Important News: Relocation To Vegas!

February 1, 2010

About a year ago, Las Vegas casino tycoon Steve Wynn told 60 Minutes that he has never seen anyone “over a stretch of time” stay ahead of the casino, and he certainly never saw anyone that walked away while winning big.

“The only way to win in a casino is to own one,” Wynn concluded.

Obviously Wynn has never seen the Washington Nationals play.

You mean to tell me that if I spent a summer in Vegas betting only against the Nationals or a winter betting only against the New Jersey Nets, Detroit Lions or Washington State University Cougar football program, that I would lose all my discretionary income?

A friend once told me, "When I die, I want heaven to be a sports book." Well The Bible never did specifically condemn gambling.

It’s been two full years since I officially entered the real world as a college graduate with a degree in print journalism. I have earned exactly $0.00 as a result of that degree. But forget the money for a second, because for every rich sports reporter, there are 100 more who are willing to work part time at Target during the holidays. Every single one of us that ever got into the reporting part of the business did it for one reason and one reason alone: not because they loved to write (although that helps), but because they saw it as an opportunity to become involved. You’re not just a fan anymore. You have access to free stat sheets, interviews, Diet Cokes and sandwiches.

Vegas can give me the opportunity to finally start earning some valuable sports reporting experience (albeit unorthodox) in return for my attempt to accurately prognosticating athletic events. If I have to work at an In And Out Burger to support myself I will…this is journalism.

The mission plan is simple: For one year to bet on (and blog about) an average of one sporting event daily. No more than $20 a day, no less than the minimum (which I believe is $5) per bet. There will be another stipulation to follow, however, what I have in mind is still very tentative: I’m thinking on betting on favorites, and favorites only.

Akin to NASCAR opening its season with the showcasing of it’s Golden Goose, The Daytona 500, Fish Food will advent a year of betting and blogging during a certain celebration of time that has become such a national phenomenon that Gambler’s Anonymous deems it their busy season: March.

And when I say March, sports fans, you imagine: buzzer beaters, office pools, One Shining Moment, a #12 seed beating a #5 seed, Greg Gumbel’s jheri curl, creating jobs in the television-ready garage in order to control the wife’s busy body tendencies, and calling in sick because you live in Carlsbad, CA, and your alma mater, Syracuse, tips off at 9:07 AM PST on the opening Thursday.

The ever steady Greg Gumbel.

I’ll even give you a sneak preview of who I will be laying action on nearly two months ahead of time: The four No. 1 seeds.

And when my year is over, even if I come out only $1 ahead, then I will frame that sonofabitch (that I hope to be autographed by Wynn himself). I’m going for the research aspect; to answer some faqs, to shed light for the Average Joe who happens to be in Vegas during the NFL’s Championship weekend and feel inclined to bet on the games. These are the guys who are drunk from the atmosphere, and bet $50 on the Saints (-3 ½) to win the NFC Championship, and by not betting on Peyton Manning (I bet the under, 39, in the game), theoretically bet Against Peyton Manning in the AFC Championship.

Here are the valuable lessons I already learned during a recent rendezvous in Vegas, in which I brought a $200 gambling allowance ($100 of which I mistakenly bet on the NFL’s most difficult weekend to gamble on).

1. The golden rule of gambling: always bet with your head and instincts as opposed to your heart, or what your favorite ESPN pundit tells you to do. While it might be widely known as the golden rule of sports gambling, in Vegas it comes with an asterisk because the point spreads can so often neutralize it. I said back in December, that if Minnesota were in the NFC Championship game against the Saints, I would bet on the former because I thought they could run the ball to win.

My Father said to stay away from the game, citing that the point spread was to close to call.

At least one of us was actually thinking.

Because my heart, imagination, ego, a nicotine buzz, whatever you want to call it was thinking for me, “Perhaps there is something supernatural going on with the Saints right now. Something tells me this is their year!”

And that is how you lose in Vegas, my friends.

Lesson learned. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.

As sure as "humans and fish can coexist peacefully," Mr. President, I'm just as sure that I can't get fooled by Vegas a second time.

2.      Never, ever, ever, ever bet against a legend while he is currently playing A.) at the highest level we will ever see him play along with B.) a healthy, talented supporting cast, and C.) while he’s performing on his home turf.

Of course I am referring to Peyton Manning. I figured the Colts would win, but I was sure the Jets running game and defense would continue to somewhat dictate the rhythm of the game like they had been doing against the likes of quarterbacks Carson Palmer and Philip Rivers. Those guys are very good, but Manning, who is ESPN’s white knight at the moment, is great.

Looking out for No. 1

I ran this whole idea by a beloved family member, of whom I will keep anonymous. Here is the email reply I received:

On Vegas:  I think the idea is good; but needs lots and lots of thought and planning.  Betting $5 a day for a year is $1800.  Vegas is a real cesspool for a lot of really, really bad, corrupt people who take advantage of and kill nice people.  Check the murder rates, they are not good.  I am not saying it would be bad; but I would plan out your idea a bit and through it out to a few friends to see what they think.  The gambling world is pretty mafia ridden and very, very corrupt, as I said before. Just an arena that you may not want to delve into.  You have time to think about this; so take it slow  (if you want my advice .

When I read this email, I couldn’t help but laugh a little bit. But at the same time, I see where this family member is coming from: the temptation culture in Vegas can make even Times Square look like suburban Salt Lake City in some ways. For instance, porn is not distributed freely in Times Square the way it comes in droves, at every angle, from those card-snapping Jabbawockeez on the Vegas strip.

Here's what I look like now...

...and if I'm not careful, I could turn into a Bad Blake type.

Before I commit to this “project”, I am going to have to lay down a few fixed ground rules to help keep me from regressing toward any sort of serious gambling problem. This way, I can give myself the best possible chance not only to succeed journalistically, but also to stay out of any kind of trouble that looms the same way whiskey did over Bad Blake’s country music career. Until I come up with a mission statement, here’s what my instincts are bargaining for:

1.)   It’s for the writing:

I will now become a committed blogger. The gambling just gives me the right to sit and watch a game on a television. If I win, great. If I lose, then I only paid $5 to watch LeBron James thunderdunk a time or two on a television with a larger circumference than a swimming pool. The Fish Food blog, with the exception of the occasional sick day, or trip out of town for holidays or whatever, should have no less than 300 entries in pertinence to gambling with my $5 a day allowance.

The goal, ideally, would be to submit 365 entries in 365 days. But today, writing from New York, in February, who knows? I don’t even know where my internet access will come from, or what my real world schedule will look like.

I promise you'll never see me out gambling during the 3 AM - 11 AM "skank shift" like these two famous fictional bachelors once did.

2.)   Quality of living:

I am a lot of things. White Trash is not one of them. If I have to position “The Club” on the wheel of my beige ’94 Corolla every night, then I may need to re-think about that full-time elementary school janitorial gig back home in Mayberry, Washington State.

I’ve lived in the back of my old pickup truck before (MLB spring training, Viera, FL, 2008). I’ve slept on an air mattress when I was living in Hartford, CT, while interning at The Courant for a summer. Even here in New York, I’ve put up with living an hour away from my everyday job, East Queens to the upper, upper West Side of Manhattan and back by subway, because its an “eat off the sidewalks” clean and serene neighborhood in Queens.

While I have dealt with my fare share of what normal people would categorize as extraneous obstacles that stand in the way of reaching my own little exalted station in life, I still have a rational side. I have no qualms with reeling the pole in from the lake of dreams at once and for all at any moment. Hemingway’s old man Santiago went 80-something days without catching a fish. The difference between Santiago and I is this: he would go out searching for his catch, whereas my opportunities seem to find me. And when opportunity knocks, you know the rest.

So if I can’t find a respectable place to live in Vegas, then I’m willing to submit that all of this was just one big delusion of grandeur.

Worst case scenario; I’ll still be able to put some action on the tourney.

Greenies! The Fatigue Coma’s Worst Enemy

Big Mac admitted to using steroids. Now its time to focus on Selig's compulsive, pedantic decision to outlaw amphetamines.

It’s been roughly five years since the infamous “I’m not here to talk about the past” statement issued by former homerun hero, Mark McGwire, during the 2005 congressional hearings. Among other highlights of that day included Rafael Palmeiro pointing the wrong finger at politicians, taddle tale Jose Canseco flinching only 38 times (Who had more in the integrity tank on this day: Canseco or all the US congressman on that panel combined?), commissioner Bud Selig asking Rep. William Macy Clay if he was related to an unfortunate boxer from Louisville, and Sammy Sosa was black.

Since then, talk about more than one way to skin a cat: everything that could have been written or spoken about on the topic of steroids in baseball and society has been touched upon-to the point that even hard breaking news flashes, like days ago when McGwire finally admitted steroids don’t help you hit homeruns, couldn’t even make the average sports fan flinch.

The fans are ready to move on. Even Selig assures us that the steroid era is behind us, but what does this mean, in the long term, for the health of the players now?

Starving for greenies, that’s what.

In hindsight, Bud Selig got off way too easily-from 2005 to present day-when he outlawed the average ballplayer’s lifeblood: amphetamines. He dropped a Donkey Kong-sized hammer when he did that, because there’s no safe way to resuscitate the average ballplayer’s lifeblood back into the game. It would send the wrong message and make Selig look indecisive and even more geriatric than before. To emphasize my point, nobody would have given a damn if Selig had never mentioned the word amphetamine in the first place.

Just how important were amphetamines, more specifically the highly popular “Greenies”, to the average ball player in say, the dog days of August?

Like texting, MTV and chewing gum is to teens; the association of greenies, canned beer, cougars and fastballs is to baseball players.

One ballplayer who spoke under the condition of anonymity once told me this about cougars: "Their behinds are just a lot softer."

Janitors and history teachers habitually jingle keys and loose change in their pockets. For more than half a century, ballplayers once did the same with greenies.

Take a look at the definition of amphetamines, according to Wikipedia: a psychostimulant drug that is known to produce increased wakefulness and focus in association with decreased fatigue and appetite.

When I read that I think of only a handful of professions that rely on the effects of amphetamines more than pro baseball players: NORAD surveillance associates, graveyard shift talk radio workers, air traffic controllers, seamen, truck drivers, and strippers to along with every other pro athlete.

Here’s a detailed routine for the average ballplayer on the road for a Saturday in August:

*You literally roll out of bed at 10 AM, one hour before you need to be on the bus in the hotel’s parking lot.

*You get showered/cleaned up, call your girlfriend while on your way over to the IHOP next door for an all you can crush pancake special for $7.99 with your roommate and another teammate or two.

*The bus arrives to the park, and it takes a busload of professional athletes, who are supposed to be in the best shape of anyone in a given zip code, longer to get off the bus than it would if senior citizens were in their place.

*They all shuffle from the bus to the locker room, because their legs, which feel like Smucker’s, work as if they’re ankles are tied to cinderblocks.

*Rock, Paper, Scissor matchups abound as everyone, bus driver included, needs to see the trainer.

That was post greenies. Here’s what it looked like in 2004, before Bud decided to go Scientology on everyone:

Rookie walks into the training room. He’s in Double A and having a productive year, batting .299 but battling extreme fatigue, concerned that he needs a day off. With September call ups just around the corner, taking a day off would make about as much sense as taking a Perfect “10” to the Sizzler on a first date. He asks the trainer for help:

The trainer puts his Mad Libs book down, and looks at the player for a solid minute, then asks him which newspaper he is with.

The rookie explains that he’s playing rightfield, then shows two forms of I.D.: his license and the lineup card.

The trainer tells the rookie to just go ahead and grab a few of “those guys” from the candy dish on his desk.

The rookie hesitates a little and appears confused. After all, he has been subjected to at least 15 good practical jokes this season.

“Trust me.” The trainer insists.

The rookie nods the head, grabs a few greenies and responds with, “Is it safe to mix these with Johimbe Bark?”

“If you are that worried, I’ll prescribe you my starter kit,” the trainer scoffs. “It’s still an amphetamine, but the dosage is more female friendly.”

“Well what is it?” The rookie shrugs.

“They call it the Beijing Cocktail,” the trainer responds. “Two ibuprofen and two Aleve. You’ll be on cloud nine for one game, but you’ll want these here ‘greenies’ this time tomorrow, I assure you.”

The players are always going to find a way to curb the aches and pains. The pain plays evil games with their conscious. Now the most elementary of pain relievers is forever gone: Amphetamines were a step above a cup of freaking Starbucks for goodness sakes! And more sex does not help you get out of bed for a 1 PM first pitch on a Saturday.

Selig will tell you that going to bed at a reasonable hour, consuming vitamins and wholesome foods like bananas, apples, sweet potatoes, 100% natural Florida Orange Juice, and getting your prostate checked early will suffice.

If Troy McClure were still alive, he would be pedaling something to combat pain and fatigue via infomercial, no doubt.

Baseball is going to need to give its employees a morale booster. Players might be expendable, but still, this is not a restaurant. Have some compassion. Baseball has got to figure out a way to get amphetamines back into the game.

If amphetamines are legal for Bud Selig to take during the 7th inning stretch in game two of a Brewer-Pirate double header, then they should certainly be legal for a pitcher who can barely lift his arm to wash his hair after pitching for 6 straight days.

Steroids were a want. Amphetamines are a necessity.

NFL Wild Card Playoff Preview: It’s Romo and Sanchez Against The World

Dialogue from owner to rookie QB in 1980: Okay kid, sign on the dotted line for your money, a guaranteed roster spot, and some snaps with the second string in the preseason. We'll even throw in the clipboard. Now don't go and spend it all on carphones and caviar; and I'll talk to you again in two seasons when you're ready to lead this franchise. Hell my family has helped send boys to 'Nam so you could have this kind of opportunity. And if I find out you are a liberal you'll never see the field. Rookie: Yessir.

You may have heard something about how far-fetched the media and fan expectations alike can be for a quarterback representing a team based out of New York City. One could argue that there is only one brief period of time that, Super Bowl win aside, the media will even consider playing nice with the man under center: his draft day. Just ask Jets rookie quarterback Mark Sanchez.

The New York Posts of the world will contend that the Jets made it to the playoffs despite Sanchez, a top five overall pick in the 2009 NFL Draft. This is a story for another day, but a wise bartender recently told me, in Welles conviction, that the NYC media manipulates how the average person not only views news, but even thinks. Let’s take it a step further: could the media actually dictate how the average NFL coaching staff thinks, too?

Did Sanchez start primarily for business purposes? Because the old formula called to insert the veteran quarterback atop the depth chart, in this case Kellen Clemens, to manage the offense for the season while Sanchez studies, absorbs.

Would Sanchez even have started a game his first season-or even the following season for that matter-if he was drafted the same year as John Elway? Sanchez would most likely have been the emergency quarterback for the Jets in 1983.

Another tabloid of the Big Apple variety, AM New York, put Sanchez on their cover on Friday, and had the temerity to dress it with a headline that stated: “Step Up, Pretty Boy.”

Remember when rookies had little to no expectations headed into their rookie year? I don’t either.

As for Sanchez’s matchup in Cincinnati versus the AFC North Champion Bengals on Saturday, expect to see some offensive firepower, with touchdowns for all. Just kidding. This one will be decided by a drive killing lost fumble, big returns, silly penalties, or whatever NBC commentator Joe Theismann tells you. Bengals 23, Jets 13

Theismann is known for three things: Winning, talking, and L.T.

Then there is the guy who came into the NFL undrafted, and with that, exotically 100% free of expectation: Tony Romo. Now he is expected to lead Dallas to a Super Bowl. To me, his status is the most intriguing storyline in the 2010 NFL Playoffs.

One of the more infrequent and special moments of emotional display in sport is when you see the monkey jumping off a quarterback’s shoulders and subsequently making a mad dash to the exit sign after the maligned QB finally won “The Big One.” I’m thinking Steve Young, Elway, even Eli Manning. There is a good chance we will see that kind of celebration this season, if Dallas quarterback Tony Romo and the Cowboys can continue to play the way they have been playing in December and into January.

To this point, Tony Romo's playoff legacy is branded by his walk-off, dropped snap of a potential game-winning field goal in Seattle.

If Romo beats Philly on Saturday night, he will have won his first playoff game as the starting quarterback of the Cowboys. Fair or unfair, winning is the only way to reverse the curse of the monkey in sports. If the Cowboys lose, even if Romo plays great, he will continue to be the focus of Dallas’s post-Aikman, Irvin, Emmitt postseason futility.

Hall of Fame quarterback Phil Simms, who hates everything about the term, “can’t win the Big One,” recently spoke on Romo’s behalf on WFAN radio in New York. Simms likened Romo’s situation to John Elway in the 80’s, “If it weren’t for him, they wouldn’t be in the Big Game!”

Hello front desk? Yeah we're just about done here, but I'm concerned that I may have left the iron on in my room...Thank you. And could you have him bring some more towels?

The general perception on Romo, despite the fact that he shows flashes of making the game look easy (which few athletes have the capability of doing), is that he is not a winner. Unfortunately for Romo, a consummate entertainer in the entertainment industry, great athletes are chiefly defined by winning and losing. It may not be fair, but it’s what makes sports an entity.

What gives the Romo angle even more juice, or sport related irony, is that he is going up against a veteran quarterback in Donovan McNabb, whose own career has been dissected and scrutinized on a Marino/Barkley/Ewing like level as well.

Romo and the Cowboys will continue to feed the Eagles Alka-Seltzer in the 2009/10 season. Cowboys 20, Eagles 16

The game that nobody is spending much time talking about is Baltimore at New England. Why do you think that is? The explanation is simple, these two teams can be labeled as Underachievers, or perhaps more appropriately, Pretenders, for the 2009-10 campaign. For further explanation, look no further than Fish Food, which in the preseason prognosticated Baltimore as AFC Champs (to go along with Green Bay in the NFC). In defense of that bold prediction, I don’t think anybody outside of the Raven organization really understood just how much former defensive coordinator and current Jets rookie head coach Rex Ryan contributed to the Ravens identity and success. After all, look at what Ryan is doing with a depleted Jets roster. Not to mention the eggshells that surround his offensive game planning with a rookie quarterback, he long ago lost arguably his best defensive and offensive playmakers for the season in tackle Kris Jenkins and running back Leon Washington. Yet somehow, the J-E-T-S lead the NFL in rushing at total defense. It truly is one of the more remarkable feats in the NFL this season.

Back to the Ravens: so in essence, Baltimore had to redefine who they were on defense in 2009 after losing Ryan, who is most deserving of the NFL’s coach of the year award.

As for the Pats, anytime you have a quarterback like Tom Brady (or Colt McCoy), obviously, you have a chance in any game, anywhere. Brady loses Wes Welker, but he still has God’s own prototype for wideouts in Randy Moss. But a quarterback can only account for his own offense, not the opponents. NFL pundits and sports radio hosts insist that the Patriots defense is average at best. To be more specific we ask: Where does the Patriot pass rush come from?

The Pats need Hoody's IQ like they've never needed it before.

Nobody really expects either one of these teams to make any noise in the playoffs, but someone has to win this one and advance. PATS 22, Ravens 16

Finally, we get around to Green Bay at Arizona, where it is reported that Cheeseheads may occupy at least half of the seats at Phoenix Community College Online Stadium.

While we love all that the McNabb vs Romo matchup entails, we actually expect to see better numbers between felllow quarterbacks Aaron Rodgers and Kurt Warner. The Packers typically win when Rodgers has enough time on a continual basis to make his reads downfield. Arizona wins when the offense plays a complete game, as they proved in their Super Bowl run last season, when the running game emerged out of nowhere. Both of these quarterbacks need help, respectively, in different ways in order to gracefully play the offensive piano. We’re going to assume it will be the Rodgers and the Pack on Sunday.

Packers 27, Cardinals 20

Proof of Life: New York, It’s Yankees And The American Dream

Like a good perfume smells better on Penelope Cruz, championships, perhaps, are best celebrated at baseball’s cathedral.

They are now a 27 time World Champion. Whether you love them or hate them, you’re a capitalist or a socialist; the Yankees should be respected by every American because they are synonymous with winning and excellence.

By no means are the Yankees a model of perfection, however; but do you think you get to the top in America and stay there by shining everyone’s shoes without subsequently tying the laces together? Not only did they fire Joe Torre, but also proceeded to remind him on his way out that there was always a TV gig waiting for him on the franchise owned and operated YES Network. Now that’s the sound of the door hitting you on your way out. While I love Torre as much as the next guy, last I checked the future hall of fame manager is probably going to make a lot more money with the Dodgers than you or I would in 10 lifetimes. And don’t put too much stock into the “Evil Empire” propaganda. It was the Red Sox who decided Willie Mays wasn’t worth a tryout because it was raining and didn’t even hire a black man to play ball full time until after the Boston Bruins-a hockey team-did so. True Story.

In brief, here’s a taste from my vantage point on Wednesday evening, amongst a Bronx party like it was 1999…

7:00 pm: I’m walking to Grand Central Station via 42^nd street with Bryant Park at my immediate right. In the park’s background was the sweetest sight my eyes laid on all day-at a projected 150 yards away, the automatic pilot thankfully malfunctions as I marvel at a blue and white-lit Empire State Building. For those of us living in this town whom are blessed to be green enough to, on occasion, appreciate the paragons, this was the definition of a stop and pinch yourself moment. The only thing missing in this backdrop was the Bat Signal itself.

7:15 pm: Waiting for the Bronx bound #4 train at Grand Central station. In the words of Carly Simon: Anticipation is making me wait. I’m excited for the opportunity to be a part of a cultural phenomenon.

7:35 pm: Circus clowns in a slug bug had nothing on this train car. You know how toothpicks sometimes come in a plastic cylinder shaped tube by the hundreds? You have to grab the tweezers from the medicine cabinet just to get the first toothpick out. That was my ride to Yankee Stadium. Only Raymond Babbitt could have come close to estimating just how many people were actually crammed into the car. I could only guess it was something comparable to a mid-town morning rush hour ride squared to the fifth power.

(And in this week’s installment of the popular “Irony is also a Funny Thing” segment: Leave it to the fattest guy on the sub car, who during one of the stops along the way, in typical New Yorker fashion quibbles, “It’s a nice view out there. Why don’t some of you get off and check it out.”)

8:00 pm: Fathers, sons and daughters are still lobbying for tickets for the sold out event. A recorded Mary J. Blidge could be heard singing the national anthem. The DirecTv blimp is seemingly a stone’s throw above us. A mile of media vans equipped with large satellite dishes line the streets. This was my second “pinch me” moment within an hour. Ron Burgundy would describe this event as, “kind of a big deal.”

8:30 pm: My party and I finally make our way to the big screen television section at “The Dugout” directly across the street from the ballpark.

It was the Animal House Toga Party all over again: only Yankee jerseys posed as the event garb, everyone was John Belushi, and a one man band that goes by the name of “Godzilla” performed heroically in place of Otis Day & The Knights. Hideki Matsui** slugged an early two-run “Shama-lama-ding-dong” over the right field fence off of Pedro Martinez, and the Bronx Bombers never looked back.

**Matsui is a free agent at the end of the season. Before Wednesday night, he was perhaps better known around baseball for his exceptionally abundant collection of pornography. Now that he can go into the off-season with a very friendly bidding tag of “World Series MVP,” that could leave a general manager no choice but to throw enough scrill in Godzilla’s way to actually buy Jenna Jameson herself.

8:45 pm: The best fandom chant that modern day sport has to offer is heard-in a synchronization nonetheless-when Yankee catcher Jorge (pronounced Hore-Hay) Posada steps to the plate. All together now (x20): HIP, HIP, HORE-HAY!

(To say New York sports fans are the most sophisticated in sports is a misconception. Every time a Yankee bat hit the ball, even when the ball flared out of play, the fans blew up in chorus likeable to the way Seattle fans at Safeco field do when Ken Griffey Jr. hits a home run. Maybe I’ll give them the “caught in the moment” pass this time around.)

Maybe this was the kind of primitive hoopla that would have had an evangelical like Ned Flanders think twice about the theory of evolution after all.

Either way, this was definitely a senior thesis goldmine for current sociology majors. (Picture below is case in point).

This guy thought Yankee fans would be throwing toilets from the mezzanine after the game was over.

———————————————————————————————————–

I didn’t go to the Bronx in search of the American Dream on Wednesday night. The quagmire itself just played out in front of me, while surrendering my psyche for the next three days trying to do my best to (re)define it. You could even say the whispering devil inhibited my left shoulder, and a hymning angel floated about my right side. The Devil said that this is good for the city, which is currently under the spell of an unemployment rate that is being oft mentioned in the same sentence as the Great Depression. Parties and parades will be had. Shirts, jerseys, DVD’s, Hats, newspapers and any and all Yankee paraphernalia will be consumed by all and make people happy again. Pleasure for all!

The angel said we are all God’s children. The black, the white, the brown, the privileged, the underprivileged, the whores, the virgins, the young, the old, the gay, the straight, the moderately smart, and the very, very stupid to come together for one common purpose: to cheer for someone else’s success (albeit vicariously) and to enjoy each other’s company in the process.

I had a few beers while hanging at the aforementioned bar/frat house, and I remember thinking, “I can’t even feel this. I am already intoxicated from spirits in the air.”

But that’s the big part of the Yankees essence that-in one true way-takes on the personality of New York City itself: It gives just enough power and opportunity to the little guy to make he/she feel important. Like you are part of something bigger.

The American Dream, unlike the on-field success of the New York Yankees, does not come and go. The American Dream, like beauty, is in the eye of the beholder. It’s not something you can hold in your hand, but every once in a while we experience grand events like these that remind us why this is still hope for America. Even as a self-admitted cynic of the average sport fan-or average American for that matter-what I saw on the streets surrounding Yankee Stadium was The American Dream (and it did have the feeling I assume I would have encountering a sasquatch, the Loch Ness Monster, or an entry level job offer at a major media outlet).

We flexed our freedom muscles that night. Even more, I saw thousands of people in the same vicinity, but saw nothing to scoff at. The Forefathers would be proud. Strangers were high-fiving each other. I heard at least, get this, five male New Yorkers say, “excuse me,” after bumping into someone else. I saw another two males acting chivalrous towards females. Hobos had dollar bills in their collection hats as opposed to corroded pennies. According to various local news reports the following morning, the only arrests that were made involved fans jumping on top of taxi cabs-and that may as well happen everyday.

This majestic night in the Bronx, using sports as its platform, showed us what sports can do that a relaxing Sunday at the Brooklyn Flea Market can’t: Sports in America still has the unmatched capability to connect all the dots that form society.

As long as we are capable of doing just that, then maybe the USA is not a dynasty that will ultimately crumble after all.

Because the only thing prettier than seeing LeBron James power his way to the basket en route to a powerful slam dunk, is seeing an abundance of civilians come together to form one giant smile.

Halloween ‘09: Tuna Reigns Supreme

"Well there's something you don't see everyday!" - Bill Murray as Dr. Peter Venkman in the feature film, Ghostbusters.

“Around and around we go, forever seeking the lost axis, the big equalizer that Santa Claus took with him when he died.” – Hunter S. Thompson

When people ask me what I did to celebrate Halloween, as a resident of New York City, I tell them I rode the subway for more than an hour.**

The end of every month for me is scary. The final day of October was punctuated with Halloween, which has come and gone, and along with it, $700 more towards rent and transportation for the month succeeding.

With my New York State food stamp application still at large, needless to say, I could not afford to “go out” on the holiday formerly centered around children. I actually overheard a young lady on the street say this on her cell phone yesterday: “I have a favor to ask you…Can I borrow, like, $40 for Jack and Macy’s costumes? It’s just that I spent $170 on my (10 square inch) costume and I want to go to Rick and Andrea’s party.”

Forget that catchy ad campaign-America is not running on Dunkin’ (Donuts). America is runnin’ on Prozac, martinis, Bud Light Lime, 18% interest rates and the clap. Then ice that cake with the one evening holiday that has made it socially acceptable to not only drink as much but wear Whatever You Want (not to mention throw your kids under the baby sitter bus), and a living nightmare is created.

For a majority of adults, Halloween has undoubtedly replaced Christmas, Thanksgiving, or New Years as our favorite holiday. That singular, anticipatory feeling that once caused us to lose sleep knowing Santa was going to make our year the following morning has reinvented itself in the name of Captain Jack Sparrow. We yearn to relive our childhood from time to time, and Halloween is an adult friendly holiday that allows us to act the way we did when it was normal to crap our pants.

The evolution of the artful holiday of Halloween: from trick or treating with Mom and Dad to putting on a disguise and putting down some Jager Bombs! with a pirate hooker.

Every adult with a credit card goes ape shit for this holiday, talking about their costume and plans faster than a nose guard ordering at a Wendy’s counter. For me, when I can afford it, it’s just a great excuse to throw on a football jersey and watch the firework display with my friends from the CPA over a pitcher or two of Sam Adams.

This is what I wanted to wear...

...but a simple football jersey will suffice.

Here’s what I still like about Halloween:

Creativity-Though finding a Halloween costume that makes you look twice (sex appeal aside) is few and far between.

Candles and Candy Corns-What I really love about Halloween is the abundance of cheap thrills, most notably, scary movies, candy, pumpkin carving & other art decor, and of course, “The Simpsons Treehouse of Horror” television program.

The Originals-While it may be a contrast from the former, I always respect the guy or gal who is willing to dress up and celebrate one of the original monsters, i.e.; Dracula, Frankenstein or his wife, a classic witch, a skeleton, a mummy, a devil or the Wolf Man. You simply cannot enjoy the essence of Halloween without the influence of the original icons. They paved the way for the influx of the Elvira variations we see today.

A temporary identity- It’s not for everyone, though. For example, I’m a writer who happens to work as a janitor full time in order to pay the bills. Pretending to be someone I’m not for 40 hours a week is what I currently do for a living. However, if I had a date for the evening, once again, it’s a great excuse to wear a football or baseball jersey. If that’s not scary enough for you, then obviously you’ve never sat in the bleacher seats at Yankee stadium.

Here’s what I don’t like about Halloween:

Adults over kids-You may think I’m needlessly flashing my high beams here, but there are adults out there who, in the line of self-absorption, will cut in front of the little devils and ninjas. I’m willing to bet money that there is a mom, pop or two out there that had to use their last quarter this morning to inform their 12 year old that he or she would be on their own for dinner on Sunday night, to be sure to set the clocks back an hour, and to put the clothes in the drier.

Tobin Bell, star of the popular horror film series “Saw”, is a baseball coach. And according to Sports Illustrated, on occasion, he has obliged the children with his “Jigsaw” voice in order to get them to do what he wants.

Homer once sold his soul to the devil for a doughnut, while the mysterious lady I rode next to on the subway might as well have traded her cat in for a tunabagel.

**At last, its not what I did to celebrate Halloween, by riding the subway, its who I saw: A round old lady who talked like a Tele Tubby, carrying a small plastic animal traveling case (seemingly for a cat or small dog). She cooed at the compartment on her lap, after all, the animal was probably nervous. I know I was. Five minutes later, she pulled out a Dunkin’ Donuts tuna fish on a bagel from the same case. I don’t know which part of this situation was scariest. After seeing that I purposely missed my stop and hung around for another four stops until I had clear, visual evidence that there was or wasn’t an animal in there after all. The old lady finished the tuna fish bagel without sending any back to the cage. That’s when I knew the answer: no cat lover would withhold a bite of tuna from her beloved feline. She was indeed treating the tuna bagel as if it was a pet.

On Sunday, she will have a stomach ache. On Monday, I’ll be a janitor. Live Goes On.

World Series Preview

I do have a thing for red heads. And there’s something about blondes that can start wars.

But sexually, the experts say, humans are most attracted to those with similar physical features to their own, especially hair color. The theory holds true for me, I guess, as a dark brown haired individual; my eyes are definitely habitués of the brunette mold. I’ll even go as far as I proclaiming Jennifer Love Hewitt as the most beautiful woman on earth. I once turned on a large HDTV, and Ms. Hewitt’s show, “The Ghost Whisperer” was on. It wasn’t until about ten minutes later, or until the next commercial break, that I realized that the sound wasn’t even on. Her natural beauty mesmerized me. On the surface, Ms. Hewitt appears to be free of physical imperfections. She has a million dollar smile, a bold and beautiful facial complexion, and an hourglass figure that ensures the coveted Perfect “10” rating.

Rock & Roll, Hootchie Coo! Jennifer Love Hewitt is sugar, spice, everything nice and then some.

But let’s say, hypothetically, hard visual evidence was released that she in fact had nose job done before she burgeoned into a big time celeb. Or god forbid, she is actually a blonde, and spends hundreds of thousands to disguise her original hair color. Presently, at 30 years old, supposedly a woman’s prime, she may even have had her breasts augmented already. Would I still consider her the most beautiful woman in the world if I knew that she was not All Natural?

Well yeah I would…but…

Isn’t the J-LoH factor fall under the same principal as the mother who has two children, but one of them is adopted.  Does she love both of them equally?

Well yeah, but…

In the same ballpark is the situation of a good friend of mine who recently married the “It” girl from high school. Not the golden prize “It” girl, I’m referring to the one who had a knack for turning boys into men, including three of the groomsmen. Anyways, the newlyweds will live happily ever after, right?

I’m sure, yeah, but…

Damon wrote history with the rest of the Boston "Idiots" in Yankee Stadium in 2004.

Speaking of ballparks, the World Series will begin on Wednesday from the New Yankee Stadium, as the Bronx Bombers will take on the defending Champion Philadelphia Phillies. This is the most highly anticipated (and most attractive) World Series matchup in recent memory. You could say 3 out of 4 baseball prognosticators and fans alike would probably assert that the two best teams Major League Baseball has to offer in 2009 will go head to head for all the cashews.

If I’m a Phillies fan, I’m thinking that if we win this series, we will have to go down in history as one of the better teams of the modern era. And if we indeed upset the Yankees, who have the home field advantage, we will forever carry the prestigious title of “Back-to-Back Champs.” The Cincinnati “Big Red Machine,” with legends Johnny Bench, Pete Rose, and Joe Morgan didn’t even accomplish that feat. In pro sports, teams repeat as champions about as often as one of the Kardashians is excluded from being pictured in an US Weekly magazine.

If the Phillies are going to beat the Yankees, farm-raised cornerstones Ryan Howard, Jimmy Rollins, Chase Utley, Jason Werth, Shane Victorino, and the series “X” factor, ace pitcher and 2008 World Series MVP Cole Hamels, will all have to play up to their capabilities.

If I’m a Yankees fan, I’m thinking that if we win this series, the coming-of-age A-Rod and LCS MVP CC Sabathia, respectively, would just have to maintain the status quo-that is-Gangbusters.

Also if I’m a Yankees fan (regarded as the most sophisticated fan in sport) I know that pitching and defense wins championships; and CC’s light’s out performances are only as good as the guys behind him, most notably, the human bluefin tuna net at first base, Mark Teixeira.

The 2009 Yankees aren't still playing without their most recent free agent acquisitions Mark Teixeira (pictured) and C.C. Sabathia. Period.

I know we’ve been down this road before (hell it’s the essence of the franchise since George Steinbrenner bought the rights to Mr. October). If I’m a Yankees fan and we beat the Phillies with the guy who slept with the “It” girl-former Red Sox hero Johnny Damon (who I still can’t get used to seeing in pinstripes) and the rest of his adopted teammates such as Teixeira, Sabathia, and A-Rod, I can’t help but think of it as somewhat-paid for to be played for.

Every champion constitutes a legacy. Almost every champion bears some kind of memorable label. If the Phillies win the World Series, the word association will forever be linked with “Back-to-Back.”

And if the Yankees win?

Yeah but…

The Market

The Market:  An aspiring sportswriter’s autobiography detailing his rookie year living in New York City, the homeland of the uprooted.

That's me covering the NFL Draft in '07. I was sitting in front media big wigs Colin Cowherd and John Clayton. Reporter Jay Glazer was a few seats to my left. I remember paying attention to reporter Adam Schefter, who seemingly was on his cell phone all day. A college degree and two years later, the only people calling me is my Mom and the Federal Perkins Loan Payment Center.

By Ryan McCord

The only true courage: the kind which enables men to face the unknown regardless of the consequences. –Hunter S. Thompson

Hello officer, can you point me to the direction of Broadway?

For its millions of green visitors, time can seemingly stand still upon entering the majestic atmosphere of New York City’s Times Square, Central Park, or Yankee Stadium.

In contrast, for the millions of lives of New York’s working class residents, or the oil that makes this monster tourist attraction machine run 24 hours a day, time ruthlessly cooks away at their biological clock like its in a microwave.

I have lived in New York for a little over two months. Its a great place for a writer/artist to live. My imagination runs wild. But I feel like I have aged a year inside of two months already. I’m no expert, but I’m guessing that’s equivalent to throwing in a frozen t-bone in for a 15 minute defrost.

Welcome to the 2009 version of New York City, where most visitors would probably identify their, “Welcome to New York” moment as getting lost on the Subway, riding with a legally blind cab driver, tipping a busker loose change after watching him break dance, or purchasing a lifted Coach purse in Chinatown.

Most civilians that call New York home, however, would deem their “Welcome Moment” as the day they lost their innocence of mind which is probably around the same time the verbal expressions “Jesus!”, “Christ!” (or both), “God!”, “Damn!” (or both) or “What the Hell!?” became a compulsion of ease like a teenager texts during algebra class. (The pinch of irony behind this paragraph, of course, is that the born and raised New Yorker-as sharp as they can be-upon reading this specific analogy, is probably looking at the page with confusion like your grandma did the first time she tried to answer a handy phone.)

Occasionally you run across someone, like myself, who hopes to never speak of my “Welcome” moment. Hell, it took me another month just to work up the intestinal fortitude to write about it. No I didn’t wake up in an iced-down bathtub to discover I had a kidney removed. Nor did I unwittingly sleep with a transsexual. But I assure you my moment has not happened to anyone else on his or her first full day as a working class resident-or a glorified tourist-of New York City. My Welcome moment lasted only a handful of seconds but the mental scar that ensues will prove to be indelible. It’s the kind of story that the magnitude of the incident can best be punctuated with the expression, “You can’t make this stuff up.”

I was riding the subway to work and the first train I get on in Queens was relatively empty. There were three or four other passengers, including one prostitute accompanied by a young girl (which I assume was her daughter, maybe five years old). After a few stops, the prostitute and the young girl exited the train. For whatever reason, probably anxiousness, I was already standing and momentarily sat in the seat formerly occupied by the prostitute herself. I simply sat down in a clearly vacant seating bench on the train, when not two seconds went by when a woman and a gentleman both began asking, “sir?” repeatedly. It wasn’t until the 10^th second I finally look up to see what I assumed was going to be a bum pissing himself or whatever (have seen that since), until I realized they were talking to me. The good Samaritans were pointing to the area of my own ass with a petrified look of disbelief. I slowly rose, not having the slightest clue what the problem could have been. Then I took a peak at the seat only to find a fresh streak of blood had been left behind. That’s fresh out of the oven, leaving an impression the outlining size of a pinky finger. At first I was shocked. I hadn’t been that surprised since I found out Rick Astley was white.

I still managed to find a silver lining: thank God I was wearing a black pair of Dickies workpants to camouflage any evidence from wearing a hooker’s PMS. The initial shock turned to disgust, and soon after, like a schizo, I convinced myself that what happened was probably a sign of good things to come for the endeavor that I bank on beaconing my vocational future. Who knows, maybe someday my “welcome” anecdote will hit mainstream; like telling a performer to “break a leg,” when someone moves to New York City, the common sendoff line could be, “Sit on hooker’s blood.”

Get used to thinking that way. Become an idealist if you weren’t already. It helps keep your optimism gauge half full in a city that can gradually drain the prudence that fuels your spirit with each morning commute. The city swirls in pessimism; submerged in negative vibes no thanks to the millions of uncivil wretches contributing in any way they can. From yelling, pushing, shoving, begging to fingernail clipping-this is where bad social habits come to prosper. If you ride the subway everyday you know exactly what I’m talking about.

I moved to New York on Monday, September 1, 2009. I am currently sharing a three- bedroom apartment, of which I found on Craigslist, with two young ladies from the area.

Here’s a look, on move-in day, Sept. 1, of the walk-in closet I pay $600 a month for in the Kew Gardens division of Queens.

I moved here because I am an aspiring sports writer, and this is the place to cover the world of professional sports. I first realized this when I was 10 years old, visiting New York for the first time on a family vacation in Manhattan. We stayed in a hotel just a few buildings away from the Downtown Athletic Club, where perhaps the most lucrative individual honor in sports is given out: The Heisman Trophy, which goes to the best football player major college football has to offer each season. It was during this trip that I paid my first visit to Yankee Stadium, where we watched the Bronx Bombers win a 9-8 thriller over Bo Jackson and the California Angels. I came away from vacation convinced that New York was the center of the universe. Almost twenty years to the day, I still do.

I like to believe that I have the acumen, intuition, inquisitive nature, professional and general life experience, imagination, writing prose, and lack of meat in my head necessary to someday cover the Yankees or write a poem.

——————————————————————————————————–

I assume every ambitious youngster growing up in rural U.S.A. craves that first ticket out of the backwoods. They may view their own hometown as vapid. On some level they may be drawn to The Big Apple and the pallet of opportunity it provides: “If all the immigrants can do it, why can’t I?” Or in contrast, there are those who are simply scared shitless of the city, and are content to get their Big Apple fix by watching the Macy’s Day Parade.

In my hometown, I came across very many near-sighted individuals. Many of which, never rolled the proverbial dice a day in their life (unless you count vacationing in Europe). You hear people talk big, but when it becomes apparent that a great deal of personal sacrifice is going to have to be made in order to accomplish those lofty goals, well then.

To call someone near-sighted may sound disrespectful, but in actuality, there is nothing wrong with the folks from my old neighborhood; in fact, I am mildly envious of their contentment. You can make a hell of a living enjoying the clean green air that occupies the Great Northwest. And what I would give to have a garage to play with during the fall. I guess I just never related to a lot of those people on a personal level, while I’m pretty sure they felt likewise with me. It’s unfortunate in a way, but ever since I left my hometown in the fall of 2002 I have felt like a stranger every visit since.

I’m beginning to learn that there are three kinds of people in this world: 1.) The man who is content with life on the beach, staring at the ocean, applying sun block 2.) The man who looks out at the ocean, licks his thumb, holds it above his head, proceeds to save for a boat, then heads out to sea and 3.) The man that somehow got away from God while he was creating everyone else in mass quantities. This is the guy scouring the beach with a metal detector.

Guy #1 respects guy #2, but will tell his friends that guy #2 is suffering from sensory overexposure c/o the television. Guy #2 is either a scheming, silver tongued, money grubbing pig who got his way to sea by stealing a boat in the first place (and caught a shitload of fish while failing to pay his help their promised share) or, he is simply an honest, talented workaholic with big dreams and a dog who takes the occasional Sunday off to watch football and think about how good Guy #1 has it during commercial breaks. Guy #3 is the guy driving the Saturn you just passed at 65 mph during rush hour as he was deep into chapter 12 of “The Tommyknockers.”.

Where do my brethren fall? I don’t even know some of my old friends anymore, as many have become the proverbial beach settlers themselves. But they don’t know me anymore, either. The more time adds up since my high school and college graduation, the less I seem to have in common with people who I thought would be life long cronies. From what I’ve been told, that’s life.

——————————————————————————————————

Even as a college graduate, going on two full years now, with a degree journalism, I am still an unaffiliated reporter. The newspaper industry is flat out folding before our very eyes, and young journalists are facing the realities of having to go in another direction professionally, or wait out the logjam of a line for an entry-level position. My mom told me the other night that The New York Times Co. is laying off over 200,000 more people. Great. Now I have nearly a quarter of a million more people-(who have the NY Times cemented to their resumes nonetheless)-to compete with in the media market.

He’d had every choice in the world. And he wound up sword fishing. He wound up, by one route or another, on this trip, in this storm with this boat filling up with water and one or two minutes left to live. There’s no going back now, no rescue helicopter that could possibly save him. All that’s left is to hope its over fast. –Sebastian Junger, author of the American classic, The Perfect Storm.

Thus far, I have spent most of my combined daily two-hour subway commute reading Mr. Junger’s masterpiece. With respect to the families who still deal with the infamous Andrea Gail tragedy at sea, I couldn’t help but see the parallels of that excerpt from the book to my own professional aspirations. After all, it’s nobody’s fault but mine that I stuck with going after a degree that ideally was to help me land a newspaper-reporting job upon graduation. I could have chosen just about anything else that didn’t include a great deal of math or science, and probably made a pretty respectable living at it. I could have changed majors; undergrads do that all the time. But now here I am, not only at sea, but now I will have to ride out a motherfucker of a storm. By moving to New York, The Media Capital of the World, one could say, I headed right into the most awesome storm my young life will ever encounter.

And something inside kept saying that this was the best thing for me to do. These signals were being sent to my conscience while I spent much of this past summer working at a salmon processing plant in Alaska. I left my home state of Washington knowing that I would come back with a bundle of travel money to support my writing habit and find a place to bring everything full circle. By handling fish for 16 hours a day, a man can get a lot of thinking done. I did a lot of that and a lot of praying. I was confused. I needed guidance on where to take my life. I knew I was approaching such a pivotal point in my life once I got through with my work in Alaska. To digress for a sentence: if your asking about the work experience itself, let’s just say I wouldn’t wish the experience on my worst enemy. But to have a higher power speak to you, give you direction on where to go with your life, that’s something that I certainly hope everyone gets the chance to experience.

Here’s what I think are the essential elements to succeeding in life’s pursuit of happiness (if you wish to take the road less traveled, i.e., the integral route):

Laugh. It’s perhaps God’s greatest gift to man. It’s the ultimate release valve; and it’s easy to find.

Network: Make good with and compile as many personal contacts as possible. It took me years to realize that knowing people is how you are going to get to where you want to go. Nobody has ever done it completely alone, I assure you. I know that for the longest time, as a person who takes pride in my independent and individualistic nature, I probably took what I thought were character strengths a little too far.

I hate the term and the stigma it carries, but for nearly a decade I have been somewhat of a “loner.” I wasn’t a complete hermit, because I have made plenty of friends over the years, however none of them happen to be of or around my same age or ideal ilk. And for the last eight years, while I was trying to get my life back on track after allowing my talents to just sit on a shelf in the attic while I partied my way out of college, I became a man and an artist. First of all, I was well aware that most people don’t go back to college (if they go at all) after dropping out once already. Maybe its because they fear being humiliated, knowing it didn’t work out before. I have never actually called anyone the “S” word, but if you go back to college a second time, and leave your final class maintaining the status quo (i.e., degreeless) that makes you Stupid in my book. Secondly, I always knew I was intelligent enough to earn a college degree; I was just a classic case of someone who needed time to develop my own universe and overall concept of how the world turns. Ahh, the road to self-discovery-what a great excuse!

Nobody knows exactly why “late bloomers” take so long to come around the proverbial mountain. Perhaps the smartest man God ever produced, Albert Einstein, was a patent clerk while he was still in his 30’s.

Another key to success is learning to accept failure. It’s just something that you have to develop a shield for. If I had a nickel for every time I was rejected for a job or writing opportunity over the last couple of years, I would be living in Greenwich Village as opposed to Queens. Nobody likes being rejected, its human nature to feel wanted by something or somebody. You can’t let some rejection letter or email cause you to feel irrelevant. If you get rejected enough, you almost become immune to it. If you get rejected enough, that should say a lot about who you are as a person. Congratulations for sticking with it. Thankfully, I have developed a sense of humor for it all. More on the remedy of laughter later.

How do I know all this crap about succeeding in life, even though my own professional career has amounted to half a pile of dirt thus far? I read this quote, used by the Nixon Campaign for President during the ’72 election:

Nothing in the world can take place of persistence. Talent will not: nothing is more common than unsuccessful men with talent. Genius will not: unrewarded genius is almost a proverb. Education alone will not: the world is full of educated derelicts. Persistence and determination alone are omnipotent. –Unknown

To read the rest of the keys to surviving the road to personal fulfillment, buy me a cup of joe or grant me an interview with your media outlet-please.

Newsflash: Jeter Finds A Way, Eight Years Later

Like Christian Laettner's shot verus Kentucky, Jeter's flip in the 2001 playoffs was one of those goosebump moments in sports that you'll always remember where you watched it like it was yesterday.

During the 2001 postseason, when America needed someone or something larger than life to help cheer us up, Derek Jeter willed the New York Yankees to the World Series while writing perhaps the definitive chapter of his celebrated career.

Eight seasons later, on the eighth anniversary of the 9/11 terrorist attacks, Jeter once again did his best to induce therapy on an otherwise somber day in New York, as the current captain of the Yankees passed Lou Gehrig in becoming the organization’s all-time hit leader.

Congratulations are in order for an AHHHHHHHsome Sports Blog favorite, Yankee Hit King Derek Jeter.

According to the Yankees radio broadcast, when Jeter's recent milestone was announced at Fenway Park, the majority of the crowd apparently reacted positively.

Sunday Fresh And Out Of The Oven: NFC Preview ‘09

Two things that let me know pro football is near: I had a hankering for a Big Tuna grinder yesterday, and I spotted The Direct TV Blimp (featured below) hovering over Queens at the U.S. Open this weekend. As for the expectations of Jets rookie QB Mark Sanchez are concerned; I'm reminded by the pictured pigskin prophet, Bill Parcells, when he once referred to one of his own young, flashy QB's, Tony Romo, with, "Don't put him in Canton just yet!"

If everybody else gets to write an NFL preview, then I want in. And now is the time to write it, because by now, so many NFL team previews really are broken records to the average Remote Controller. How many times must I hear Mark Sanchez and Joe Namath in the same sentence before the former even takes a regular season snap for goodness sakes? It’s unavoidable. How do I know? I don’t even own a T.V.!

I made my best effort to take the “road less traveled” analogy for each NFC team heading into week one. For example, in the 3,200+ words I put together, the words Brett, Favre, Michael and Vick account for only .003%. I think. Either way, I promise its under the legal limit.

Disclaimer: Prediction boundaries will be crossed. Good thing my Mom, by accident three times a year, is the only one who reads this blog. Because otherwise, I might have the nut house banging my door down upon reading a few of these predictions that some may complain are on the same outlandish level as “Clippers All-The Way!”

New York Giants

What the pigskin wonks are saying: Who, what, when, where, why and how, concerning the wide receiver position.

Not since the days of Chris Calloway have Giants Fan had this much concern about the wide receiver position.

The way we see it: In general, how difficult it will be for the Giants to remain as the class of this division, with a focus on a depleted ground attack, for one more season.

Quit brooding about the receivers for one day, and focus on preserving the strengths of this team-the running game in particular. The Giants bread and butter in ’08 (and seemingly every year they compete for a championship) was running the football.

So don’t discount the loss of Derrick Ward. As dispensable as the running back position in the NFL appears to be, you cannot replace a 1,000 yard, second-string back-with smarts-like Ward, overnight. Because of his running style, starter Brandon Jacobs will miss at least one start in every season he plays in. So expect Ahmad Bradshaw to see as many carries down the stretch as he got during the Super Bowl run of the ’07 season.

The question is: Does Bradshaw have an encore performance in him for ’09, after a stint in witness protection in 08? The Giants will depend on Bradshaw, or whoever the No. 2 back will be, to win the division.

Philly Eagles

Wonks are giddy over: A certain backup quarterback not named Kevin Kolb.

The way we see it: Can the defense overcome the loss of former franchise centerpieces Brian Dawkins and the late, great defensive coordinator Jim Johnson?

Can anyone that’s not an Eagles fan name a starting linebacker? Stewart Bradley, you say? He’s out for the season. The Eagles defense just doesn’t have the necessary personnel-the enforcers or intimidators-that it used to. I don’t trust them against the run, and that alone could domino into a cumulative mess in a division that lives and dies on the ground, offensively.

And now that Michael Vick has been added, the roof of expectation is hanging on by a nail or two. Eagles fans are so insatiable. If a doctor from Philly discovered the root cause for autism, a Philly fan would respond with, “Well what about cancer? Hey, Family Guy’s on!”

Washington Redskins

What the wonks are saying: That they are the worst team in the NFC East.

The way we see it: Hold the phone, because I’m going to go out on a limb even further than SI predicting the Texans to win their division: The Redskins will make the playoffs.

The reason being the prospects behind two key individuals: Albert Haynesworth and Jason Campbell. If both can put together a FULL season, displaying their full potential, respectively, that will be enough to give the Hogs a wild-card birth.

Don’t sleep on Campbell; he has all the tools to be an elite quarterback in the NFL. His most important attribute is his class and character. He’s the antithesis of Jay Cutler, with an arm that’s not too shabby and above average mobility. After learning the Redskins no longer wanted him, he’s already proved that he has a winner’s mentality by answering all the questions, lacing up the cleats everyday, and going about his business.

As for Haynesworth, it’s just a matter of effort and durability. He’s the best defensive tackle in football, and a true franchise cornerstone. Assuming he will see the A version of Haynesworth this season, the Redskins will significantly improve defensively.

Offensively, this is a Redskins nucleus that has made the postseason before, why not now? Has everyone else in the NFC East gotten that much better since the Redskins last made the playoffs, two seasons ago? With the exception of Philly’s offense, I don’t think so.

Dallas Cowboys

What the wonks are saying: Can Tony Romo keep his play at a high level with T.O. out of the equation?

The way we see it: Can the inconsistent play of Romo’s offensive line, with an emphasis on pass protection, improve on a weekly basis and keep their franchise quarterback on the field for 16 games?

If you count the game in which Romo actually injured his thumb that kept him out of two contests in ‘08, the Cowboys went 1-2 and missed the playoffs by a narrow margin.

When you factor in team chemistry, obviously the Cowboys were a mess in 2008. They made the Bundy’s look like evangelicals. But I think it just goes to show you how much Dallas relies on Romo from week to week on the field of play. They missed the playoffs because the offensive line looked like pop-warner second-stringers in an overtime loss to eventual NFC Champion Arizona.

Even with T.O. out of the mix, the Cowboys are still good enough to make a deep run into the postseason.

Romo is one of the best playmakers in the NFL. Jason Witten, Patrick Crayton and Marion Barber were all able to take their career to the next level, respectively, while Romo’s career blossomed along with them. That’s not a coincidence.

Big D will be fine without T.O., but they cannot overcome another injury to their quarterback.

On the defensive side of things, if Dallas can come up with one big stop, in a big game, that would be the first time it did so in years. Even if Romo puts up MVP-like numbers, it won’t matter if the play of Wade Phillips’ defense does not improve.

Green Bay Packers

The Wonk Wave: Green Bay is a playoff sleeper.

The way we see it: This will be the season that the Aaron Rodgers bandwagon begins to swell.

If I was the general manager of the San Francisco 49ers, we wouldn’t speak a word about a quarterback controversy right now, because I would have chosen Aaron Rodgers with the 1^st overall pick in the 2005 NFL Draft.

Instead the 49ers took Alex Smith, and the rest is a mystery, certainly not history, because nothing positive will ever be written about Smith’s pro career to this point. The former Utah standout ran a gimmick college offense, and has turned out to be a bon a fide bust in the NFL.

But let’s take a look at where Rodgers is at in his NFL career. For three seasons in Green Bay, after sitting behind arguably the greatest quarterback of all time in Brett Favre, he made the most of his opportunity in ’08, with a 4,000+ yard, 28 touchdown passing season.

Oh, did I mention that he had to deal with all the muckraking media attention surrounding his replacement of Favre, as well as the highly publicized falling-out affair between the Packer organization and the future hall of famer in the off season? Unapologetically, Rodgers had to keep his cool and answer all the circus questions while preparing for his first full season as a starting quarterback in the NFL.

Aaron Rodgers is the real deal. And the NFL prognosticators are right; the Packers have what it takes to make it to the playoffs. If the defense and the running game improve, look out for Green Bay. Don’t be surprised if Rodgers and Matt Ryan are the last two quarterbacks standing in the NFC come championship weekend.

Aaron Rodgers will take the Packers to this year's Super Bowl.

Detroit Lions

The Pigskin Wonks: Who will win the QB battle?

The way we see it: For the Motor City Kitties, hope for a comfortably digestive effort on Thanksgiving, against the Packers.

Because we can count on the Raiders, who will be playing in Dallas, to put up a competitive effort on Turkey Day like we can count on spotting Paris Hilton getting off at the bus stop closest to Gucci.

"Like, Your turn to drive, Tinkerbell!"

That’s it. We don’t care if you win any games again, Detroit. Just be competitive on your one special day, or at least, throw the ball to Calvin Johnson a lot.

Minnesota Vikings

The Wonks: Brett Favre makes the Vikings a Super Bowl contender.

What we are saying: Keep the backup QB’s happy, because they will play this season.

If you have or plan on drafting Brett Favre in your fantasy league, you better have either A.) fantasy football insurance or B.) another quarterback on your bench.

Forget an over/under for amount of games Favre will play this season, because that’s impossible to predict (and I couldn’t find the Vegas odds online). But let’s not kid ourselves: If Favre has shown us anything new on the field since he left Green Bay, its that his body cannot take the punishment it used to.

An NFL quarterback gets touched by a defender, at varied levels of intensity, on almost every play. In a month, the NFL’s Iron Man will turn 40. Can we really expect Favre to withstand the physical and mental wear for an entire season? Remember, this idea initially kept him from joining the Vikings in the first place.

Chicago Bears

The wonks are saying: Tight end Greg Olsen is going to have a breakout year!

The way we see it: How about the defense? Are they who we thought they were?

Assuming Cutler can steer clear of the boozing and "foxes" that circle the "Wild and Crazy" Chicago night scene, the Bears now have themselves a franchise QB for years to come.

Chicago’s defense finished an eye-raising 30^th in the league against the pass last season. That can only mean they weren’t getting enough pressure on the quarterback. By running the Tampa Cover Two, the Bears rely heavily on the defensive line to disrupt the opponent’s tempo in the passing game.

If ends Adewale Ogunleye and Alex Brown repeat their combined ’08 efforts of 11 sacks this season, that assures us of two things: 1.) Ogunleye and Brown are far too dependent on the presence of defensive tackle Tommie Harris, therefore, making them overrated, and 2.) Chicago will not contend for NFC supremacy without improving the pass defense.

Atlanta Falcons

The Pigskin Wonks: Can they take the next step in making a run to the Super Bowl?

The way we see it: Like Chicago, Atlanta will only go as far as its defense allows them to go.

I fully expect Matt Ryan to have an All-Pro season. He has the running game behind him, a solid receiving core in Roddy White, Michael Jenkins, and now future hall of fame tight end Tony Gonzalez. The second-year signal caller has all the tools to become enshrined into Canton himself.

The Falcons offense will improve, and should score more points, but that may prove to be a disadvantage towards the defensive side of the ball. The Falcons are expected to throw a little more now that Ryan is fully entrusted by the organization to turn loose on opposing defenses with the passing game. This will also give All-Pro running back Michael Turner, who led the NFL in carries last season, a necessary shaving in total carries.

I admit, I have the Matt Ryan fever as well.

But part of the reason why the Falcons defense overachieved last season was because it was not on the field as much as years past. Atlanta was second in the NFL in rushing attempts per game, chewing up a ton of clock in the process. And they were probably able to sleep better knowing teams like the Raiders, Chiefs, Rams, and Lions were on the schedule.

New Orleans Saints

The wonks say: What else but play defense?

The way we see it: Saints + average defense= Super Bowl Contender…Need I say more?

Tampa Bay Buccaneers

The wonks say: The worst team in an otherwise strong division.

The way we see it: What have they got to lose? They have the tools to prove everyone wrong.

“Happy employees make for more productive employees.” I think Mike Judge said that in his cult classic film Office Space, when he played the role of Chotchkee’s Manager, enforcing his Flair duties on Jennifer Aniston’s character.

I still don't care for Jon Gruden's bedside manner.

My point being is this: The previously listed philosophical quote applies to the ‘09 Bucs. Now that Chucky is gone, the Buccaneer morale has undoubtedly improved. I think Tampa Bay, who still has talent on both sides of the football, will surprise some people. They may not win the division, but they won’t play the role as pushover either.

Of course, Byron Leftwich will be the “x-factor.” Leftwich can still throw the ball with the best of them. He has the weapons-and the offensive line to work with in Tampa. But he will need to be more consistent, with an emphasis on accuracy, if the Bucs are to shock everyone and win more than six games.

Carolina Panthers

The talking heads are wondering: Can Jake Delhomme mentally rebound from his last game: A playoff loss in which he committed six turnovers?

The way we see it: Carolina simply has the all-around personnel to compete on any given Sunday in this league.

The Panthers do, in fact have a glaring hole, and its on the defensive side of the football. Fortunately for Carolina, they can make up for not being able to stop the run by giving their counterparts a taste of their own medicine-extra strength.

They call ‘em Smash and Dash: It’s Carolina’s exceptional backfield rotation of second-year man Jonathon Stewart and veteran DeAngelo Williams.

Stewart has future full-time starter potential, but Now is Williams’s time. The former first round pick out of Memphis proved what he can do when given the chance to be the starting tailback for an entire season, notching 20 total TD’s. If Dominique Wilkins is still the “Human Highlight Reel”, then we will call Williams “Happy Hour,” because he’s only featured for a period of time, and he’s intoxicating to watch slip, spin, shake and duck through defenders.

We didn’t forget All-Universe athlete and star wide out Steve Smith, either. Is it just me or have the wonks taken him off the top of the metaphorical wide receiver leader board with Larry Fitzgerald, Randy Moss, Calvin Johnson, and Andre Johnson?

Jake Delhomme reportedly spent some time at his horse farm in the off season. Every man has his sanctuary.

As for the frequently picked-on Panther quarterback Jake Delhomme; he will be his old self. He’s a veteran who has seen it all in the NFL. If there is one thing the Cajun is better at than most quarterbacks, its handling general adversity. He’s used to it. Think about all the career hurdles Delhomme has had to endure: undrafted, played in NFL Europe as a backup, then labeled with the “career backup quarterback” stigma, losing the Super Bowl to New England despite having the best game of his career, recovering from Tommy John surgery on his throwing elbow, then last season’s debacle. Am I forgetting anything? This guy has been through it all on the field of play, and you think a playoff loss to the Arizona Cardinals is going to send him into a career-ending manic depression?

I’ve never been a big Delhomme fan, and there is a lot to question about his play as a quarterback. Still, with that being said, I would never bet against the guy.

Seattle Seahawks

The wonks say: That they can’t run the football.

The way we see it: If Matt Hasselbeck gives Seattle 15 starts this season, the Hawks will make fans proud of their product again.

Anyone who has followed the Seattle Seahawks over the last six seasons feels more secure about the team’s chances to at least compete in every game in which quarterback Matt Hasselbeck starts.

Have you detected a trend throughout this preview yet? If you have a proven franchise quarterback in the NFC, you will automatically be identified as a playoff contender in ’09. (Managed to dodge the Bengal bullet there didn’t I?)

The Seahawks don’t have to run the ball like Lombardi’s Packers to win games. Hasselbeck compensates by spreading the ball around to as many receivers as possible, using short routes-hence the West Coast Offense.

Like Tony Romo, Matt Hasselbeck is not just a franchise quarterback, but a playmaker, a true football player, as well. I would take 40 of this guy on my team.

Seattle is hoping for just one healthy version for the duration of ’09.

Arizona Cardinals

The Talking Heads Say: Will they repeat as division champs?

The way we see it: When was the last time Kurt Warner played two full seasons in a row? When was the last time the Arizona Cardinals had two winning seasons in a row?

The answer to both of those questions is: Never. In fact, the 38 year-old Warner has played just three full seasons in his entire NFL career. If the Cardinals are to make team history, they will need Warner, who clearly still has enough to play quarterback at an All-Pro level, to stay healthy.

It’s that simple.

Warren Sapp, Jr? Like the former "U" standout, Darnell Dockett is flat out fun to watch.

Arizona has clearly improved in all facets of the game over the past few years. They pressure the quarterback with regularity, they make plays in the secondary, the special teams is solid, the play of the offensive line has improved, and as proven during last year’s playoff run-they can run the ball when they need to.

Arizona is one of the more talented teams in the NFC, without question. After all, if their most valuable player, Warner, doesn’t throw the ball for a pick-six to Jerome Harrison before halftime of last year’s Super Bowl, we’re talking about the Cardinal’s chances of repeating as Super Bowl Champions.

St. Louis Rams

The Wonks Say: This just might be the worst team in the NFC.

The way we see it: Can the enigmatic quarterback Marc Bulger produce a renaissance season?

It would not really shock me if Bulger came out and threw for 3,500 yards and twenty touchdowns this season. If franchise cornerstone Steven Jackson, who is the second best running back in the NFL, can stay healthy and start 14 games, by default this would have to make Bulger’s job a lot easier.

The problem with St. Louis is that there are too many question marks. At wide receiver, someone has to replace future hall of famer, Torry Holt. The starting offensive tackles are talented, but young and unproven. Marc Bulger has yet to live up to his contract. Steven Jackson can’t stay on the field enough. The starting defensive line looks good on paper, but are they ready to break out as a unit? Is the new head coach, Steve Spagnuolo, the answer as the leader?

San Francisco 49ers

The wonks say: Is starting QB Shaun Hill good enough to lead an offense for an entire season?

The way we see it: How about forming an identity? What do the 49ers do as well as anyone besides kick field goals? Is there a team less appealing in the NFL than the 2009 49ers?

If it weren’t for Frank Gore, this team wouldn’t be worth watching. And if it weren’t for the perceived Mike Singletary bottomless hopper full of sound bites, or Michael Crabtree holdout, I don’t know how anyone could stomach following this team in the off-season.

Vernon Davis is still looking for that "Household Name" profile. I actually forgot the young man's name all together.

The 49ers, to me, just lack excitement, even in the simplest form: who is the guy that can take the ball 80 yards for a score? Isaac Bruce? It’s not 1999, Doc Brown. No, not Frank Gore. He’s a Clinton Portis clone. That tight end, whose name always escapes my mind because he has never carried his supposed “4.3” speed over from the combine to the field of play? Google…49ers…roster…there it is, Vernon Davis.

I’m not insulting Davis, I really do tend to forget his name. He just hasn’t wooed me like Antonio Gates or Jason Witten. I will give him a pass, because the franchise’s inability to put a quarterback to help fulfill Davis’ potential.

For now, Shaun Hill gets the keys to the franchise, but is he the long-term answer?

The 49ers are an average team. We should expect anything but a winning season from them in ’09.

‘09 PLAYOFF PREDICTIONS

Green Bay, Washington, Dallas, Atlanta, Arizona, Minnesota

Wednesday Tweets

Chris Carlin, SNY: Leon Washington needs to realize $4.5 million isn’t an insult. Dynamic player, but hardly inexpendable in the long haul

YESNetwork: Joba Chamberlain will skip his next turn in rotation. Will start next Wednesday in Oakland.

Donnie Avery, Rams: Just finished the first practice of the day, headed to the barber before the next practice. Gotta stay fresh ya dig?

Kirk Morrison, Raiders: Morning tweet world. While I watch the morning news traffic report I realize how much people have to go through crossing the Bay Bridge. Wow