Zach Parise Has Been One-Upped

As I wait patiently for the Giants' next preseason game to come around -- and it's still five days away -- there is very little to hold my interest. At least not with the Mets' season being pretty much done midway through August, although they did have some exciting news this week. More on that later.

Because of the dearth of interesting stuff going on I struggle from time to time to focus on all that the world of sports is presenting me with, though the impending start of Northwestern's football season, which is just 17 short days away, does give me something to get excited about. Unfortunately, though, that's pretty much all of it. Or so I thought.

Thank the lord for Jeremy Roenick.

Roenick is one of the greatest American-born hockey players of all time and a man who is known for his emotion, honesty and, I can assure you, a pretty good quote just about any time you talk to him. Also, he was really good. And in video games he was really good. Anyone who wants to get an idea of just how good Roenick was in NHL '93 need only troll around on YouTube for any number of clips of his electronic prowess. But more than his abilities on the ice, his abilities in the virtual world are immortalized by two phrases:

"It's not even so much me as it's Roenick. He's good."

And:

"There it is, Mikey. Check it out, his head's bleeding."



Both of these of course come from the indie film classic Swingers, starring the underrated Jon Favreau and an astonishingly thin Vince Vaughn. One of the most famous scenes from the film involves the main characters playing NHL '93 and after Vaughn displays Roenick's electronic prowess, he then checks Wayne Gretzky from behind to make him bleed on the ice.

So why bring this up now?

Well, as you all saw last week when I talked about Zach Parise's very silly commercial, I love when athletes show some personality. I should note, this is not simply limited to hockey. But in this case, hockey does it again as Roenick shows a good sense of humor -- and some pretty decent acting ability -- in this bit right here.



Yeah, that's the exact same scene from Swingers updated with Roenick himself in the mix and, amazingly, not playing as Roenick, though he does make a few amusing references to how great a human being Jeremy Roenick happens to be. This is great and there needs to be more of it. Sure there was no real reason why this video had to happen, but it did.

And we're all better off for it.

Lastly, if I can take it back to the Mets for a few minutes, because really, why keep this happy, they had the best news this week that they've had all season when it came out that there will be changes to the uniform set next year. As someone who owns, roughly, 10 or so Mets jerseys from the current set, this is a bit angst-inducing as I have hundreds of dollars worth of clothing that's about to be out of date -- some of them already are -- but it seems the changes to the home uniforms are coming mostly for the franchise's 50th anniversary and thus may not be permanent.

That's all well and good, but the coolest thing, by far, is that the Mets may be introducing a standardized version of their all blue Los Mets jerseys from this year's Hispanic Heritage Night. The blue and orange duds can't be the official alternate this coming season due to deadlines for submitting uniform changes, but they're likely to be broken out a handful of times and will probably assume the full-time alternate duty in 2013. They are crisp, they are clean, they are the franchise's traditional colors and they are beautiful.

Bizarrely, I cannot wait to spend $250 on one of them. Granted, it's not so much money that it will change my life. As Roenick knows, though, it just might be enough money to make my head bleed.

Everyone look. A Hockey Player Is Showing Personality.

I think one of the unfortunate things about Americans and Canadians is that many Canadians have a relatively easy-going, dead-pan sense of humor. As such, we, as Americans, don't always get the joke. We don't have patience for subtlety. As a result, hockey players don't have the same ease of marketing themselves in this country as they do in Canada, but it's not their fault. It's ours. Often we don't want to take the time to find them funny. We want something loud and obnoxious like Penny Hardaway yelling as a marionette or LeBron James pretending five different people.

Those commercials are, well, really stupid, but the unfortunate thing is that you never get to see hockey players in them because we just don't find them as funny. But today we got a reprieve from the totally amazing in every way Zach Parise. Now, it's odd that I bring up the whole bit about us not understanding the Canadian sense of humor because Parise, who just might be my favorite player in the NHL these days, is, as any hockey fan would know, American. But he grew up in Minnesota, which may as well be Canada, has a Canadian father, played hockey at the University of North Dakota, which I kind of assume is what Canadian prairies are like, and having spent so much time playing organized hockey at a high level for most of his life, he almost certainly has cultivated that Canadian sense of humor to relate to his teammates.

But in addition to Parise's barrier from making some headway into the American market, he plays for the Devils, a team that I have loved dearly since I was eight years old, but that has built it's entire era of success around a team-oriented game that can sometimes have superior talent lost among the smoothly-functioning machine. Parise is not as famous in this country as he should be. Granted, the appetite for hockey players being marketed wildly may not be the same here as it is for, apparently, the class act known as Stephon Marbury, but Parise is a brilliant and remarkable athlete, despite missing most of last season due to a torn meniscus. Aside from last season his injury history has been nearly impeccable while he's put up offensive numbers that, in the Devils' system, are truly remarkable. Factor into that his two-way play and you've easily got one of the top ten and maybe top five players in the game. That right there should mean his face should be plastered all across TV, but for some reason it's not.

In this country.

But thank God for Canada's insatiable appetite for hockey in all things, and thank God for the creative marketers at Easton who decided that the best way to pump up the Parise marketing machine is to make a Starsky-and-Hutch-esque detective parody with the highly skilled forward.



Apparently this video came out in March, but somehow I didn't actually come across it until today. I don't know what took so long, though I feel better knowing the Devils apparently didn't find it until yesterday, but thank goodness I've seen it now, because it's not brilliant, but, well, it's pretty funny. And it's way less awkward than some of the other commercials some of my favorite hockey players have been in.

I doubt this is any gateway to Parise breaking into the American market, and the ending may be a little morbid, but with the dog days of summer starting to bear down and the Mets season effectively over after yesterday's demoralizing loss to Atlanta, I'm glad this 45-second bit of 1970s minutiae came into my life this morning. In fact, it was the best bit of Devils-centric news I came across today other than Martin Brodeur going back to his old mask.

It isn't exciting, but this is what keeps me going during the dark days of August, particularly since I'm not in Europe enjoying my vacation anymore. And just to think, if I had come to Berlin three weeks later I would have gotten to meet a dark lord of the Sith. Either way, the point remains that clever, fun commercials like these don't show up with hockey players enough, in this country or any other.

I would love to see more players in goofy situations like this one, and while there are a fair number of commercials with hockey players doing goofy things and showing a sense of humor -- just do some YouTube-ing if you don't believe me -- we don't see them on TV enough in the United States, particularly when there's an opportunity to do so with an American-born star like Parise. Hopefully, it won't be the last time he gets to market himself like this.

I just hope that stunt over the car in the beginning isn't how he actually tore his meniscus.

This Is Pretty Wonderful

The football world was rocked yesterday by the announcement that Randy Moss was announcing his retirement, which sparked the reaction from most of "he was still playing?" and the reaction from me of "What will NBC do during the Triple Crown now?"

I kid.

Randy Moss was the most physically gifted receiver I ever saw -- and maybe in the history of the game -- so seeing him walk off into the sunset is a) a bit strange and b) a sign that I'm getting older. Anyone who remembers how much he lit up the NFL during his rookie season in 1998 could not possibly forget what it was like to watch a phenomenon like that, and over the course of his career he put together a first-ballot Hall of Fame resume that included both his record-breaking 23-touchdown season in 2007 and some of his lesser, but hilarious moments as you can see to the right.

Also, he had some great hair.

But in one of the bizarre aspects of the modern game (and also to help make the segue to what I really wanted to write about today) Randy Moss hit up several stops in his career even though he will primarily be associated with Minnesota and to a lesser extent New England. Moss was a Viking, a Raider, a Patriot, a Viking again for four weeks and a Titan. If you forgot that he was a Titan and a Raider, it's ok. So did he apparently. What's interesting to note in all of this however, is that Randy Moss had three different numbers in his career, 84, 18 and 81, a peculiarity because as my old college roommate Pat Dorsey has noted on ESPN.com, taking your uniform number with you at whatever cost is a time honored tradition in the NFL, with numerous players cutting lucrative deals to give their number up when a star who wants it arrives in town.

Moss, who must not have been interested in dealing with the petulant Jerry Porter, didn't do this, but yesterday his former team got in the mix in one of the best, most fun videos I've ever seen between two professional athletes, as Vikings punter/rock star/total nerd Chris Kluwe made an official deal with new quarterback Donovan McNabb to surrender over his No. 5 jersey.

Now, I have made fun of Donovan McNabb before, a casualty of his epic, underappreciated career with the Eagles, and his inability to know basic NFL rules, but he generally comes across as an affable, dedicated, talented, professional quarterback with a pretty good sense of humor. But given his relative star power and track record, it's a safe bet he would want his No. 5, and Kluwe knew it, so pre-empting any controversy, he laid out his terms on twitter.

What this led to was an impromptu press conference yesterday that was posted on Vikings.com in which the pair forged an agreement on how to transfer the digit. In the end the two hammered out a three pronged deal that will benefit both parties involved and help out some of the less fortunate on the side. And lest you think this could be broken by either party, think again. There's a very real official seal on the agreement.

The terms essentially broke down as such: Chris Kluwe gives his No. 5 to Donovan McNabb and in exchange McNabb makes good on the following requirements:

1) McNabb must mention Kluwe's band Tripping Icarus in five non-consecutive press conferences
2) McNabb must donate $5,000 to Kick For A Cure, a charity that benefits Duchenne Muscular Dystrophy
3) McNabb must buy Kluwe an ice cream cone

And he will really enjoy that ice cream cone.



This is amazing. Why, you ask? Well it's pretty simple. McNabb gets his number, money goes to charity, and both Kluwe and McNabb get to showcase their senses of humor. Plus, you really can't underestimate the value of that ice cream cone, though given my recent travels to Europe I'd be more on board with gelato. In any event, I have nothing else to add to this because the humor and greatness speaks for itself, but it seems pretty clear to me that the world would be better off with more sports celebrities that have the sense of humor and self promotion of Kluwe. Besides, it's a way better number transaction than when Plaxico Burress paid to build Jeff Feagles an outdoor kitchen and then stiffed him on the bill.

On this one, everybody's happy.

Scotty Doesn't Know

As many of you know, and really considering how much I've talked about it as all of you should know, I will be going to Europe tomorrow for my first hop across the pond in five years and my first wild youthful-indiscretion filled backpacking trip, well, ever. As a result, I've basically been playing the movie Eurotrip in my head for the last several days and quoting some of my favorite lines in it like, "You brought a guide book to a party?" and "I saw a gay porno once. I didn't know it until halfway in. The girls never came. The girls never came!" And to think, the only reason I saw the movie when it came out was because it was the only one playing after Starsky and Hutch that we could sneak into.

Oh college.

In any event, this wild whirlwind trip will take me through Rotterdam, Antwerp, the Hague, Amsterdam, Berlin, Prague, Vienna, Munich, Aachen and Brussels in roughly two and a half weeks, so I'm going to be out of the loop a little bit and sparsely updating here if at all.

But that's not the real concern that is weighing on all of our minds. The real concern, obviously, is "How will Dave's wild Eurotrip impact his favorite baseball team, the New York Mets?" It's a question we've asked ourselves for ages, with great minds often going mad in the process. In fact, it was St. Thomas Aquinas who at one point said, "A Met has free choice to the extent that he is rational," which one has to assume that the Amazins and myself, really, operate independently of one another.

However, a look at some of the evidence argues otherwise. See in my last few entries I noted this impending concern by expressing relief that I won't be in the U.S. to see what I can only assume is likely to be the Mets' inevitable downfall and tumble in the wild card standings. After all, I had mostly mentally checked out before this season began expecting an 82-win season at best (which is about what they're on pace for at the moment), but that doesn't take into account how well they've played over the last month and since the first 18 games in particular, which would indicate an increasing rate of productivity and wins. Essentially, their likely win output over a broader sample size is hampered by their horrendous start, but if we take a derivative of the data set, we'll see that the rate in change in the function when X=July 9 is obviously much higher than it was on April 16.



Did I lose you? I got all calculus-y on you for a second. It's been a few years. Essentially, what I'm saying is the increased rate of change means that if they continue to improve exponentially, they're likely to win more than 82 games. Unless this is a parabolic function. I think. I was a history major, what do you want from me.

I'm getting off track.

Here is the key information you need to know. I was wondering if I stood a chance to miss out on the Mets' season free fall by being in Europe but if the past is any indication that chance seems... not so likely. This will be the third time I have traveled to mainland Europe. My first trip was in April of 2000 when I went to France with Madame Said's French class in 9th grade. The second was in April and May of 2006 when as a junior in college I went to an academic conference in Metz, France and Saarbrucken, Germany to discuss Germany's national identity at the 1936 Berlin Olympics as compared to the 1972 Munich Olympics.

If you're a Mets fan the years 2000 and 2006 should clearly stick out to you as the last two times the Mets went to the NLCS, in the case of 2000 they reached the World Series and in 2006 they should have (and I'm convinced would have won the whole thing if they did). Of course those teams were far better than the one playing now, but here's the real question. How did the Mets do exactly while I was in Europe?

I don't remember the exact dates of my trip in 2000, but I do know that every morning I went to a news stand to get a copy of the International Herald Tribune so I could see the score of the Mets game and every day they seemed to win. In fact, over the nine days I was in Europe, the Mets won nine games.

In 2006, my trip took me to Europe from April 25 to May 4, and if we glance at the Mets' schedule that season we find that they went 7-2 over that span.

So essentially, in the 18 days I've spent on mainland Europe, the New York Mets are a combined 16-2, good for a sparkling .888 winning percentage. I'm about to double those 18 days and I guess we'll see if the Mets can double that impressive mark. I'm assuming they probably won't but all in all a man can dream -- particularly since going 13-2 in the 15 games they'll play while I'm out of the country will seriously thrust them into the middle of the Wild Card, and possibly divisional, race. And that would be something wholly unexpected when the season began.

If it happens, I think it's pretty clear they'll have me to thank.

Enjoy the rest of your July everyone. I'll try my best to check in while I'm prancing around Europe. If I don't, you can be sure I'll write a follow-up to see if my trip actually helped the Mets chase a pennant.

Now That's An Entrance. And An Exit.

Let's assume for a second that last night, Friday, May 13th, you were actually watching the Mets-Astros game. No, I know, no sane, rational person would be doing that on a nice Friday night in the spring time, but that's not the point of the exercise. Let's assume that you saw fit to watch to baseball teams that are probably going nowhere duke it out for three hours.

Although, as I point that the Mets are going nowhere I should also note that aside from an interminable 2-12 stretch earlier this season the Amazins are actually 16-8. And their four-run eighth inning last night did show off some rather exciting moxie.

But I digress. These are not good baseball teams. And given that we know that already in May, it's pretty clear that this game is not worth watching when you could do more productive things with your Friday night like see friends or stare at a wall.

However, one of the great things about baseball is that every game gives you the opportunity to see something you've never seen before, and while a late comeback to win a baseball game, or even a Mets victory, are things I've seen before, I had never seen something like this.

Yeah, that's a crazy fan running onto the field, something that has happened numerous times before, and while this particular incident won't inspire a silly debate about the necessity of tasers, or point out just how dumb Philadephia sports fans are, it's easily the greatest attempt to evade the authorities that I've ever seen from a stands jumper. That's what the Astros get for having that stupid hill in center field. And the best thing about it, beyond the acrobatics shown by the fan in question, is that, seemingly, no one really got hurt. It was just a fun-loving fan livening up the crowd.



Steve McQueen would be proud.

Now that said I don't want to imply that I'm suddenly encouraging fans to jump the stands and run onto the field. Far from it. More often than not these events wind up being potentially or actually dangerous to at least one if not both people involved.

Obviously we don't want that.

But if you, as a fan, absolutely have to be a reckless ass and run out on the field, when you do it, at least do it in a way that is most importantly not dangerous and almost as importantly, awesome. And this was pretty damn awesome. Even some of the players enjoyed it.

Of course, the one big problem with this is that all 15 Major League games today might get stopped by some schmuck hoping to duplicate the impressive feat. I'm guessing that it'll happen at at least one game somewhere this week. While that will be infinitely irritating, I'm at least going to revel and cherish this moment, almost as much as the Mets actually playing sort of ok lately or Geelong winning its big showdown with Collingwood Friday.

After all, how could I not enjoy the second funniest news item to come out this week?

The One Time In My Life That I'll Actually Think The NBA Does It Right

I'll be honest in that I think Draft Lotteries are kind of silly. Yes, I understand the point is to increase incentive late in the season so bad teams don't just throw in the towel knowing that a high draft pick is their reward. But the incentive to play well is also provided to most of these players by the prospect of, you know, not having jobs. So whatever impact a potential high draft pick has, I'd have to think, is minimal. After all, with the very real chance of getting cut or traded, most players, I'd assume are less preoccupied with the well being of their franchise in the longterm than of their own well being in the short term.

As a result, potentially robbing the worst team in the League of a rightly deserved chance at the top overall pick in the draft, and the best chance of improving itself, seems somewhat unfair.

But God Bless the NHL, because the fine folks in professional hockey have a solution to this stickler of an issue. That solution is that there are several rules beyond simply picking a ping pong ball out of a jar, with the most prominent one being that the most you can move up in a Draft Lottery, even if you win, is four spots, meaning that no one beyond the five worst teams in the League can grab the top spot and the draft is weighted in such a fashion that the worst team must be extremely unlucky not to get the top selection as their chances are roughly 48.2% with everyone else's chances far lower.

This is far more reasonable than the no-holds-barred weighted lottery the NBA uses in which any team can grab the top spot with a little bit of luck. That system has only given the top spot to the worst team in the League three times in 21 years, and in some occasions, wholly undeserving teams defy the odds and grab the top slot, such as Chicago in 2008, which won despite having only a 1.7% chance of winning and being better than eight other teams, or in 1993 when the Magic actually had a .500 record and won the draft lottery despite having just a single ping pong ball in the running. For the record, those picks turned out to be likely 2011 League MVP Derrick Rose and, in the event of Orlando, Chris Webber, who was immediately flipped to Golden State for Penny Hardaway and three first-round picks which would eventually turn into Todd Fuller, Vince Carter and Mike Miller. Sure, more ridiculous things in this world have happened, and yes, the pick that wound up being Carter was shipped to Toronto before he was drafted, but either way you slice it, that's an almost overwhelming amount of talent for a team that just missed out on a playoff berth.

So yes. In my estimation, the NHL's system is far better for purposes of maintaining fairness. Or at least, that's how I felt before the Devils were involved.
Now, I know what you're thinking. The Knicks have been involved in the lottery for nine of the past ten years, so you've had a reason to care, Dave. True. But the Knicks and Isiah Thomas were preoccupied with drafting Renaldo Balkman instead of Rajon Rondo, and about 18 of their draft picks went to Chicago in a trade for some overweight lug with a heart condition, so, really, you know those picks were pretty worthless anyway.

The Devils are different. They've got a decent scouting department and their history of drafting has worked out pretty well. When given a top five pick, New Jersey's churned out Kirk Muller, Brendan Shanahan, Bill Guerin and Scott Niedermayer among others. That's two likely hall-of-famers, one of whom was arguably the best puck-moving defenseman of his era and two players who had long careers as productive forwards. Those four players have 10 Stanley Cups among them. That's pretty solid, and it doesn't even account for other homegrown Devils like John MacLean, Martin Brodeur or Ken Daneyko.

So the Devils, who had the eighth-worst record in the League this year have typically been a trustworthy franchise when it comes to the draft, and the prospect of them moving up in the Draft lottery was awfully enticing, particularly since the Devils haven't had a decent first-round pick in almost 20 years as a result of being one of the more successful franchises around. But those rules inhibiting teams from moving up so far didn't really impact me. After all, the Devils' chances of winning the draft lottery and moving up were only 3.6%, so why bother getting your knickers in a twist?

Oh, they won. How about that?



So yeah, for the first and probably only time in my life, I wish the NHL had taken a cue from the NBA, but to be honest, that is for completely selfish reasons. The rational side of me knows the NHL's Draft Lottery system is far better for creating interest, but still protecting fairness.

Still, one can't help but dream of the prospect of the Devils grabbing the No. 1 overall pick through a tremendous amount of luck, but alas the strict rules of fairness and propriety prevent that, even if the idea of "winning" the Draft Lottery but not getting the top pick are a little confusing. Either way, as a Devils fan, it's hard to be upset with this result after New Jersey's first season since 1996 not being in the playoffs.

Oh, and speaking of the playoffs, those start tonight, in case you were wondering. I won't go into too much detail for all your sakes, but let's just say I'm taking Vancouver to knock off Boston in the Stanley Cup Final. Which almost certainly means it'll be the Predators over the Sabres.

When Winning Is Losing. And Vice Versa.

I do not like Duke. I believe that's what makes me most like the rest of America. In fact, I'm fairly certain the only non-Duke graduate who actively roots for the school is my cousin Geoff, who told me this morning, "Never bet against the Blue Devils." Of course, that seems particularly odd to say today considering Duke was rather surprisingly bounced from the NCAA Tournament last night by Arizona in the Sweet Sixteen. I won't get into the peculiarities like how it could be fair for a No. 1 seed to host a school from Tuscon in Anaheim, or how Duke could have seemingly forgotten to play basketball in the second half when the Wildcats went on a very impressive run.

But I will say this. I was not betting against the Blue Devils. In fact, I was betting on them. And after letting me down the one time I was actually rooting for Duke, it could be a while before I do it again.

As I alluded to in my last entry, I was in a survival pool for this year's Dance in which I fared far better than my actual bracket -- which I haven't even looked at in days -- did. In fact, after a wild Sunday night, I was one of just five people remaining, and I had assumed that of the games Thursday night, Duke was the one sure bet to win. And so, with the chance of winning a $700 prize on the line, I put my hopes with the Blue Devils and watched.

And then that happened.

So yeah, I was out of the running for $700, and even the considerable silver lining of "But Duke lost, which makes everyone happy" wasn't going to comfort me.

Then, there was a window opened about 15 minutes later in New Orleans. I have a soft spot in my heart for the Wisconsin Badgers since several of my friends, my sister and my grandmother are all alums, and if Northwestern is out of the running, which, uh, they were, I'll usually throw my lot with Bucky. But when I noticed that all the remaining participants in the pool had Wisconsin advancing, and that a win by Butler would knock everyone out, I changed my tune.

See, if anyone advanced to Friday I was done completely, but if the five remaining participants all lost in one night, we would have a five-way tie and a split pot. I wouldn't quite be getting $700, but a take of $148 wasn't too shabby, and my decision was made despite the overwhelming temptation to cheer for a team that would offer a basketball scholarship to Christopher "Kid" Reid of the early 90's hip-hop duo Kid N' Play.

What moxie.

Fortunately for me, Butler answered the call in a win that really was never in doubt until Wisconsin made a late rally, which led me to two conclusions, a) While it wouldn't be quite as satisfying as a $700 take from this year's pool, I still managed to win an extremely satisfying $148 -- my best take from a March Madness pool ever, and b) Butler probably shouldn't really be an eight seed.

Granted, the Bulldogs did go a relatively paltry 23-9 this regular season with five losses in the Horizon League, but their comfort and determination on the big stage has become clearly evident in big tournament wins over No. 1 Pittsburgh and now No. 4 Wisconsin. On almost gets the sense that even without Gordon Hayward, Brad Stevens and his boys were simply biding their time until it was March.

At this point, seedings aside, I can't see how one wouldn't give them a fighting chance at knocking off Florida Saturday and landing in their second consecutive Final Four. And once they're there, playing like they are, all things are certain. All I know is that from now on, when I watch, I won't be doing so with so much anxiety.

After all, despite losing, I made my money. It's almost like playing for the Mets.

Season Tickets: The Dilemma Of The Die-Hard Fan

When I was 20 years old I decided for fun to put my name on the Giants' season ticket waiting list. It was partially serious and partially a lark, but given that my number on the list generally hovered between 90,000 and 86,000, which would require an entire stadium's worth of fans to die off or give up their tickets for my turn to present itself, I assumed I wouldn't be getting the opportunity to buy season tickets for 20 years or so. This in turn prompted my father to ask if he could go to some games with me because, in his words, "I plan on still being pretty lucid."

He'll be 74, so I imagine he will, in fact, be lucid, but something funny happened on the way to my 40th birthday.

When the Giants moved into their new stadium this past season, not only was there an increased capacity, but a few bizarre quirks changed the game. For one, the Giants and Jets, not anticipating such extensive financial fallout, raised prices just a bit too high for the vast majority of their demand. As well, the scourge of NFL fans known as personal seat licenses wreaked havoc on the Big Blue fan base. By charging PSLs that were as high as $20,000 in some places, the average fan and many families that had been season ticket holders for years were priced out of being able to see their team every Sunday.

Now, while I can understand their frustration, the theory behind PSLs doesn't really bother me because it shifts the cost of a stadium to the people who will actually attend games in it rather than the average taxpayer who has no interest in going to a game. But more importantly, the PSLs and the other factors I mentioned previously opened a gaping hole in the waiting list, and by the start of the 2010 NFL season, I got a phone call from the Giants ticket office that was about 15 years earlier than I expected.

My number was up. I had the chance to buy season tickets.

Here's where it gets interesting, however. For one, I enjoy going to one or two games a year, but eight? Or realistically since you're required to buy preseason games at full price, 10? For another, the only remaining seats in the standing were far out of my price range. They were club seats that would cost $400 each per game and each seat had a PSL that was valued at -- wait for it -- $7,500.

So if I wanted to buy Giants season tickets when my number came up, the total first year cost (note: PSLs can have their costs spread out with longterm payment plans) would have been $23,000. That was not a price I had interest in paying.

So imagine my surprise when the Giants came calling again this morning to offer me season tickets, which I was quick to dismiss until they told me the choices had gotten cheaper. Of course, the word "cheap" is relative, but in this case, compared to the first chance I had it certainly was. The cheapest seats available ran at $120 -- I paid $150 to attend the Giants' first ever game at the New Meadowlands Stadium -- and PSLs would be $4,000 per seat, nearly half the cost of the previous tickets.

Herein lies the dilemma. Being able to call myself a Giants season ticket holder is something I have wanted for years, but is the cost enough to justify it? And moreover, if I'm not going to attend the games, the obvious choice, to not purchase tickets at all or to sell them at a markup and hope to recoup the cost of the PSLs through those means an enormous amount of work, or a leap of faith at any rate.

Throw this in with the fact that PSLs are available for far cheaper on the Giants' PSL exchange site -- albeit for much worse seats -- and things get more complicated.

Clearly, there is much to consider for anyone who has the chance to buy some, and I'm personally grappling with the realities right now. In the end, with logic dictating, I will probably not buy tickets at all, but that doesn't mean I won't be thinking long and hard about it over the next few days, and I will probably be placing a call to the Giants' ticket office in the morning to get a sense of what my options would be.

If I get too crazy, it may not be the last call I make to them.

The Carnegie Deli Sparks The Great Sandwich Debate

Those of you who have seen me either at meal time or in my pre-16-year-old days know that I enjoy eating quite a bit, and as a result, from time to time I have to face startling questions of a gustatory nature. Periodically, I even take up those issues right here on this blog, which is to say I've done it once. But make no mistake, the debate of cake vs. pie remains volatile. In any event, I bring this up to you because the Knicks' acquisition of Carmelo Anthony this week has prompted the Carnegie Deli to make a bold foray into the sports arena that has torn the very fabric of New York's sandwich community asunder.

And that, my friends, is the 'Carmelo Anthony'.

Yes, the Carnegie Deli knew there was a power vacuum in the sports-themed sandwich hierarchy in this city and the biggest trade to clog up our twitter feeds maybe ever provided just the opportunity for Carnegie Deli owner Sandy Levine to steal the throne. Indeed with this collection of corned beef, pastrami, salami, bacon, lettuce, tomato and Russian dressing on rye bread he makes a compelling argument as for why this sandwich should rule the roost, particularly since each ingredient was chosen for a specific reason, like a master tactician composing his cabinet of advisers. For instance Levine noted that the sandwich includes bacon because, "we want Carmelo to bring home the bacon to New York." In a quirky touch the inclusion of Russian dressing was an obvious jab at bold, and possibly crazy Nets owner Mikhail Prokhorov, though Prokhorov may have made a fairly bold statement this morning anyway.

Now, this is hardly the first time sandwiches have made their way into the sports world. Peppi's Old Tyme Sandwich Shop made waves several years ago in Pittsburgh when they introduced the Roethlis-burger, a hearty collection of sausage and hamburger topped with fried egg and American cheese. It sells for an appropriate seven dollars.

But while I keep up on my dietary news from other cities around the country -- some particularly worrisome news has sprouted up in Chicago recently -- New York is where I spend most of my time and therefore it is the place I'm primarily concerned about. This is why the moves by the Carnegie Deli strikes such a chord, but there is some awkward tomfoolery afoot that could only be caught by the true aficionados.

The Carnegie Deli has done this before. Enter the Mo-Licious.

Yes, after the Mets acquired rotund first baseman Mo Vaughn in 2002, the Carnegie Deli staked its claim to sports-themed sandwich superiority with a devastating combination of corned beef, pastrami, turkey and cheese piled so high on rye bread that it literally was as tall as Vaughn's head. The always weight-conscious slugger even noted at the sandwich's introduction, "To endorse this sandwich is not really the message I want to send to the club."

Don't worry, Mo. You backed up your dedication to fitness with that .784 OPS you compiled in your two seasons with the Amazins.

It is clear that this is not the first time the Carnegie Deli has attempted to use a major trade to boost sales with a remarkable new sandwich, and while I can't speak for which sandwich is the better of the two -- I never got the opportunity to try the first and have yet to taste the second -- I do hope for the sake of all of us that these sandwiches don't provide an ominous portent for Melo's tenure in New York. Granted, by the time Vaughn arrived he was a shell of himself suffering from numerous physical ailments. Anthony is 26 and has little in the way of injury concern.

But either way, the Carnegie Deli has given us some deep introspective thinking to do. What impact will these sandwiches have on the New York spectrum of edibility? The results are yet to be seen. However, if you can still breath after eating one of these, you'll have to decide which side you're on.

As Chris Berman will attest, it's serious business.

All I know is I'm looking to try it. Anyone interested in tagging along, please step to the front of the line.

Anyone Notice That The Devils Are Kind Of Really Good Right Now?

I am faced with a massive quandary as a Devils fan right now. In what has been a trying season -- New Jersey has spent most of the season with the League's worst record -- my team is suddenly hot as a pistol and making a wild, bizarre run at the final playoff spot in the East. That playoff spot is still a far, far ways off, but it's an awful lot closer than it used to be. Last night, New Jersey trailed in the third period in Toronto before Ilya Kovalchuk pushed himself end-to-end and fired a game-winner past James Reimer in the waning seconds of overtime.

And just like that the deficit was down to 13.

Now that may not seem like the most exciting revelation. After all, New Jersey is still third to last in the Eastern conference. But that 13-point deficit was 24 points not so long ago, and with 27 games remaining there is ample time for that deficit to start dropping bit by bit. In fact, that win over Toronto Thursday night has pushed New Jersey's mark to 11-1-2 in its last 14 games, which easily makes them the hottest team in the League at the moment. Thursday night was the Devils' second consecutive overtime victory after defeating the Hurricanes in OT Tuesday at The Rock -- a game I was actually in attendance for -- and it now may have the New Jersey building the adequate momentum to make a serious run at the final postseason seed.

The win in Toronto also put coach Jacques Lemaire in the 600-win club, a feat that was written up by some anonymous lackey at NHL.com.

Lemaire's accomplishments are a pivotal part of the story, of course. The man who led the Devils to their first Stanley Cup Championship in 1995, has showed a remarkable ability to get the most out of his teams -- as he did with the Devils a season ago in what was expected to be a one-season return to the Garden State before moving on into retirement. What he has done so far this season, however, may eclipse anything else he's done. New Jersey was 9-22-2 when Lemaire was brought in to replace company man John MacLean on Dec. 23. At that point the idea of a playoff run was well off the team's radar -- and in likelihood it still is. Instead for the Lemaire, the challenge was to remind the players that not only were they professionals, but they were expected to be Stanley Cup contenders when the season began.

Rediscovering the Devils' confidence under Lemaire has been a rough process -- New Jersey went 1-7-0 in its first eight games following the coaching change, culminating in a home-and-home sweep at the hands of the hated Flyers. Since then, there has been a change, however. And the results have been staggering.



New Jersey was 27 points behind eighth-place Montreal on Jan. 9. In 14 games, the deficit has been halved.

With 27 games remaining there is certainly time for the Devils to get closer and closer, and while they would likely have to continue playing at the same remarkable pace of the past month, fans like myself have slowly started to believe that anything is possible. So why not?

Well, probability is one reason to believe why not. Cool Standings as of today still lists the Devils' chances of making the postseason this year at less than .1%, and I generally find a reliance on numbers and statistics to be the likely outcome in the long run. But without knowing the actual math they use, I'm not sure they can account for intangibles like momentum, but I can also attest, mathematically speaking, to a belief in regression to the mean and the law of larger numbers. All season long the Devils have been playing beneath their expectations and their talent level, but the larger the sample size -- in this case, 82 games -- the more likely the Devils' final record should approach their expected performance this season.

Now the Devils were expected to compete for a division title against the likes of defending-Eastern Conference Champion Philadelphia and 2009 Stanley Cup Champion Pittsburgh. While the chances of winding up in that race are just about nil, sneaking into the postseason with the final seed, if this team continues to return to its expected level performance over the long haul, certainly doesn't seem all that outlandish to me.

So that aforementioned quandary is this. Do I lament the likely loss of the Devils first potential top-five draft pick in decades, which could be used to patch a number of holes? Or do I get behind the improbable comeback?

Is it likely? Probably not. In fact, earlier this week I decided that I would wait until New Jersey had closed the gap to 10 points, and that it would have to happen by the 61st game of the season, before I fully invested myself emotionally in the prospect of the Devils making a stunning and unlikely playoff run. But with five games and only three points to go before that threshold, I'm starting to believe. It's only been a month of this season that the team has actually shown any signs of life, but now they're as lively as can be. And if they knock off the hottest team in the West in Newark tonight, (though I should note tonight's Chicago-Dallas game is also pretty intriguing as this preview attests) things could really get interesting.

And then I'd really start to believe that it's possible. In the end, short of a Championship, believing, in any season, is all you can really hope for.

The Journey Continues In 2011 With Team No. 38: The Philadelphia 76ers

Yes, 2011 is almost six whole weeks in and here I am with not one new team knocked off the list. This isn't the worst thing if I'm planning on keeping pace with the needed rate. I decided a year ago that if I wanted to see all 122 teams by the time I was 55, this would require seeing roughly six new ones per year -- or one every two months. Well fortunately, I'm not too far gone for that pace to continue so far, and this calendar year could actually have me seeing as many as 11 teams or as few as, well, one.

But I will have one!

And I know that because Team No. 38 will be crossed off the list this Friday when myself and at least five other hearty souls attend the Knicks-76ers game at the Wells Fargo Center in Philadelphia. While I've already attended this building once for a Flyers game a year ago, I'm extremely excited for a few reasons. Firstly) It's one step closer to my goal. Obviously. Secondly) While I was never not a Knicks fan over the last decade, this season has easily made me a reinvigorated one. Thirdly) Rather than traveling to meet one or two people, as is the usual situation, a whole group of my friends and I will be driving down to Philadelphia for the game. Fourthly) I'll be wearing the first Knicks jersey I've ever owned. Fifthly) There may be a potential tour of Lincoln Financial Field in the works provided I don't let my anti-Philadelphianism get the best of me.

And I am anti-Philadelphia. I have made this clear. But sometimes you have to go to the belly of the beast to get what you want, and I have a goal to accomplish. Sometimes we do unsavory things, even if there are cheesesteaks involved.

Whether or not that cheesesteak from Pat's is involved is yet to be seen, but either way, it should be a fun evening for all involved with one more step being taken towards those white pearly gates of the North American sports scene.

As it stands, that will be my first trip of the year, but hopefully the first of many. I am expecting to see the Washington Capitals when they host the Blackhawks in March and I recently booked a flight to Detroit in April where I will see the Pistons and Red Wings. Originally I considered flying out in January to see the Red Wings play the Devils, but a) the Devils are in the midst of a painful season and b) it's January in Detroit. I've had more than my fair share of snow this year. I'm not interested in anymore. Unless all of the snow results more star wars statues like the one to the left.

I'd sign up for that in a second.

Before I wrap up, I should note that this will be my first trip since December's adventure to Nassau Coliseum to see the Islanders face-off with the Penguins, and in a bit of full-circle quirkiness, the Islanders played the Penguins again tonight. This time the Penguins won fairly easily, but the score was almost secondary because this game featured something I would have killed to see in person. That's right. This game featured the two greatest words in hockey.

"Goalie Fight."



That's the Islanders' Rick DiPietro being dropped like a rag doll by Pittsburgh's Brent Johnson, and while Johnson may be a backup goaltender, he appears to be a first-rate pugilist with a cross like that. If that isn't DiPietro's career as an Islander in a nutshell, well, I don't know what is. Thanks for letting us watch, Rick.

On that note, I'm done with this ramble. See you in Philly.

Who Wants To Buy Part Of A Minor League Baseball Team?

Yeah, that's right. I don't know if any of you heard, part of the delightful fallout from that whole "Madoff thing" is that there's a baseball club that's looking for some minority investors. Some of you may never have actually heard of this "baseball team" because their performance over the past few years has called into question whether or not they are a "real" baseball team, but sure enough they've been playing 162 games a year -- no more than 162, let's be clear -- right here in the Big Apple.

Come on. You've heard of them.

Yes, that's right people. Mets chairman Fred Wilpon and his son Jeff announced this week both with a released statement, a press conference, and a personal e-mail to their fans which made me feel oh so special, that they have decided to explore finding new investors interested in a minority stake in the New York Mets. A real live baseball team!

Now, if you've been following the 'Ropolitans like I have for more than a decade, this announcement seems like a particularly odd one for the Wilpons to make for a few reasons. For one, they've done an extremely large amount of work over recent years to consolidate and improve the financial potency of the franchise. The introduction of SNY in 2006 has gone quite a distance to bring more money into the team's coffers and give them a financial base, ideally, more in line with those crosstown rivals in the Bronx. In addition to that, the recent construction of the Wilpon moneyfactory, also known as Citi Field, was further intended to strengthen the team's position. Lastly, and perhaps most notably, Fred Wilpon has tried awfully hard to make sure this team would belong to him and only him.

Obviously, given the track record of one Fred Wilpon, it seems patently bizarre that he would want to unload a chunk of his baby just as he's finally prepared the setup to make the team flourish financially even if it doesn't do the same on the field. So what gives?

Oh right. That.

It seems someone has decided that considering lots of people have lost money due to the pyramid scheme of Bernie Madoff, and because the Wilpons, who had hundreds of millions of dollars tied up in those investments, um, didn't, they must be the perfect people to sue to get that money back. What with Bernie being in jail and all -- without his Mets jacket -- it makes sense. I won't claim to understand how all the legal liabilities work in this thing since I'm, you know, not a lawyer, and I'm sure there's a legitimate reason why the Wilpons might possibly be somehow liable in this whole horror story, but it all seems kind of silly to me. Regardless however, absolutely none of that matters. The only thing of note is this:

There's a part of the Mets for sale!

Why is this so exciting? Well, some people might claim it is, in fact, not exciting at all, and while Rob Parker may have a point here, he's also an unnecessary provocateur and an asshole, so I'm going to ignore him for the moment. No, for me this is more exciting because I've just realized this is as good a prospect as any to pull some money together and own a baseball team. Indeed, that prospect was the very first idea I had when I first saw the story.

Shockingly none of my other potential investors seem interested in joining in despite my assurances that the Mets could not possibly be worth more than $10,000 or so given their on-field performance the last few years, but the bigger obstacle than this might be competition. And apparently that competition is coming. My guess is these other potential owners are going to jack the price out of my personal range, but let me state this right here for all who are interested.

I AM WILLING TO LISTEN TO ANYONE WHO IS INTERESTED IN FORMING A BID TO BUY A MINORITY STAKE IN THE NEW YORK METS.

Is that clear? I want to buy the Mets, I want to pool money to get the job done and I will actively seek partners. Not only will owning a piece of a Major League Baseball team be a great source of pride, but we'll get to see any Mets game we want for free (probably) and it'll totally help us get chicks. Or men if that's your fancy. Plus, I'm totally a really serious big time Mets fan. Just look at that picture of what I wore to my brother's wedding this summer to the right. I'm totally right for it. If I somehow won't be the right person for the job, the list of potential minority owners is certainly interesting.

My personal preference is for the minority bid to go to a group that is headed by Martin Luther King III, which also involves former Met Ed Kranepool and the son of Mets great Donn Clendenon. Failing that, however, the likely bid being brought forward by Martin Silver, the owner of Georgi Vodka, will at least make those long painful days at the park go faster.

In fact, the more I think about it, the more appropriate it seems to align the classy Mets organization with the class of a brand of vodka that is sold in plastic bottles.

If I'm unable to get my hands on any piece of the Mets, I will simply have to settle for watching the Wilpons' iron grip on the franchise slowly recede, which, given the team's prospects since they gained full control of the franchise, probably isn't the worst thing as I've noted before. Now to be fair, I suspect that regardless of ownership, the administration of Sandy Alderson will bring a much more professional auspice to the franchise and that success will follow, much as it did with Frank Cashen in the early 1980s, but giving the Wilpons less power couldn't hurt. And in the end, the prospect of the team forcibly getting better ownership is really enough for me.

Considering that this weekend already saw Southampton blow a second-half lead in the FA Cup against Manchester United and that Northwestern blew a tantalizingly close chance at knocking off No. 1 Ohio State, well, the promise that the Mets are on the way to better times would help salve those wounds. The fact that I also booked a flight to beautiful Detroit for a Pistons and Red Wings game this April also perks me up a little bit (more on that in a few weeks), but when I realize that the Pro Bowl is tonight, well, that just makes matters worse.

This is why, for the good of the Mets, and maybe my sanity, this chunk of the Mets being for sale is coming just at the right time. If it can't be me, maybe it can be someone else who actually knows how to run a baseball team.

But remember, I'm not giving up on my bid for a piece of the pie. Someone out there will want to take a bite, too. Who's with me?

NFL Picks Week Fifteen: In Which I Care About The Knicks Again

Holy shit.

After a decade of ambivalence towards a team that made mediocrity seem good, I actually care about the Knicks again. For those of you who haven't been paying attention, New York has won 13 of 14 games with their last being an impressive victory over the Nuggets Sunday afternoon. While another winning streak was halted last night in a heartbreaking last second loss to the Boston Celtics, there are a few things to notice here about this team. First of all, Amar'e Stoudemire is a monster in the front court, plain and simple. I was among the chorus of individuals who viewed him as a nice signing for the 'Bockers this offseason, but not one that could singlehandedly turn a franchise's fortunes around. His role was best as a second fiddle to someone like LeBron James, who shockingly landed elsewhere.

I was wrong.

Not only can Amar'e be "the guy", but he's thriving of late. Of course, second of all, for me to say he is the sole reason for the Knicks' recent good fortune would be shortsighted. Danilo Gallinari, Raymond Felton and Wilson Chandler have all played parts in the resurgence. Third of all, this game, even as a loss, proves the Knicks can play with the big boys. This wasn't a fluke, this wasn't random and it could be a harbinger of the team's return to relevance in a League in which New York has been an utter non-factor for the past decade. I have at times lamented both the Knicks' absurd mediocrity and my own youthful foolishness in choosing to root for them, but perhaps, at long last, that may no longer be the case.

Wednesday night's wild shootout with Boston was the second time the Garden rocked this week, and MSG hasn't had that kind of basketball excitement in it since the Knicks lost to San Antonio in the 1999 NBA Finals, or maybe even since the days of Patrick Ewing and John Starks. Now things are different and even the opposition, in this case Paul Pierce, recognizes it. After the game last night Pierce noted, "The Knicks have arrived."

So, in the midst of all this excitement, I bring to the table a curiousity wholly related to the sudden rise of Mike D'Antoni's boys.

This feels kind of funny.

No, not ha-ha funny. This feels weird, odd, highly unusual. In a good way, of course, but watching the Knicks and actually having a reason to feel hopeful is something I haven't experienced in my entire adult life. So dramatic is the shift that the Knicks missed out on my 2000s jersey-buying spree and as a result I don't even own one piece of Knicks merchandise. It may be time for this to change. A bobblehead or two, or at least a jersey, might be in order in time for my tentative plans to see the Knicks in Philadelphia in February, but before I get to that point, I'm going to need to recognize and reconcile these odd feelings I have about actually wanting to watch the Knicks play basketball again.

The only thing I can really relate this to, and this may sound odd, is the kind of awakening that comes when you hit puberty. I remember, pretty exactly, when the first moment was that I saw a woman in a bikini and was actually intrigued rather than being ambivalent or grossed out. As an 11-year-old whose mother had, for whatever reason, opted not to tell Sports Illustrated to keep the Swimsuit Issue to itself when I moved over from SI for Kids, I saw the 1997 SI Swimsuit Issue on my coffee table one February, the first thing even remotely close to pornography that I had ever owned. The thoughts that run through your mind when you aren't quite sure if you're supposed to like what you're seeing -- even though you know you do -- are a cautious curiosity of the as yet unknown. And while this may seem like an utterly ridiculous parallel to draw -- that's because it is -- that's what I feel like I'm experiencing with the Knicks. The unknown. I've never known what it's like to be a post-pubescent adult who actually has a reason to be optimistic or care about the Knicks. I don't know what this is or how to manage it, just that I may not have a choice in doing so. And given that situation, I'm going to do whatever it is I can to make the best of it. Or at least enjoy it.

Now that said, I understand that it's foolish to assume the Knickerbockers are suddenly championship contenders. But they are, at long last on the road back.

They matter. And last night is as a piece of evidence as you can hope for that they do.

And with all that said, I sometimes feel as though I've written a solid blog post that stands on its own -- and this is one of them. But those damn Thursday night NFL games mean I'm going to have to hackily tack my NFL picks onto this ode to 'Bocker basketball. So here we go.

Last week: 9-7-0
Season: 104-95-10

SAN DIEGO (-9) over San Francisco
NY GIANTS (-3) over Philadelphia
Cleveland (+1) over CINCINNATI
DALLAS (-6) over Washington
Houston (+2) over TENNESSEE
Jacksonville (+5) over INDIANAPOLIS
Kansas City (even) over ST. LOUIS
MIAMI (-6) over Buffalo
TAMPA BAY (-6) over Detroit
Arizona (+1) over CAROLINA
New Orleans (+1) over BALTIMORE
SEATTLE (+7) over Atlanta
OAKLAND (-7) over Denver
NY Jets (+6) over PITTSBURGH
NEW ENGLAND (even) over Green Bay
Chicago (even) over MINNESOTA

And there you have it. I'm off to watch some Knicks basketball. For the first time in a long time.