Everything But Poker

So this is what I’ve been missing all these years. Wednesday night, after a miserable, rainy day in Southern California, the Clippers faced an unconventional foe that struck terror in the hearts of seasoned fans and was sure to do nothing but exacerbate our mid-winter gloom. For years, the Clippers have existed as a team just good enough to occasionally challenge tough teams that operate primarily in a standard half-court set, but not nearly cohesive or smart enough to adapt to those squads that thrive on speed, athleticism and a certain degree of organized chaos. But last night, against Derrick Rose and the Chicago Bulls, the Clippers finally did what good teams do: React, adapt, prevail.

Vinny Del Negro’s starting lineup was like nothing I had ever seen in the Staples Center. Kirk Hinrich (6-3), Rose (6-3), Luol Deng (6-9), Taj Gibson (6-9) and Joakim Noah (6-11) took the floor against the Clippers’ standard-as-it-gets starting squad with each member fit nicely into the PG-SG-SF-PF-C lineup convention. Not only were Chicago’s players of unorthodox sizes, they were also five of the six fastest players on the floor (Eric Gordon being the only Clipper that could possibly compete in a footrace).

From the opening tip – which Noah won – the Bulls demanded the game be played at a frenetic pace. Deng scored on a 15-foot jumper after a flurry of quick passes 15 seconds into the game, then Rose deflected the Clippers’ inbound pass off Baron Davis’ foot out of bounds. Eight seconds later Rose hit a jump shot from the elbow and the Clippers were trailing, 4-0, before their first possession.

By the end of the first quarter, Chicago held a 26-19 lead and refused to let the game slow down. Rose, whose lethal combination of size and quickness cannot be understated, wasted no time getting the ball up court after defensive rebounds and made shots, forcing the moderately fleet-a-foot Clipper tandem of Chris Kaman and Marcus Camby to bust their asses back on D. It was a pace that Clipper fans have clamored for since Baron Davis came to town, but now that the team had its hand forced by a much quicker and athletic squad, it became readily apparent why the disorder of Seven-Seconds-or-Less only suits a couple teams: You need the right players to run it.

And while the Bulls have all the quicks and hops to pull off Mike D’Antoni’s famed brainchild, they lack the discipline, intelligence and finely tuned skills that make the manic process work. Rose can get into the lane – and most of the time all the way to the rim – whenever he wants, but once he passes it off, there is no guarantee that Deng, Noah, Tyrus Thomas or Jannero Pargo will continue the flow to the next teammate, who undoubtedly stands wide open on the other side of the floor. That, and without John Salmons, who missed last night’s game with flu-like symptoms, they have no three-point threat to spread the floor (Chicago was 2-11 last night).

Nevertheless, it appeared early that the pace of the game alone would be enough to throw the Clippers off their game. After all, fans know this team is not accustomed to adjusting playing styles on the fly. True, the Clips blew out the high-scoring Warriors at the beginning of the season and they beat the Lakers a couple weeks ago by forcing turnovers and getting fast-break points, but at no point were Derek Fisher and Jordan Farmar initiating their offensive sets with more than 20 seconds left on the shot clock. That’s what Rose did, and Los Angeles responded with the exact same formula, only better.

Baron Davis and Sebastian Telfair ran the team with the control and confidence that Del Negro hopes Rose will gain as he gets older, albeit with a tad less explosiveness. With the vast compliment of talents surrounding the two point guards, from Eric Gordon and Rasual Butler on the perimeter to Kaman and Craig Smith in the paint, the Clippers proved that, in fact, they could adapt a new style to fit their opponent, and do it more effectively. Davis eventually took the game into his own hands, scoring 11 points in the fourth quarter including a deliberate shot-fake three-pointer that drew a foul, which led to a 104-97 Clippers' victory.

On the day that it was reported that Blake Griffin had successful knee surgery that “couldn’t have gone better,” the team gave its home fans a reason to believe that, when they return from an eight-game road trip that begins tonight in Denver, they may actually be closer to the playoffs than they are now. It’s not easy being a Clipper fan, but nights like Wednesday make me appreciate the things that fans of the Purple and Gold take for granted: That good players with intelligent floor leaders and clearly defined roles can react, adapt and prevail.

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About a month ago my dad got a call from Birmingham asking if he was busy the first weekend of 2010. It was his buddy from high school on the other end – a stout, affable old guy with deep ties to the University of Alabama and its treasured football program. The two caught up while I sat next to my pops, overhearing all the useful tidbits: extra ticket…National Championship game….boosters…party all night. After he hung up, my dad glanced knowingly at me, went ahead with the formality of asking if I wanted to go, then turned ghostly pale – he wasn’t even going to be in LA that night.

And so it was that I arrived at the Rose Bowl yesterday afternoon just after 1 pm. by myself, a lifelong UCLA fan and University of Richmond graduate playing the part of Alabama diehard for the day. I was told the meet the Tide crew in Lot K, the destination for the army of Texas- and Bama-filled tour buses transporting all the faithful from their hotels to the game. Everyone else had been there since nine, but by my arrival they remained surprisingly sober – my recollections of college football tailgates involved a lot more bourbon, beer pong and debauchery. Despite overwhelming confidence among the Crimson faithful in a Tide victory, there seemed to be a prevailing illusion that sobriety, focus and attention by the fans would ultimately be the deciding factor in bringing a national championship to Tuscaloosa. A lot of that, I think, has to do with the unmistakable gravity of the national championship game. More so than the Super Bowl, World Series or even Final Four, the BCS title game is such a delicate experience: Sustained success in college football is the hardest of all major sports to begin with and even regular season perfection will not guarantee an invitation to the championship game, just ask Auburn.

An hour before kickoff I fought my way through the Crimson and Orange parking lot to the ESPN tailgate section with some of the recent grads in the group. We passed by Bevo, the Longhorns’ mascot, and arrived at the gate in front of a “$25 Entry Fee” sign (Leave it ESPN to gorge the fans as much as they can). Luckily for me, everyone else had already been in and gotten a ticket stamp, so we pulled the old “Under 21 ID Passback” trick. It never worked at a bar, but the Worldwide Leader could not stop us.



We only wanted to stay for one beer, but the line was completely stagnant for twenty minutes, so we all headed into the stadium. The gate we walked in was in the heart of the Texas section, so we grabbed a beer and took in some people watching before the game started. I hadn’t really considered the juxtaposition of 100,000 Texans and Alabamans in Southern California before the game, and I was floored walking through those gates. LA doesn’t get too many Croakies, side parts or checker pattern Oxfords tucked into khakis – when that’s all you can see, there is a chance you will forget where you are. Despite my training at college in Virginia, the onslaught of standard Saturday Southern sportswear caught me by total surprise.

In the line for the bathroom, my red shirt felt more like a bulls eye in the middle of all that orange. To my surprise, though, nobody was taunting me, heckling me or even looking at me suspiciously. In fact, the dozens of male Longhorn fans around me looked to have only one thing on their minds: urinating. It was a strange atmosphere that, at the time, I could not explain until someone behind me in line shouted out to the entire bathroom: “It’s awfully quiet in here!” I expected an immediate uproar – it being 20 minutes to kickoff at this point – but the response was limited to three or four guys mumbling the words to UT’s famous cheer “Texas Fight.” The original caller's response: “That’s what I was worried about.”

The inevitability of the game’s outcome was palpable at every moment of the night. When paratroopers landed on the field with Bama and Texas flags on their backs, the cheers from one side of the stadium sounded more like desperate cries of support, while the other revealed subdued confidence and pride. The throngs of well-traveled families that surrounded me during the game did not have the looks of hope, but of determination: Alabama had a job to do here and they knew it would be done.



Of course, just a few plays into the game, those sentiments were only exacerbated when Texas quarterback Colt McCoy left the game with an apparent shoulder injury. Nick Saban’s failed fake punt (which I thought was completely acceptable to run on the first series of a game that you know you should win anyway) was no longer a concern and neither was Texas’ fluke onside kick recovery. From that moment on, the game was over and everyone knew it.

A 24-6 halftime lead disappeared after Alabama went scoreless in the third quarter and Texas freshman quarterback Garrett Gilbert realized all he had to do was throw it toward Jordan Shipley and good thing would happen. But despite the comeback, Bama fans were sure that the Longhorns would not drive 93 yards to win the game, a hunch that came true when Eryk Anders sacked Gilbert and forced a fumble that the Crimson Tide soon turned into a Mark Ingram touchdown. Was the game-sealing touchdown met with the same tempered enthusiasm? You tell me.



In the end, I, like everyone else, wish Colt McCoy hadn’t gotten injured because there will forever be doubts about this game’s outcome had Texas’ star QB played the entire game. But I will not soon forget spending the day with the Alabama faithful – it was like hanging with Democrats on Election Day 2008. Everyone knew the Tide would Roll, and when it did, the state thanked those players with much drink and revelry.

One last comment: Flea’s rendition of the Star Spangled Banner last night was one of the coolest and most spine-tingling interpretations I have ever heard. The baseline intro, powerful vocals and historic drum accompaniment were incredible. I will always love a Star Spangled Banner done right.

Follow Everything But Poker on Twitter: @widdoesSFL

Special to Everything But Poker: Marc Recht is a currency trader and casual gambler with a specific motto when it comes to betting football games: I don't know anything but I know what the line should be, and if it looks wrong to me, it's telling me something. He grew up a Redskins fan in DC, but lives in the Bay Area of Northern California now, covering the Raiders and Redskins for the NFLBlogBlitz.

My friends and I like to play a game where we guess the gambling lines before they come out; I’m guessing we aren’t the only ones who do this. After Alabama dismantled the unstoppable Florida Gators and Texas squeaked by a previously unheralded Nebraska team, I assumed the line would have to be ‘Bama by a full touchdown. When it opened at 5.5 I was mildly surprised, particularly because I couldn’t think of a reason why any Average Joe who had just watched these two games would be betting on Texas. How could they? The Tide had just completely humiliated and destroyed the best college football team in history (arguably). Colt McCoy had just come within a second of running out the clock on his season by throwing the ball into the upper deck (exaggerated for effect) instead of into the ground.

I started talking to people about who they liked and my suspicions all quickly came to fruition. I literally could not find one person who liked Texas, nobody. This was not a surprise. What was a surprise, however, was the fact that the line was dropping. It was not moving up, then down, then up, then down, it was moving down. Not a lot, it slowly went down to 4, and never budged from there. Typically this is not a significant move for a college football game, but when it is moving in the opposite direction of the opinion of every single person you talk to, it’s a bit of a red flag for a guy like me.

Like everyone else, I had seen both games. I had as high of an opinion of this year’s Gator team as anybody, maybe even too high. I thought they would have been favored by 10 over Alabama and expected them to beat them soundly; I was wrong on both counts, at least for that one day I was. Like everyone else, I was also unimpressed with the Big 12 Conference in general, and had seen Texas struggle a bit, you know, in the games that didn’t involve beating UTEP 64-7.

So if you don’t show me the line or tell me whom anybody likes in the BCS Championship Game, I would say the same thing as everyone else. The Tide rolls. But given the above information, being the contrarian that I am, I made the decision that I “loved” Texas in the game. OK well at first I didn’t love them, but I liked them. By the time we got to game day I did in fact love them. I was receiving text messages from people I don’t even speak to any more telling me they were in LA for the game and betting their mortgage on Alabama. My boss, who is English and probably has never seen a college football game, bet on Alabama.

Wait, there’s more. ESPN wrote a gambling column, presumably written by somebody who doesn’t quite understand odds and gambling. The article was citing about ten reasons why Alabama had the edge in this game with the final point of the column questioning why the line wasn’t bigger. Clearly this gambling ‘expert’ wasn’t getting it either. Listening to the pregame show on the radio, another ‘expert’ said that Colt McCoy had to play the game of his life for Texas to have “any chance to win this game.” Really? To have any chance at all he has to play a perfect game? At this point I’m wondering how the spread isn’t about 14 based on all of this chatter. At this point I am also pretty terrified of the relatively sizeable wager I have on the ‘Horns because it’s tough to stand strong with your conviction against the world, no matter how much smarter I am than everyone else.

I texted my friend right before the game started. A “good” gambler who understands odds and also had money on – you guessed it – Alabama. The text said, “I am either a genius or a moron. We may find out quickly.” I texted another friend that I would also categorize as smart, who was loaded up on Alabama, telling him how ridiculous the chatter was and that this has to be the sucker line of all time. He asked me what line I would have made if the Texas-Nebraska and Florida-Alabama games had never happened. What? Those games did happen! Whatever.

So when a game starts that you bet a lot of money on based solely on the fact that everybody likes the other side, you are looking for something that will stop the feeling of being terrified that you are about to lose a bunch of money. It didn’t take long in this game for that to happen. On Alabama’s first possession, the Texas defense ate the Tide’s offense alive. Nick Saban turned into Jim Zorn and tried a ridiculous fake punt (and I don’t care if they guy was open it was 4th and 23 from the 20). Texas proceeded to run four plays that told me everything else I needed to know. Colt McCoy was ready, this team was not scared, and this team was going to win the game. End of story.

I am not even going to waste my time talking about one of the most unfortunate injuries in gambling, errr, sports history, and the ensuing mismatch that took place. I am definitely not going to waste my time talking about the fact that Texas was actually COVERING, WITH THE BALL, WITH THREE MINUTES LEFT (sorry got angry again). What I am going to say is the following: Texas would have won this game 34-13 if Colt McCoy didn’t get hurt. You don’t believe me? I couldn’t care less. You are almost surely one of the lucky suckers that bet on Alabama; you are the person that will see any line that looks too good to be true and never question it; and you are the same person that I will overhear chatting at the sports book the next time I’m in Vegas before proceeding to take the other side. This was the lock of the decade. It was ruined by a fluke injury on a questionable play call. What a bummer.

---by Marc Recht

A few days ago a buddy of mine gave me a call and said that he was coming to LA for the National Championship Game and had an extra ticket for me. He's from Birmingham and bleeds Crimson (come to think of it, I guess we all do), and I knew his pops was somehow involved with The Program, so I told him I was in without thinking twice. Well, turns out I'm rolling with some big time Bama Boosters and players' families, starting in about two hours. I'll have pictures, video and hopefully an awesome story about the post-victory revelry, but until then, follow my Twitter updates for photos (apparently we're going to be on the field before the game) and thoughts about the game.

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While witnessing the Hornets blow out the Clippers about a month ago, I heard the familiar sounds of Clipper fans’ discontent permeating Staples Center and could feel the unspoken influence of one man controlling the event: Bill Simmons. Walking to the arena that night, I passed an ESPN Zone where hundreds of fans stood with dictionary-sized books in hand, waiting for a chance to shake the Sports Guy's hand and get his signature on The Book of Basketball, Simmons' latest tome.

I made sure to document the phenomenon, but soon headed into the arena, only to find that the first quarter was almost over and the rout was already on. Baron Davis and Co. loafed around the floor the same way they did from January through April last spring, Chris Paul darted wherever he wanted and scored at will, and the normally passive Clipper faithful were getting abnormally hostile.

The “Fire Dunleavy” chant has been present in some capacity during almost every home game for the past year, but it rarely spreads beyond a couple isolated shouts. That night, though, it was in full force. My section was right behind the Clipper bench and three guys about five rows back were undoubtedly spearheading the stadium-wide charge. By halftime it was somewhat annoying, but into the third quarter the chants grew so loud that faces in the crowd and on the Clipper bench turned pissed. Despite having just won three games in a row to get to a 3-4 record, the Clippers were being berated by their home fans for playing their first bad game of the season.

So I went up to talk to the guys.

To be clear, I’m critical of a lot of things Dunleavy does, but I think he gets a way harder time than he deserves. And the Godfather of the Fire Dunleavy Campaign is unquestionably Simmons, who has taken every opportunity available to declare the coach completely inept. I have always found Simmons entertaining, especially on his podcast, and his writing is good most of the time. But his dedication to defaming Dunleavy, his Boston homerism and his worthless pop culture references really piss me off and make me think he is the model for all bad sports blogger stereotypes – except that he actually makes money, and a boatload of it at that. Nevertheless, I still read his columns, though with less frequency over the past few years.

So I walked up to talk to the three ringleaders, just to see if they thought what they were doing was in any way serving the purpose they sought. They immediately turned the discussion to how bad Dunleavy was at coaching, for which their main argument was his overall record with the Clippers – which is very bad, but can be at least partially explained by a series of pretty bad injuries (Elton Brand’s Achilles, Shaun Livingston’s knee, the entire 2008 roster) and one of the worst betrayals in NBA history (Brand silently walking out on a verbal agreement with Dunleavy and Baron Davis to go to Philly).

Other than that, though, the guys didn’t have much to support the notion that Dunleavy should lose his job. That’s when I asked if they ever read Bill Simmons.

“Oh yeah, of course we do,” they stammered in unison. “Simmons is the best!”

Jesus, of course you do! At that point I realized I had met my match, that Bill Simmons had reached a level of cultural influence so profound that entire games could be altered by his words. These three Sports Guy paeans were imparting his will without his consent – like Tyler Durden’s Project Mayhem (forgive the movie metaphor, but it actually works here) – and the players were clearly responding. They looked up into the stands trying to make eye contact with these guys the entire second half, they yelled at each other, all while falling farther and farther behind the Hornets. New Orleans may have won the game anyway, but the final spread took a hit that even Tim Donaghy couldn’t have foreseen, thanks to these three loudmouths.

Despite my inspiration to write a manifesto about Bill Simmons, though, the words and overall thesis have eluded me. I like him for entertaining me, informing me and bringing exposure to my favorite LA basketball team, unpleasant as it may be (hey, any press is good press). But I hate him for many other reasons, most of which can be summed up by the story I just told.

So left with no argument to make, I stumbled on this online forum from the New York Magazine website today, which made all my arguments for me. In it, six contemporary writers -- sports writers and others – dissect Simmons and his new book from every angle and level, both micro and macro. Take the time to read through it all, because there are few other writers today that demand so much attention and inspire so much debate.

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Football is often called the ultimate team sport, a distinction that should make the determination of its most valuable player that much more difficult. Individual talents dominate sports like baseball and basketball. So whether a team is the best in the league or the worst, the most valuable players stand out simply because of the natures of the games. But it ain't so in football. The best individual performances are much more difficult to discern because they are inextricably linked to those around them – not to mention the effect that play-calling coordinators and opposing teams have on one’s statistical output. Basically, one person’s play cannot be responsible for a team’s record.**

**That is not to say that certain positions are not more important than others – quarterbacks are obviously the most important players on the field. But there is no method I know of to determine exactly the relative importance of each player on the field. As such, each player’s performance should be assessed in relation to the other players at his position, not to his team’s overall performance.

So when determining the NFL MVP, it must be important to look beyond team success, right? Because one player’s performance does not make a team great, and a team cannot be great without excelling in every phase of the game. All of which makes this year’s MVP race so interesting. Much of the discussion thus far has centered around three players: Peyton Manning, Drew Brees and Brett Favre, the first two of which play quarterback for undefeated teams. While all three have played outstanding football this year, it seems as though Manning and Brees are the assumed frontrunners for the award almost by default – that because they play the most important position for league’s best teams, they must be the most valuable players.

Well, it just isn’t so. Tennessee Titans running back Chris Johnson is the NFL’s most valuable player. Through 13 games, Johnson leads the league in rushing yards (347 yards ahead of the next guy) and is on his way to breaking Marshall Faulk’s record for total yards from scrimmage (he needs 475 rushing and receiving yards in his final three games). He has scored 13 total touchdowns – seven of which came from more than 50 yards out – and is the only player averaging more than 100 rushing yards per game (he averages 125.1). His six rushing yards per attempt are more than a half yard better than the next best player, and could become the eighth player in NFL history to rush for 100 yards or more in eight straight games if he does so this weekend against Miami. Compared to any other running back, Chris Johnson is Zeus and they are those weird half-God/half-mortal characters like Achilles.

But his team is 6-7. It lost its first six games, then won its next five, lost one more and then blew out the Rams last week. MVPs can’t come from teams that don’t make the playoffs, let alone finish with losing records, right? Well, historically, this is right. It hasn’t happened before, and I don’t foresee that changing now, what with the All-American trio of gunslinging heroness standing before us. But have any of them really distinguished themselves from the rest of this year’s QB crop?

I know their teams don’t have perfect records and they aren’t sponsored by Wrangler, but Aaron Rodgers and Philip Rivers are putting up some damn good numbers and winning a lot of games that people didn’t expect them to win. And what about Manning’s 14 interceptions this season, fifth worst in the NFL? Aren’t Brees’ statistics worse than last year’s? Favre’s performance has actually been the most surprising and seemingly valuable of the three, but there is no statistical or circumstantial evidence pointing to his case for MVP. The fact is, Chris Johnson is the most dominant, valuable player this season, but his team’s record – combined with the perfect records of the Saints and Colts – will prevent him from even entering the discussion of MVP candidates.

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The size and breadth of this Tiger Woods scandal cannot be understated. As I type this, his mistress list stands at 11, his mother-in-law has just been released from the hospital and there are reports that Elin is already out the door. Oh, and Gatorade dropped the Tiger Focus brand yesterday while many of his other sponsors pulled his primetime television ads. And it’s only going to get worse – well, at least for Tiger.

One man that undoubtedly stands to benefit from these revelations, though, is Tim Finchem, the commissioner of the PGA. You may think that because Tiger is the face of golf, and that that face now sports the kiss of a well-swung 9 iron, the whole sport will inevitably bruise with it. But that is not the case – the sport will go on. Yes, ratings will likely falter in the beginning, and sponsorship deals and paid attendance at events may as well, but only if Tiger remains in seclusion. People still want to see him play, probably even more so now.

And even if he does remain in hiding, it won’t make that much of a difference to the dedicated golf fans because the transformational appeal of Tiger Woods has been in a steady decline for the past 10 years anyway – the shock of a half-black, half-Asian 21-year-old with a movie-poster smile winning the Masters by a record 12 strokes has died down now that the sport is more competitive and other equally intriguing personalities have emerged on tour.

Despite all that, Tiger still poses the largest threat to the tour’s and Finchem’s autonomy. Tiger hosts his own PGA event in Washington, D.C., he picks and chooses which events to play, and he has complete control over the golf media – ever since this 1997 GQ profile, which portrayed Tiger less as a righteous cultural messiah than a normal, flawed 21-year-old kid, he has made sure that those reporting on golf respect his wrath. As early as 2000, his father, Earl Woods, offered not-so-subtle

hints that Tiger could leave the PGA and start his own tour any minute, as he did to Jet Magazine: “I'm not saying this in a threatening mode, but Tiger is an independent entrepreneur. He can give up his PGA Tour status and play where he wants. He can take his game to Europe, Africa, Asia or wherever he wants and the world will follow.”

But now? Not a chance in hell. Tiger can no longer choose who interviews him and what questions are asked of him -- he isn't just answering to ESPN anymore. As Mike McFeely, a radio host in Fargo, N.D., wrote this morning, “TMZ.com … has no desire to lick Tiger’s spikes. It doesn’t matter to that crew if he ever talks to them, since he’s never talked to them before.” You won’t see Tiger hosting any official Tour events this year, nor will you hear about him dropping out of tournaments two days before they begin.

The PGA will no longer be subject to the whims of its best player, a shift that will once against empower its commissioner and open the door for the burgeoning fleet of talented young players eager to usurp Tiger’s title as World’s Greatest. Rory McIlroy, Anthony Kim, Adam Scott, Hunter Mahan and Trevor Immelman are approaching Tiger in terms of skill, and now they will have the opportunity to do so in exposure. Congratulations, Mr. Finchem, you have your Tour back.

But getting back to the media, I am noticing an alarming similarity between the reportage of Tiger’s current situation and that of the early days of the steroid scandal. Back then, say, in 2002, after the publication of this SI cover story by Tom Verducci, nearly every baseball writer feigned ignorance to the Woolly Mammoth in the room: That players had been juicing for years and all those writers knew it. First they declared shock and disappointment at these counterfeit icons, but soon enough it became clear that the steroid charade had myriad conspirators – writers, players, general managers, owners and even commissioners.

And now were supposed to believe that Tiger’s alleged litany of mistresses was a secret held to him and him alone? Thus far only 11 women have revealed themselves as Tigresses, but I’ll put plenty of money on his record with women rivaling only Wilt Chamberlain – just like we knew there were hundreds more after the first couple steroid admissions surfaced. And while these actions couldn’t be more different, their relations to the games in which they are associated are equivalent: Tiger’s popularity, which is built on an image of wholesome athletic determination and prowess, is directly tied to – and some would argue responsible for – the economic success of the PGA Tour, just as the influx in steroid use directly resulted in increased home run production, leading to massive revenue surges.

In both cases, someone created a distorted reality that preyed on my vulnerabilities as a sports fan. Of course I wanted to see a million home runs each season. Who wouldn’t buy a product endorsed by the greatest golfer ever, who also happens to be destroying the massive racial barriers the sport once held? It was too easy to justify the indiscretions of Tiger Woods or Ken Caminiti when business was booming and nobody appeared to get hurt in the process.

But to those whose job it is to follow these guys’ every move, are these revelations really that surprising? It took a few years before we turned the lens back on the baseball beat writers, managers and Bud Selig. Can we start blaming the Golf Channel and Tom Rinaldi once the mistress count hits 15? Twenty? These guys must have known the kind of life Tiger led, and if their fear of being blackballed by the most important figure in golf forced them to keep their mouths shut, well, then for the first time in my life, I say thank God for TMZ.

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There really is nothing better than college football playoffs. This time of year, as most of us recover from a week of gravy and prepare for the extra gluttonous holiday season, college footballers get ready for their second season: a month-long, nationwide loser-go-home tournament for the 16 best teams from the regular season that, on Dec. 18, will decide the national champion. There will be upsets and there will be blowouts, but in the end, there will also be no doubt that the team hoisting the trophy is the best in the land. There is nothing better than the college football playoffs.

No, this isn’t a drug-induced fantasy – I tend not to have sports-related hallucinations – I’m talking about the FCS (previously known as Div. I-AA), where only a slightly smaller percentage of players will get drafted but the competition puts its big brother to shame. This is where potential NFL defensive player of the year Jared Allen won that very award in 2003; it’s where Tony Romo and Brian Westbrook played their college ball; and this is where the Hilltoppers of Appalachian State came from when they pulled off the greatest upset in college football history two years ago — a 34-32 victory over Michigan the first week of the season. It’s also the best college football division because it allows the best team in the nation to prove itself on the field in a playoff.

For full disclosure, I went to a college that plays in the CAA, an FCS conference. That college also happened to win the national championship last year and, on Saturday, won their first-round game against Elon to advance to the tournament’s quarterfinals. Say what you will about the quality of play compared to its BCS counterparts, but after analyzing the path the University of Richmond took to its first title in school history last season, I would be shocked if anyone considered the Bowl Championship System anything more than a farce.

Last year the Spiders entered the postseason with a 9-3 record, accepting an at-large bid to the tourney. Their first loss of the season came during their second week at UVA 16-0. It was a game that any Cavalier fan will tell you should have gone in Richmond’s favor, but that’s neither here nor there (The Wahoos made up for it by losing to William & Mary this season, another FCS school). The Spiders’ two other losses came to then No. 19-ranked Villanova, 26-20, and then-top-ranked James Madison, 38-31. By the end of the season they had victories over the Nos. 10- and 16-ranked teams, had pretty much blown everyone else out and were ranked No. 7, so their inclusion in the tournament was less than controversial.

The team’s first-round playoff game was against No. 21 Eastern Kentucky and was played in Richmond, Va. It was a fortuitous pairing, as the Spiders blew the Colonels’ away in the second half en route to a 31-10 victory. The next weekend Richmond went to Boone, N.C., to play defending champion and second-ranked Appalachian State on their home field. Again, Richmond blew them out, 33-13.

In their semifinal match, the Spiders had another away game, this time in Cedar Falls, Iowa, against the No. 4-seeded Northern Iowa Panthers. Trailing 20-7 at the beginning of the fourth quarter, Richmond scored 14 unanswered points, taking the lead with 14 seconds remaining. Onto the championship game they went, where No. 3-ranked Montana proved no match for this team, losing 24-7. In three weeks, Richmond beat the No. 2, No. 3 and No. 4-seeded teams for the national championship, shocking plenty of people but leaving none in doubt that they were the nation’s best.

I retell this not to gloat for my underappreciated alma mater, but to provide a preemptive lament for TCU, Cincinnati, Boise State and even Alabama or Florida, Oregon or Stanford. By the end of the regular season, each of those teams will have done everything in its power to show that it can play with the best teams in the country. But only Florida or Alabama will get the chance to play for the title, and they will have over a month to prepare for that game, while the Miamies, West Virginias and UCLAs of the college football world duke it out in the San Diego County Credit Union Poinsettia Bowl (Yes, that really exists, on Dec. 23).

There is an easy solution to all this madness: Assign each of these bowl games a different round in the tournament and throw out the archaic conference reservations. Let all 16 or 32 worthy teams play this thing out, even keep the dumbass corporate-sponsored bowl names and give us a national champion that we can actually believe. One that might have had to beat the fourth-, third- and second-best teams in the country to get there.

Follow Everything But Poker on Twitter: @widdoesSFL

Nov. 25 is the day most Americans scramble to prep turkeys and brace themselves for an invasion of in-laws. But even though tomorrow is also his 39th birthday, Winky Wright was hanging out with his son in Florida today peacefully enjoying the day before Thanksgiving and the final week and a half before his fight against Grady Brewer. When we spoke this morning, giggles of his son’s watching cartoons echoed in the background and his lethargic cadence gave the impression that Wright is taking advantage of these last relaxing moments before heading down to Puerto Rico, where he will attempt to take down Brewer, the winner of the second season of “The Contender” reality show, on Dec. 11.

The fight will only be Wright’s second time in the ring since July 2007, and the first since losing to Paul Williams last April. Wright, whose grandmother called him Winky as an infant for obvious reasons, said that the toughest part about stepping back into the ring was getting the timing on his punches back.

“Being off for that long a time and then getting in the ring with Paul, there’s things I wanted to do and that I just couldn’t do,” he said. “You see where and when you want to punch, but when you throw the punch, it’s a second too late. Times that I wanted to throw counterpunches, I would say to myself, ‘Throw it now,’ but I wouldn’t throw it now, I’d throw it a second later. You know, it was just off.”

Much of his frustration he compared to Michael Jordan’s, who retired from basketball for two years in the 1990’s and found that his game was not the same upon his return. If it was Jordan’s jumpshot that fell off during the two-year hiatus, then it’s Wright’s timing that is missing now – a skill that he says won’t come back just from sparring sessions. “That’s all good, but that isn’t going to take the place of fighting,” he said. “So I still got to get back in the ring and fight and let the sharpness come back like that.”

There was never a doubt about returning to the ring after the loss to Williams, either. Because he knew he was physically overmatched in his last fight – Williams had two and a half inches on Wright, plus ten more in reach, or as Wright put it, “It was just a tough night fighting a dude that’s 6-2 with Superman-long arms” – Winky took time to speak during the post-fight press conference for the first time in his career. At that moment, he says he felt good, wasn’t hurt and just wanted to congratulate Williams on the victory. And he knew that was not the last fight of his career.

“I definitely wanted to get back in and fight,” Wright said this morning. “I just couldn’t do what I wanted to do [that night] and my reactions and timing were off. I was just missing. But I had fun in the ring, it was good to get back in there and give the fans something to cheer for. I was sad that I lost, but I’m definitely coming back to set things straight.”

So the living legend, who many believe is a lock for induction into the Hall of Fame, will attempt to do so next month at the Coliseo de Puerto Rico in San Juan, a site that Wright and long-time friend Felix ”Tito” Trinidad decided would be the best for this match because of the island’s appreciation for boxing and Wright’s desire to stay away from Las Vegas, the site of his last two losses. His opponent this time will be more evenly matched in the tale of the tape, but Wright feels the similarities end there.

“I think we’re pretty much the same size,” he said. “But I think I’m faster, I know I’m stronger and I know I’m a better fighter. I just don’t think he can beat me.” The motivation for each fighter is the only remaining question: “I think it’s going to be exciting because I’m coming off a loss and he wants to make his big name and I’m here to stop him. I’m here to show him that that loss [to Williams] was a fluke and I’m coming back to take over the game.”

Wright has been in this sport a long time, and the dominating defeat that Williams handed him clearly incited a desire to reestablish himself as one of the top middleweight fighters ever. Whether he still has some post-retirement rust to shake off remains to be seen, but as he said, the only way to get back in top form is to step into the ring and take on a real contender. Grady “Bad Boy” Brewer is exactly that.

Manny Pacquiao and Miguel Cotto weighed in today in front of approximately 7,000 fans in Las Vegas, according to the Associated Press. Cotto hit the contract weight of 145 lbs. exactly, and Pacquiao weighed in at 144, his heaviest fight weight ever. As the anticipation grows for what is considered the biggest fight of the year, and undoubtedly the biggest of either fighter's careers, Vegas has set the betting line at 2 1/2 to 1 in Pacquiao's favor.

"This fight is so special to me because I will attempt to make history as the first fighter to win seven world titles in seven different divisions,” Pacquiao said at the weigh-in. “People will always remember the first person to do that wasn't just Manny Pacquiao, but Filipino Manny Pacquiao.”

Fighting to defend his welterweight title, Cotto is sure that his strength and ability to make adjustments during the course of a fight will help him prevail. “If he thinks he is going to win seven titles in seven weight divisions now, he has picked the wrong moment, the wrong fighter and the wrong opponent,” Cotto told the AP. “If he thinks he is going to win the seventh title against Miguel Cotto, he is very wrong."

Much of the debate as to what the outcome will be Saturday night centers around whether Cotto has fully recovered from a defeat to Antonio Margarito last year, a fight in which Cotto was knocked out in the 11th round and for which Margarito has since been suspected of wearing illegal hand wraps. Pacquiao, for one, does not doubt that Cotto is in top form for this fight.

“Cotto's size and power need to be respected, but I will leverage his size against him,” he said. “We have numerous plans to do this depending on the style of fight he presents on Saturday night. We are prepared. As important as it is to have advantages, knowing how to use them is even more crucial.”

Another key variable in the fight will be the effect of trainer experience, as Pacquiao’s corner man, Freddie Roach, is a two-time Trainer of the Year winner, while Joe Santiago will be in Cotto’s corner for only the second fight. "We had such great communication in our camp,” Santiago said, emphasizing the relationship between him and Cotto. “Miguel worked so hard every day. He is totally focused."

The clear difference is in the swagger of each camp. Cotto and his men speak softly but with stern conviction; Pacquiao’s people know they are the best and demand that everyone knows it.

"Manny is a carrier of the M1P1 Virus. M1P1 stands for Middleweight Power,” Roach said, clarifying so as not to alarm the CDC. “I honestly don't know where Cotto can go to escape Manny's onslaught…Manny has promised me to stay off the ropes in this fight, and he hates to disappoint me.”

The war of words has just about concluded, and all that is left is an epic battle. For last-minute updates on how each camp prepared in the final week before the fight, watch the finale of HBO’s 24/7 tonight at 9:30 EST, and to watch the fight tomorrow night, call your cable provide to order it on Pay-Per-View. You will not regret it.

On the eve of the Manny Pacquiao-Miguel Cotto title match in Las Vegas, we thought you might like to check out some of the celebrities that showed up at Pacquiao's media day last week. Mario Lopez, formerly of everybody's favorite high school drama, "Saved By the Bell," (hey, Jessie was addicted to caffeine pills!) and currently a host on EXTRA, showed up for a little photo shoot and interview just before Mickey Rourke, star of "The Wrestler," came in to talk with his old coach, Freddie Roach. Rourke, while it's clear he's taken a few blows to the face in his time, had some very smart things to say about the fight, including what it takes to train with a guy like Roach. Check it out.

As the fight approaches, now just five days away, Manny Pacquiao and Miguel Cotto are surely putting in their final workouts to make sure they hit their contracted weight limits of 145 pounds by the Friday weigh-in. Last week, in his last workout in front of the media, Pacquiao showed off his blazing speed and deceptive power at trainer Freddie Roach's Wild Card Gym in Hollywood, Calif. Unlike Cotto's workout the day before, however, Pacquiao made sure the event had plenty of celebrity firepower. EXTRA host Mario Lopez and star of "The Wrestler," Mickey Rourke, both showed up to talk with Pac-Man and Roach, while taking questions from reporters as well. It was quite a scene in the cramped, second-floor gym tucked away in the corner of a strip mall, above a laundromat.

When four of the biggest trainers in boxing opine on the Nov. 14 fight between Manny Pacquiao and Miguel Cotto, it’s best to listen up. Angelo Dundee (trained Muhammad Ali, George Foreman and Sugar Ray Leonard), Nazim Richardson (Bernard Hopkins and Shane Mosley), Buddy McGirt (Antonio Tarver, Arturo Gatti and Vernon Forrest) and Ronnie Shields (Evander Holyfield, Mike Tyson, Forrest and Juan Diaz) analyzed both fighters' tendencies and provided an anaysis of how this fight might play out, both in terms of each others' skills and strategies.

But contrary to the popular trend, this is not a panel of unanimous Pacquiao supporters. In fact, Dundee, McGirt and Shields all see Cotto’s historically strong ability to fight through cuts and to make adjustments late in fights as keys to a potential upset. And while Richardson believes Cotto may have the potential to beat Pac-Man, he just doesn’t see it happening next weekend at the MGM Grand because Pacquiao is so different from the other fighters that have given him trouble in the past.

"If Cotto gets cut in this one, it is a lot different from the [Joshua] Clottey (Cotto’s last opponent) fight,” Richardson said. “Clottey sets a pace and sticks with it for most of the fight. But not Pacquiao because he switches up. So the question becomes will the corner be able to keep Cotto in the right mindset, work on the cut and still give him the right information? That will be the hardest part of their job that night and it will be admirable if they can get it done for their fighter."

The relationship between trainer and fighter was, predictably, a key issue for the veteran corners, and the disparity between Cotto and Pacquiao’s men could not appear to be greater. "Pacquiao might have the psychological edge here as he totally trusts Freddie [Roach] and is very comfortable with him,” McGirt said. “Cotto's trainer, Joe Santiago, has never been in this situation before and it is important how he handles it. If he, Joe, can remain calm, not get caught up in the media hype, they should be okay. I don't know him or his frame of mind, but it is a big stage for someone who hasn't been there before.”

For Shields, the trainer’s influence can only help so much in a fight, especially one of this magnitude. “Both fighters have good trainers,” he said. “They both know what they are doing. But trainers can only help his guy so much. The fighter has to follow what the game plan is. I know that both trainers have a Plan B, and possibly a Plan C, should something go wrong. All in all, it really is up to the fighter. The trainers can only direct so much to the fighter.”

So how do they see the fighters matching up? Dundee is much higher on Cotto’s ability to counter Pacquiao than most, and detailed the ways in which he can do so: “You have a perfect blending of style in this fight. If I ever had a fighter fighting Pacquiao, I would implement the things that Cotto brings to the table. Cotto is a pressure fighter and he's going to be on Pacquiao from the get go. He's got a great left hook, he's a good body puncher and he's very aggressive. Pacquiao takes it to you all the time but in this fight is going to have to back up. He's a smart, slick, and great hand speed. Cotto counters those things."

Richardson sees it differently, especially with regard to Pacquiao’s deceptive size. “I think Manny Pacquiao is going to steal the fight that night,” he said. “He is good at letting his size fool people and when they see him darting around the ring looking scrappy, boxing and moving and he's not KO'd, it translate to a round for him. But calling Pacquiao little in this weight class is like calling Mike Tyson a little heavyweight.”

But can he fight at 145 pounds? With the fight weight just two pounds below the welterweight limit, Shields thinks that Cotto has a clear advantage. "Miguel Cotto is a legitimate welterweight that proves himself time and time again,” he said. “I think fighting at 145 pounds is not going to be a problem for Cotto. Pacquiao has a lot of speed, but I just feel that Cotto is going to walk through him. There is no way that Pacquiao is going to be able to wear Cotto down. As the fight goes on, Cotto is going to get much stronger. I think he's going to put the pressure on Pacquiao.”

As for predictions, both Dundee and McGirt are confident the trainers will play very little into the result of the fight. "I don't think it is going to come down to either corner,” McGirt said. “These guys are veterans who know how to make adjustments while they are fighting. In that sense, Cotto is a better adjuster than Pacquiao, as he has had to do in several fights already.”

Dundee, on the other hand, left it to the most politically correct response: “The best guy will win."

Getting to the top of one’s sport provides a certain amount of media exposure. But, great as that may be, it takes a truly transcendent personality to make it to the cover of Time Magazine, a feat accomplished by only a few athletes through the years. Well, you can add Manny Pacquiao’s name to that short list.



In a profile by Howard Chua-Eoan and Ishaan Tharoor for Time Magazine Asia Edition, Pacquiao is presented as an unstoppable force in the boxing world, having collected title belts in six weight classes during the past eight years, but whose ambitions stretch far beyond the boxing world. It appears Pacquiao’s candidacy for a congressional seat in his hometown of General Santos City, Philippines, in 2007 was far more than a media stunt – Pacquiao’s political aspirations are absolutely real. Many predict that he will again run for Congress in the 2010 election, aligning himself with President Gloria Arroyo but representing his own political party: the Peoples Champ Movement.

Whether Pacquiao’s immense worldwide popularity will serve Filipinos best in the political real or the athletic real, however, is still under debate. From his heavily-accented, “provincial” English accent to his naïve understanding of the Filipino power structure, many contend that Pacquiao is best suited as a private benefactor rather than a public servant. “They don’t want him to run, to dirty himself and open himself to charges of corruption,” Ramon Casiple, a local political analyst, told Time. That may not be enough to stop the Pac-Man though, whose personal remittances have been steady and substantial, in his quest to lead his proud countrymen.

Nevertheless, boxing is his main concern right now, and the fight against Miguel Cotto on Nov. 14, is the most important of his already historic career. Manny Pacquiao came from a tiny, impoverished Filipino island, made it to the capital city, to the United States and finally to the cover of Time magazine. As local sports journalist Nick Giongco told the magazine, “Filipinos are dreamers. They like fantasy. And what is more of a fantasy than Manny Pacquiao?” The question is, whose dream will come true?

Thanks to the constant sound of horns, maracas and pianos blaring from the speakers in the corner of the ring, the mood inside the Pound For Pound gym Tuesday in Los Angeles was much more relaxed than I would have expected for a pre-fight media day – well, except for Miguel Cotto. For two hours today, Cotto trained lightly in front of dozens of media members, jumping rope and sparring with trainer Joe Santiago before answering a few questions.

While Cotto warmed up in the ring, the members of Team Cotto wandered around the gym, obliging all reporters when asked about the fighter’s preparations. Santiago, when asked about the hype surrounding the results of Manny Pacquiao’s two most recent fights, agreed that they may have been a bit overblown. “Hatton played bad defense and De La Hoya was at the end of his career,” he said. “Cotto is a different kind of fighter and he’s in the prime of his career. It will definitely be an interesting fight.”

There was plenty of discussion about the contrasting styles of Pacquiao and Cotto, one a speedy Southpaw with seemingly perfect technique, the other a rock-solid bruiser that refuses to go down. But Cotto and his fitness trainer, South African Phil Landman, boast that his combination of strength and speed will give him the upper hand. We will see what happens in two weeks, but for now, here are some highlights of the today’s workout session.