Big Action!

Call the damn ball!

You might want to spare a moment to pity Kevin and I (yes Mayrav, I'm going to start with the clicking language). Both the Cubs and the Angels had tremendous seasons and went into the playoffs as favorites. Alas, the Cubs were swept in three games by the Dodgers (and I've not been able to get Kevin on the phone -- he may be driving through the desert with a bottle of rum and a loaded gun).

Me, I'm watching a five hour, 20 minute game last night, where the Angels were hoping to avoid the same fate to the Red Sox. The Halos are up one-nothing, the bases are loaded with two outs, and Saunders gets Jacoby Ellsbury to pop up. Should be an easy out, end of the inning. But -- and I wish I could find a clip of this online -- the ball lands right in the middle of three Angels. It's a three run single. Mayrav, if you're still reading, that doesn't happen. In fact, it's never happened ever in the postseason.

Frankly, they should have lost the game, but the Angels managed to tie and finally win it in 12 innings, long after midnight here. If you want to find out if I'm going to have a coronary, tune in tonight.

Rugrat Rumble!

25

I'm assuming that the children in question are in some kind of murderous rage and cannot be reasoned with, threatened, timed-out or halted in any way other than a good ass whooping. I mean, I like kids, but if they went all hyperactive psycho zombie flesh-eater on me, according to the poll I could take 25 of them down before they overwhelmed and devoured me. Should these circumstances come to pass, this knowledge will be quite useful.

Now, if it's more of a "how many could you take down just for fun" sort of thing, the answer is one. His name is Billy, and he really has it coming.

Obama's NCAA Picks

In what has to be some kind of singularity event for political nerds and sports nerds, CBS has a story on Barack Obama's picks for the NCAA championships.

You can view his entire bracket here. He didn't pick BSU, but hey, nobody else has, either.

Your March Madness viewing rules

Today marks the tipoff of the first round of the greatest three weeks in sports. As with any event of this scope, the millions of fans tuning in will have just about as many superstitions and rituals and quirks.

F'rinstance, I used to pick one snack food and eat only that one while I watched games, and I still won't put a team through to a later round on my brackets until I've filled in all games from the previous round. You probably have your own things, and that's cool: Let your basketball-jones flag fly.

All that said, I think we can all agree on a few basic rules for maximum tournament pleasure (because even in this crowd, I know at least a couple of you will be watching). Really, it's just one rule, with a bunch of exceptions.

That rule is:

Always root for the underdog. Upsets -- your Hampton-Iowa States, your Valpo-Ole Misses -- are what makes the tournament the greatest, and in many ways the most American, of all sporting events. We love to see the little guy stick it to the Man -- the little guy in this case being some school with a direction in its name and a home gym that seats 3,500 and the Man being all the big-money, big-conference Programs who dominate the season.

Go by that rule, and you're pretty much set. There are, however, a number of caveats.

A Tremendous Machine

I love horse racing.  Grew up in the shadow of the Del Mar Racetrack ("When the surf meets the turf down at old Del Marrrrrrr" - thanks, Bing), can read you a Racing Form backwards and forwards, know my Darley from my Byerly Turk from my Godolphin...thanks very much. 

I want to share with you the story of The Best Horse Race of All Time.  Boys and girls: pull up a chair and freakin indulge me.  It's a good one. 

The Triple Crown is an elusive creature (and the richest trophy in US sports).  The Derby is a demolition, the Preakness a brutal sprint and 1.5 mile Belmont - roughest of all - is the hardest/longest any three year old horse has ever run.  Some of the greatest names in racing - Man O War, Seabiscuit, John Henry - never had a shot at winning the Triple Crown.  Only 11 horses have done it in over a century.

In 1973 there hadn't been a winner for over 20 years.  The country was in a bad place, ripped apart by Watergate and recession.  Secretariat was an unlikely uniter: a rangy chestnut colt.  George Plimpton said "He was the only honest thing in this country at the time. This huge magnificent animal who wasn't tied up in scandal, wasn't tied up in money, he just ran because he loved running."  He handily defeated the always-too-crowded Derby field, trounced the Preakness speed racers, and held the whole country enraptured for the Belmont.

Secretariat won the Belmont.  By a ridiculous 31+ lengths.  In a world-record-holding - and I mean no horse has come close, not ever, and probably never will in our lifetime - 2 minutes and 24 seconds.  He did something race clockers never thought they'd see: he ran in "negative fractions," basically meaning every stride he took was faster than the one before.

The horse made famed Chic Anderson's "he is running like a tremendous machine" one of any sports' most famous calls.  Secretariat graced the covers of Time, Newsweek and Sports Illustrated.  He was dubbed The Super Horse.  The iconic photo of jockey Ron Turcotte, clinging to a force of nature and glancing over his shoulder in disbelief, is IMHO the best sports photo ever taken.  "You couldn't find the other horses with two pairs of binoculars," said columnist Charlie Hatton.

Secretariat died in '89.  We haven't had a Triple Crown winner since '78 - come close with a few, it's usually the Belmont that does them in...tho the Preakness ultimately killed gallant and able Barbaro in '06.  Every year I tune into the sport of kings and see some amazing athletes.  But, both sad and happy, there will never be another Big Red.

Do yourself a favor.  You've read this far...now watch the most famous horse race in history: Secretariat battles Sham for about half a mile, toying with him, before pulling away and letting history know you can kiss my ass.  Secretariat flies.  You'll be happy you saw this. 

He shoots, he ... uh ...

There's a right way to do a trampoline dunk, and then there's this way:

Cannot ... stop ... laughing at this.

Dance Dance Revolution

It's cardio.  It's karaoke.  It's...CARDIOKE. 

Master Debating

You want to talk geek cred? I was a debater. In high school and college. I learned to talk out of both sides of my mouth on any issue, argue specious facts like gospel, and dressed in suits and ties on weekends. I even went to debate camp. Twice. Yeah. I was in the shit.

Maybe that's why I found this LAT article on college debate interesting. It talks about the latest trend in forensics: "performance debating." Smaller schools, unable to put the sheer man-hours of research into gathering obscure quotes and facts like powerhouses such as Harvard, are resorting to rap, personal anecdotes, and even stripping.

Actually, this is not all that new. It goes back to the oldest... um, debate... in debate: style vs. substance. In my high school years, I knew debaters who would get behind the podium and unzip their flies to distract their opponents. One guy would bring a teddy bear to rounds, who would make his arguments for him in a cute little voice. ("Bradley Bear says 'vote no' on increased federal regulations.") Others would put their evidence quotes on index cards with pornographic pictures pasted to the other side -- then when the opposing team asked to see the evidence, they'd hand it over and watch the results.

Believe it or not, many of the people who did this now have responsible positions in government.

We have a different hero every day

If this story doesn't make you a baseball fan, you have a cold, cold heart. Former major league pitcher Don Carman (who was pretty hilarious, posting a list of stock answers to reporter's questions) finds a box of old fan mail he forgot to answer. So he buys some 4- and 10-cent stamps and writes the kids back, 15 years later. Dear Mr. Carman: You are now my favorite player.

Nine seconds of funny

This isn't quite Man Getting Hit by Football, but it's pretty good.