What a shame. The G-Men play inspired football for 49 minutes only to have an incredibly negligent safety named Butler let the most dangerous wide receiver in the game just run right on by.
That's why the Patriots win. They have no players on their team that would let that happen.
Kudos to Brandon Jacobs and that tight end Boss. A number of Giants played well though, Strahan, Manning, the offensive line, Toomer, just about everyone but Butler.
Kudos to the Pats also. Brady was great again, as were Faulk and Moss. They deserve their undefeated season.
Saturday, December 29, 2007
Friday, December 28, 2007
Umm, I Don't THINK So......
So much controversy over whether the Giants should try to beat the Pats tomorrow night, and then whether they possibly COULD !! I think they should try. For sure. If they really try to get to Brady, they'll have a shot. They do have a nice pass rush. And they do have a good offensive line. I don't care much for their secondary guys but, who knows, maybe Moss will get hurt. They could probably cover Stallworth and Welker. Or else, pound the ^&*( out of them after they catch the ball. Oh, almost forgot, they're not bad at stopping the run either.
There also is a much better chance of them winning ONE game than the 3 playoff games it would take to advance to the Super Bowl. And it's not as if it's a LOCK that, if they beat the Pats, they'll lose to the Bucs in the first round.
Anyway, I think they'll try to win tomorrow night and they'll probably lose, but not by the spread. I think they'll cover. And there'll be more people watching tomorrow night than will be watching their first-round game vs the Bucs.
Kudos to the NFL for electing to televise the game nationally. They're opting for the fans in this one. And may wind up in court as a result with NFL Network. Pretty neat. If anyone can think of some ulterior motive I haven't thought of, please let me know.
Happy New Year, bloggers !!
There also is a much better chance of them winning ONE game than the 3 playoff games it would take to advance to the Super Bowl. And it's not as if it's a LOCK that, if they beat the Pats, they'll lose to the Bucs in the first round.
Anyway, I think they'll try to win tomorrow night and they'll probably lose, but not by the spread. I think they'll cover. And there'll be more people watching tomorrow night than will be watching their first-round game vs the Bucs.
Kudos to the NFL for electing to televise the game nationally. They're opting for the fans in this one. And may wind up in court as a result with NFL Network. Pretty neat. If anyone can think of some ulterior motive I haven't thought of, please let me know.
Happy New Year, bloggers !!
Monday, December 24, 2007
A Baseball Carol - Part 2
His wife woke him early the next morning to let him know she was going Christmas shopping with the boys. Roger said, “ok, honey, I’ll just catch a few more winks, see ya later.” He awoke a little later to the sound of Jingle Bells. Although it was very loud, it was coming from his cell phone on the night table. He thought, “one of the boys must’ve been playing with the settings as a joke, wait until I get through with him.” “Hello,” he growled.
“Merry Christmas, Roger, I’ll bet you didn’t know Jingle Bells memorializes the 'cutter' drag races in Boston, where spiffed-out sleighs would race between Medford and Malden Squares, and the drivers would try to pick up the local chickies.” The voice was chuckling as he said this, and then continued more soberly, “I’m the next spirit you arranged for with good Mr. Alzado. If you’d be good enough to hit “Send” again, you and I are going on a sleigh-ride of our own.”
As the events of the previous evening flooded over him, Roger shuddered a bit, but then, figuring he had no real choice in the matter, resolutely hit “Send” and in a flash, he was dashing through the snowy streets of Boston again in what seemed to be an open sleigh, and he heard rather than felt the thundering hooves of one great black stallion pulling them along. Roger looked to his left, and there was a big, smiling man seated next to him. He was wearing an old Red Sox uniform and he held a baseball in his left hand. “Can you guess who I might be, Roger? I’m in the Red Sox Hall of Fame too, me and Cy and a few other pitchers.” And Roger knew in a moment who it was and exclaimed. “Lefty Grove!” he yelled, over the sound of the wind whistling through his ears. “That’s right, Roger, now, c’mon, we have a couple of stops to make.”
Roger now found himself in the same warm kitchen as the night before, but there had been a few changes, tile for linoleum, some stone material had replaced the bright formica. And there sat the same family, and Roger looked for the young teenager who had hoped his hero wouldn’t leave Boston, the same little boy who had marveled to Roger’s early heroics on the Fenway mound.
But now the youth was older, probably 17 or so, and the boy’s Dad said, “Charlie, you’ve been a terrific pitcher, but if you want to get that scholarship, you have to get stronger. I know you’ve been working hard in the gym, but it’ll be your senior year, and the college scouts will be out in force. You’ve got to figure out how to get bigger.” And the mother scolded her husband, “You be quiet, Charles Donovan, Charlie Junior’s doing fine. He’ll grow naturally as he gets older, look at you ! And all the Donovan boys grew to be six footers and they all were 230 pounds if they were an ounce.”
Lefty then held the baseball out to Roger and, as he took hold of it, the kitchen swirled, faster and faster, and then the whirling stopped. Roger now found himself in a high school auditorium, and there were about fifty men attending a meeting of some kind. He heard the man on the stage say, “All right, it’s up for the vote, if you want Roger Clemens to address the Coaches Association dinner, signify as such by raising your hands. And Roger saw quite a few heads looking around, hesitating, and some of those faces were people he had known for a long time. Then he felt Lefty’s hand on his arm again, and he found himself back in his bedroom once again.
Roger was trembling now and said to himself, “I don’t need to see any more spirits, I’ve got to talk with Alzado, maybe he’s still on the car’s GPS system. So Roger went out to the garage, then hit the garage door-opener switch, but, instead of the door rolling up in its tracks, a screen rolled itself down. There appeared a tall young pitcher dancing on the infield in what looked like a weird combination Irish jig and river dance, and he knew in a moment, it must be Jonathan Papelbon.
And then Jonathan appeared next to him, and he said, “c’mon, Roger, dance with me,” and as fearful as Roger was, he couldn’t help but smile and he seemed to know the steps as they both cavorted in the garage. But soon it was a garage no longer, and he found himself on still another ballfield of some kind, but there were no fences, just a big field, and there on one end was an old backstop, and about 60 ft. from that an improvised mound.
And on the mound was Charlie Donovan again, now pitching to his Dad, but he appeared to be bigger now, and older, and he heard Charlie’s Dad say, “That’s all right for college ball, Charlie, but if you want to be a major league pitcher someday, ya gotta be hittin’ at least 95 on that gun.” And then Jonathan nudged Roger and said, “c’mon Rog, let’s dance.” And now they were in a locker room, and there was Charlie again, and he was bending over, and his friend was saying, “don’t worry, Charlie, they still can’t test for this stuff.”
Now Roger and the crazed dancing spirit found themselves in what appeared to be a newsroom, and two men were having some kind of heated discussion, and Jonathan said, “Roger, check out the calendar,” and he saw that it was 2013, and one writer was saying, “sure, Roger won a lot of games early in his career, and holds all those records, but Curt was a real warrior, especially at the end of his career, and who could ever forget that red sock.”
And Roger fell into a swoon, but Papelbon quickly held him and did a little pirouette with Roger still in his arms. When Roger came to his senses, he found himself in a small stadium, and the Commissioner of Baseball, smiling ear-to-ear, was saying “and now it gives me the greatest pleasure to introduce to you, maybe the greatest clutch pitcher of all time, a pitcher who finished his career in Boston…”
But that was all Roger heard, his stomach gave a lurch, and he became physically sick. He pleaded with Papelbon, “oh spirit of the future, are these images that have to be or can these apparitions be changed if people change their evil ways?” And Jonathan said nothing, but wiped his soiled foot on Roger’s pants leg, a look of disgust on his face. And he said, “things could change but you’re dancing on your own now”. But he was smiling as he said it. And the last thing Roger saw was a fading bouncing and kicking.
Roger found himself back in his own living room. His wife and sons had returned and his son said, “Dad, what the heck is that on your pants?” And his wife cried, “And what are you smiling about? I’ve never seen you so happy!” And Roger rushed to his wife and spun her around, then grabbed his sons, one by one, and hugged them, even though they did say “Ewwwwh!”
Roger fired his lawyer and called the Commissioner’s office and admitted the full extent of his wrongdoing. And he called a press conference and did the same. And he finished his career with the Red Sox. And he became like a second father to Charlie Donovan, who never did drugs of any kind, and became a pitcher with the Red Sox in his own right. And he was open with the press and all the media, especially at Christmas. And, in later years, though he never made it to Cooperstown, it was said that if anyone embodied the spirit of baseball, it was he. And, as young Charlie observed, “God bless baseball.” And God bless us, everyone.
“Merry Christmas, Roger, I’ll bet you didn’t know Jingle Bells memorializes the 'cutter' drag races in Boston, where spiffed-out sleighs would race between Medford and Malden Squares, and the drivers would try to pick up the local chickies.” The voice was chuckling as he said this, and then continued more soberly, “I’m the next spirit you arranged for with good Mr. Alzado. If you’d be good enough to hit “Send” again, you and I are going on a sleigh-ride of our own.”
As the events of the previous evening flooded over him, Roger shuddered a bit, but then, figuring he had no real choice in the matter, resolutely hit “Send” and in a flash, he was dashing through the snowy streets of Boston again in what seemed to be an open sleigh, and he heard rather than felt the thundering hooves of one great black stallion pulling them along. Roger looked to his left, and there was a big, smiling man seated next to him. He was wearing an old Red Sox uniform and he held a baseball in his left hand. “Can you guess who I might be, Roger? I’m in the Red Sox Hall of Fame too, me and Cy and a few other pitchers.” And Roger knew in a moment who it was and exclaimed. “Lefty Grove!” he yelled, over the sound of the wind whistling through his ears. “That’s right, Roger, now, c’mon, we have a couple of stops to make.”
Roger now found himself in the same warm kitchen as the night before, but there had been a few changes, tile for linoleum, some stone material had replaced the bright formica. And there sat the same family, and Roger looked for the young teenager who had hoped his hero wouldn’t leave Boston, the same little boy who had marveled to Roger’s early heroics on the Fenway mound.
But now the youth was older, probably 17 or so, and the boy’s Dad said, “Charlie, you’ve been a terrific pitcher, but if you want to get that scholarship, you have to get stronger. I know you’ve been working hard in the gym, but it’ll be your senior year, and the college scouts will be out in force. You’ve got to figure out how to get bigger.” And the mother scolded her husband, “You be quiet, Charles Donovan, Charlie Junior’s doing fine. He’ll grow naturally as he gets older, look at you ! And all the Donovan boys grew to be six footers and they all were 230 pounds if they were an ounce.”
Lefty then held the baseball out to Roger and, as he took hold of it, the kitchen swirled, faster and faster, and then the whirling stopped. Roger now found himself in a high school auditorium, and there were about fifty men attending a meeting of some kind. He heard the man on the stage say, “All right, it’s up for the vote, if you want Roger Clemens to address the Coaches Association dinner, signify as such by raising your hands. And Roger saw quite a few heads looking around, hesitating, and some of those faces were people he had known for a long time. Then he felt Lefty’s hand on his arm again, and he found himself back in his bedroom once again.
Roger was trembling now and said to himself, “I don’t need to see any more spirits, I’ve got to talk with Alzado, maybe he’s still on the car’s GPS system. So Roger went out to the garage, then hit the garage door-opener switch, but, instead of the door rolling up in its tracks, a screen rolled itself down. There appeared a tall young pitcher dancing on the infield in what looked like a weird combination Irish jig and river dance, and he knew in a moment, it must be Jonathan Papelbon.
And then Jonathan appeared next to him, and he said, “c’mon, Roger, dance with me,” and as fearful as Roger was, he couldn’t help but smile and he seemed to know the steps as they both cavorted in the garage. But soon it was a garage no longer, and he found himself on still another ballfield of some kind, but there were no fences, just a big field, and there on one end was an old backstop, and about 60 ft. from that an improvised mound.
And on the mound was Charlie Donovan again, now pitching to his Dad, but he appeared to be bigger now, and older, and he heard Charlie’s Dad say, “That’s all right for college ball, Charlie, but if you want to be a major league pitcher someday, ya gotta be hittin’ at least 95 on that gun.” And then Jonathan nudged Roger and said, “c’mon Rog, let’s dance.” And now they were in a locker room, and there was Charlie again, and he was bending over, and his friend was saying, “don’t worry, Charlie, they still can’t test for this stuff.”
Now Roger and the crazed dancing spirit found themselves in what appeared to be a newsroom, and two men were having some kind of heated discussion, and Jonathan said, “Roger, check out the calendar,” and he saw that it was 2013, and one writer was saying, “sure, Roger won a lot of games early in his career, and holds all those records, but Curt was a real warrior, especially at the end of his career, and who could ever forget that red sock.”
And Roger fell into a swoon, but Papelbon quickly held him and did a little pirouette with Roger still in his arms. When Roger came to his senses, he found himself in a small stadium, and the Commissioner of Baseball, smiling ear-to-ear, was saying “and now it gives me the greatest pleasure to introduce to you, maybe the greatest clutch pitcher of all time, a pitcher who finished his career in Boston…”
But that was all Roger heard, his stomach gave a lurch, and he became physically sick. He pleaded with Papelbon, “oh spirit of the future, are these images that have to be or can these apparitions be changed if people change their evil ways?” And Jonathan said nothing, but wiped his soiled foot on Roger’s pants leg, a look of disgust on his face. And he said, “things could change but you’re dancing on your own now”. But he was smiling as he said it. And the last thing Roger saw was a fading bouncing and kicking.
Roger found himself back in his own living room. His wife and sons had returned and his son said, “Dad, what the heck is that on your pants?” And his wife cried, “And what are you smiling about? I’ve never seen you so happy!” And Roger rushed to his wife and spun her around, then grabbed his sons, one by one, and hugged them, even though they did say “Ewwwwh!”
Roger fired his lawyer and called the Commissioner’s office and admitted the full extent of his wrongdoing. And he called a press conference and did the same. And he finished his career with the Red Sox. And he became like a second father to Charlie Donovan, who never did drugs of any kind, and became a pitcher with the Red Sox in his own right. And he was open with the press and all the media, especially at Christmas. And, in later years, though he never made it to Cooperstown, it was said that if anyone embodied the spirit of baseball, it was he. And, as young Charlie observed, “God bless baseball.” And God bless us, everyone.
Saturday, December 22, 2007
A Baseball Carol - Part 1
The pitcher jumped in the car after another session with his lawyer, another strategy session as to the best way to combat the damage done by the Mitchell report. Although they still hadn't decided to sue Major League Baseball, they hadn't really ruled it out yet either. They had almost NO evidence, just hearsay. One guy he thought he could trust blabs about shooting him up a few times and his reputation is totally suspect. No matter that he had won all those Cy Young Awards, pennants, World Series. No, all anybody wants to talk about is steroids. His dream of being named the best pitcher of all time, and even his nomination to the Hall of Fame was very questionable now. "Well", he thought, "at least they can't take the money away". He chuckled a little despite himself at the 18 million he made just last year for about a third of a season.
Didn't they realize he was just keeping up with the competition? What shame is there in that? If the batters were shooting up and other pitchers were juicing, how was a guy to survive? Besides, it's not as if he didn't work to build the muscles. The stuff just helped him complete a rugged workout regimen. He still had to make the pitches. he still had to hit the corners, change speeds, and all the rest of the skills a pitcher needed since time began to get batters out. Hell, it hadn't even been against baseball's rules, at least not at first.
Oh well, he thought, if I can just stay away from the press and let my lawyer do all the talking and litigating, I should be Ok. Already they'd managed to get one newspaper to print a retraction, and there were more than a few media types already questioning whether they could justifiably punish a player for juicing.
As he turned his attention back to the road, he realized he had missed his turnoff. God, how long had he been driving? As he turned on his GPS System, one of the finest in the world, he realized there was a craggy-looking face on the screen and he seemed to be saying something. "What the hell is this", he thought? This whole affair is playing with my very sanity. He quickly turned the system off, but the face reappeared in the screen. The pitcher, rattled now, asked himself whether these systems could be hacked into, and whether it was some reporter on the screen. So he asked, a little shakily, "um, who are you and what do you want ?"
And the face replied, "I'm Lyle Alzado, Roger. Although steroids helped me compete in the NFL and made me a star with the Broncos and the Raiders, they eventually took my very existence away, and caused irreparable harm, not only to me, but to everyone who loved me. As I know I'm just an old football player, and it's unlikely you'll listen to me, I've arranged for you to be visited by three kind spirits, three pitchers I know you hold in high regard. It is my most fervent wish that you'll hear their message. I don't want you to end up like me. Although I did everything in my power to talk about the dangers of steroid abuse while I was still alive, that period was unfortunately very short. Look for the first spirit tonight after Sportscenter. Good bye for now and, oh, turn left at the next light, then another left, and head back along this highway for about 20 miles, then you should start seeing things you recognize."
Roger had a late dinner with his wife that night and made sure he spent some time with his boys before they went off to bed. He picked up a book, he’d be damned if he was going to watch SportsCenter. That incident in the car was either his imagination running wild or maybe some genius hacker playing games with him. In fact, he’d mention it to his lawyer tomorrow, the only person he seemed to be able to converse with these days. As he read, his eyes got a little tired, and, just as he started to nod off, several things happened. The cat tore through the room like a shot, knocked the remote control off the table and the TV turned on.
He heard, “…and that’s it for SportsCenter, good night.” And then, the TV went a little fuzzy, then cleared up again, and a big guy in an old baseball uniform appeared, and, not only that, he looked a little familiar. And the man said, “hello, Roger, you must know me, you’ve won quite a few awards with my name on every one of them.” And then it hit Roger, oh my God, it was Cy Young. This couldn’t be happening. If this were a joke, somebody would pay. But, for now, he decided to go along. “Hello, Mr. Young, what can I do for you this evening?”
The face appeared now very large in the screen, and his look was somewhat incredulous, and he just said, “you just come with me, young fella.” Then, the scene shifted to a bright, sunshiny day, and it appeared that he was flying through the air and right over the wall of a ballpark, the stands filled with people, and he recognized that park, my God, it was old Fenway Park and he was whisked into a seat behind home plate. And damned if it wasn’t himself on the mound, as a young man, and that young man reared back and fired, the umpire called “Stee-rike 3”, and the boy sitting alongside him flew up in his seat and cheered, clapping his hands wildly. Then the boy hugged the man seated next to him, and exclaimed, “that Rocket, he’s got it today, that batter didn’t stand a chance.” And the man, probably his father, shouted “uh, yeah, boy-o, he’s the best pitcher Boston has seen in many a year”.
Then, they were whisked off again and whirled through the streets of Boston. Roger found himself now in a small, warm kitchen with a family having dinner, and he saw the same boy, although he now seemed a few years older. And he seemed sad. His Dad said, “now Charlie, don’t let it getcha down, now, those ballplayers, even the best of ‘em, they’re in it for the money”. And the boy murmured, “no, Dad, the Rocket will never leave the Red Sox”.
Then Roger found himself flying again and the world was spinning wildly, and, after what seemed an eternity, he found himself standing behind home plate again, but it was a different park, and the pitcher on the mound now seemed a lot bigger, and, it was, of course, himself. The pitcher reared back and fired again, but this time, the ball was inside and cracked the batter’s bat in a few pieces, one of which flew toward the mound. Roger pleaded with the spirit Cy, “Please, Mr. Young, I don’t need to see this again.” And Cy replied, “oh, yes, Roger, I’m sorry, but yes, you do.” The pitcher picked up the shard of the bat and threw it at the batter, who had started to run towards first base. As the batter started to walk towards the mound, Roger said, please can we get outta here now, Mr. Young, I was never proud of that.” And Cy said, “you know, Roger, as I got older, I mastered my control and chopped wood in the off-season to stay in shape. And I kept winning and winning.” Then, placing his arm over Roger, they both rose through the air and Roger soon found himself in bed again.
PART 2 to follow on Christmas Eve
Didn't they realize he was just keeping up with the competition? What shame is there in that? If the batters were shooting up and other pitchers were juicing, how was a guy to survive? Besides, it's not as if he didn't work to build the muscles. The stuff just helped him complete a rugged workout regimen. He still had to make the pitches. he still had to hit the corners, change speeds, and all the rest of the skills a pitcher needed since time began to get batters out. Hell, it hadn't even been against baseball's rules, at least not at first.
Oh well, he thought, if I can just stay away from the press and let my lawyer do all the talking and litigating, I should be Ok. Already they'd managed to get one newspaper to print a retraction, and there were more than a few media types already questioning whether they could justifiably punish a player for juicing.
As he turned his attention back to the road, he realized he had missed his turnoff. God, how long had he been driving? As he turned on his GPS System, one of the finest in the world, he realized there was a craggy-looking face on the screen and he seemed to be saying something. "What the hell is this", he thought? This whole affair is playing with my very sanity. He quickly turned the system off, but the face reappeared in the screen. The pitcher, rattled now, asked himself whether these systems could be hacked into, and whether it was some reporter on the screen. So he asked, a little shakily, "um, who are you and what do you want ?"
And the face replied, "I'm Lyle Alzado, Roger. Although steroids helped me compete in the NFL and made me a star with the Broncos and the Raiders, they eventually took my very existence away, and caused irreparable harm, not only to me, but to everyone who loved me. As I know I'm just an old football player, and it's unlikely you'll listen to me, I've arranged for you to be visited by three kind spirits, three pitchers I know you hold in high regard. It is my most fervent wish that you'll hear their message. I don't want you to end up like me. Although I did everything in my power to talk about the dangers of steroid abuse while I was still alive, that period was unfortunately very short. Look for the first spirit tonight after Sportscenter. Good bye for now and, oh, turn left at the next light, then another left, and head back along this highway for about 20 miles, then you should start seeing things you recognize."
Roger had a late dinner with his wife that night and made sure he spent some time with his boys before they went off to bed. He picked up a book, he’d be damned if he was going to watch SportsCenter. That incident in the car was either his imagination running wild or maybe some genius hacker playing games with him. In fact, he’d mention it to his lawyer tomorrow, the only person he seemed to be able to converse with these days. As he read, his eyes got a little tired, and, just as he started to nod off, several things happened. The cat tore through the room like a shot, knocked the remote control off the table and the TV turned on.
He heard, “…and that’s it for SportsCenter, good night.” And then, the TV went a little fuzzy, then cleared up again, and a big guy in an old baseball uniform appeared, and, not only that, he looked a little familiar. And the man said, “hello, Roger, you must know me, you’ve won quite a few awards with my name on every one of them.” And then it hit Roger, oh my God, it was Cy Young. This couldn’t be happening. If this were a joke, somebody would pay. But, for now, he decided to go along. “Hello, Mr. Young, what can I do for you this evening?”
The face appeared now very large in the screen, and his look was somewhat incredulous, and he just said, “you just come with me, young fella.” Then, the scene shifted to a bright, sunshiny day, and it appeared that he was flying through the air and right over the wall of a ballpark, the stands filled with people, and he recognized that park, my God, it was old Fenway Park and he was whisked into a seat behind home plate. And damned if it wasn’t himself on the mound, as a young man, and that young man reared back and fired, the umpire called “Stee-rike 3”, and the boy sitting alongside him flew up in his seat and cheered, clapping his hands wildly. Then the boy hugged the man seated next to him, and exclaimed, “that Rocket, he’s got it today, that batter didn’t stand a chance.” And the man, probably his father, shouted “uh, yeah, boy-o, he’s the best pitcher Boston has seen in many a year”.
Then, they were whisked off again and whirled through the streets of Boston. Roger found himself now in a small, warm kitchen with a family having dinner, and he saw the same boy, although he now seemed a few years older. And he seemed sad. His Dad said, “now Charlie, don’t let it getcha down, now, those ballplayers, even the best of ‘em, they’re in it for the money”. And the boy murmured, “no, Dad, the Rocket will never leave the Red Sox”.
Then Roger found himself flying again and the world was spinning wildly, and, after what seemed an eternity, he found himself standing behind home plate again, but it was a different park, and the pitcher on the mound now seemed a lot bigger, and, it was, of course, himself. The pitcher reared back and fired again, but this time, the ball was inside and cracked the batter’s bat in a few pieces, one of which flew toward the mound. Roger pleaded with the spirit Cy, “Please, Mr. Young, I don’t need to see this again.” And Cy replied, “oh, yes, Roger, I’m sorry, but yes, you do.” The pitcher picked up the shard of the bat and threw it at the batter, who had started to run towards first base. As the batter started to walk towards the mound, Roger said, please can we get outta here now, Mr. Young, I was never proud of that.” And Cy said, “you know, Roger, as I got older, I mastered my control and chopped wood in the off-season to stay in shape. And I kept winning and winning.” Then, placing his arm over Roger, they both rose through the air and Roger soon found himself in bed again.
PART 2 to follow on Christmas Eve
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
A Fantasy League Night Before Christmas...
‘Twas the week before Finals, and all through the league
All done was the fighting and petty intrigue
The two teams remaining had only to care
‘bout filling in rosters and how they would fare.
TeamNYSE and BigSwim had made their own bed
Mustangs and Cowboys and Cudas saw red
And Gjets looked perfect, ‘fore taking a nap
At a critical juncture, his team took a slap.
When Sunday dawned, their brains were a scatter
Their reason was fed by robust fecal matter
More often than not, runners-up they would crash
For all of their druthers looked bad in a flash.
But two teams were blessed and their lineups would flow
And the fluster of Sundays they wouldn’t know
With most of their thundering guys on a tear
They never would stray – their choices were clear
They had no Donald Driver, their players were slick
Whoever they’d plug in would quite often click
Not McNabb’s Eagles, their coursers they came
Their rosters they flouted, had no change of name.
Now Romo! now Colston ! they ne’er needed fixin’
And Crosby, the Packer, he sure got his kicks in
To young Braylon and Gates, mighty Klondikes would call
Now dash away, dash away, dash away all!
He believed in his lineup, no waivers he’d fly
When he’d meet with an obstacle, just give a sigh
So up in the standings, his coursers they flew
On game day made noises that always rang true.
When ramsy was tinkerin’, he stayed aloof
Most of Scoops signings, he knew were a goof
While Fu’s and Crab’s rosters were turning around
The Northmen stayed firm, his few moves they were sound.
No fly-by-night wonder on his roster he’d put
Had to jump like a reindeer or be fleet of foot.
One team started slowly but wound up on track
The pickup of Graham soon fueled his attack
Snake Eyes ne’er wrinkled, he needed no hurry
LT over everyone soon he would scurry.
Norv Turner’s dumb game plans, soon they would go
And the rock went to LT, so everyone’d know
A lump in their windpipe, a kick in the teeth
As LaDainian circled the field like a wreath.
Brees finished the race though N’Awlins was jelly
And T.O. would triumph, T Glenn he did spell thee
Lendale chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf
Of his second round pick, he’d soon prove himself.
To think the Snake Eyes would end up in the red
Was before he placed Johnson in Santana’s stead.
Yahoo says the Klondikes will sure have to work
But Brees will find Eagles D real hard to shirk
On Raiders defenders, Fred Taylor will close
And Braylon ‘gainst Bengals could smell like a rose
And Romo will play tough ‘cause Jessica’s fickle
And she could end up scratching some other tickle
But she won’t be to blame, should good Tony lose sight
Of T.O. and Witten, say Big D GOOD NIGHT !!
All done was the fighting and petty intrigue
The two teams remaining had only to care
‘bout filling in rosters and how they would fare.
TeamNYSE and BigSwim had made their own bed
Mustangs and Cowboys and Cudas saw red
And Gjets looked perfect, ‘fore taking a nap
At a critical juncture, his team took a slap.
When Sunday dawned, their brains were a scatter
Their reason was fed by robust fecal matter
More often than not, runners-up they would crash
For all of their druthers looked bad in a flash.
But two teams were blessed and their lineups would flow
And the fluster of Sundays they wouldn’t know
With most of their thundering guys on a tear
They never would stray – their choices were clear
They had no Donald Driver, their players were slick
Whoever they’d plug in would quite often click
Not McNabb’s Eagles, their coursers they came
Their rosters they flouted, had no change of name.
Now Romo! now Colston ! they ne’er needed fixin’
And Crosby, the Packer, he sure got his kicks in
To young Braylon and Gates, mighty Klondikes would call
Now dash away, dash away, dash away all!
He believed in his lineup, no waivers he’d fly
When he’d meet with an obstacle, just give a sigh
So up in the standings, his coursers they flew
On game day made noises that always rang true.
When ramsy was tinkerin’, he stayed aloof
Most of Scoops signings, he knew were a goof
While Fu’s and Crab’s rosters were turning around
The Northmen stayed firm, his few moves they were sound.
No fly-by-night wonder on his roster he’d put
Had to jump like a reindeer or be fleet of foot.
One team started slowly but wound up on track
The pickup of Graham soon fueled his attack
Snake Eyes ne’er wrinkled, he needed no hurry
LT over everyone soon he would scurry.
Norv Turner’s dumb game plans, soon they would go
And the rock went to LT, so everyone’d know
A lump in their windpipe, a kick in the teeth
As LaDainian circled the field like a wreath.
Brees finished the race though N’Awlins was jelly
And T.O. would triumph, T Glenn he did spell thee
Lendale chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf
Of his second round pick, he’d soon prove himself.
To think the Snake Eyes would end up in the red
Was before he placed Johnson in Santana’s stead.
Yahoo says the Klondikes will sure have to work
But Brees will find Eagles D real hard to shirk
On Raiders defenders, Fred Taylor will close
And Braylon ‘gainst Bengals could smell like a rose
And Romo will play tough ‘cause Jessica’s fickle
And she could end up scratching some other tickle
But she won’t be to blame, should good Tony lose sight
Of T.O. and Witten, say Big D GOOD NIGHT !!
Monday, December 17, 2007
Jacobs, McCarein Stink Out the Joint.....
Five drops for Brandon Jacobs yesterday. DON'T TELL ME HOW MANY GUYS HE RAN OVER !! DON'T TELL ME HOW MANY YARDS HE GAINED !! I DON'T CARE !! And Justin McCareins, gimme a break, between the drops and the muffs, I can't understand why he's on the field. I certainly don't want to see him anymore. I'm sure the OTHER team does.
Both NY teams have too many guys who just can't play football. Get them out of town. Guys like Cotchery, with his fumbles and drops, Sinorice Moss, who can't run a proper pattern, let's just ship them out. Try some other people. Stop ruining my Sunday afternoon. Why should I continue to watch people pretend they know how to play football?
Even Toomer, Mr. Reliable, dropped a sure TD yesterday. I know all about the elements. I keep thinking I've seen the worst that both NY teams have to offer, but I'm constantly being surprised.
It was nice to see Pennington again. That's about all I liked in two football games.
Am I wrong? Do these teams excite anybody?
Both NY teams have too many guys who just can't play football. Get them out of town. Guys like Cotchery, with his fumbles and drops, Sinorice Moss, who can't run a proper pattern, let's just ship them out. Try some other people. Stop ruining my Sunday afternoon. Why should I continue to watch people pretend they know how to play football?
Even Toomer, Mr. Reliable, dropped a sure TD yesterday. I know all about the elements. I keep thinking I've seen the worst that both NY teams have to offer, but I'm constantly being surprised.
It was nice to see Pennington again. That's about all I liked in two football games.
Am I wrong? Do these teams excite anybody?
Thursday, December 13, 2007
Tick Tick Tick......
In a few hours, we find out who took steroids. I can't wait to see what Mitchell came up with in all that time.
It's expected that Roger Clemens and his sidekick, Andy Pettite will be on the list. And why not, when you think about it. Clemens has always seemed quite interested in being one of the best pitchers of all time.
With Boston, starting in 1986, Clemens went 24-4, then 20-9, 18-12, 17-11, 21-6, 18-10, then 18-11 in 1992. He was mediocre from 1993 thru 1996, his last year in Boston at 34 years of age. Most athletes start to decline at about that age.
At 35 years of age, which for Clemens was the year 1997, he had one of his greatest year ever going 21-7, then 20-6 in '98. Clemens went on to win a lot more. He was fantastic for Houston in 2004 and 2005, going a combined 31-12. Hmm.
Yes, he's a great pitcher but I'll bet he was juiced up the night he threw the bat at Piazza. Wonder when he started hitting the juice? Probably not early on with the Red Sox when he was literally amazing.
Whatever. Although this news will diminish or tarnish his reputation, I think it will do little to change opinions of his place in pitching history. He was great early on, had a down period and then took off, a bit late in his career or anyone's career to take off like that, but there it is. He certainly extended his years of greatness, if not his career years overall.
It's expected that Roger Clemens and his sidekick, Andy Pettite will be on the list. And why not, when you think about it. Clemens has always seemed quite interested in being one of the best pitchers of all time.
With Boston, starting in 1986, Clemens went 24-4, then 20-9, 18-12, 17-11, 21-6, 18-10, then 18-11 in 1992. He was mediocre from 1993 thru 1996, his last year in Boston at 34 years of age. Most athletes start to decline at about that age.
At 35 years of age, which for Clemens was the year 1997, he had one of his greatest year ever going 21-7, then 20-6 in '98. Clemens went on to win a lot more. He was fantastic for Houston in 2004 and 2005, going a combined 31-12. Hmm.
Yes, he's a great pitcher but I'll bet he was juiced up the night he threw the bat at Piazza. Wonder when he started hitting the juice? Probably not early on with the Red Sox when he was literally amazing.
Whatever. Although this news will diminish or tarnish his reputation, I think it will do little to change opinions of his place in pitching history. He was great early on, had a down period and then took off, a bit late in his career or anyone's career to take off like that, but there it is. He certainly extended his years of greatness, if not his career years overall.
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Hmm, Pats vs. Jets...
Looks like everybody's expecting the Patriots to completely drub the Jets. Our local heroes lost 38-14 to them in their season debut, and that was with Pennington out there. Of course, they had no offensive line to speak of at that time. And Darrell Revis wasn't really playing yet. And you could run the ball all day long against their defense then. Now? I don't think so. They got that big Michigan fella at linebacker now. You know...what's's name?....
And of course there's the retribution factor, Belichick will pound the upstart Mangini and his pitiful, woeful band of wannabe's....
I don't know about you, but all that stuff would make me mad...and look at the opportunity....knock off the undefeated and obnoxious Pats...and get a couple of shots at Brady...and Moss...(I'd be foaming at the mouth).
Look for a close game.....at least..
And of course there's the retribution factor, Belichick will pound the upstart Mangini and his pitiful, woeful band of wannabe's....
I don't know about you, but all that stuff would make me mad...and look at the opportunity....knock off the undefeated and obnoxious Pats...and get a couple of shots at Brady...and Moss...(I'd be foaming at the mouth).
Look for a close game.....at least..
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Boo.....Boooooo....Boooo...Enough !
Zach Randolph tried to lead the Knicks back from another deficit against Dallas last night. He did bring them back to within about seven, but that was as close as the Knicks could get it last night. Stephon Marbury didn't play as he is still grieving for his father.
Zach also said something that's been on my mind after the game. "It's real hard. I ain't never been in a situation like that and I don't understand," he said. "I guess they say it's New York fans, but you know it's real tough. Honestly. Especially for me, because I've never experienced every time a player walks off the court you're booing. Everywhere else, in Portland, fans were a big part of our team. Fans are a big part of every team everywhere you go. We need the fans to be supportive with us, even when we're down."
Isiah Thomas also had some words with some fans behind the bench during the game, and, while it is not clear what the exchange actually was, it can be assumed Isiah has had about enough of it too, especially if it's coming from directly behind the bench.
Yesterday had to be a tough day. MSG agreed to settle its sexual harrassment case out of court yesterday to the tune of about 11.5 million dollars. Apparently urged on by the commissioner's office to settle, they did just that. Isiah meanwhile still feels that he did not harrass her, sexually or otherwise. He may be right. We'll never know now.
With the court case behind them now, and with some bad breaks hopefully out of the way, perhaps the Knicks can begin to play better now. Against a tough opponent such as Dallas, I would hope the Knicks fans would try to contain the booing. It's certainly not helping. I'd rather you didn't go.
Friday, December 7, 2007
The Argentine Connection
Fantasy Basketball is probably the best fantasy sports game of them all. While Fantasy Football is okay, you only get to play once a week and all your players always get hurt. It's a continual trip to the waiver wire to see who's available at running back or wide receiver because the guys on you roster got hit in the head. Fantasy Baseball doesn't get the injury problems, but you have to pay attention every day, there are SO MANY games and you have to watch your starting pitching situation constantly, a little bit too much activity to be spent on what should be a pleasant diversion.
But basketball is, as Little Red Riding Hood said, "just right". Whether you play rotisserie or straight up against an opponent every week, it's perfect. Eighty games, a few days off each week, there aren't many injuries, and there's quite a bit of player turnover each year to make things interesting. There are also sufficient scoring categories to more or less emulate a REAL basketball game, not just points and rebounds, but also assists, turnovers, steals and blocks. There are even some other stat categories you can optionally use, but enough's enough.
Anyway, my 2007-08 team, Driving the Lane, is one of my favorites. I have two terrific players, the all-everything Kevin Garnett of the Boston Celtics and Deron Williams, the assist machine from the Utah Jazz. Both can score, have no problem with passing the ball to a teammate, play defense and basically, do as much as they have to in order to win. My other guards, which had been a problem early in the year, in the persons of Ben Gordon and Jamal Crawford, are starting to come around. Gordon, I think, had an attitude problem, as he was named in trade talks for Kobe Bryant. Crawford just goes to sleep from time to time, and in the process, he turns the ball over quite a bit. In fact, both these fellas had the same problem, turnovers. Their shooting percentages were also down from what they could have and should have been.
Partially saving the situation for my team, however, was Manu Ginoboli of the San Antonio Spurs, someone I'm able to get a bargain on seemingly every year. He's just another guy who does everything. Need points? He'll get them, he'll drop behind that 3-point line and start bombing. And he hits them. Need steals, he's pretty light-fingered, assists, no problemo. As well as he could play though, I still needed a little more consistency overall at the guard and forward spots. And I was most gratified to be able to grab both shooting guard Carlos Delfino on the Raptors and Andres Nocioni, a small forward from the Chicago Bulls. As it turns out they are both from
What the Argentines offer is consistency. They play hard every time out. They might not get the minutes of some of the other NBA stars, but they are productive every time out. They'll hit all the stat categories with the exception of turnovers. They pay attention. They're coachable. Unselfish. Imagine! In the NBA.
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
Coaches Add That Sumthin'....or Don't
It was Monday afternoon. I was trying to figure out whether Tom Brady, that marvel of a Patriots quarterback, would score 25 or more fantasy points that night. In looking at the past games, I determined that Brady had missed the "25" mark only once, that performance just last week against the Philadelphia Eagles. The following is an excerpt from my actual league posting:
hey ramsy, just fyi, and as you still have the BAL DEF on your roster, you might already know this and are just being coy, (yeah, that's right, coy), the Ravens have everybody back on D tonight except for Trevor Pryce, their DE.
McAllister, Rolle, Ed Reed, Landry are all in line.
If the Ravens play conservatively on offense and don't fumble, and play like madmen on Def like the Eagles did, it could even get interesting.
It surely did prove to be interesting, the game turning, I thought, on Billick's time-out.
Why is it always the Belichicks who have their full complement of timeouts at the end of the game? And it’s always the Billicks who call timeout for any reason whatsoever. I grow weary of these high-profile coaches who lose games for their teams. Joe Gibbs, Mike Shanahan, Mike Martz, Brian Schottenheimer of the Jets to name just a few.
But none can match KC’s Herm Edwards. In the Oakland game, withKansas City
Of course, some decisions are very tough. The really good coaches, though, seem to transcend the moment. With confidence in their players, with a total awareness of the situation and the opponent, they prevail; they live to fight another day.
hey ramsy, just fyi, and as you still have the BAL DEF on your roster, you might already know this and are just being coy, (yeah, that's right, coy), the Ravens have everybody back on D tonight except for Trevor Pryce, their DE.
McAllister, Rolle, Ed Reed, Landry are all in line.
If the Ravens play conservatively on offense and don't fumble, and play like madmen on Def like the Eagles did, it could even get interesting.
It surely did prove to be interesting, the game turning, I thought, on Billick's time-out.
Why is it always the Belichicks who have their full complement of timeouts at the end of the game? And it’s always the Billicks who call timeout for any reason whatsoever. I grow weary of these high-profile coaches who lose games for their teams. Joe Gibbs, Mike Shanahan, Mike Martz, Brian Schottenheimer of the Jets to name just a few.
But none can match KC’s Herm Edwards. In the Oakland game, with
Of course, some decisions are very tough. The really good coaches, though, seem to transcend the moment. With confidence in their players, with a total awareness of the situation and the opponent, they prevail; they live to fight another day.
Monday, December 3, 2007
Giants Get A Reprieve
After that terrible Giants performance against the Vikings, yesterday's Bears opponents were just what the doctor ordered. Despite a terrible showing by Eli Manning through three quarters and much of the fourth, the Bears, after taking a 16-7 lead, couldn't manage anything thereafter.
While the Giants defense has to be credited with at least part of the reason for the Bears' hopelessness, the Bears quarterback, Rex Grossman, was off-target at least 3 imes to his best wide-out, Bernard Berrian. On one sure TD pass, Devin Hester just dropped the ball.
So the Giants win again, but let's not anoint Eli as the savior just yet. His running game, yesterday in the hands of Derek Ward and the offensive line, opened things up for some late-game heroics. And the Giants defense discovered that, yes, they COULD stop the run, at least Chicago's run.
While the Giants defense has to be credited with at least part of the reason for the Bears' hopelessness, the Bears quarterback, Rex Grossman, was off-target at least 3 imes to his best wide-out, Bernard Berrian. On one sure TD pass, Devin Hester just dropped the ball.
So the Giants win again, but let's not anoint Eli as the savior just yet. His running game, yesterday in the hands of Derek Ward and the offensive line, opened things up for some late-game heroics. And the Giants defense discovered that, yes, they COULD stop the run, at least Chicago's run.
Friday, November 30, 2007
What's With the Knicks?
A team can't possibly play this badly, can it? Their 104-59 loss to the Celtics last night is totally inexplicable. Are the guys from Boston that good? Was it Quentin Richardon's comment regarding the Celtics bench? Do the players hate Isaiah? How can you beat the Jazz only to lose the next game by 45? And on national television!! All in all, it was a disgraceful performance.
I've been on Isaiah's side since he's been here, but if the Knicks' players won't play their hardest for him, James Dolan will be forced to make a change. On the other hand, it's just one game. If they lost by 2, it'd still be just one "L". I'm hoping they rebound quickly. It's a likeable team really, with guys like Jamal Crawford, Renaldo Balkman and Robinson. But the new guy, Zach Randolph, has to step up, along with Eddie Curry and Stephon.
Let me express my disappointment with the Mets trading Lastings Milledge away, and not getting much in return. I think that young man has some exciting baseball left in him.
I've been on Isaiah's side since he's been here, but if the Knicks' players won't play their hardest for him, James Dolan will be forced to make a change. On the other hand, it's just one game. If they lost by 2, it'd still be just one "L". I'm hoping they rebound quickly. It's a likeable team really, with guys like Jamal Crawford, Renaldo Balkman and Robinson. But the new guy, Zach Randolph, has to step up, along with Eddie Curry and Stephon.
Let me express my disappointment with the Mets trading Lastings Milledge away, and not getting much in return. I think that young man has some exciting baseball left in him.
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Pack and Celtics Will Win Tonight
Whatever happens tonight in the biggest NFL game of the year between the Cowboys and the Packers, I just hope the stars WON'T BE Tony Romo and/or Brett Favre. I'll be driving about 50 miles to my brother's house to see it on the NFL Network, that (alas) I don't have. And I'll be taping the Knicks-Celtics game at home.
Here's my predictions:
Packers 27 -Cowboys 24 - the Packers and Favre should be able to exploit the relatively weak Cowboys secondary. The Pack defense is very tough-Romo will have trouble early but will make up for it in a furious 2nd-half rush that will fall short.
Celtics 116-Knicks 113 - The Knicks have gotten tougher but not tough enough to vanquish the guys in green. Not unless they can start playing some defense.
What do you think? Let me know.
Here's my predictions:
Packers 27 -Cowboys 24 - the Packers and Favre should be able to exploit the relatively weak Cowboys secondary. The Pack defense is very tough-Romo will have trouble early but will make up for it in a furious 2nd-half rush that will fall short.
Celtics 116-Knicks 113 - The Knicks have gotten tougher but not tough enough to vanquish the guys in green. Not unless they can start playing some defense.
What do you think? Let me know.
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Knicks Save the Weekend
After the Jets and Giants were absolutely blasted by the Cowboys and Vikings over what had become a VERY long Thanksgiving wekend, the New York Knickerbockers, so berated from the opening tip of the season, stormed back against the Chicago Bulls and Utah Jazz to staunch the wounds NY suffered on Thursday and Sunday. Stephon Marbury and Jamal Crawford returned to playing together, taking care of the ball, and making aggressive moves to the basket. They even played some defense!
Not that they were alone in their efforts. Basketball is a team game and the Knicks were firing on all cylinders. Eddie Curry was a force in the paint, making a couple of textbook blocks yesterday and Zach Randolph minded the boards, played some defense and made some shots. David Lee did his thing in relief as did Richardson and, well, name a Knick, he did pretty well.
Surprising? Not to me. They had enough talent last year to gain a playoff berth. That they didn't was due to injuries to Crawford and Lee towards the end of the season. When they acquired Zach Randolph, a legitimate star at power forward, I thought he might just be the missing piece the Knicks needed .
Worse luck, though, a team couldn't have to start a season. Randolph had some nagging injuries and was allowed to leave the team for a death in the family. Marbury and Crawford were playing bad fundamental basketball. When Isaiah took Marbury to task about it, Stephon left in a huff. The local newspapers, anxious to blast Isaiah at every opportunity, jumped on the situation. AGAIN we had to hear about the opportunistic Anucha Brown Sanders, her sexual harasment suit and the poor decisions by James Dolan.
But the Knicks played really tough against the Bulls on Saturday. The Bulls had their backs against the wall themselves, off to a horrible start and anxious to bury another team that was down. It didn’t happen. The Knicks wouldn’t let it happen. Marbury, Randolph and Curry were the scoring leaders and Quentin Richardson pulled down 15 boards. They outrebounded the Bulls 52-42 while reducing their turnovers to 17, still too high but much better than the 27 they suffered in their previous debacle against the Golden State Warriors on Tuesday.
As good as they looked against the Bulls though, the Jazz would be a different matter. They were a playoff team, a big, strong, Western Conference playoff team. There was a strong feeling among observers that the Knicks would crash.
Instead, they soared. "I thought Marbury was great," Thomas said. "His leadership throughout the game, during the course of the game, his decision-making, his defense, his shot-making ability. Just from start to finish he was great. "Overall a good team effort, but No. 3 was really good tonight."
As good as Stephon was, Randolph was almost as good. He went 11-15 from the field and had only 3 turnovers. The Knicks as a team had only 13 turnovers and 6 blocked shots, two really big ones coming from Curry at critical points in the game. They hung on to win 113-109, a game nailed down by free throws from Jamal, who shot 7-16 from the field himself last night, with a lot of shakin’ and bakin’ along the way, one of which made the ESPN highlights for the night.
All in all, a great night for New Yorkers for, although the Knicks face a tough schedule ahead, there is now hope that they can deal with it, and perhaps make up for some games lost in their horrific start.
Not that they were alone in their efforts. Basketball is a team game and the Knicks were firing on all cylinders. Eddie Curry was a force in the paint, making a couple of textbook blocks yesterday and Zach Randolph minded the boards, played some defense and made some shots. David Lee did his thing in relief as did Richardson and, well, name a Knick, he did pretty well.
Surprising? Not to me. They had enough talent last year to gain a playoff berth. That they didn't was due to injuries to Crawford and Lee towards the end of the season. When they acquired Zach Randolph, a legitimate star at power forward, I thought he might just be the missing piece the Knicks needed .
Worse luck, though, a team couldn't have to start a season. Randolph had some nagging injuries and was allowed to leave the team for a death in the family. Marbury and Crawford were playing bad fundamental basketball. When Isaiah took Marbury to task about it, Stephon left in a huff. The local newspapers, anxious to blast Isaiah at every opportunity, jumped on the situation. AGAIN we had to hear about the opportunistic Anucha Brown Sanders, her sexual harasment suit and the poor decisions by James Dolan.
But the Knicks played really tough against the Bulls on Saturday. The Bulls had their backs against the wall themselves, off to a horrible start and anxious to bury another team that was down. It didn’t happen. The Knicks wouldn’t let it happen. Marbury, Randolph and Curry were the scoring leaders and Quentin Richardson pulled down 15 boards. They outrebounded the Bulls 52-42 while reducing their turnovers to 17, still too high but much better than the 27 they suffered in their previous debacle against the Golden State Warriors on Tuesday.
As good as they looked against the Bulls though, the Jazz would be a different matter. They were a playoff team, a big, strong, Western Conference playoff team. There was a strong feeling among observers that the Knicks would crash.
Instead, they soared. "I thought Marbury was great," Thomas said. "His leadership throughout the game, during the course of the game, his decision-making, his defense, his shot-making ability. Just from start to finish he was great. "Overall a good team effort, but No. 3 was really good tonight."
As good as Stephon was, Randolph was almost as good. He went 11-15 from the field and had only 3 turnovers. The Knicks as a team had only 13 turnovers and 6 blocked shots, two really big ones coming from Curry at critical points in the game. They hung on to win 113-109, a game nailed down by free throws from Jamal, who shot 7-16 from the field himself last night, with a lot of shakin’ and bakin’ along the way, one of which made the ESPN highlights for the night.
All in all, a great night for New Yorkers for, although the Knicks face a tough schedule ahead, there is now hope that they can deal with it, and perhaps make up for some games lost in their horrific start.
Monday, November 26, 2007
A Vote For Eli
It's too bad Eli Manning has to take the brunt of the criticism for yesterday's 4-interception debacle vs. the Vikings. Poor route-running by the receivers, a too-conservative game plan and the failure to change that plan are just as responsible as Eli was for the interceptions.
Jeremy Shockey did not read the blitz on the first interception, thus failing to run the route Eli expected. Any pass to their injured top receiver, Plaxico Burress, has become an adventure. Sinorice Moss, a speedster, never gets an opportunity to stretch the field. The usually-reliable Amani Toomer dropped at least one yesterday. The offensive line did not seem to adjust to the Vikings' "rush in Eli's face" strategy, nor did the game plan change to allow for more roll-out passes or max-protect schemes. One interception was a deflection, of course.
The media blitz today, especially by WFAN, is totally unfair. Chris Russo, for example, is harping on the fact that Eli hasn't improved. Of course he's improved. What HASN'T improved is the coaching staff. It still retains the same unimaginative, disciplinarian, slow-witted style of Tom Coughlin, the head coach.
Of course, Eli Manning can be a better quarterback. But even his brother Peyton and Tom Brady yesterday against the Eagles showed the effects that constant pressure and poor receivers can have on a team's overall performance. And those QB's have a running game. The G-Men had none yesterday, with injuries to both Jacobs and Ward. Prior to yesterday, Reuben Droughns had been a short-yardage specialist.
So give Eli a pass on yesterday. It was just one of those days. He'll improve with a more imaginative offensive scheme, ot at least one that can be adapted to whatever the defense is doing. And hope for a coaching change for 2008.
Callaway Golf Equipment from 3balls Golf
Jeremy Shockey did not read the blitz on the first interception, thus failing to run the route Eli expected. Any pass to their injured top receiver, Plaxico Burress, has become an adventure. Sinorice Moss, a speedster, never gets an opportunity to stretch the field. The usually-reliable Amani Toomer dropped at least one yesterday. The offensive line did not seem to adjust to the Vikings' "rush in Eli's face" strategy, nor did the game plan change to allow for more roll-out passes or max-protect schemes. One interception was a deflection, of course.
The media blitz today, especially by WFAN, is totally unfair. Chris Russo, for example, is harping on the fact that Eli hasn't improved. Of course he's improved. What HASN'T improved is the coaching staff. It still retains the same unimaginative, disciplinarian, slow-witted style of Tom Coughlin, the head coach.
Of course, Eli Manning can be a better quarterback. But even his brother Peyton and Tom Brady yesterday against the Eagles showed the effects that constant pressure and poor receivers can have on a team's overall performance. And those QB's have a running game. The G-Men had none yesterday, with injuries to both Jacobs and Ward. Prior to yesterday, Reuben Droughns had been a short-yardage specialist.
So give Eli a pass on yesterday. It was just one of those days. He'll improve with a more imaginative offensive scheme, ot at least one that can be adapted to whatever the defense is doing. And hope for a coaching change for 2008.
Callaway Golf Equipment from 3balls Golf
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