Wasif's World

As the last lights on Super Bowl XLV flicker and I wade through a pile of confetti coated in cheese, here are my final thoughts on a super game:

Things I Noticed
The field didn’t look quite right. I was told it was made up of chopped up tennis shoes and tires, but still thought the field had something to do with the conga line of players heading to the locker room in the 2nd quarter.

What kind of a Big Brother/Real World box suite was that? Ashton Kutcher, Condaleeza Rice, John Madden, Michael Douglas, Laura Bush . . . Some network’s hurting for ratings.

More people wanted the Packers to win than the Steelers and Big Ben is a huge part of that.

Monkey ads are funny.

All this beer and cheese, how do Wisconsinites do it regularly? (Pardon the pun.)

Ashton Kutcher looked like he was consciously trying to keep himself from “punking” GW Bushie who was sitting in front of him.

Pepsi Max went heavy with the violence in their ads. And contrary to what the trailer for “Just Go With It” thinks, crotch shots are out of vogue these days. Give it some time; I’m sure they’ll be back.

The Doritos ad where the dog breaks down the door was telegraphed the moment the ad started.

When Packers receiver Jordy Nelson drops a ball, always go back to him. He’ll do right by you the next time.

Good ads this year were the product placement spot for Bud Light, the Doritos reincarnation spot, the Volkswagon Darth Vader ad, and the Snickers ad with Richard Lewis and Roseanne Barr, though all of these would be hard-pressed to make the top 50 of all-time Super Bowl ads.

Justin Bieber is reaching the zenith of his popularity. He shall soon plummet back down to earth, most likely losing himself in drugs and dangerous street urchins, eventually being convicted of a hair-on-hair crime.

We made it 17 minutes after kickoff (real time, not game time) before people started bringing out their “squares.” It’s great when you go through the permutations in your head – “If the Packers just score another touchdown, then get a safety, and then agree with the Steelers to trade scores at halftime, I win!”

Things I Learned
Bart Starr, Text Favre, and Aaron Rodgers were all 27 when they won their first Super Bowls.

My numbers in the square pool could only be attained if the league started keeping score in fractions.

Kim Hill was the original female in Black Eyed Peas. She was replaced as a business decision by their manager, I’m told by her friend who sat next to me continually cursing Fergie during the game. She has also donated a kidney to her brother.

Fans will never learn that their greatest worry should not be the other team, but rather, hubris. I was part of an e-mailing that asked if anyone wanted to attend a movie screening after the game and one Steelers fan responded with, “I can’t go as I’ll be celebrating the Steelers 7th Super Bowl championship.” Oooof, bad form.

If Christina Aguilera sings and there’s a prediction on time, always take the “over.”

I have influence over who wins the Super Bowl. Another friend included me on a mass texting that said, “Fear the Beard.” [referring to Steelers defensive lineman Brett Keisel] Do not break this chain as it will curse the Steelers in the Super Bowl. Forward this to all your Steelers friends.”

In the words of Keyshawn Johnson, “c’mon, man!” I can’t be given such an ultimatum and expected to respect it. It’s like that red button with a sign on it that says, “Do Not Press.” To me, it’s opposite day and I am pressing that button.

I deleted the text and the Steelers lost. Yes, it may be a simple case of Ad Hoc, ergo Propter Hoc, but I challenge you to prove I didn’t have anything to do with the Steelers loss.

Snickers satisfies, but nothing satisfies as much as seeing Roseanne Barr get wrecked by a tree trunk. Thank you, Snickers.

Things I Question
The Black Eyed Peas as a Super Bowl Act? Had they really run out of all-time rock acts? The Super Bowl was in Texas. Where was ZZ Top?

My friend looked at me and said, “What songs do they sing besides this [‘I Gotta Feeling’]?” We remembered there was another song [“Let’s Get It Started”], but couldn’t remember its name.

“They’ll do those two and then covers, I guess,” was my response.

Sure enough, they went into “Sweet Child of Mine,” presenting Slash, then had Usher sing a song. Then the Peas did another cover. By that time, I couldn’t take the auto tuner effect and stopped listening.

All this was through the constant cursing of Fergie in the background. Her using Slash as a stripper pole was especially bashed.

Homeaway.com’s judgment. Their commercial was in the lab where families on vacation are studied in hotel rooms. The father sits on the bed quickly which catapults the baby into the window. When the 2-year-old in the room turns and asks, “Mommy, was that a real baby?” it’s probably not a good idea for a commercial.

A-Rod and Cameron Diaz?

And now let talk of how Big Ben is one of the all-time great quarterbacks (though he had never won so much as a Super Bowl MVP before) dissipate and talk of how the Packers are "primed for a repeat" commence.

For those of you who had shut it down weeks ago, just a little pick me up – pitchers and catchers report in less than two weeks. So transfer your mind from lockdown corners to locking down the hot corner. And please, no more cheese. Oh, God, what if the Brewers make it to the World Series this year?

My, oh, my! Didn't 2010 go faster than an Olympic luge course in Vancouver? I mean, it’s as if 2010 was “The Tonight Show” and we were Conan O’Brien. First off, I want to thank all of you who, upon my request to text me your most genteel holiday wishes, complied ... except for “Brett in Minnesota,” from whom I have revoked all future cell phone privileges for apparently misreading the word “genteel.”

Okay, before we get started, let’s get something straight right now –- I’m very confused about calling these the “2011 NFL Playoffs.” The season all took place during 2010, so wouldn’t they be the 2010 playoffs? Though the Saints won it all in 2010 (for the 2009 season) so that would make it confusing if you called these the 2010 playoffs and the Saints didn’t win.

At least in basketball and hockey, you’ll say the ’08-’09 season. That eliminates all confusion, but takes a while to say.

That said, you’ve read the “experts” and their predictions. They give you their best guesses as to what will happen during these forthcoming NFL playoffs, but none of them expand upon what could happen. So allow me to do that for you now:

WILD CARD ROUND:

New York Jets @ Indianapolis Colts

What Could Happen
Rex Ryan instructs his team to set up “the wall” against the other team’s gunner on kickoffs, but once his coaches put their feet out there, Ryan begins to fantasize about what they look like inside their shoes; wondering if there’s toe knuckle hair or how calloused they are or ... sorry, I got carried away. He loses focus on the game and without his guidance, Mark Sanchez gets called for a record 19 delay-of-game penalties in a row taking a first-and-goal situation from the Colts’ 1-yard line to a first-and-goal from their own 4-yard line. Sanchez finally gets the play from the sidelines, which is a pass, drops back, and is sandwiched by Dwight Freeney and Robert Mathis for a safety, the eventual margin of victory for the Colts.

What Will Happen
The only feet Ryan will be worried about is Peyton Manning who manages to stay on his all game long, leading his team to victory.

Baltimore @ Kansas City

What Could Happen
Ray Lewis gets so fired up before the game against Kansas City that his head explodes and the game is delayed 20 minutes while the grounds crew cleans it up.

What Will Happen
Ray Lewis and the Ravens defense manages to stifle the Kansas City offense. Meanwhile, on the other side of the ball, Joe Flacco has trouble getting things started thanks to the rabid Arrowhead fans. Special teams play powers Kansas City to a narrow upset. The Ravens are not so surprised when they are told after the game that the Chiefs are made up of many ex-Patriots. "Great, now I hate Kansas City too," mutters Terrell Suggs.

New Orleans @ Seattle

What Could Happen
The "12th Man," the Qwest Field advantage works for the Seahawks. It is so loud there that Drew Brees can’t function. He throws an uncharacteristic three picks and Seattle decisively upsets the defending Super Bowl champs.

What Will Happen
The "12th Man," the Qwest Field advantage works for the Seahawks. It is so loud that Drew Brees can only lead his offense to score 40 points against Seattle. Pete Carroll is so excited by this display of efficiency, he hugs Brees after the game.

Green Bay @ Philadelphia

What Could Happen
The game in Philadelphia will be postponed three days because of the threat of a snow flurry. In the interim, Aaron Rogers bumps his head on the night table next to his bed during a fitful dream about Brett Favre returning to Green Bay next year, thus sustaining a concussion.

Michael Vick, meanwhile, goes shopping for a dog at the local shelter. Attempting to pet a cute pekingese, it bites him because it knows of his reputation. Vick is hospitalized with rabies. Kevin Kolb and Matt Flynn lead their respective teams to an uninteresting Green Bay upset in front of only 2,500 fans because everyone was confused about when the game was actually going to be played, including Pennsylvania Governor Ed Rendell, who's justifiably pissed.

What Will Happen
Michael Vick, back in the playoffs for the first time since 2005, will do what he did with Atlanta and surprise the Green Bay Packers, a team expected by many to be playing in February. The Eagles win a close, low-scoring affair.

Result: New Orleans, Kansas City, Philadelphia, Indianapolis advance.

DIVISIONAL ROUND:

Indianapolis @ Pittsburgh

What Could Happen
Roethlisberger has déjà vu as he hands the ball off to his running back near the goal line and Mendenhall fumbles. It’s recovered by a Colts cornerback who rumbles down the field only to be tackled at midfield by Big Ben himself.

What Will Happen
The injuries to Manning’s Colts finally catch up with them and he is unable to pull this one out after James Harrison knocks four more Colts out of the game, including an equipment manager on the sideline, earning him $400,000 worth of fines.

Kansas City @ New England

What Could Happen
New England meets New England-West as the Chiefs come to town. Charlie Weis and Romeo Crennel get confused and spend the first half of the game on the Patriots sideline calling plays for Belichick who, being a genius, decides not to correct them. Matt Cassell just hands the ball off on every play during that half, and the Chiefs still gain a respectable 80 yards on the ground heading into the locker room, though the Patriots hold a 35-0 edge in points.

What Will Happen
Belichick usually doesn’t do very well against his former apprentices and this Chiefs squad is full of them. They know everything about “the Hoodie” right down to the flavored fiber supplement he takes in his apple juice the morning of the game. It’s a dog fight, but one that is eked out by the Patriots because the Chiefs find themselves in awe of Brady's flowing locks instead of worrying about Alge Crumpler's mowing blocks.

New Orleans @ Atlanta

What Could Happen
A New Orleans and Atlanta rematch proves to be everything it’s cracked up to be. Tempers flare as it did in the last game and Atlanta wins on the final drive as "Matty Ice" throws to Tony Gonzalez in the back of the end zone.

What Will Happen Hm, that’s pretty much what will happen.

Philadelphia @ Chicago

What Could Happen
Philly finds a defense that is slobbering for some fresh meat. Michael Vick provides them that opportunity. On the first play from scrimmage, Vick scrambles to avoid Julius Peppers and finds himself in the arms of Lance Briggs who holds him up long enough for Peppers to arrive. The two of them each pull an arm off Vick before Brian Urlacher, behind a full head of steam, bulldozes the quarterback, earning a 15-yard helmet to helmet penalty as he knocks Vick’s helmet off . . . with his head still inside. Appreciative Bears fans applaud when Vick walks off under his own power.

What Will Happen
This is a tough game to pick. Jay Cutler is a wild card. Both teams are used to the cold. Devin Hester and DeSean Jackson are both very dangerous. But in the end, defense will prove the word of the day and that means Chicago will triumph.

Result: New England, Pittsburgh, Chicago, and Atlanta advance. CHAMPIONSHIP ROUND

Pittsburgh @ New England

What Could Happen
Hines Ward is upset that he was knocked out of the last game against New England. James Harrison is upset that he didn’t knock anyone out on New England. Troy Polamalu is upset that his equipment manager left his Head & Shoulders back at Heinz Field and he’s forced to use a generic CVS brand shampoo. Charlie Batch is upset that he’s not starting this game as he feels he’s made a compelling argument by beating Tampa Bay in Week 3. Fueled by emotion, the Steelers return to yet another Super Bowl. What Will Happen
The Steelers rack up 150 yards running, but manage to give up 200, including a Tom Brady run for 22 yards on a third-and-twenty. Shayne Graham kicks the deciding field goal and the Patriots return to the Super Bowl on the heels of a three-point nail biter.

Chicago @ Atlanta

What Could Happen
Julius Peppers knocks Matt Ryan out of the game on a legal hit that he is flagged for. His backup, Chris Redman, manages impressively but Ryan, though unable to lift his throwing shoulder, defiantly and heroically returns to the game. Even knowing that all he can do is hand off, the Bears are somehow unable to stop Michael Turner who scores the final touchdown with under two minutes remaining and Jay Cutler throws his third interception of the game to seal the Bears’ fate.

What Will Happen
In a boring, low-scoring affair, Ryan’s two interceptions make him and his team just that much better than Cutler’s three interceptions and the Falcons earn a “dirty bird” dance back to the Super Bowl.

Result: New England and Atlanta advance. SUPER BOWL XLV

Atlanta and New England

What Could Happen
The Super Bowl is postponed two weeks as the league and the NFLPA finally come to an agreement about expanding the season to 18 games. They decide it should start immediately and every team is ordered to play two more games. After those games are over, the New England Patriots and the Atlanta Falcons will meet for Super Bowl XLV.

Parity in the NFL leads to the two No. 1 seeds facing off against each other, defying the norm. Atlanta starts off with an onside kick, that is recovered by a Falcon and it goes from there. The Falcons frequently drop 11 men into coverage and cause Brady to throw four picks. Miraculously, the game comes down to the final play with the Falcons up by two and the Patriots needing another miracle from their kicker. It’s Shayne Graham who is iced three times by the Falcons who have not yet used any of their time outs for just such an occasion.

Graham is ready, but the snap is muffed and Graham picks it up. He scrambles and manages to loft the ball up toward Deion Branch who alertly goes out for the pass. Branch catches it, but is stopped at the half-yard line surpassing the Titans-Rams Super Bowl as the closest finish ever.

What Will Happen
Ah, who are we kidding? This is the easiest game the Patriots face during the playoffs, if not all season and it’s a 45-3 snoozefest. Outraged by his team’s performance after the game, Arthur Blanks opens up the checkbook and signs free agent quarterback Michael Vick.

There you have it. The ifs, ands, buts, or whats of the 2011 (though an addendum to 2010) playoffs. Take this one to the bank! (While there, you might want to open a CD account. Rates are pretty good right now.)

Ho! Ho! Ho! (Do you always equate that phrase with Santa Claus or are you like me and follow those words placed adjacent to one another in quick succession with the phrase “Green Giant?” Just wondering.)

As the yuletide season descends upon us, complete with bowl blowouts, playoff pushes and foot fetishes, I’ve managed to get a sneak peek at Jolly Ol’ Saint Nick’s bag o’ gifts for those sports figures we know so well that have been nice, and for some who have been naughty. (Damn liberals always have to make sure no one’s left out.)

So now without any further ado, I present to you the 2010 Christmas list for members of the sports world:

To Randy Moss, a Bill Belichick blow-up doll for him to have on hand when he can’t get the real thing.

To Michael Vick, a Snoopy stuffed animal. (You gotta start slow, Michael. Start slow.)

To Barry Bonds, a little more free time before he’s thrown in jail on perjury charges.

To the New York Yankees, Derek Jeter at shortstop for another three years. I’m sure you’ll be very happy together. Hahahahahahahahaha!

To Rob Ryan, a giant Rex Ryan wig to cover Rex Ryan’s ego.

To Rex Ryan, a pedicure, so he can enjoy his own feet without so much attention being paid to his personal activities.

To Mark Sanchez, an offensive touchdown.

To LeBron, a trip to the Eastern Conference semifinals with your new team ... and another loss there, just like with your old team.

To Carmelo, a team on the East Coast. (Might I suggest Syracuse? You’d still have three years remaining, wouldn’t you?)

To the New York Knicks, a trip back to relevance, but still no championship.

To the New Jersey Nets, four future first-round draft picks that still won't get you Carmelo.

To Eli Manning, sliding lessons.

To Vince Young, a new coach, a new team and a new attitude.

To David Stern, the intelligence and guts to contract eight teams so that your sport will be enjoyable again for all cities again and not just the four cities that have a legitimate shot at winning a championship.

To Brett Favre, a rocking chair ... with arm and leg straps on it to keep him in it.

To the New Orleans Saints, the “S” placed back at the beginning of their name after decades of futility. (That one arrived early thanks to Air Favre’s shipping service.)

To Cam Newton, a better business manager than his father.

To Greg Oden, an NBA career ... maybe, someday.

To the Portland Trail Blazers -- another chance to pick Kevin Durant instead.

To Yao Ming, new legs.

To Allen Iverson, “The Answer” -- and that is ... retire.

To Cortland Finnegan, some humble pie.

To the Metrodome, a better balloon roof.

To Shaquille O’Neal, a.k.a. "Tip-In O’Neal" or "The Big Shamrock," a final ring with Boston, giving him as many as Kobe, and enshrinement in the Great Personalities of Sports Hall of Fame.

To Donovan McNabb, some respect and a starting job for a full season with a new team.

To Tom Brady ... nothing. You have everything already ... All right, you win. Another Super Bowl ring!

To TCU, a big hug. It’s a small consolation, but the best I could do.

To Peyton Manning, some personnel consistency, fer cryin’ out loud!

To “The T.Ocho Show,” a second season, this time in the jungles of Africa mixing “Survivor”-type excitement with you two talking for a half-hour.

To the UConn Lady Huskies, a loss already, it’s getting boring.

To Geno Auriemma, some updated stereotypes about women.

To Brian Wilson, anything you want. Quite frankly, you frighten Santa.

To Jerry Jones, a team in the Super Bowl! (In other words, one share of stock in the Atlanta Falcons.)

To Tiger Woods, just a little bit of the mojo you used to have.

To Coach John Wooden, a team in heaven.

Enjoy your presents, everyone! And may I wish all of you a very happy and healthy holiday season. Thanks for reading and see you in the 2011, for a full slate of major league baseball and ... well, with labor disagreement looming, that’s about it! Ho Ho Ho! Green Giant!

Hello, New York ... wait, wait, don’t close this window! I just wanted to talk to you for a moment.

I know you’re going through a rough patch right now and the last thing you want is a Boston fan rubbing it in. But I’m not here for that. Really! (There will be plenty of time for that in the coming months.)

This is more a time for me to extend to you my deepest sympathies. I’m from Boston. We’ve been there. We’ve felt the sting of rejection, of failure, of the ship leaving the port without us. So we can relate to your current situation.

It is certainly an interesting twist. Call it fate, a deviation from the standard, climate change, whatever; it’s not something we’re used to seeing.

The Yankees lost out on a player, who took less money to go somewhere else. Usually an agent will use other teams to drive up the price on New York! The Yankees are usually the last one an agent calls. In this case, the phone rang almost two hours away, in the home of the Liberty Bell.

So you lost out on Cliff Lee. The San Francisco weak-hitting Giants shelled him. You don’t need that kind of pitcher. Save your money. Heck, we’ve all seen CC Sabathia pitch on three-days rest. Just have him do it all season. (For what he gets paid, you should pitch him on no days rest.)

I mean, that was pretty harsh, when Lee chose tens of millions of dollars less to not sign with you. The nerve of that guy! He thought your fans were worse than Philly fans. That’s outlandish! (Most reasonable people just have you two at a statistical dead heat.)

Think of that for a moment! To say that Yankees fans are thugs and then sign with Philly fans?! (Apparently, he’s never been immobilized by a neck injury and booed for holding up the game.) Word is his wife didn’t like your fans and the way they treated her; all for a little spit and bile. Some people can be so sensitive.

And even those New Yorkers who are not necessarily Yankees fans have been affected by this news. Mets fans, I know you had been hoping for winning the division sometime again this decade, but well, success is overrated. Lots of pressure comes with it. Remember the flack you took when you blew that division lead in September a couple of years ago. Now, when you get mathematically eliminated in June, no one bothers you. That’s the life! Just think extra long vacations.

There are those who hoped a “Cliff-Lee-to-the-Bronx” report would put a sheen (Martin, not Charlie) on an otherwise tarnished outlook for the rest of the city’s teams, such as the Jets. They started out strong, but now are so lacking that they need their strength coach to help out on special teams. And Mark Sanchize is back to being an almost was.

But Rex Ryan’s good for you. He’s brash, he’s conceited, and he promotes a tough, no-nonsense attitude. It’s just that his team wears the Jets uniform. That thing works like “the Mask” did in that Jim Carrey movie (“Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind”), only in reverse. Any incredible things you may do are dulled by futility.

Oh, and to you Knickerbocker backers, Carmelo is coming ... maybe, someday. For now, you’ve got Amar’e and the team has won seven in a row (at press time, though that was sure to come to an end at the hands of Boston on Wednesday evening).

Hey, let’s not forget about the New York (football) Giants who still have a shot at the Super Bowl, just as long as Eli Manning doesn’t try to run for a first down.

Now might be a good time to start following one of the lesser sports leagues. There are the New York Red Bulls (even though they’re in New Jersey), the WNBA’s entry, the New York Liberty, and the New York Titans of the National Lacrosse League. They are all very, very competitive in their respective –- what’s that? ... oh, the Titans moved to Orlando? ... well, they sucked anyway, right? Good riddance to bad rubbish.

The point is that this isn’t the end of the world. The Yankees will still make the playoffs (a 70/30 chance), you’ll still get chastised for your indignant and entitled attitude, people will still annoy you by deriding your team’s overspending, and you’ll still berate and verbally abuse visiting player’s wives when they sit nearby. Nothing really has changed ... well, except your odds of winning a World Series before the Red Sox and Phillies do. That hope is pretty much deep in the sewers of Manhattan.

Chins up, New Yorkers. Just think happy thoughts and try to put that lump of coal to good use. Happy Holidays!

I bleed orange. It’s not so much a congenital disease as it is a sign of allegiance. (It’s also a congenital disease.) Let there be no mistake about it, the Syracuse orange is the default institution to which people refer when talking about that color dyed onto a uniform; not Florida and certainly not the burnt orange of Texas. Orange signifies fruit and vitamin C and should never be burnt.

But I digress. I allude to my alma mater in order to explain my invitation to a recent panel discussion at the Sports Museum in Los Angeles. The Alumni Association managed to get Ed Goren, Class of ’66 and current Fox Sports Media Group Vice Chairman, to speak on the future of sports broadcasting. He brought along a few of his underlings that answer to him (so perhaps they had no choice) -- Curt Menefee, the host of Fox NFL Sunday; Jay Glazer, NFL Insider; and Michael Strahan, comic foil to Jared of Subway fame, Super Bowl champion and current analyst on Fox NFL Sunday.

The foursome was particularly candid and quite engaging (though asking Michael Strahan about hand cream in the bathroom probably wasn’t the best idea, even if he is the spokesman for Vaseline for men).

They spoke on many subjects relating to the most popular sport in America and entertained the audience of about a hundred at the same time. For those with journalistic endeavors, Glazer dispensed advice on his craft like Strahan used to dispense pain to quarterbacks.

He addressed the fear that broadcasters have keeping their jobs. Is there even room for non-athletes to become broadcasters, what with all the former players taken jobs? “Five years from now? Jimmy will be using a walker. Terry will be in a diaper ...”

The clear answer is that there is. From Strahan, the former New York Giant, “There are guys, who are great players, but they can’t speak.”

To which Goran interjected, “Enough about Tiki, c’mon.”

“It takes a lot to get me, but wow! That got me,” replied Big Mike, oh, he of the smooth skin.

Jay Glazer decided to back this up with an anecdote. “There’s a prominent Hall of Famer –- we’re not gonna say who it is –- and he’s got the earpiece in ...”

At this point, Strahan recognizes the tale and says, “Oh, Emmitt. Emmitt Smith.”

Reluctantly, the “Insider” acknowledges that it is, in fact, who the story is about and he continues ... “and we’re doing a piece with Eddie George, Emmitt Smith ...” he says glaring at pal and fellow panelist to his left ... “and Jimmy Johnson. And Emmitt stops in the middle of live TV and says, 'There’s voices in my head.' ”

I guess the all-time leader in rushing yardage needed his offensive line and (former Syracuse football star) Daryl “Moose” Johnston to help him through the spot.

How about getting news via Twitter? Doesn’t that make the networks a little less relevant?

“When Ochocinco tweets something, it’s not the most credible thing in the world,” Glazer says. He’s right! When you’re dealing with Fox, you’re dealing with people who have checked their sources ... Hmm, that doesn’t sound right.

Let me rephrase that -- when you’re dealing with Fox SPORTS, you’re dealing with people who have checked their sources. In fact, Glazer won’t talk to agents, as he puts it, “because I know they’re going to use me.” Three sources, minimum, is his policy.

Glazer contends that the competition in the media today has taken journalistic integrity down a notch. “It’s not important to get it right; you have to be first.”

That’s why Glazer works the phones tirelessly. There was a humorous moment when we believed he could also expand time. By his calculations, he figured he was “on the phone 12,000 to 15,000

minutes a month.” To which Strahan piped up to say, “I’m trying to figure out how many minutes are in a month.” (As cell phones with calculators came out, we shortly realized there are 43,200 in a 30-day month, so Glazer’s not a warlock.)

But he’s still subject to a mulligan or two, even with all his conversing. “I never knew my mom did so many bad things until I said this guy will get 17 carries instead of 15 carries.”

And if you want a story, you’ll be able to find it. “I can walk into the [Minnesota Vikings] locker room and find any six of 11 guys. Is it true they hate Brad Childress? Yes!”

Looks like he was right. Childress got fired within the week.

But no one will want to go on the record about something like that. Personally, Goren hates the phantom “anonymous source.” And Strahan added, “In New York, a lot of the anonymous guys there were the ones who wrote the articles.”

And for those aspiring to be on the inside like Glazer, “Don’t go for the scoop, go for the relationship,” he advises. “If you want one big story and then no one will talk to you again, fine.” He means that it had better be a doozy if you want to continue with a career.

What about the Favre story? Would they consider talking about that? It’s not Gossip Girl out there. “The only way networks talk about it is how it affects the product on the field,” says Menefee.

So what makes the good broadcaster? The airwaves have got Howie and Terry and Jimmy and Deion and Boomer and Ditka and Keyshawn and Marino and every other former player that has been kicked out of their homes by their wives.

Strahan admits he’s not much for preparation like some of the other guys. “I listen, I talk. I got it.” But similar to when he was the New York Giants sack specialist, the most important thing for him is to know his role. “I don’t need to say, ‘11 for 12 for 100 yards.’ It’s the personality that they [the viewers] care about.” And what makes it fun is that “it’s on your feet and it’s live.”

Menefee added that the “research is for perspective.” It’s not always necessary for commentary.

But through it all, these guys are “the experts,” the ones we look to every week to tell us who’s going to win with their unparalleled insights and prognostication powers, right?

“We pick horrible games, then the next week, people trust that we know what we’re talking about,” says Strahan.

Okay, with that said, uh, (the professor who was moderating the evening already had this interrogative in his holster and didn’t want to waste it) who’s going to win the Super Bowl? Strahan wasn’t falling for it. “Anyone who sits up here and tells you they know, they’re lying. I ... don’t ... know. I have no idea.”

His boss was impressed. “That is the most honest answer of the day.” But in regards to the applause from the audience, Glazer took offense. “Don’t clap, he’s bailing out.”

(A prediction of New England to come out on top of the AFC brought scattered boos from the many New York transplants in attendance, but it was just jealousy. Heh heh heh.)

Okay, how about predicting this question on every fan’s mouth? Will there be a strike?

Yes, but it won’t last long was the consensus. Said Menefee, “Every time a player misses a paycheck, he goes nuts.” To which Glazer added, “And the wives go nuts, and the families go nuts ...”

“The owners have a longer career than the players and that’s an advantage,” Goren says. "But you still have both factions trying to exert a little power and not back down, so that’ll make things tricky."

Finally, the NFL is about to expand to an 18-game season, and you may be surprised that the Players Association would allow that, given the perilous nature of the game. The group expounded upon the folly that is an expanded season coupled with more stringent rules on hits, two rules that seem diametrically opposed to one another.

But Goren explained it all away. “It’s about greed. There will be a deal on Turner that could be worth a billion dollars.”

Strahan was less forgiving for the plan. “It’s so hard to play 16 games,” he said. My last year ... every day, I had to pop pills just to get out of bed.” But then you’re standing in the tunnel, with 80,000 people cheering and “You feel like Russell Crowe ... ‘Are you not entertained?’”

He even affected a funny announcer voice. I think he’s bucking for a sitcom someday ... Oh, wait, he had one.

So there you have candid talk from the experts, the ones on the inside that present us with the most popular sport in America today. After the event, the panelists posed with guests for pictures and some laughs. I just went to finish my business at the buffet table. Strahan didn’t have any hand cream, but you’d think he could at least have brought us some Subway sandwiches. What do they pay him for?!

Derek, what are you waiting for? Just sign with the Yankees already. What, are you thinking your talents are best-served in Houston? Perhaps you’re tired of playing in front of people and would rather sign with the Marlins.

You can sign now and still not have to do any training. This isn’t football. You don’t have to report to camp the moment you sign. I’m sure you’re aware of that. You can still have your “MT” (Minka Time).

You’ve got three choices –- you can take the highest offer on the table (the Yankees’) and no one will even consider you caved in since it’s still twice what your current worth is.

Or take a lower offer from another team. Show the Yankees you are not to be trifled with. You are Jeter, dammit! Sure, it’s biting your nose to spite your face, but again, you’re Jeter, dammit! (Gumby reference anyone?)

Or keep playing hard ball. The Yankees aren’t going to give you the amount you’re asking for since it’s ridiculous and will throw the entire salary structure of baseball off. Elvis Andrus and Troy Tulowitzki will look to you and say they deserve at least $15 million. (What’s that? ... Tulowitzki signed for how much???!!! ... Oooof, that may stick a monkey wrench into things.)

What, do you not have enough money?! Remember, having money makes doing your taxes tricky. With all of your houses, you may forget which house you listed as your primary residence.

Has being around the Yankees clouded your mind? $20-$25 million for a middle-tier shortstop and

a .273 hitter? Yes, you’ve got excellent leadership qualities. So does Jason Varitek and it didn’t stop the Red Sox from giving him $5 million, then $3 million and now $2 million plus incentives. And those incentives are that he still gets a parking space inside the player’s lot.

Are you worried about your legacy? You need to stay in New York to maintain your legacy. To Yankees fans, it’s that of hero. To Red Sox fans, your legacy is that of dirty cheater (along with A-Rod who is known as a dirty, whiny cheater).

You’re one of the most hated men in Boston. I went onto Boston.com yesterday, the online site of the Boston Globe and took the Pats-Jets quiz -– 12 questions about the history between the two gridiron rivals. After completing the quiz (I did as well as I did on my trigonometry tests in high school), they show the leader board. Do you know who was holding first place? “Derek Jeter’s herpes,” that’s who!

The disdain for you is legendary. Why risk losing that? We need you. Baseball needs you in the Yankees uniform. The uniform to you is like the hair to Samson. Take it off and you’re just another shortstop fielding routine grounders with mediocre hitting stats for a team that won’t make a run in the playoffs.

(We’re talking current stats, you know, and not your career achievements, because career achievements don’t win you current games and that’s what you’d be getting paid to do.)

The Gold Glove? No one’s buying it. (Except apparently, my dedicated reader Irene who believes it’s well-deserved.) That gets you nothing in the negotiation, but it makes a nice stocking stuffer.

Now in this scenario, the Yankees have two choices. They can pay you what they’re offering you (more than they should) or they can find a more productive player for less the money and use the remaining cash on another player who may also be productive.

Yes, the Yankees have bottomless pockets and overspend to players that haven’t given even a fraction of what you have to your team, let alone the game. But they were also being courted by other teams ... and most of them were younger ... and were coming off better years.

Would the replacement player be more productive than you? Perhaps. You’ve seen, as have we, that players’ stats don’t always translate under the lights of The House Next To Where The House That Ruth Built Was. (Seriously, how many times are they going to keep putting Javier Vasquez on the mound?)

Barry Bonds never went through this as he was somehow still playing at a very high level deep into his 40s. Hmm, so has Mariano Rivera. Coincidence? Conspiracy theorists, discuss.

You’ve made it blatantly obvious that you’ve done things the natural way. And this is how nature treats people who adhere to their rules. Nature pays them less than when they were 28.

Derek, Bubbie, I’m a Red Sox fan, so I don’t like you. I know you’re dirty, I just don’t know how. I’ll dig up something on you, even if it’s unreturned library books. Or if you’ve never taken a book from the library, I’ll expose your illiteracy. But I’m trying to help you here.

I will say it’s kind of fun to see you and the Yankees play hardball. It’s like Hank and Hal deciding who had to ride on the hump in the Steinbrenner station wagon during family road trips growing up.

But we also know the outcome. It’s really the only outcome there should be –- Jeter and the Yankees, the Yankees and Jeter. Keep your hair, Samson! Otherwise, you’ll just be another bald shortstop who used to be hated by his enemies. *Author's Note: Derek Jeter signed a 3-year, $51 million deal with the Yankees within 48 hours of this posting, so obviously, he reads "Wasif's World" and is influenced by my opinion.

Stevie Johnson won the game for the Buffalo Bills. That’s what Geoff Hangartner thought when he turned his back the moment the ball landed perfectly in Johnson’s hands and he rushed to quarterback Ryan Fitzpatrick to celebrate. “Perhaps a little dance, perhaps I’ll throw the signal caller on my back and gallop around for a little bit; maybe just a simple helmet bump,” the Bills center thought.

Fitzpatrick, by that time, had already gone from celebration to mourning, clutching his helmet in disbelief. The Harvard-educated quarterback knew the degree of the ball’s trajectory, the force with which he threw it, and the speed of the wide receiver all came together to make the perfect throw. He also knew the odds that such a perfect throw would be dropped were low, yet still feasible. And he knew the likelihood that what he was seeing was real and not a philosophical manifestation or existential occurrence.

Stevie Johnson was not so cerebral about it. He just knew that he had [bleeped] up. He did catch the ball perfectly on the bounce though, so he had that going for him. But that didn’t count and someone was to blame. Who would have thought that it was the Lord?

After the game, the wide receiver tweeted, "I PRAISE YOU 24/7!!!!!! AND THIS HOW YOU DO ME!!!!!" YOU EXPECT ME TO LEARN FROM THIS??? HOW???!!! ILL NEVER FORGET THIS!! EVER!!! THX THO"

Is God even on Twitter? Not that HE couldn’t figure it out, but HE may have deemed it as a waste of time. I mean, after all, if HE was spending time on the site, do you think HE would’ve finished the world in only six days? HE’s very into time management.

But that’s besides that point. One thing we do know is that God has a sense of humor. It’s why some men have hair on their backs, but not their heads. It’s why we still need orthodonture work done throughout our adulthood after getting a half dozen teeth pulled and wearing braces for two years during adolescence.

Have you ever lost your keys and looked in your coat pocket without finding them? Then you’re back to your coat pocket later in the day and the object reappears? That’s God. You can thank him for replacing your keys. Of course, you could also blame him for taking them in the first place.

Though an omniscient being, do you think God gets the sarcasm at the end? “Thx tho.” Or was Johnson being sincere? “Oh, yeah, thanks for those times you didn’t screw me. I wouldn’t want to see ungrateful. But for this particular time, you’re on my list, buddy.”

Players frequently thank the Lord when they win the game or make a great play. This would be the first time in recorded history where the “Big G” was publicly thrown under the Crosstown Heavenly Express Bus (the #8 for those with a heavenly bus schedule).

But what hand does God actually have in the game? There’s this old gem from a couple of years ago:

God was giving Yankees manager Joe Torre a tour of heaven. He showed him a little run-down, two-room house with a faded Yankees banner hanging from the front porch. God said, “This is your new home, Skip. Most people don’t get their own house up here.”

Joe looked at the house, then turned to see the house on the top of the hill; a huge two-story mansion with white marble columns and plush patios under each window. Boston Red Sox flags lined the sidewalks and windows and a huge Red Sox banner hung between the marble columns.

“God, with all due respect, let me ask you a question: How come I get this little house with a torn Yankees banner that proclaims our 26 World Series titles while Terry Francona gets a huge mansion with Red Sox banners and flags flying all over the place?”

God smiles for a moment then replies, “That’s not Terry’s house, that’s mine.”

And you can replace the Yankees with the Patriots or Duke Blue Devils, whatever you want. The truth is God doesn’t have a favorite. HE just has a sense of humor. HE loves that joke. HE loves when you tell it to make your team feel like they are chosen. HE also loves when your team screws up. It’s funny. Ever see those blooper reels on the lighter side of sports? God’s got them all (on Blueray, of course).

HE’s certainly not biased toward one team or another ... (although there is significant evidence to indicate HE’s not a fan of Cleveland). But scholars spend so much time focusing on the existence of God and his effect on games that they neglect his most significant nemesis, the Devil.

Remember, the Hades resident exists as much as he’d have you forgot about him. “The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn’t exist.” That’s from “The Usual Suspects” and doesn’t give away the ending, though if you still haven’t seen it by now, I should ruin it for you just based on principle.

I find it strange that El Diablo doesn’t get more due. He’s behind lots of things. But winners praise God, who is probably amused by the attention, while the Devil is ignored. It would make just as much sense, if not more.

Take the 1990 NY Giants after the kick by Buffalo’s Scott Norwood’s sailed wide right sealing his team’s fate –- why don’t players get into the locker room after the game and say to the reporters, “Phew! The Bills played tough out there tonight, but we had Lucifer on our side. Thank the Devil. Super Bowl Champs, Baby!!!”

God, quite frankly, is not a sports fan. Do you know how trying that would be on HIM? “Have you ever seen a World Series baseball game on TV?” Of course, you haven’t, few people have. Sorry. Stupid question. Any sport will do, really.

If you had, you’d see all these people sitting in the stands, hands clasped deep in prayer. Most of them swear their butts off and are probably cheating on their spouses, so they’re not really very religious. During these times, God gets deluged with requests much like a city’s septic system does during commercials of a Super Bowl broadcast.

Philosophers have struggled over this for centuries, back when the first rock slipped through the first caveman’s hands or a sword fell out of a Gladiator’s hand just as the lion was about to pounce, or the sun got into a knight’s eyes enough to obscure the angle of the attacking knight’s lance.

The issue has haunted the likes of such great minds as Kirkegaard, Newton and Vegas bookmaker Joey “Muffintop” D’Angelo who theorized that God was a fan of Rollie Massimino’s animated coaching style and thus made a fortune on the 1985 NCAA Finals.

Nope, Lucifer just knew a good opportunity to screw a lot of bettors. “No. 8 seeds never win.” Heh heh. Yeah, we’ll see about that.

The Devil is the sports fan. He loves messing with things. God has better things to do. If God cared, do you think the Yankees would really have 27 championships? Would a team named the Blue Devils win so much? How would that look? (Actually, that’s exactly the kind of humor God goes for. He’s an ironic dude.)

Of course, there is the less-publicized theory that a couple of guys at Buffalo Wild Wings who weren’t ready to head home to their wives used their connections to the Rich Stadium grounds crew to keep the game going. But like I said, it’s only a theory.

What do I know anyway? Until now, I thought Newton spent all his time creating a delectable snack cookie made from figs.

This past weekend, I found myself watching a most exhilarating contest between the Clippers of Los Angeles and the Knickerbockers of New York at the Center owned by Staples, Inc.

I had the opportunity to join spectators in one of the luxury suites. So there were hot dogs aplenty, all the wings you could devour, and a free Clippers T-shirt (sized XL for everyone) to each visitor in the box. Plus, two members of the Clipper Spirit Dance Team came by to raffle off a ball signed by the team (I assume “the team” meant the Clippers). And, of course, there was Clippers basketball. And that’s where you have to let out a long sigh.

They lost, which is to be expected for any team with a .076 winning percentage at tip off. This was despite an impressive performance by “redshirt freshman” Blake Griffin. This was the bright spot, which is refreshing when watching a team void of any expectations, such as is the case with Los Angeles’ “other” team.

I spoke with a lady seated next to me that was quite distressed at the failure of the home team to prevent the invading squad from successfully converting attempts at their hoop. In the end, she acquiesced, “Well, I still have the Lakers. At least they’re a true LA team. They didn’t move here like the Clippers.”

“That’s true ... except when they moved from Minneapolis. That’s kinda where the ‘lake’ part of ‘Lakers’ comes from ... cuz there are very few lakes here ... in the desert,” I explained.

“Oh. But they didn’t win until they got to LA,” she proclaimed to make up for her first gaffe.

“Right ... well, unless you count the six championships they won in Minneapolis, including five of the first eight league trophies. Actually, they won one before it was even called an NBA championship.” (It was the Basketball Association of America until 1949.)

“Well,” she acquiesced, looking for something to get right, “they’ve been here since I was born.”

“Fair enough – In the time that you’ve been alive, yes, they have only been in LA and have only won championships while in LA. I agree ... Can I get back to watching the game now, please? My head’s starting to hurt.”

Some of that cranial distress was from the Clippers' inability to allow the Knicks one trip down the court without fouling. Every defensive stand was punctuated with a whistle. It was amazing that no one on the team fouled out. Looking at the scoreboard, each player on the court at the time had either three or four fouls. I think they were taking turns. Perhaps that was Vinny Del Negro’s strategy. (I wonder if John Paxson, his former boss with the Bulls, would have approved or attacked him.)

But the underlying theme of this piece is simple: You have to feel bad for the Clippers. You just have to. Here is a team that cannot win.

Looking at other teams with distant possibilities of success, you don’t see quite the hopelessness that you do on this side of the Metrolink tracks in Los Angeles. If you are a Browns fan, you have hope, for you’ve seen cities such as Tampa Bay or New Orleans rise to the top of the heap after years of being the butt of jokes.

If you are a Cubs fan, you’ve seen cursed franchises like the Red Sox win a World Series -- two even! That means even the Cubs have a shot, as improbable as it might seem.

If you are a Golden State Warriors fan -- wait, does Golden State still have a team? Ah, who cares, they’ve won an NBA Championship thanks to Al Attles’ boys in 1975.

But the Clippers are a different breed. Their fans know it will never happen. Never ever ever ever never. And it defies logic, for they’re so perennially bad that they should be stockpiling high draft picks like mad. They should be pretty good by now, right?

I am trying to be optimistic here. The NBA is such a watered down mess that all you need are three superstars (who complement each other well and don’t announce their free agent signings to Jim Gray on national television) and you’re destined to go deep into the playoffs. The Clippers have a bonafide star in Blake Griffin. OK, they’re a third of the way there.

And they are based in LA, so that’s a potential lure to free agents.

And they have nice, peppy cheeleaders.

And ... well, it’s just ... never ... gonna ... happen.

I don’t say that to taunt the Clippers fans, that is to say, the people who show up early for Lakers games and find themselves watching the Clippers. (Ha! I kid the fans of the red, white and blue. I know they have their diehards.) I say this from studying the scientific charts located deep within my crystal ball. I don’t see a way this will ever play out differently.

So how about if they got one of the best coaches in the league? Gregg Popovich, what about him? Or Jerry Sloan? I’m sure Larry Brown could do what he always does and get the team to make a strong playoff push ... What’s that? ... He’s already tried? ... But he did get them to the playoffs, so there you go.

Actually, there was a time this decade when the Clippers ended the season with a better record than the Lakers. It’s true. (2005-2006) However, they will still always be the inverse of the team from Minneapolis.

The only hope, albeit slight, for them to achieve success, is for owner Donald Sterling to sell the team. The mere mention of Donald Sterling has LA folk thinking fondly of Frank McCourt. That's how despised Sterling is.

Sterling just isn’t going to spend on the team, mainly because he makes a ton of money and doesn’t want to part with it. The guy bought the team for $12.5 million and it’s worth almost 25 times that price today. Yes, if his team is successful, it would earn him more money, but that’s besides the point. Why mess with a good thing?

Besides, winning would mean more headaches like all the merchandise he’d have to print, fickle Lakers fans he’d have to accommodate, etc.

Several luxury box suites were dark for the evening. Years ago, I went to a Clippers game and paid for my ticket with a credit card. (I had a friend in town and I wanted to show him a good time ... but didn’t have the money, so I took him to a Clippers game instead.) The point is, with my credit card on file, the next year, I received a call from someone in their ticket office asking if I’d like to buy tickets for the upcoming season. He sounded more downtrodden than a Girl Scout pitching her cookies at a convention for people with celiac disease. This guy knew it was an uphill battle.

And that brings up another point – What about the Clipper Spirit Girls? They are the counterpart to the famous Laker Girls. Are these the girls that couldn’t make it on the Laker Girls? Are they the Laker Girls' B-team? Do they pass the Laker girls in the locker room and look at them with contempt mumbling under their breath, “Who did she sleep with to get there?” or “Those moves are soooo Paula Abdul mid-80s lame”? Do they rumble on the floor when no one’s looking like in the gymnasium during “West Side Story” where John Astin (famous for playing Gomez Addams) was oblivious to the tension in the room between the two rival ethnicities?

Or perhaps they just wanted to try out for the Clippers because they don’t like performing in front of people? Maybe the dental plan is better. Maybe the hours are better. (They certainly don’t have to work in May and June.) At least Sterling isn’t planning to move the Clippers, so they’ll still have a job.

Alas, that’s what it all comes down to – the Clippers aren’t going anywhere, but then again, the Clippers aren’t going anywhere. It’s a steady stream of blah.

Of course, Clippers fans also have the Lakers, who are native to LA as long as you don’t know where they came from.

A Steelers defensive player lunges at Carson Palmer’s knees, resulting in a flag. Only a few years ago, in the playoffs –- yes, the Bengals do make the playoffs from time to time -– Palmer’s knee was shredded on the same type of hit. That play did not merit a penalty.

The NFL has installed regulations about such danger to a signal caller’s safety, but not after it happened to Palmer, but rather two years later. It wasn’t until Tom Brady (a.k.a. Tom Terrific) was hit in the same manner during the first game of the 2008 NFL season against the Kansas City Chiefs that the league decided it had better do something about it.

And hence, this past Sunday, Palmer’s team was awarded 15 yards as the Steelers were penalized for the infraction. This rule is unofficially called “The Brady Rule” and it states “No defensive player who has an unrestricted path to the quarterback may hit him flagrantly in the area of the knee(s) or below when approaching in any direction.”

That is the most well-known of the “Brady rules,” but most fans don’t realize that there were a whole series of “Brady Rules” enacted. With the NFL eschewing hitting for more touchy-AJ Feeley defensive techniques, such as approaching an offensive player and reasoning with him to surrender, I thought it would be a good idea to look at some of these rules. For your edification purposes, I present them for you here. Also, I have included a definition of the word “edification” so that you will know why you are reading this:

edification [ed-uh-fi-kay-shuhn] –noun the state of being instructed, or benefitted, esp. with football lingo

Protection of Passer Rule 10.1.4 By interpretation, a pass begins when the passer -- with possession of ball -- starts to bring his hand forward. If ball strikes ground after this action has begun, play is ruled an incomplete pass. If passer loses control of ball prior to his bringing his hand forward, play is ruled a fumble, unless the defending team recovers it, in which case, play is ruled an incomplete pass and is not reviewable.

Rule 10.1.7 When a passer is holding the ball to pass it forward, any intentional movement forward of his arm starts a forward pass. If a defensive player contacts the passer or the ball after forward movement begins, and the ball leaves the passer’s hand, a forward pass is ruled, regardless of where the ball strikes the ground or a player. Even if the passer doesn’t really commence forward movement, but simply considers it, a forward pass is ruled.

(This is colloquially referred to as “the Tuck Rule” or as Raider fans call it “Mo*$%&#@er!!!”)

Rule 10.1.8 No defensive player may run into a passer of a legal forward pass after the ball has left his hand, or after the passer has considered throwing the ball, or dropped back in an effort to throw the ball, or taken a snap with the option of throwing the ball. The referee must determine whether opponent had a reasonable chance to stop his momentum during an attempt to block the pass or tackle the passer while he still had the ball. This will result in a 15-yard penalty and a verbal scolding.

Rule 10.1.14 Officials are to blow the play dead as soon as the quarterback is clearly in the grasp and control of any tackler, or seems to be about to be in the grasp and control of any tackler, or may at some point during the play end up in the grasp and control of any tackler, or it is conceived that any tackler has it in his mind that he wants to get the quarterback in his grasp and control, and the quarterback’s safety or pristine, dimpled face is in jeopardy.

Intentional Grounding Rule 14.2.2 Intentional grounding will be called when a passer, facing an imminent loss of yardage due to pressure from the defense, throws a forward pass without a realistic chance of completion.

Backward Pass Rule 19.3.6 Any pass not forward is regarded as a backward pass. A pass parallel to the line is a backward pass. A runner may pass backward at any time.

Rule 19.3.7 A backward pass that strikes the ground can be recovered and advanced by either team, but only if that play was designed by a head coach wearing a hooded sweatshirt to be thrown backwards, strike the ground, and recovered by the other team, perhaps in an effort to rest his offense, or tire out the opposing team’s offense, or scout the other team’s offense in a game situation, or resist displaying his offense to the other team’s defense. Otherwise, a backward pass that strikes the ground is simply ruled incomplete.

Rule 19.3.9 A backward pass caught in the air can be advanced by opposing team, only if the passer’s team has a comfortable lead or the passer’s statistics and passer rating will not be affected by the opposing team’s advancement of a backward pass. Otherwise, the backward pass is ruled incomplete.

Measuring Rule 20.5.1The forward point of the ball is used when measuring, unless on a quarterback keeper, in which case, the ball shall be spotted at the point that the quarterback was trying to reach. If the play happened on fourth down, play shall resume after the spot on a First and Ten, unless it is within ten yards of the opposing team’s goal line, in which case, it will be a First and Goal.

Unfair Acts Rule 24.6.1 The Commissioner has sole authority to investigate and to reinforce these rules, and take appropriate disciplinary or corrective measures if any club action, nonparticipant interference, or emergency occurs in an NFL game which he deems so unfair that are outside the accepted tactics encountered in professional football that such action has a major effect on the result of a game or on Tom Brady, Tom Brady’s family, or Tom Brady’s legacy.

I hope this clarifies what sports personalities and fans referring to as “The Brady Rule” and this instruction allows you to understand what is happening on the field when the officials hand down a confusing ruling that seems to favor the quarterback. It’s not that the call is bad, but rather that the officials are simply following “the Brady Rules.”

They've started to announce the awards for the 2010 season in Major League Baseball. As you may know by now, the Gold Glove winners were voted on by the managers and coaches. Most notably, they selected as the Gold Glove winner at shortstop in the American League 36-year-old Derek Jeter, who is virtually immobile at the position. But many people don't know that they didn't stop there. Other categories were on the ballot and so, these judicious and astute men selected winners democratically for them as well. Through my connections, I got a look at the winners, before you see them reported by the major media outlets. Here they are now:

Cy Young Award (NL) Roy Halladay, Philadelphia Phillies

Cy Young Award (AL) Cy Young, deceased

Manager of the Year (NL) Fredi Gonzalez, formerly of the Florida Marlins

Manager of the Year (AL) U.L. Washington, Texas Rangers (they probably meant Ron Washington)

Rookie of the Year (AL) Buster Posey, San Francisco Giants (National League)

Cookie of the Year (NL) Cookie Rojas (due to a typo that no one picked up on)

Most Valuable Player (NL) Derek Jeter, NY Yankees

Most Valuable Player (AL) Derek Jeter

World Series Champion New York Yankees

Owner of the Year Frank McCourt, Los Angeles Dodgers

Most Cost-Conscious Executive of the Year Brian Cashman

Best Fans Florida Marlins

Best Broadcaster Joe Morgan

Umpire of the Year Jim Joyce

Derek Jeter Award for Handsomeness Beyond Reproach Johnny Damon, Detroit Tigers

Victor J. Steele Good Grooming Award Brian Wilson, San Francisco Giants

Best Beard on Someone Named Brian Wilson Sergio Romo, San Francisco Giants

Okay, this whole exercise was done simply to mock the selection of Derek Jeter as a Gold Glove winner. If coaches and managers can argue with umpires, couldn't umpires get in the faces of these "career baseball men" and shout, "ARE YOU BLIND?!" I think it's only fair; certainly more fair than giving Jeter the honor.

I’m not gonna answer more questions for the rest of this year. If there’s gonna be an interview, I’m gonna conduct it. So I’ll answer my own questions; axe myself the questions, give y’all the answers.” – Randolph Tiberius Moss 10/31/10

And thus Randy Moss -- athlete, journalist, tantrumist -- summoned in the era of the self interview, thus making the Bob Costases, Dan Patricks and Roy Firestones obsolete. (And yes, they are all plural because they were cloned a long time ago, ever since technology made it possible.) We shall look back on these days with historical reverence for it is when the landscape of broadcasting changed.

I now present to you a compilation of some of Randy Moss’ greatest interviews conducted of himself, by himself, and quite frankly, for himself. I believe you will find these to be very revealing of a man who all at once is a brilliant receiver, a difficult personality, a misunderstood child, a mediocre karaoke artist, and an amateur puff pastry chef.

Without any further adieu, the Randy Moss Interviews (DVD pre-order available now through Amazon):

Could I describe the incident with the buffet table my last week with Minnesota? I got totally misunderstood there. The food was delicious. Tinucci’s, man, I love that place! I said, “I wouldn’t feed that to my dog.” My dog eats dog food. Do you know what would happen if I gave him ribs and chicken and [expletive]? I’d be cleaning up after him all night. Man, I gotta think about myself. I need at least eight hours of sleep if I intend to come in here next week and take double teams to free up Percy Harvin. I can’t go pooper scoopin’ all night. Think about it.

My mom used to feed me kitty litter until I was 7. We weren’t even that poor and didn’t own a cat. But no reporter ever bothered to ask me that.

Does everyone have skeletons in their closet? Yeah. Is mine an actual skeleton? You better believe it.

I think I get a bad rap. Wherever I go, people say “Randy’s doggin’ it” and “Randy’s messin’ up on purpose.” I laugh it off. Do I sometimes wet my pants from laughing? Sure, who doesn’t?

Heck yeah, I’d have sex with Tom Brady! That’s a two-minute drill I’d love to be a part of. But to answer your question, I do think the electric car can definitely provide relief to a global climate that is under terrible strain from car emissions.

Who do I think killed Kennedy? Three words: Lyndon Baines Johnson.

I’ll tell you what gives me the wind something awful, that edamame [expletive]; though I’ll run faster when I eat it, so it’s not all bad.

How do we get rid of blue as a color? I hate that color. It should stay in the ocean where it belongs.

Those Chilean miners, man. I was pulling for them the whole way. I once climbed inside my clothes dryer when I was a kid. I got stuck in there for a week, so I could relate to them in some ways.

I’ll sing Tupac in the shower and sometimes I sing the theme song to “Josie and Pussycats.” It all depends on the mood I’m in. And yes, I believe my dogs are stealing from me ... Not all of them, just the Doberman.

I’ve always been fascinated by photosynthesis.

Craziest thing I’ve ever done? Let’s just say I christened the Lincoln Bedroom during a middle school class trip to the White House.

Would I take a bullet for Randy Moss? You’ll have to ask Randy Moss that one. I have no comment.

I’d definitely do Snookie from “Jersey Shore,” wouldn’t you? That chick’s crazy ... and orange. I’m all about life experiences, man. How many times in my life would I get to [expletive] a crazy, orange chick? That’s as close as I can get to [expletive] an alien, man. “Life experiences” - that’s the Randy Moss motto. That, and “always be crazy.”

I hope you’ve enjoyed your first-hand glimpse at a truly fascinating individual brought to you by the one man who knows him best -– himself. We now return you to the “Brett Favre Saga” to find out which body part he damages next week.

Last week, we debunked the myth that Phil Jackson is “the greatest coach of all-time” as some erroneously refer to him. In Part II or our in-depth exposé, we take on one of the men who will remain tied to Jackson throughout history – Kobe Bryant, a.k.a “the Black Mamba.”

Now Bryant is another story and the media really, really want to anoint him "the greatest Laker of all-time." And Kobe wants it badly. As much as he says he doesn’t, you can see it in his eyes. And you can see it in Magic’s eyes when he says, “Remind me again who Kobe is.”

First of all, anyone saying this either didn’t watch Magic (or Jerry West or Kareem or Shaq) play or just doesn’t understand what they’re saying. They’re on the fringe, covering one end of the spectrum. We can eliminate them from the discussion. Están loco en la cabeza, as they say in LA. Then let’s eliminate those people that just don’t like Kobe because he’s an adulterer and an accused rapist. That’s immaterial in this argument.

I can even give him a mulligan for his John Starksian choke in Game 7. (If Kobe’s given the MVP, shouldn’t he have to share it with Ron Artest? Or how about Ray Allen for looking even more John Starksian?) Everyone’s allowed a bad game, though, in the biggest close-out of his life, he was more the problem than the solution. That never happened to Magic.

Kobe really looked out of sorts throughout the entire series. He has a tendency to get flustered and make a whole lot of bad decisions. Michael never seemed to sweat, even in his bad games.

One way that Kobe is like Mike, however, are with the “Kobe rules.” Michael had the “Jordan rules” and Kobe has them apparently tenfold. That’s one problem with the league is that they cater to the superstars. A travel isn’t a travel. Patrick Ewing never traveled, John Stockton or Larry Bird never clutched or grabbed, and Kobe never fouled out. (I used to think an elbow to the face was a foul until I watched Kobe play. Silly me.)

I have to hand it to the Lakers, though, as they really emulated the great Celtics and Pistons teams of the 80’s for never actually committing a foul. The begging and pleading they do after being called for one looks like they’re auditioning for a daytime soap ... or to play for a FIFA soccer team.

And considering the Lakers have been handed entire games by the refs (SEE: Great, Not Greatest, Part I), they are the team that should be complaining the least.

If you watched only the 2010 Finals, Kobe fouled out of at least two games. But there was no way any ref wanting to keep his job was going to whistle him for his sixth foul on any of those nights. ("I dint see nuttin'.")

If Paul Pierce drove the lane and Kobe literally took out a gun and shot him, the refs would’ve convened at midcourt and concluded that it was Celtics ball out of bounds ... or maybe a defensive three seconds.

The league and, more specifically, the officiating, were less blatantly bad during Magic’s era. And remember, Magic played only 12 years, winning virtually half the time and led his team. Kobe played second fiddle to one Shaq Man Du, a.k.a. (this season) “the Big Shamrock,” for nearly a decade.

The only thing upon which you could possibly base the argument that Kobe is as good as Magic is the number of rings Kobe has won. He has five and Magic has five. Okay, so does Derek Fisher. Does that mean Fish is as good as Magic too? Remember from last week’s post that Robert Horry has eight. Is he better than Magic?

Also, Kobe has been named the league Most Valuable Player only one time. He’s in that rarefied air of Allen Iverson (“the Answer”), David Robinson (“the Admiral”) and Charles Barkley (“the guy on TNT with an opinion on everything”).

As far as Lakers go, Magic has three MVP awards; Kareem has three on the Lakers alone (six overall); even Shaq has won the Maurice Podoloff trophy as many times as Kobe has. So Kobe’s the “best Laker of all-time?”

Look, the league has changed. Comparing the present to the past isn’t well-reasoned. Read a little bit about how the league used to be and you’ll come away very enlightened. It’ll be a chance to learn about when the league was on top of the world and not scraping for coverage with NFL team activities in the off-season.

Kobe may be great, and may be the “best closer in the game,” (perhaps because he’s frequently put in a position to launch ill-advised shots at the end of games, some which go in), but certainly not the best “of all-time,” in the history of his franchise, let alone the entire sport.

So let’s try to keep the logic in this discussion regardless of what the media and the “experts” are trying to spin. As we’ve already pointed out when speaking of Phil Jackson, it makes for better television to claim you’re watching the best of all-time. For this era, these icons are certainly and inarguably among the best, but let’s not go all loco en la cabeza here.

I'm Andy Wasif and I approved this blog post.

The NBA season is about to begin. If you’re in Miami, Boston or Los Angeles, you’re excited! Though in LA, you may be excited about the fact that the championship celebration fires in downtown Los Angeles are out -- ah, LA, I love you during a celebration (though you should let up a little bit; you’re making Detroit obsolete and it’s already trying to deal with its depressed economy).

The team is poised for another run at the championship and confident because they have the “Zen Master,” Phil Jackson, signed up to coach the Lakers for another season.

I’d like to take this opportunity to address an important point, one that will be met with some rancor: Now that Phil Jackson has coached his 11th championship and Kobe has his fifth ring, can we please stop talking about how Phil is the “greatest coach of all-time” and Kobe is “up there with Magic Johnson.”

“Did he say stop? [gasp] Blasphemy! Burn the writer!” (“Uh, dude, I can’t. I used all my lighter fluid on that taxi cab during the LA riots in June.”)

That’s right. I said stop. It’s easy to look at numbers and come to an ill-conceived argument that they are the best of the best. Fans love to be able to say they witnessed the best of the best. Many fans aren’t fans of history so that makes it easier to claim this point. But there are so many more points tailored to fit a dissenting opinion.

First, regarding Jackson, those who question his accomplishments look first to this fact: He coached Michael Jordan, arguably the greatest player of all-time. The Travelocity gnome could’ve coached Jordan and gotten the same thing out of him.

I know, I know. But Jordan didn’t win until Phil Jackson took over. That’s a combination of factors, one of which is certainly Phil’s ascension to the position. You don’t think the chemistry between the players didn’t have anything to do with that? The league was a watered down mess at that point (and still is pretty much) where any team with two superstars had one foot in the Finals.

How about the fact that Phil didn’t win when it was the same team during Jordan’s sojourn to the baseball diamond? No one seems to mention those years.

But forgetting the fact he won six with Michael and bunch (not winning the two without Michael), he then chose to pack up and take over another team, also with two superstars. It was a formula in the NBA that was the only way to win at that time. Besides a Phil Jackson-coached team, who else had won during that period? Hakeem then Hakeem and Drexler, and Duncan and The Admiral. With the proper role players surrounding the best of the best, it’s a lock.

Good coaching helps. I’m not saying he isn’t a good coach. I’m just questioning the use of the greatest coach of all-time moniker. It’s a real stretch.

Look at other sports. It’s odd that Joe Torre is constantly being provided the disclaimer that he didn’t win before he was on the Yankees, but then he suddenly became a great coach. It’s commonly believed that his talents were more in the handling of superstars than in coming up with game strategy (though he was good at that as well). But Joe is not lauded as the “greatest coach of all-time” in baseball.

Phil Jackson, in similar fashion, is good at dealing with personalities, as is Doc Rivers, George Karl, Larry Brown, etc. And that’s the characterization that most fits Phil.

Would the greatest coach of all-time blame the refs as much as Phil does? Yes, he’s the highest paid coach in the league, but after all the fines he earns whining about the refs, he probably takes home around a rookie coach’s salary.

Seriously, he’s the only coach who ever whined about the refs when his team had almost twice as many foul shots as the other team!

Again, look at other great coaches. Joe Torre won four World Series in five years with the Yankees. Then he lost his next two. Did he ever once say anything about the umpires? How about Bill Belichick? The 2007 Giants team beat his Patriots into submission and took down the undefeated juggernauts. Was he questioning the fairness of the officiating after the game? No, sir!

There are but three guarantees in this world – death, taxes and Phil Jackson’s complaining about the refs.

He’s also, through no fault of his own – unlike Belichick who sowed his own controversy – the focal point in what should be the greatest scandal in sports since 1919 – the league’s manipulation of playoff games (we’ll throw “alleged” in there just to make you wide-eyed innocents happy). Most notably, 2002 and 2003 have been called out and upon further review of those series, it’s pretty clear, the Lakers were “helped” into Game 7 during both of those Western Conference series by forces other than Phil’s coaching.

Hey, don’t shoot the messenger. Unlike the NBA refs, I’m just calling it like I see it.

Watch the games from this past Finals series and, with a straight face, tell anyone that he wasn’t outcoached by Doc Rivers ... again. Woulda shoulda coulda, yeah, but if Kendrick Perkins doesn’t go down depleting the Celtics bench and preventing them from having fresh legs late in a game they were up by 13 points, will you honestly want to make the argument the Celtics weren’t going to win? Do that at your own risk. (Pay no mind to the people mocking you in the background.)

It helps to be lucky as well as good and that’s a stroke of luck Phil was bestowed from the hardwood gods.

And speaking of Celtics, Red Auerbach was the greatest coach of all-time until Phil earned more rings as a coach. Red’s estate still has more in his name as coach and executive, but as we’ll continue to review in Part II of this hard-hitting expose, rings do not indicate everything. If they did, Robert Horry would be hanging out with Tommy Heinsohn talking about the eight rings they’ve each won.

First of all, didn’t Red invent the fast break, a play that, I believe, Phil Jackson put into his playbook? Secondly, Red coached fewer seasons than Phil. Thirdly, Red won about 99 percent of the time his team made the Finals (yes, he lost to the Hawks in the 50s). Jackson lost twice. His percentage is lower than Red’s. I’m sorry, but I’d take the guy with the higher percentage.

Fourthly, and this is not to be overlooked, Red did it with one team. Motivating the same team for years is no easy task. Ask any coach and they’ll tell you it’s hard not to run out of things to say to a team that is probably tired of his voice.

And fifthly, it’s a different league, different time now. With expansion, the league is watered down and the early-entry players present us with a game that’s less than stellar. (Why is David Stern talking about contraction as recently as yesterday?) It’s harder to win with fewer teams simply because they see each other all the time and knew each other’s strengths and weaknesses, game in and game out, year in and year out.

Dan Patrick characterized Phil properly -- not to say other people didn’t reiterate his phrasing, but I didn’t hear them -- he called Phil the “most-accomplished coach of all-time.” Fair, proper, no hyperbole, factual, and to the point. Bingo, DP! That characterization touches NOTHING BUT THE BOTTOM OF THE NET! (in true Dan Patrick delivery).

So let’s can the hyperbole that Phil Jackson is the greatest of all-time when he’s not even the greatest of his era. It’s a fun discussion to have, if you’ve got some time to kill, but don’t you think you could save your breath for a plan on how to make the league viable again?

Next week: Great, Not Greatest II – Kobe Bryant

So New York Yankee demigod Derek Jeter’s contract is finally expiring after this season. Remember when he signed the monstrous 10-year, $189 million deal? He had just won his fourth and final World Series championship (unless you count the one in 2009), he was entering the prime of his career, and he was a hero all the way from the Eastern-most tip of New York to the Western banks of the Hudson River. (The rest of the country hated his guts.)

Now here we are, 10 years later and Jeter still looks the same, with pinstripes cascading up and down his body; he’s dating the “sexiest woman in the world” (or a sexy “beard” to Red Sox fans), Minka

Kelly; and he’s finding that his age, at 36, is catching up to him, much like it will to Mariano Rivera in a decade or two.

After starting out the season ablaze, he quickly cooled off and became less and less dependable at the plate and in the field.

Conventional reports say a man of his talents (and not his legacy) would go for around $6 million per year on the open market; nothing to scoff at ... unless you’re pitcher Gil Meche of the Kansas City Royals who has a career .503 winning percentage and is signed for $11 million this year. He scoffs at pretty much everything these days.

But why would Jeter want to end his career somewhere else? Did Joe DiMaggio spend his “Favre-years” patrolling the outfield in another city? Did “the Mick” booze it up after games in another uniform? Did Babe Ruth? (Oh, wait, Babe Ruth did. Fine, forget I mentioned him.)

Jeter was made for New York and New York was made for him. (New Jersey, on the other hand, was made for dumping toxic waste and bodies.) His whole life is there, even though his taxes are down in Florida. So we can be pretty sure he wants to re-sign there.

But what’s the offer going to be? It won’t be $18 million even though the Yankees have that kind of money stuffed into their couch cushions. And $6 million is sort of an insult for the man who reinvented the way non-Yankees fans hate one individual. You gotta figure $10 million is a nice round number where everyone can be happy, right?

But what does he do for them? Is he their shortstop? Their DH? Their Robin Yount, being herded into the outfield? Do you move him to third base? A-Rod could probably move back to short for a couple of years. It’s not like he’s going to be able to screw up any more in the eyes of Yankees fans even though he’s already won them one World Series.

The point is, they don’t have an upstart shortstop coming up through the ranks so at this point, there won’t be the kind of torch passing as there was from the Yankee Clipper to the Mick. So unless they sign a free agent shortstop (or every free agent shortstop), they’re stuck with a semi-mobile living legend who may hurt them defensively, and offensively, too, if the current trend continues.

That’s not very Yankee-like. Sure, fans will turn a blind ear and a deaf eye. There will be murmurings in the bars, the barber shops, and the talk radio show circuit, but no one will allow him to go.

Imagine letting him go and then watching him flourish somewhere else, perhaps beating the Yankees in a crucial playoff series before then flashing them the finger as he celebrates from the visitor’s dugout. (Of course, the fans would blame A-Rod for that gesture.)

Convincing him to retire? That’s an option. Do you think Hank Steinbrenner will take Jeter to his compound and show him the grounds during a heart-to-heart discussion?

“So Derek, how’s everything? Good? Everything’s good? That’s good. ... Y’know, Derek, playing careers don’t last forever and I wanted you to know that whatever role you want in this organization when you’re done, whenever that is, it’s totally all ri — Hal, get him!”

And then Hal jumps out from behind a giant shrub shaped like Yogi Berra and whacks Jeter in the knee.

More than likely, it’ll be up to Jeter himself to decide. And he may still have other things he wants to accomplish and may not realize that he’s slowing down. (Look at all the athletes who don’t.) Or he may not want to admit it. He may have the No. 40 in mind or want to outdo Mariano who will pitch til he’s 50.

You have to know what’s best for you, but not let your lasting image be that of someone who’s held on for too long. When people think you’re better suited for the Old Timers game than the All-Star game, it might be time to hang them up.

I’m guessing it won’t be for a few years, but we’ll see if it will be a few years too late.

So during the negotiations with the face of their franchise, do the Yankees play hardball? Of course, we’ll find out soon enough, as they’re one Cliff Lee start away from being eliminated from the MLB playoffs. At that point, he'll have Minka to comfort him. So what the heck does he care what he signs for anyway?!

Does switching to Geico really save you money on your car insurance? Has Bobby Cox been thrown out of more games than any manager in MLB history?

With Bobby Cox’s retirement at the end of this season (end of this week?), it’s about time to review what the man has meant to the game.

Along with four pennants and one World Series victory, he’s the all-time record holder for being ejected. That’s in the history of baseball; probably the history of humankind, since ejections aren’t really an element of many other jobs.

"What’s that, Crawford, you’re mouthing off to me about your merit-based pay bonus again?! That’s it, I’ve had enough – you’re outta here! Go home and come back tomorrow when you’re more a model middle management drone.”

I’m pretty sure that doesn’t happen ... but not positive since I don’t know Crawford.

No, Bobby Cox is No. 1. And he became No. 1 three years ago, so he’s padded his stats a little bit.

And if you didn’t know this factoid, it might surprise you. For there were much more dramatic managers garnering attention throughout their careers. Billy Martin, Lou Piniella and Tommy Lasorda made a scene when they got tossed out the game. Volatile. Theatrical. But Bobby Cox was rarely as broad as they were, and routinely kept his anger at an even keel, sometimes displaying none at all; but you could always count on him getting tossed. As they say between the foul lines, “Nothing is definite except death, taxes and Bobby Cox getting tossed by an umpire.”

One thing you can say is he’s consistent. It leads me to wonder how one manager can be so upset at any umpire at any given time. I mean, maybe the first time – “Oh my God! How could he have missed that call?! It was so obvious!” But after realizing that umpires miss a call or two, or a hundred, you might think, “Perhaps, this isn’t such a hard thing to believe.”

What could you possibly say to an umpire after your hundredth ejection? “Okay, okay, forget what I said before. THIS is the worst call I’ve ever seen!” And then on your 101st early shower, “I lied ... THAT was nothing compared to THIS ONE!”

I think “Are you blind?” becomes kinda boring. “Well, how did you see that play?” is a little too diplomatic. “I wanna know who you’re [expletive deleted] to get this job!” is too rude. Though I will always love Tom Hanks’ Jimmy Dugan in “A League of Their Own” asking the ump, “Did anyone ever tell you that you look like a penis with a hat on it?”

But who can be that creative all the time; certainly not without celebrated Hollywood writers Lowell Ganz and Babaloo Mandel scripting things. That’s why Piniella, et al. took to throwing bases around. There’s nothing you need to say there. It’s like being a menu writer. There are only so many ways you can describe with flowery adjectives the consistency of cous cous.

Braves third baseman Chipper Jones seems to think that there was a Bobby Cox phenomenon, a method to Bobby’s madness – that is, Cox got tossed in order to motivate his team. It’s what Gene Hackman did in “Hoosiers” to force Dennis Hopper to coach. Of course, anything that worked in a movie must be solid strategy.

I recently went to a Dodgers-Mets game where the seats were so good, Mets rightfielder Angel Pagan almost killed me by airmailing several warm up throws over the ball boy’s head into the stands. They were also good enough to see a play as closely as an umpire.

Mets Manager (er, that’s ex-Mets Manager) Jerry Manuel came out to argue a call that was close to the naked eye, but as we’d see on the replay later, wrong and so he began with a spirited discussion. When the umpire turned his back and walked away from him, Manuel followed, still in the game at that point.

Perhaps at that point, the discussion shifts from baseball to more relationship-oriented in nature.

“Don’t you turn your back on me! Well, I never!”
“Well, maybe you should!”
“How dare you?!”
“Good day, sir!”
“Don’t you --!”
“I said good day!”

The umpire’s always going to have the last word even if you mention his mother before disappearing into the clubhouse.

And then what would mention of his mother do? Don’t you think he might hold that inside to blow a call against your team, if only subconsciously. “That’ll teach him to make fun of my mama!”

But Bobby Cox made a career out of it and was still one of the most successful managers of all-time, winning the Braves' division 14 times in 15 years. So he must’ve known how to do it right. The man worked hard. He deserves a shower, but not an early one, but rather one that’s right on time.