THE CROSSTOWN RIVAL

Much has been made of the fact that Washington Nationals GM Jim Bowden has all the spotlight on him as July 31 approaches. When you've had four players highly sought-after this season in 2B/OF Alfonso Soriano, SPs Livan Hernandez and Ramon Ortiz and, until recently, OF Jose Guillen (who is finished after an injury-ravaged year), that'll happen to ya.

The first shot for Soriano was officially fired by ESPN.com, when the site reported that the Chicago White Sox were "extremely close" to making a deal for Soriano last night. According to ESPN.com, the Nationals are deeply interested in acquiring 23-year-old White Sox P Brandon McCarthy, who is one of the organization's most prized starting pitching prospects and currently a set-up man in Ozzie Guillen's bullpen.

White Sox GM Kenny Williams is known for his shrewd deadline deals (although his acquisition this year of Royals closer Mike MacDougal for a couple of prospects seems to be of the "make a move just to make a move" variety), but at the moment, he is claiming that this Soriano rumor is bogus and that the Sox have no plans to trade McCarthy.

Perhaps this is GM-speak, and that "it's a business" as players and front office folks are wont to saying these days, but if the White Sox end up trading McCarthy after such a claim, isn't that what's truly bogus?

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Wang Gives Islanders Fans The Shaft
Apparently, the New York Islanders' front office believes that giving former Stanley Cup-winning GM Neil Smith 0 games to right the team's ship and then giving the car keys to a backup goalie is a prudent decision. They're absolutely right! If this picture is any indication, Garth Snow will have no problem attracting women to the rink:

Danica Patrick In Talks With NASCAR To Continue Losing

Bored with losing every race she's ever competed in on the IndyCar circuit and still basking in the glow of leading one lap of last year's Indianapolis 500, Ms. Patrick is now in talks with NASCAR to join one of its racing teams. All I have to say is...I know it. You know it. It's a shame that she is more concerned with increasing her marketability and earnings potential than actually ensuring that she can back up all the hubbub with some results. Sure, you can say that she's well within her rights to do this, but if Anna Kournikova provides any lesson at all, it's that selling your soul to the devil in exchange for your dedication to the sport simply makes you a really hot laughingstock (and where is she now??) If NASCAR really wants to expand upon its female audience, they should just enlist Garth Snow.

Shea Hillenbrand Still Thinks He's Jeff Bagwell

In a bizarre turn of events, the Toronto Blue Jays rid themselves of perennial malcontent/DH Shea Hillenbrand this week after he suffered a complete mental meltdown and began alienating the entire team. Upset by his belief that the team did not support him suitably while he took a leave of absence to adopt a child, Hillenbrand flew off the handle. He left the juvenile messages "Play for yourself" and "The ship is sinking" on the team's batting practice message board and refused to sit in the dugout after being held out of the starting lineup for two straight games. John Gibbons, the normally genial Blue Jays manager, was infuriated to the point of challenging Hillenbrand to a fight in front of the team. By the next day, he was designated for assignment, and so left the man who once called Red Sox GM Theo Epstein a "fag" who would regret his decision to trade Shea as much as the Sox organization regretted the infamous Jeff Bagwell trade. Uh yeah, Shea...you're Jeff Bagwell alright...Jeff Bagwell without power, plate discipline, or a glove!

(Editor's Note: Hillenbrand was traded last night to the San Francisco Giants along with reliever Vinnie Chulk for relief pitcher Jeremy Accardo...Shea and Barry in the same clubhouse--just about as good of a dynamic as, say, Barry and Jeff Kent!)

Another Guy With Cowboy Name En Route To Winning Tour De France

American cyclist Floyd Landis miraculously recovered from a disastrous late stage in the race to recover the lead and become a lock to capture his first Tour de France title. Landis, who is virtually unknown outside of racing circles (can you think of one person you know who's a racing enthusiast? me neither!), has overcome a chronic degenerative condition in his hip similar to Bo Jackson's that is so troublesome that he is unsure if he could even return next year for the race. Meanwhile, I'll sit here and eat pizza and maybe take some time out at the driving range...if it's not raining.

Football Players Getting Shot All Over The Place!

Earlier this week, Cowboys safety Keith Davis was shot twice in a 5AM drive-by shooting, with one bullet grazing the back of his head and the other lodged in his thigh. The most disturbing part of this story is that this is the SECOND time Davis has been shot multiple times!!! In 2003, he was shot thrice after enjoying himself at a Dallas strip club, so we're obviously talking about a classy fella here.

Yesterday, Miami Hurricanes Junior safety Willie Cooper was shot in the derriere at 6:30 AM outside his apartment. The most disturbing part of this story was that Cooper's teammate Brandon Meriweather ensued to pull out his own firearm and fire shots at Cooper's assailant.

So what's the moral of the story? If you're a football player, being up after 5 AM in a sketchy area is a baaad idea.

Birdies and Eagles and Tiger, Oh My!

As RumorMan (and Pat Forde from ESPN.com) predicted, Eldrick has stormed out to an early lead in the British Open at Hoylake Craphole Golf Club. Seeing that we're not talking about Phil Mickelson, Tiger should continue to keep going strong (seeing that he has never reliquished a lead after entering the final round of a tournament as the leader) while sticking with his new driver-less strategy. It's amazing that it even took him this long to make the decision, seeing that he can bomb his woods and irons much more consistently than he does with his driver.

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I hate to keep harping on the fact that I thoroughly dislike athletes who let themselves go and have no redeeming qualities (OK, who am I kidding? I love it), but Phil Mickelson reeeeally gets my ire up.

"Lefty" was brought up as your classic country club, caviar-pounding, smug douchebag with a sweet swing. Then he became one of the most promising young players on tour, even as people were starting to wonder, "When's this guy gonna break the seal (win a Major, not open a can of Spam)?" He even nurtured his turd status, becoming known as one of the most unapproachable stars on tour, often rebuffing fans' requests for autographs.

So Tiger Woods explodes onto the scene in 1996 and abruptly steals virtually all of Phat Phil's thunder. Now, if I was a professional athlete, considered to be THE NEXT BIG THING, and some 20 year old punk rolled up and said, "Welp, Hello World!" I feel like I would step up my training and get into prime physical condition and bust my ass out on the links.



What did Phil do?
He traded in the caviar for the Homestyle Country Buffet.
He gained about 50 pounds, started sweating like a pig and looking less like the Next Jack Nicklaus and more like the Next Craig Stadler, and proceeded to not win a Major in his first 42 attempts (several of these disappointments were of the Big League Choke variety)

Yes, he had a great year last year, but you could feel the sense that no one really fancies Mickelson as the Arnie to Tiger's Golden Bear. Sure enough, he reverted to the Lefty we all know and loathe, pissing away the U.S. Open a few weeks ago (and compelling him to utter one of the most satisfying retrospective comments ever: "I am still in shock that I did that. I just can't believe I did that. I'm such an IDIOT!!").


Having said this, having him in the final group of the Majors is great for golf. While the other 3 golfers in the Big 5 often challenge Tiger to step his game and training up, Phil is by far the biggest name.

Right now, if he's really trying to find his killer instinct to truly become a transcendent talent, he's looking much more like Shamu than Jaws.


(Enter Shameless Photo of Athlete's Hot Wife)

Posted by Try Riesling...Great Wine at 11:36 AM | Permalink | Comments

That would be extremely difficult to watch if it wasn't so damn funny.

Posted by Try Riesling...Great Wine at 10:56 AM | Permalink | Comments

"Heavy is the head that wears the crown," they say.

Much has been made of the extent to which Alex Rodriguez has fallen out of favor with Yankee fans ever since that fateful 2004 American League Championship Series versus the Boston Red Sox. Since then, the man has had to endure a barrage of insults and charges against his offensive "clutchness," his defense, and even his manliness!

Whether you like him as a player or not, people cannot dispute the fact that A-Rod is a good guy. He never gets in trouble with the law (although that underground gambling thing was fun to laugh at), he has put his money to good use through philanthropy, and he is a solid, though unanimated, teammate. The latter point is probably one of the biggest reasons why Rodriguez is such a polarizing personality. We like our stars to have dynamic personalities, but it clearly isn't in his nature to be a rah-rah, in-your-face type guy--as a result, he tends to come off as aloof, even though it couldn't be further than the truth. Of course, it's a damned-if-he-does, damned-if-he-doesn't situation for the man: If he's not hootin' and hollerin', he only cares about himself; when he is, it's not authentic enough.

Furthermore, A-Rod doesn't get nearly enough credit for making the switch to 3rd base when he arrived in town. This guy was the Rolls-Royce of shortstops, and the unquestioned best player in baseball. He could have won Gold Gloves for the next 10 years at the position, yet he sacrificed his best interest for the good of the team and has nevertheless had to deal with a ridiculous degree of criticism over his play at 3rd base, his hitting in so-called "clutch" situations (btw, he's hitting .312 with RISP this year), and his quality of leadership.

A fatal flaw that many Yankees fans make when they bitch and moan about A-Rod is overstating Derek Jeter's "clutchness." Jeter, just like the rest of the Yankees organization, hasn't won a World Series since 2000. He hit .148 in the World Series the next year. He struggled mightily in the 2003 and 2004 ALCS against Boston. The difference between Jeter and A-Rod is that Jeter is gradually becoming one of the last remaining links to past glory that is quickly fading in the rear view mirror. When Yankees fans think of Jeter, they think of the Jeffrey Maier home run, the Jeremy Giambi flip-throw at home plate, and the extra-innings face plant into the stands against the Red Sox in '04. They don't share the same indelible memories with the $252 Million Man, and as the years between titles in a sports-rabid city increase, the more that salary appears to be a Scarlet Letter of sorts emblazoned on his uniform.

Meanwhile, he'll continue to pile up .300 seasons with 40 HR, 130 RBI, and 20-30 steals. One can only hope that people will begin to appreciate just how great his career was 20 years from now, as opposed to lamenting his few flaws.

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This year, Yours Truly began a job working in a professional atmosphere. Seeing that the most "professional" my life had been heretofore (beer pong, 3AM Taco Bell, wearing my old high school gym shirt, growing strange facial hair for money, etc.), this was a bit of an adjustment due to culture shock. When I began my job, I was informed by several of my friendly co-workers that my boss was a stickler for professionalism. How? In truly important ways such as speaking articulately and confidently with coworkers and clients, maintaining a tidy workplace, not eating at our desks, and acquiring borderline obsessive-compulsive organization skills. These are all wonderful methods for nurturing a efficient, successful work environment. However, one of my boss' tenets of professionalism that has truly stuck in my craw: The biased dress code.

This really wasn't too much of a concern in the winter/spring months for me, since a New York winter means pants and long sleeves for the better part of the year. Summer? That's another issue. Imagine having to worry about wearing an oxford shirt, tie, dress slacks, and dress socks on a 90+ degree July day to get lunch because you're worried about having a massive back sweat puddle, so you feel compelled to put on an UNDERSHIRT so you can do so. On the same track, imagine that you make the trek back to your office with a bag of crappy Chinese in your hands, and you see all the women in your workplace wearing sleeveless shirts and skirts complaining about how the A/C in the office is making them cold.

Now close your eyes and try to figure out the magnitude of your delirium in said situation.

What's the moral of the story here? There's nothing egalitarian about this picture, and as long as women want to cut corners for their personal benefit, there will never truly be equality amongst us. All I have to say is...I'd love to see what would happen if I showed up at work in that old cutoff high school gym shirt and a pair of khaki shorts.

So where is the connection to sports here, you ask? There are examples all around us. The Title IX collegiate sports fiasco, the ludicrous sport of softball, Candace Parker's dunk contest "victory," Michelle Wie's PGA Tour exemption fest, and Danica Patrick's desire to move on to NASCAR next season. With regards to Wie, you might be wondering: What about Annika? Well, Annika has spent about a decade on the LPGA Tour and has proved to be a dominating force...like Michael Jordan did, when you find yourself on top of the world in your respective sport, it can't hurt to embark on a new challenge. On the other hand, Wie hasn't accomplished a damn thing. She hasn't yet won an LPGA tournament of any kind, let alone a major, but because she's such a curiosity in the public eye, she will take the place of a less-fortunate male golfer in every tournament she decides to sneak into via free pass.

In Parker's case, her slam dunk championship victory two years ago was perhaps the most egregious example of corner-cutting in women's sports history. When a 6'4" Division I women's college basketball player barely sneaks her hands over the rim to convert a George Mikan-esque dunk, compelling her male opponents to attempt virtually-impossible jams (unsuccessfully) just to keep pace with her, there is something horribly wrong.

I am all for women achieving, but it must be done on a level playing field and not at the expense of their male counterparts.

For the record, I wore a polo shirt today (ohhhh snap!).

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Isn't it remarkable that a man who won the Cy Young Award last year for the American League can feel good about having this haircut? I know what you're thinking: "Well, Reisling, the rest of him ain't exactly perfect."

Bartolo's a guy who, at the ripe age of 33, has already ridden the see-saw between stardom and being washed up several times (probably much to the see-saw's chagrin; see-saw could not be reached for comment). The velocity on his fastball mysteriously vanished upon his exit from Cleveland (in the ill-fated Brandon Phillips, Grady Sizemore, and Cliff Lee trade with the Montreal Expos), returned for his All-Star year last year, and is now back in the high 80's.

Behind the up-and-coming Ervin Santana and Jered Weaver and suddenly rock-solid vets John Lackey (he of the 2 consecutive shutouts) and Kelvim Escobar, Bartolo has become arguably the weakest member of the Los Angeles Frisco San Diego Laguna Beach Angels of Anaheim's staff. Yes, he is a tub of red beans and rice, but this is happenstance in baseball. It's all about how you carry it. People embrace David Ortiz being chubby because, simply put, he's the coolest guy in baseball. They tolerate David Wells because he, like fellow corpulent mass John Daly, is a staggering drunk/rare athlete who truly speaks his mind. They strongly support Charles Barkley because his girth led to him garnering one of the all-time great sports nicknames and providing Ernie Johnson and Kenny Smith with a boatload of fodder to rip on him with.

The reason it's not cool for Bartolo to be a fat pig is because of that awful, awful haircut. He looks like he is a loyal visitor to Richard Simmons' hairdresser. With his ballcap on, it looks like he's trying to conceal a small dog or a black forest chocolate cake underneath (which is delicious! the cake, that is...).

Please Bart...shave it for the kids.

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Doesn't this picture say it all, folks? Obviously it's a sad, poignant moment when incidents like what happened to that horse who shall no longer be named occur. Having watched the race, I can even admit that watching the poor guy limping like an equine Ken Griffey Jr. was pretty gruesome. That being said, the outpouring of support that has persisted ever since has become a complete farce.

If you know a parent who would hover over his/her child and instruct them to write a "Get Well, Mister that horse who shall no longer be named" card, feel free to berate them out of incredulity.

Now that I'm done writing this post, I'm going to go purchase a bouquet, some horse meat and a Hallmark card so I can get working on my "Get Well" present for Old Yeller and his owners.

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The Cincinnati Reds' yesterday traded away OF Austin Kearns and All-Star SS Felipe Lopez to the Washington Nationals for a slew of relievers and SS Royce Clayton yesterday. Naturally, there's been an uproar among Reds fans since it appears that Drunk Guy (and former Reds GM) Jim Bowden, who is now helming the Nats, has fleeced their team.

Relax...there have been PLENTY worse moves...

The only way the New York Mets' ill-fated 2004 trade where they sent away phenom pitching prospect Scott Kazmir and Jose Diaz to the Tampa Bay Devil Rays for Victor Zambrano and Bartholome Fortunato can be rationalized is that they compared these two pictures and determined Kazmir to be the bigger nerd (I mean, would you think this guy would become a future All-Star???).

There have been plenty of gawdawful trades in Major League history; the crap de la crap of which result in a complete disaster for one of the teams involved.

Here are a few particularly stomach-churning deals:

1991: Baltimore Orioles trade prospects Pete Harnisch, Steve Finley and Curt Schilling to the
Houston Astros for slugger Glenn Davis. Davis was out of baseball within two years; Harnisch and Finley became solid Major Leaguers while Schilling molded himself into a Hall of Fame-caliber pitcher (that's another argument for another time).

1997: Seattle Mariners trade prospects Derek Lowe and Jason Varitek to the Boston Red Sox for the immortal Heathcliff "Smoke 'em" Slocumb. Arguably the best move that came out of the oft-criticized Dan Duquette era in Bostonia (honestly, it's right up there with letting Mercenary Clemens go and put frosted tips in his hair in Toronto).

2003: In what will eventually be referred to in your Encyclopedia Brittanica as the "Gold Standard in Horrifically Bad Trades," the San Francisco Giants swap perennial turd A.J. Pierzynski for Francisco Liriano, Joe Nathan, and Boof Bonser. Congratulations, A-Jerk! You're officially the answer to an outstanding trivia question.

But I digress...

My take on the Reds' trade is: Sure, it's a bad trade in the sense that your above-average offense takes a substantial hit in production (particularly with Royce Clayton in the lineup---how the hell has this schmoe stuck around so long?), but now you at least have building blocks in Bill Bray, Gary Majewski and Daryl Thompson so your starters will be able to come out of games without wanting to pound a bunch of Rolaids and wash them down with a jug of Mylanta. Also, what has Austin Kearns done in baseball besides injure himself in every imaginable way? I'll leave you on that note.

Posted by Try Riesling...Great Wine at 5:31 PM | Permalink | Comments