Okay, let’s get this out of the way off the top. Stop wondering how the St. Louis Cardinals won the National League, you marsupial clods. You know why they did. Because they didn’t commit three errors in every game, for starters. Now calm the hell down, because if you’re right about this series after one game, this World Series is going to stink to high heaven and be over on Sunday. Is that what you want? Fewer games instead of more?
And if it is what you want, then you have replaced your soul with a vacuum cleaner, which means that you . . . well, you know.
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Oh, and don’t complain about the time of game either. The Red Sox won in 3:17, the fastest World Series game in nine years and the second fastest game of this postseason. They damned near sprinted to the plate.
Then again, given what they were seeing, why wouldn’t they sprint to the plate?
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The Warriors have become such a trendy preseason pick to reach the NBA Finals that the only logical assumption one can make from this is that they are utterly doomed. Don’t know how, don’t know why, don’t know when, but when so many people climb on your bandwagon, you learn to fear for the sturdiness of your axles.
In other words, if you’re a Warrior fan and someone asks you what you think, restrain your impulse for shrieking “I WANT TO CARRY STEPHEN CURRY’S BABY!” or “ANDREW BOGUT IS OUR GLOBAL OVERLORD!”
Your only sensible response must be, “Gee, I don’t know, it’s a tough conference and I always worry about Curry’s ankles and Mark Jackson doesn’t have Michael Malone any more and Joe Lacob has expectations now and I sure think Sacramento’s going to be better, and . . .”
. . . and two good things will happen. The person who asked you will walk away and leave you to drink alone and unmolested, and you won’t have sound like just another parrot for the conventional wisdom. That alone is worth the price of submission.
You’ll thank me later.
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I’m not sure why Brendan Malone resigned his job as assistant coach in Sacramento after only a few months, but I’m hoping he couldn’t see eye-to-eye with the head coach over where to have Thanksgiving dinner.
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After Logan Ryan’s post-interception celebration against the New York Jets (in which he grabbed his gentleman’s area to taunt the Patriots for reasons that frankly escape me), special teams captain Matthew Slater was understanding but made it clear that it would be dealt with.
“That’s something we just have to handle in-house,” he told the Boston Herald’s Karen Guregian.
“In-house,” in this instance, sounds mighty painful.
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The Cleveland Indians have quietly opened themselves to the notion of either curtailing or dropping the Chief Wahoo logo with a questionnaire that includes questions like:
• This logo reflects the heritage of the Indians;
• I feel a strong positive emotional connection to this logo;
• This logo makes me proud of the Indians;
• This logo represents more than the team – it represents the city of Cleveland; and
• This logo is an important part of my support for the Indians.
Now, they also ask the same questions about the block-C they often wear on their hats, and the script “Indians” they wear on their home jerseys, so it isn’t even that big a mood shift. But the question they could have asked and didn’t was this:
“Do you think it could not have been worse?” and then linked to this, from Chris Creamer’s invaluable Sports Logos site.
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Note to the boss, who is always a little wonky about soccer items – how about Homer Simpson as a bribable World Cup referee? Is that localized enough for you, O Purveyor Of My Biweekly Bread?
The point here? You can’t stop me, Theo. You can only hope to screw me at the annual review.
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But just in case you think you’ve confused what I do with courage in the face of corporate power, El Queso Grande, back to the other football. Brandon Meriweather got a game whacked off his two-game suspension for persistent opponent skulling, the third consecutive time an appeal has led to a sentence reduction, thus making the NFL look both rabid and feckless at the same time.
Now this is its own reward, we grant you, but it is an indication that the former players and coaches on the appeals board are likely to err on the side of “oh, rub some dirt on it.” In other words, we have seen the enemy and have decided to order another beer.
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And finally, type the name “Zlatan Ibrahimovic” into your search field, and enjoy the things he’s done in the last week that mere human beings cannot do. They are five soccer goals he scored for Paris St. Germain, two of which flat-out defy logic, so you don’t have to fear Human Resources, and you’ll look like one of the cool kids at work.
Even you, Boss Tweed.