey’s one-track mind was just as strong as mine.

“Soooo,” (WALKING POLITELY-BUT-BRISKLY PAST THE GROUP AND TOWARD THE TELEVISION) “What’s everyone wearing?”

I took that as my cue to leave, and raced down the stairs and onto 1^st Avenue. I hopped in a cab, got out at Boston Market, and got home just in time for tip-off. (Actually, it was forty-five seconds in. My stuffing wasn’t ready when I ordered it.)

The game was epic. Without a doubt the most fun I’ve had watching the Knicks in 10 years. The NY fans were out in full force, so much so that they booed LeBron and chanted “De-fense” -- even though the game was in Miami. New York closed out the 1^st half with a 16-0 run, and the 2^nd with a 15-4 run to win the game by five. Carmelo was awesome. Carmelo is awesome. The media will surely follow up with 800 stories about how New York basketball is really and truly back. I will attempt to read all of them.

I even tweeted about it. At Chad’s behest, I’ll now be supplementing my blog with real-time twitter updates, so you can get even more FVG!

Once you start tweeting, you get sort of addicted to checking. You want to know what people are saying about the Knicks right as it happens. And you even learn a little about that surprised party you planned.

Maria:   “James Franco can I have what you’re having?”

Katie:    “Anne Hathaway's stylist=Rachel Zoe. Thanks credits for confirming.”

Kristen: RT “sandra bullock, you are my absolute favorite. complete class act”

I had no idea what any of them were talking about.

Life was good.

The FVG Apocalypse: A Valentine's Day Super Bowl

Now you've really pissed him off.

When the NFL settles its labor dispute (whether this year or the next) there's a strong likelihood we'll have an 18-game regular season. Polls currently show 27% of NFL players are in favor, and roughly 250% of NFL fans. Girlfriends everywhere are cringing.

But they haven't even considered the worst part.

According to proposals I've read, the season would start two weeks earlier (replacing the last two preseason games) and end two weeks later, culminating with a President's Day Weekend Super Bowl. Federal law requires President's Day to be the third Monday of February, which means once every seven years, President's Day is February 15th.

Which means once every seven years, the Super Bowl would be February 14th.

Oh my.

A Valentine's Day Super Bowl. The one game girlfriends will always let their boyfriends watch vs. the one night boyfriends will always do whatever their girlfriends say. I don't care what teams play that Sunday: This matchup is waaay better.

So, what gives in this doomsday scenario? I honestly have no idea. In my life I've come across three types of females: Women who like football, women who tolerate football but wish there were less of it, and women who wish football as a sport would collectively tear an ACL.

Most women fall into category two. This would piss off all three.

Valentine's Day is her day. Don't tread on it. Don't get me wrong, no one wants more weeks of football more than I do.

But for that once-every-seven-years, Perfect Storm/Armageddon/Apocalypto/Mel Gibson/George Clooney/Ben Affleck/wrapped-into-one scenario, do us all a favor:

Play the Super Bowl on Saturday.

The Final FVG Pick...Ever!

Every now and then, my dad sends me fan mail. My guess is he usually solicits it, but for some reason this one -- from an old high school friend -- struck me as genuine:

"Matt's blog is superb - really loved the columns I read....up until the sports parts."

OK, I get it. People aren't digging my handicapping advice. Maybe that's because my win-loss percentage is slightly under 50%, or what would happen if you sat at a roulette table for four hours and kept betting 'EVEN'. And at least that wouldn't require any reading.

So for next season, I'll be retiring my Weekend Picks, and replacing them with something more Football/Girlfriend relevant (not sure what yet). Like any savvy marketer, I have respond to what works and what doesn't.

But it's not next year yet. And since I'm still wavering on who I like for the Super Bowl, I decided to leave the final FVG pick EVER...to Lindsey:

ME: Who do you like in the Super Bowl? Steelers or Packers?
LINDS: I don't know.
ME: Just say one of the teams.
LINDS: Steelers.
ME: Why?
LINDS: Because the Packers always win.
ME: But the Steelers have won more Super Bowls than any other team.
LINDS: Whatever. Did you use my toothbrush again?

So there you have it, folks: FVG likes the Steelers (+3) vs. the Packers in Super Bowl XLV (Sun, 6:20 ET).

Enjoy!

Last Week: 1-1
Season: 48-49-4 

FVG Blog Review: The Kingsbury Factor

It's not easy being a white shooter in Division I college basketball. You're (relatively) short, weak, slow, and unathletic, and while the other players use a whole arsenal of weapons to win basketball games, you just keep shooting. It's all you've got.

Literally the only picture of CK on the internet

But there's also something lovable about the white shooter. And now, he finally has his day in the sun. Because after years of talking about it, my good friend Kevin Alexander has finally created the first ever blog devoted to "the short(ish) white dude who can shoot the trey".

It's called The Kingsbury Factor, after Chris Kingsbury (pictured), his favorite white shooter from growing up (or at least the most random one). If you've never heard of him, you've hit on the reason the blog bears his namesake: Chris couldn't do anything except shoot, so he never amounted to anything. TKF does bi-weekly rankings of the top-20 white shooters in Division I, and players seem to get points not just for their ability to shoot the three, but for their inability to do anything else. Kevin knows there's a million places we can read about Kobe, LeBron, and players who do everything well. No one needs to hear more about them. TKF is more of a blog about hope -- for the guys who can only do one thing. But maybe, if they do that one thing really, really well, they can succeed anyway.

But probably not.

Now, I know what you're saying, girlfriends. This blog sounds funny, and smart in its focus, but what's in it for me? Plenty. Not a paragraph goes by without a pop culture reference, link to an early-nineties music video, reference to a player's handsomeness, or some combination of the three. Much as I like to think FVG does, TKF includes everyone in the narrative. Everyone gets to have fun.

With football season about to end, and the rest of us starting to watch more and more college hoops, hopefully The Kingsbury Factor will cause us all to appreciate the sport in a whole new way. I know it will for me. And while we're on the subject, I want to give a shout-out to my favorite white shooter of all-time: Someone who might not ever crack The Kingsbury Factor's top 20, but will always be my #1........

Lindsey Mongrain, Grace HS Lady Eagles 

So please, check out The Kingsbury Factor. If you like this blog, I really think you'll like that one. And if you want bonus coverage of Lindsey's sister Kristen playing 4th grade basketball, please contact me or her mother directly.

(J/K, Kristen!!!!)

The Halftime Walk

Mason (or a dog that looks like him, at least)

The last time the this year's AFC finalists (Steelers and Jets) played each other, I took my roommate's dog Mason out for a walk at halftime. As he excitedly ran around the block sniffing, eating dirt, and peeing on things, we ran into one of our neighbors walking his dog at the same time. He recognized Mason, but not me. I'm still relatively new to the area.

As our two dogs played together and sniffed each other's buttholes, we smiled cordially at each other and waited. A few more seconds passed, and he sensed my impatience and broke the silence.

"Halftime walk?"

I love dogs. Everything about them. I love the way their tails wag when they see you. I love how they love other dogs. I love how they stare at your dinner while you eat it. I love how they shake themselves off when they get wet. I love how they chew your flip-flops until they don't flop anymore.

Most of all, whether they like it or not, I love that they wait until halftime. What a concept. Can you imagine saying to your girlfriend, "Babe, I really want to hear about your problems with work today, but can it wait until halftime? And by the way, it has to stop after 15 minutes, or maybe less if the Beastie Boys are playing." It wouldn't happen. Nor should it. This is 2011, after all. When President Obama gives his State of The Union next week, I highly doubt they'll be anything in there about the need to pass a Halftime Complaining Act. It just wouldn't get the votes.

But until dogs become better represented in Congress, well, they'll just have to keep waiting.


Championship Weekend Picks

Bears (+3.5) vs. Packers (Sun, 3:00 ET). Speaking of dogs, I was NOT expecting Chicago to be getting points at home, let alone this many. I'll take 'em.

Steelers (-3.5) vs. Jets (Sun, 6:30 ET). The Jets' eerie silence this week concerns me, and I see Pittsburgh getting at least one huge controversial call from the refs. It's happened all freaking year.

Last Week: 3-1
Season: 47-48-4  

How to Save Football

OPEN ON A PACK OF YOUNG MEN SCAMPERING DOWN A CITY STREET ON A BREEZY SUNDAY AFTERNOON. THEY'VE POPPED THEIR HEADS INTO THEIR 16 BARS IN THE PAST 20 MINUTES, BUT NONE OF THEM ARE SHOWING ANY NFL GAMES. THEY CHECK THEIR PHONES FOR FANTASY UPDATES, BUT THE PHONES DON'T SHOW ANY SCORES EITHER. THEY HARASS ANYONE AND EVERYONE WHO PASSES BY, DESPERATE FOR ANSWERS. ONE WOMAN CALLS THE COPS, WHO RESPOND TO THE SCENE AND UNNECESSARILY TAZE ONE OF THE YOUNG MEN. IT'S LIKE THE LIAM NEESON MOVIE THAT ISN'T OUT YET WHERE EVERYBODY ACTS LIKE HE DOESN'T EXIST, AND LIKE HE NEVER EXISTED IN THE FIRST PLACE.

IT'S LIKE THE NFL JUST...DISAPPEARED.

It's our girlfriends' wildest dream, and come next summer, there's a chance it becomes reality. Because unless the players and owners can come to a labor agreement -- and right now, the two sides aren't even close -- there will be no NFL next season.

I don't understand the specifics, but I do know the basic problem is -- believe it or not -- there isn't enough money. Despite how much we all think we pour into the league's coffers, the reality is that owners are losing money on their teams, and players aren't being appropriately compensated for the risk they put on their bodies and minds.

I believe there's a simple solution:

Advertise EVERYWHERE.

Yep, those are the...Broncos?

No, this isn't a shameless plug for the industry I work in. This is about saving pro football. And all it asks of us is to get over our antiquated, traditionalist belief that uniforms should be clean. And the best part is, I think we already have.

Have you seen NFL uniforms lately? Every team has eight different ones, all for the sake of selling more jerseys. Some of the uniforms (i.e. New York Titans) bear no resemblance in color to the team wearing them (New York Jets). Until Mark Sanchez throws a trademark interception, we don't even know who we're watching.

And let's face it, as much as we love our football, Europe loves theirs even more. Yet Europeans have no issue at all drenching their club's jerseys with sponsors. If an alien from outer space turned on a European soccer game, they'd think AIG was playing Vodafone in some strange form of telecom-insurance negotiation.

We wouldn't have to worry about "competing sponsorships", or any other logistical nonsense a lawyer reading this could come up with: Europe's given us the blueprint of how this would work. Just copy their model, and watch the dollars roll in.

Stadium names got the ball rolling years ago. Now let's take if further: I'm talking seat backs, end zones, goalposts, urinal cakes, whatever it takes to make the NFL profitable again. Everything's fair game.

Is nothing sacred? Who cares! Seriously, who freaking cares? Nothing sacred is better than nothing.

Unless you're a girlfriend, that is.


Divisional Round Picks

Steelers (-3) vs. Ravens (Sat, 4:30 ET). Should be a great game, and I think home-field is worth more than 3 in the playoffs.

Packers (+2.5) @ Falcons (Sat, 8:00 ET). Boy this one's tough. I reserve the right to flip-flop between now and Saturday.

Seahawks (+10) @ Bears (Sun, 1:00 ET). "Take The Points Sunday, Part I"

Jets (+8.5) @ Patriots (Sun, 4:00 ET). Part II. Way too many points.

Last Week: 2-3-1
Season: 44-47-4 

Rebuilding Mode Nears Completion

Three years ago today, the general manager of my wardrobe (Me) was relieved of his duties, and a new GM (Lindsey) took over. I retained my duties as head coach.

Since then, a long, gradual overhaul has ensued.

That's Ms. General Manager to you.

She started where she believed any rebuilding process should: jeans. Gap Baggy Fit became Seven Standard Fit. Then looser button-downs were replaced with leaner ones. Sneakers became "casual shoes". Oversized sweaters were tossed and burned. Nothing was safe, not even socks.

It was an uneasy transition at first. There were a few "what the f--- are you trying to do me?" moments. But the coach soon learned to trust the GM, knowing that what she wanted was what's best for him and the team.

It hasn't been easy, but rebuilding never is. After all, you have to change the whole culture of the team. I hardly had any interest in shopping when I was the one making the decisions, let alone when I became essentially a moving mannequin.

She mainly rebuilt through the draft: Christmases and Birthdays. Each new year brought in a talented crop of fresher, trendier clothing. Every time a starting-lineup-worthy shirt entered the roster, the one on the end of the rack got the pink slip.

As head coach, I'm still learning to work with my new personnel. Sometimes I'll mistakenly wear a polo shirt with boots. Or a blazer that isn't in season. Or a Ralph Lauren sweater, ever. One day we'll live together and I'll be stripped of my morning wardrobe choosing duties, too. Can't wait.

And I will say this: Chad, Weissman, and my other clothes-conscious friends don't really make fun of my clothes anymore. And Ramsey (who, like me, has no clue) sometimes does, which is I guess a good thing. I'm at the point now where almost everything I put on is something that was either bought by Lindsey, with Lindsey, or bought by a third-party with Lindsey's approval. It's just a matter of acquiring the final pieces and putting them all together.

And once that happens, look out.


Picks

Arkansas (+3) vs. Ohio State (Tues, 8:30 ET). I don't understand how the five OSU players "promised" to come back next year. Does Jim Tressel really think they won't change their mind?

Saints (-10.5) @ Seahawks (Sat, 4:30 ET). We've never seen a line like this before. A 10.5 road favorite in the playoffs? We've also never seen a team as bad as Seattle make the playoffs, either.

Colts (-2.5) vs. Jets (Sat, 8:00 ET). I know the Jets made a nice playoff run last year, but lightning won't strike twice against Peyton Manning at home.

Ravens (-3) vs. Chiefs (Sun, 1:00 ET). The Ravens beat the Dolphins twice in this exact same scenario (first-round playoff game, three-point road favorite). This year's Chiefs remind me of both those Dolphins teams.

Packers (+2.5) @ Eagles (Sun, 4:00 ET). Not sure Vick's healthy for this game, whether he admits it or not.

Oregon (+3) vs. Auburn (Mon, 8:30 ET). Leaning toward the Ducks at this point, mostly just looking forward to watching.

Last Week: 2-2
Season: 42-44-3