Sports Fan Paradise

If I had to describe the current cultural landscape of sports, I would quote the late Tupac Shakur: "Ain't nuttin but a gangsta party."

Of course, I don't have to describe the current cultural landscape of sports. No blogger has to share their opinions. We choose to. The same way nobody has to watch sports, they do so because they enjoy witnessing athletic competition at it's highest level.

That is why it always baffles me when the public reacts so negatively to star athletes who don't act like perfect role models. At what point in these guys' lives did they sign up to be altar boys? Was it in high school when they weren't expected to go to class because of how good their jump shot was? Was it in college when girls threw themselves at whoever had the best chance of going pro? Or was it on draft day when professional organizations ignored all past indiscretions if a guy could run a 4.3 40?

When an actor cheats on his wife do we stop seeing their movies? When a rock star takes drugs (heaven forbid) do we not listen to their music? Why is it, then, that everyone gets their panties in a bunch when a professional athlete pulls out a gun or slings dick all over Vegas? Why are we expecting anything less?

Thousands of men cheat on their wives every day. Normal guys, ugly guys, poor guys, unsuccessful guys. No matter where you fit on the social ladder there will be a skank there for you to slum it with, if you choose to be that type of person. If every guy in the world had the money, fame and looks as Tiger Woods I'm pretty sure it would increase the number of cheaters. To quote Chris Rock, "A man is only as faithful as his options." When it is revealed that the guy with the most options in America tends to stray from his marriage we shouldn't be all that shocked.

I'm not trying to say that infidelity isn't big deal or that it isn't wrong, because it is. What I'm trying to get across is the ludicrousness of holding professional athletes to higher standards then we would hold our neighbors or coworkers to.

Athletes should not be role models because they're athletes. Michael Phelps should be admired for his swimming feats and the medals he won for our country, but probably not for his sober driving or drug-free lifestyle. And that's fine. Tiger can still be the person you model your golf game after, but you might want to take marriage cues from somebody who spends more time with his wife and kids then his 2-iron. You can teach your son to shoot like Gilbert Arenas without telling him he needs to pack heat in the CYO locker room.

I'm sure some of you are disagreeing with me. You're saying that by accepting millions of dollars in endorsements guys like Woods and Phelps have a responsibility to uphold the image that they're selling. You're right; except the responsibility is to Gatorade and Buick, not to us. Even if Joe Schmo is having an affair he most likely brings his wife to company parties, and when he walks into his boss' office to discuss a raise he doesn't preface the conversation with "Oh, before we get started I just wanted to let you know I'm cheating on my wife. Figured I'd get that out there so you didn't give me any extra money thinking I'm a good guy." Just because these guys were selling the public a product based on their "perfect" image doesn't mean they should have to apologize for the advertising campaign.

My point is simply that we should admire people for what they do well, and not for what we think they're supposed to do well. Athletes are no better people then we are, and in many cases they're worse. It's not their fault, sports threw a lot of money at them at a young age and most kids don't know how to handle it correctly. Sports sociology classes are based on this problem, and the solution certainly doesn't lie in a blog post.

So go ahead and model your receiving skills after Marvin Harrison and your fade-away jumper after Kobe Bryant. It doesn't mean you need to start shooting guys and raping girls. And you don't need to start chain-smoking cigarettes to be a fan of Barack Obama either. But it helps.

Read more of Mike Stiriti at the original "Sports Fan Paradise" blog.

Over the years I have gotten a lot of feedback about my blogging. Some of it has even been positive. I also get a lot of questions, because for whatever reason people either want my advice or get a kick out of my opinions. Either way, every month or so I try to channel my inner-Bill Simmons and answer some mailbag questions. Here are a few highlights of sports-related emails from 2009.

If you have a question for the Sports(Fan Paradise)Guy send it to sportsfanparadise@gmail.com.


Dear Sports Fan Paradise Guy,

My buddies and I were sitting around last night, drinking and watching the Sox game, when a Cialis commerical prompted a discussion about how the different Red Sox players would react to an unfortunate sexual experience. We came up with a few funny ones but figured you could expand. I’m sober now and it’s not as funny as it was last night, but do your best.

-Steve, Needham MA


Is this the most homoerotic mailbag question I have ever received? Yes. Can I still run with this? I think so.

The first thing I thought of when reading this was Jason Varitek quickly pulling off the condom and running to the bathroom with his head down to immediately put his clothes back on. That is a no-brainer to me.

If Terry Francona has a problem performing sexually, he would probably explain it to the woman very calmly. “A relationship isn’t 1 night, it’s 162 nights. I’m not going to be able to get it up every single night, but that’s sex. All I can do is come into the bedroom every night and prepare like I always do. I think that if I do that, then over the course of the relationship I’ll be where I want to be.”

(Belichick would be even better. If the woman screamed “Screw me already!” I’m sure his answer would be something like: “I’m just focused on getting this bra off. Right now that is all I am focused on. We will worry about intercourse when it is time to worry about intercourse, but right now our focus is on the bra and what we need to do to prepare ourselves to unclasp it.”)

But let's get back to the Sox. I feel like David Ortiz would be the guy who got dumped by the ugliest girl in town, started popping Viagra and then all of a sudden became a porn star for a few years until he stopped taking the drug. Every girl he was with would still get excited that Big Papi would be able to bring the magic like he used to, but would ultimately leave the encounter very disappointed. He would deal with this by putting on his huge sunglasses so the woman couldn’t tell how emotionally distressed he was.

J.D. Drew would be the guy with a very natural thrusting motion and all the tools to be a stud, but who rarely if ever delivered in bed except for once a year when he keeps it hard all night and makes the woman feel like he is worth all that she has invested.

Pedroia would probably compensate for his lack of size by being very energetic, while Youkilis would handle erectile dysfunction by punching the headboard and throwing the nightstand across the room. Papelbon, on the other hand, would be terrible in bed until the woman was fed up, at which time he would give her the stare, bear down and drive it home.

Finally, Dice-K would just explain that in Japan they have sex differently, where the penis is supposed to be limp.



SFPG-

At what age should you stop wearing a players jersey and instead wear just the team logo. I think it is ridiculous when a 40-year-old man is wearing an Ortiz jersey or any other player jersey. There is some point where you need to stop looking up and wanting to be players.

-Rich from Needham


I agree Rich. There needs to be some sort of rule system put in place to keep fans in line when it comes to wearing a player’s jersey. Too bad there isn’t anybody with the time or expertise to put something like that together …

…of course I’m kidding, this is right in my wheelhouse. Finally a chance to publish the Ten Commandments For Wearing Athletes’ Jerseys:

1. Do NOT wear the jersey of anybody younger than you. I don’t care if you’re a huge Lebron fan. If you’re over the age of 25, you just can’t do it. If you’re 40 years old, I suppose you can go to Fenway in a Tim Wakefield jersey, but keep in mind that you still have to look at yourself in the mirror.

2. Do NOT wear the jersey of anybody shorter than you. I don’t care if you’re 15 years old; if you’re 5-9 or above, you just can’t rock the Dustin Pedroia shirt, sorry.

3. Do NOT wear the jersey of anybody who has left the team but is still active. You CAN wear a Dave Roberts jersey (if you’re under the age of 37 and over 5-10) but you CANNOT wear a Nomar jersey. Not yet at least.

4. Do NOT wear the jersey of anybody who has retired but played with a rival team after your favorite team. For example, a Carleton Fisk jersey is fine because he never played for the Yankees and is on good terms with the Sox, but Wade Boggs does not pass the test, despite how many Miller Lites he drank on a cross-country flight.

5. Only applying to males: Do NOT wear the jersey of any player that has ever appeared on a list of most attractive, handsome or sexiest athletes. This includes Tom Brady and Jacoby Ellsbury. You can however wear a Ray Allen jersey, that’s your Vicky Mendoza line.

To clarify, for those who went to state schools: If you are a 36-year-old Sox fan who stands 6-3 or above, wearing a Johnny Damon jersey would violate each of the first 5 rules.

6. Only applying to females: They sell form-fitting jerseys. You should look into them. If you can’t find one you like, then you can buy a Youth Small and cut the sides and and re-sew it. Just a suggestion. Doesn’t hurt. Shows you’re trying. Just saying.

7. Do NOT wear a jersey of a guy whose name sounds like that of a small dog or perhaps a pet name your girlfriend gave you. Yup, time to throw away the Pokey Reese and Coco Crisp jerseys … sorry.

8. Do NOT wear a jersey if you plan to go to a bar after the game. Every time you enter a social situation you want to be prepared to meet the woman of your dreams. You don’t want your potential wife to tell her friends that she met a great guy in a Glen “Big Baby” Davis tank top at The Harp and thinks he might be the One.

9. Do NOT wear a jersey that is not an official or alternate color of the team. White, red, grey and navy blue Sox jerseys = Yes. Green, pink, army fatigue = No. And I don’t care if they bought it on St. Patty’s day, if I ever see someone in a green Chicago Bulls jersey, I'm going to walk up to them and punch them in the face. The judge will understand.

10. Do NOT wear the jersey of a player who is an unrepentant steroid user, rapist or dog killer.



S(FP)G -

Survivor Series-style elimination fight, five Celtics from 1984 vs. five Pistons from 1989. Who do you pick for each side and who wins?

My first two Celtics would be Greg Kite and Dennis Johnson. A fight with the Rockets that season tells you why. The 6-foot nothing DJ take down the 7-4 Ralph Sampson, then Greg Kite coming off the bench having played about 3 minutes all year putting Sampson in the Sleeper a la Brutus the Barber Beefcake. Third Celtic is Parish, and the fourth has to be McHale.

My final Celtic is Cedric Maxwell, the guy who drilled a fan that sprayed some soda on him. It’s the quintessential pre-Artest NBA Player vs. Fan fight.

As for Detroit, I’m going to just go with their most brutal guys: Rodman, who actually has pro wrestling tag-team experience, Laimbeer, John Salley, Vinny Johnson and Mark Aguirre.

I take the Celtics winning with Cedric Maxwell being the last man standing. What say you S(FP)G?

-Dave in DC


Your knowledge of late-‘80s Pistons and Celtics is far greater than mine, so I will not argue with your prediction, but I think your are underestimating the fact that Laimbeer is the only guy in the match with any actual weight advantage. They would need 2 refs just to untangle most of those lanky bastards. Also, you didn’t mention the advantage that Vinnie “The Microwave” Johnson would have as soon as he gets tagged in, since he was known to heat up very quickly.

But enough about that match, you presented some fine points. Your question got me thinking about which pro sports teams, past or present, would be able to field the best five-man Survivor Series teams. These are the best five I could come up with, one from each major sport:

1995-96 New York Knicks: Charles Oakley, Anthony Mason, Patrick Ewing, John Starks, Charles Smith

1993 Philadelphia Phillies: Lenny Dykstra, John Kruk, Darren “Dutch” Daulton, Pete Incaviglia, Mitch “Wild Thing” Williams

1974 Pittsburgh Steelers: “Mean” Joe Green, Jack Lambert, Mike Webster, Jack Ham, Franco Harris

1977 Charlestown Chiefs: Reggie Dunlop, Dave “Killer” Carlson, Jeff Hanson, Steve Hanson, Jack Hanson

2004 RW/RR Challenge: The Inferno: Chris “CT” Tamburello, Mike “The Miz” Mizanin, Abram Boise, Timmy Beggy, Darrell Taylor



S(FP)G-

Say you were going see the Red Sox play the Detroit Tigers at Comerica Park on June 3rd. Also, say you had front row seats behind the plate/next to the Red Sox dugout to said June 3rd game. Knowing that TV time was inevitable: What would you wear? What would you have you female companion wear? Would you make a sign, knowing that it would be broadcast regardless of its lack of a NESN acronym? What would you say to the boys as they prepare for the plate (in this hypothetical situation you are sitting feet from the visitor’s (Sox) on deck circle), if anything at all?

The question is, S(FP)G, how can I … or rather how would you … use this situation to its full capacity?

-Jill, Wyoming


Finally. I have been waiting for years for the appropriate opportunity to publish the Ten Commandments of Do’s and Don’ts while sitting in a visible seat at a baseball game. Here they are:

1. Don’t talk on your cellphone. At all. Not once. If you want to tell people where you’re sitting, text them. If people call you, press ignore. Text them back and ask how you look. If your parents don’t know how to text message, tell them before the game that you’ll be on TV. But whatever you do, don’t talk on the phone, that’s the first and probably most important rule.

2. DVR the game. If you don’t have DVR, have a friend do it. It's not everyday you get kick-ass seats, you want to have a record of it.

3. Don’t drink so much. I don’t care if you get drunk or not, but you can’t be drinking beers all day or you’ll be constantly going to the bathroom. You may never get seats this good again, you don’t want to pull an Isaac Jaffe and miss Bobby Thompson’s home run. It's great life advice really: don’t be in the bathroom when the good shit happens.

4. Do not bring a sign. You are not 9 years old, act your age. This isn’t WWE Monday Night RAW. You will be on TV anyway.

*Amendment to Rule #4: If you can think of something absolutely hilarious to put on a sign, then by all means bring it.

5. Do not hold your sign up. Bring tape and put your sign on the wall in front of you. The guy behind you didn’t pay $200 to stare at cardboard.

6. Represent. Wear your Sox gear and wear it proud. Each of you in a jersey or t-shirt and hat is not overkill, but the shirt and hat should only be blue, red or white (gray is OK for the shirt). That’s as far as you can go color-wise. Also, be cognizant of whose jersey you’re wearing. Even though you’ll be facing front 99 percent of the time you don’t want the camera to catch you walking up the aisle in a Damon jersey. Oh, and if you’re a girl and wearing a hat: braided pigtails are always very much appreciated. Just saying.

7. Don’t say anything derogatory. You’re sitting in a classy seat. Act the part. Even if a Detroit player walks by, just observe and keep your mouth shut. There are only a handful of athletes I would verbally assault if they were in ear shot, and none of them play for the Tigers.

8. Don’t give advice. David Ortiz is not a member of your Little League team. He has plenty of coaches helping him with his swing. As tempting as it is to tell him to rotate his hips, its really, REALLY not your place.

Finally, in the event of a foul pop-up coming down on you…

9. Do NOT try and catch it. If Detroit is up at the plate, that is. Let Varitek and Lowell take care of it, they have better hands than you. Plus, if you make the play they will not count it as an out, despite your hat and jersey.

10. By all means, CATCH THE BALL. If Boston is up. I don’t care if you have to punch Brandon Inge in the face, do your best not to let him get to it. Who cares if you get kicked out? You’ll be a legend.

Bonus Tip #1: Don’t bring a glove. You’re not Ozzie Smith. Even if a scorching line drive comes at you there’s only a 1 percent chance of you making a clean play on it, even with a broken-in mitt. Just duck.

Bonus Tip #2: Wear sunglasses. One, because it could be sunny. Two, because baseball is a long game and you might zone out. If you wear shades the people in TV land won’t notice that you’re not paying attention.

Hope that helped, enjoy the game.



Mike,

If you could have 3 people narrate your life, who would they be?

-Matt in Nashville


I said in a recent column that if I had a million dollars I would hire Norman Chad and Lon McEachern to do my everyday play-by-play, but as long as I can remember Morgan Freeman has been the man doing the voice-overs of my actions: “In 2006, Mike Stiriti graduated from Ithaca College. All they found of him was a muddy set of clothes from last Cortaca, a bar in the basement, and a playstation controller, damn near worn down to the nub. I used to think it would take six or seven years to graduate without doing any studying. Old Mike did it in less than four.”

But you asked for 3 narrators, so I’m going with Jim Ross, Jerry “The King” Lawler and “Macho Man” Randy Savage.



Read more of the mailbag at the original "Sports Fan Paradise" blog and click on the Mailbag! tab.

Or, for his most critically acclaimed post, enjoy The E-Harmony Experiment where Mike tries Internet dating.

While the 00s were a very successful decade for Boston sports, they were not without some heartbreak and disappointment. Our next category is Most Devastating Loss.

And the nominees are...

Game 7 of the 2003 ALCS: Red Sox @ Yankees

2007 AFC Championship Game: Patriots @ Colts

Super Bowl XLII: Patriots vs. Giants

Game 3 of the 2009 ALDS: Angels @ Red Sox

Well this isn't nearly as much fun to write about. The next couple paragraphs are going to be like a therapy session but without anybody to hug me and tell me that it isn't my fault.

I threw the Angels game on there for 3 reasons, even though I know it doesn't have the magnitude of an ALCS or Super Bowl: 1) We blew a lead in a game that was over. 2) We crumbled with Jonathan Papelbon on the mound. 3) I was there.

The reason this game can't win a Parish is because we were down 2-0 and it was just a Division series. Even if we won a few in a row to take the series there is no way we were getting past the Yankees. It just wasn't happening last season. What stung was the way we lost the type of game that we had been winning consistently for years, and we that it all went down with our best guy on the mound. There had been subtle cracks in Papelbon's perfection since 2008 when he began to blow a save here and there, but it all came crashing down on that October afternoon. He is still a great pitcher but his aura of dominance (and perhaps his tenure in Boston) took a significant (if not irreversible) blow.

AND, to top it all off, I had been in a wedding the night before and woke up at 7:00 AM to drive from Long Island to Boston in order to make it to Yawkey Way in time to properly pregame. AND, to top it all off AGAIN, the Patriots lost to Denver later that day which led to Josh McDaniels fist-pumping to the crowd with more aggression than Ronnie and J-Woww on a Saturday night at Karma. Black Sunday indeed.

But, like I said, this is an easy first elimination. The next game I'm going to knock out of the running is the 2007 ('06 season) AFC title game in Indy. When you blow a 21-3 lead to Peyton Manning in a playoff the only world for it is devastating. I don't think I have ever been as angry after a loss as I was that night. It didn't help that I watched it in Tampa with a couple fake-tanned douche bags who bet on the Colts, but that's a tangent for another day. Still, despite the obvious lack of devastation, the Colts were a great team and the Lombardi trophy wasn't on the line so it doesn't make the cut.

Down to the finals. Let me first say that you can make a great case for either of these games because they were about as devastating as they come. Some call it "The Grady Little Game" while others call it "The Aaron Boone Game," but whatever your chosen nickname this was as tough a loss to take as any in professional sports. The series had been epic, complete with plenty of drama and no team winning back-to-back games. We knocked out Clemens in the 4th inning and took a 5-2 lead into the 8th. Pedro had been lights-out with the exception of a pair of Jason Giambi solo shots, but was obviously tiring. It was time to hand the ball to Alan Embree, Mike Timlin or Scott Williamson, who had been dominant in the playoffs. Everybody knew it. The fans knew it. Pedro knew it. Somehow Grady Little didn't.

I have never been as emotional after a loss as I was that night. I'd be lying if I said that there weren't a few tears (fine, more than a few). And they weren't like Marley and Me tears either, they were Skylar-when-Will-says-he-doesn't-love-her tears. It was bad.

But then 2004 happened. As bad as this loss was, 2004 erased almost all of the pain and 2003 became one of the seasons that we talked about when people asked why everyone in Boston was so excited about winning a World Series. The devastation only lasted a year, which is why it isn't winning a Parish.

The Pats entered the Super Bowl against the Giants carrying an 18-0 record and a -12.5 point spread. They were the team with the MVP at the helm of an unstoppable offense and a genius calling the shots. They were supposed to win. Only problem is, nobody told the Giants. Brady was pressured for the first time all year and the wheels began to come off the wagon. The crazy thing is, despite how poorly the Pats played they were still in the game. Scratch that, they still should have won the game. It took one of the most inexplicable plays by Eli Manning to turn 19-0 to 18-1. ELI FREAKING MANNING!!! That would be like the Tattaglia family killing Luca Brasi, Sonny, Michael, Clemenza and Tessio only to be taken down by Fredo. The "Tyree Play" or whatever you want to call it is still the most absurd thing I have ever seen in sports, and I saw Mick Foley and the actor from Gridiron Gang win the tag team belts with the help of a sock hand puppet.

Never before has a loss brought a fan base down as many notches as that game. We went from the cockiest group of people on the planet to salty, angry and depressed within about 45 seconds. This game wins the Parish Award because we didn't get a championship the next season to ease the pain, instead we got a torn ACL, and the team has yet to fully recover from either.

So we've had some great games and some not so great games, but how about the players? I think it's time to give out a Parish for Boston's Athlete of the Decade.

The nominees were decided based on tenure, team success, individual success and memorable moments. They are Tom Brady, David Ortiz, Paul Pierce, and Manny Ramirez.

I'm going to start picking up the pace a bit as the producers have told me that we're already running 15 minutes over.

While I feel that the Patriots have had some truly great defensive players over the last 10 years I can't bring myself to nominate any of them. I won't say that they're simply "products of a system", but when you have the greatest defensive mind in the history of football telling you where to stand and what to do it makes your life easier. If Monet meticulously instructed me brush stroke for brush stroke I would probably come up with a decent painting but that doesn't make me a decent artist. Still, I will give Tedy Bruschi, Richard Seymour, and the Lawyer Milloy/Rodney Harrison combination a more-than-honorable mention, but they just don't get any hardware.

The only reason Pedro Martinez isn't on this list is because he only played half the decade in Boston, and the same goes for Kevin Garnett and probably Randy Moss as well. And I apologize for leaving off all the great Bruins of the 00s...I just didn't know who they were.

But we're getting off topic and I promised to pick up the pace, so back to the nominees. I was going to give it to Manny because he is the most feared right-handed hitter in team history and because without him Yankees fans would still be chanting "1918!" Then I remembered that he was a selfish jackass who probably caused permanent health issues for Terry Francona, and character is always a factor when determining a Parish.

David Ortiz leads the other nominees in memorable moments, as his bevy of walk-off homers were as exciting as anything in sports, but he most likely did it dirty. Do I care? No, I don't. Would I put HGH in his mango salsa if it meant we wont another World Series in 2010? Yes, I would. But that's just my opinon. I'm a blogger. We have no morals. You should know that. Still, with what slight morality I have left I am not taking an award away from TB or the Truth and giving it to a guy who used a needle to put the Big in Big Papi.

Paul Pierce has started 748 games in Boston uniform this decade, more than any other athlete. That includes anyone in a Red Sox uniform, and they play twice as many games in a season. He currently sits 3rd behind a couple guys named Havlicek and Bird on the Celtic's all-time scoring list and was the MVP of their first NBA finals since the '80s. In any other city this would make him the player of the decade, but #34 happens to play in the same town as #12, which means he is just the first runner-up.

3-time Super Bowl champion. 2-time Super Bowl MVP. League MVP. Most touchdown passes in a season. And that's just what he has done on the field. He is just as successful off of it, impregnating every super model he shares an elevator with. People always try to compare him with Peyton Manning, but the comparison's end at their position. If you really want to compare Brady with a rival athlete it should be with a guy in the Bronx named Jeter.

The theme of this decade in Boston was new found success, and nobody embodies that better than Tom Brady.

OK folks, 2010 is putting the cocktail weenies in the oven and the champagne on ice so we need to wrap this up quickly. I'll be shifting to rapid fire mode to close this out.

Play of the Decade: Dave Roberts Steals 2nd.

Vinatieri hit some monster field goals and David Ortiz hit some clutch homers. Paul Pierce hit some great game-winners and Johnny Damon's Game 7 grand slam in the Bronx was epic. But nothing in my mind tops Roberts' steal. Everything that happened in the '04 ALCS prior to that was awful and everything that happened after was legen- wait for it...

Wait for it...

DARY.

Coach of the Decade: Bill Belichick.

I love Terry Francona like a 2nd father. I could listen to his press conferences for hours upon hours. He manages players egos as well as any coach in professional sports and handles the Boston media better than anyone ever has. But Bill has 1 more ring and a lot less talent, so the mad genius takes it home. I called him to congratulate but apparently he's busy doing what he needs to do to prepare for Houston.

Well it looks like it's time for me to go get ready to get my mingle on. Thanks for reading and I hope to write a lot more for SFL next decade. Here are a few more Parish Awards for you to read while pregaming. Happy New Year!

Haircut of the Decade:



Dance of the Decade: (tie) The Secondary Dance (Ty Law, Lawyer Milloy, Chris Canty) and the Rolling Dice Intro (Paul Pierce and Eddie House).

Doctor of the Decade: Whoever gave Big Papi HGH.

Acquisition of the Decade:



Blog of the Decade: the original "Sports Fan Paradise" blog.

When SportsFanLive's editor asked me to do a decade retrospective on Boston sports I was shocked. Not that he asked me to do it, but that the decade was already over.

It's not that the last 10 years have been uneventful, just that they went by faster than Usain Bolt on steroids Usain Bolt. The 00s were by far my most productive decade ever, but seeing that I could barely read when the '90s began that isn't saying much. A lot happens to a guy from age 15 to 25, and I will always look back at the goose eggs with a certain fondness, because of how I grew and how my favorite teams developed with me.

Still, it seems like just yesterday that the Sox were coming off another disappointing playoff loss to the Yankees, extending the World Series drought to 91 years, the Patriots fell to 7-8 after an overtime loss to the Buffalo Bills in which Adam Vinatieri missed a pair of potential game-winning field goals, and Antoine Walker was shooting 25 percent from beyond the arc and leading the Celtics in scoring.

Oh, how times have changed.

To commemorate the last 3,645 days in Boston sports I have decided to hand out some awards. Naturally, I named them after Robert Parish, the greatest 00 of all time.

First up, Game of the Decade.

The nominees are...

2002 AFC Divisional Playoff Game: Oakland Raiders @ New England Patriots

Super Bowl XXXVI: New England Patriots vs. St. Louis Rams

Game 7 of the 2004 ALCS: Boston Red Sox @ New York Yankees

Game 4 of the 2008 NBA Finals: Boston Celtics @ LA Lakers

Narrowing the nominees from 20+ to four was very difficult. The list leaves off two Super Bowls, all the great Red Sox playoff games in 2007, the 2004 World Series and the rest of the epic games of the 2004 ALCS. This job isn't easy, but somebody has to do it.

I'm eliminating the Celtics because I believe they would have won the series with or without that comeback. They were clearly the better team and destined to win the title. I am also knocking off the ALCS, because while it completed the amazing comeback it is impossible to say that it stood out more than any of the other amazing games. The comebacks in Games 4 and 5 were epic, and of course the Bloody Sock Game 6. Plus, if they had gone on to get swept by St. Louis it would have just been an upbeat chapter in Dan Shaughnessy's Curse of the Bambino 2: The Steroid Years.

So that leaves the Patriots. While the Super Bowl victory over the Rams was an epic upset and the first championship for the city since the mid-'80s, it would never have been possible if it weren't for the Tuck Rule Game. This was not only the most exciting game of the decade, but it was the most important. It was the first time in recent memory that a Boston team had been on the receiving end of a lucky break in a huge situation. As soon as the refs ruled that Brady's arm was moving forward everything changed. Adam Vinatieri went from a solid kicker to the most clutch kicker in the history of football, Tom Brady went from a back-up and former sixth-round pick to a Super Bowl MVP, and Bill Belichick went from a coach with a .470 career winning percentage to a certified genius.


If that call goes the other way, the Patriots lose that game and never face the Rams. Maybe Brady would never have gained the confidence necessary to become an MVP quarterback. Maybe Belichick doesn't attract veteran free agents and can't command the same type of respect that he did after he won the big one. Maybe they never win a title, let alone three. And maybe without the positive momentum from that ice-breaking championship the Sox never break the curse and David Ortiz never calls Kevin Garnett and tells him that Boston is the best city to play in.

Maybe, just maybe, that was the most important game a city has ever won, which is why I think it deserves a Parish Award.



Read more of Mike Stiriti at the original "Sports Fan Paradise" blog.

Imagine for a minute that a horrific tailgating accident prior to the 2007 Week 13 Patriots-Ravens Monday night game left your best football-watching buddy in a coma. Maybe the tent collapsed, maybe something went wrong with the grill ... whatever. Now imagine that your buffalo wingman just woke up this week and couldn't wait to come over on Sunday to watch the NFL on your awesome 42" plasma TV.

You're pumped to have your bro back, but as soon as he walks in the door you realize that you're going to have some explaining to do.

Buddy: Wow! That new TV is awesome!

You: Yeah, well, I went with LCD for a while but then switched to DLP, but I think LED is where it's at. And yeah the 52" wasn't cutting it so I went with the 61". Got to, right?

Yeah ... I suppose. So, what games are on tap today? Are there two at 1:00 or just the Pats?

Actually there's ten. Have you ever heard of the Red Zone Channel? No. Of course you haven't ... sorry, man. I'm still getting used to having you back. Anyway, the Red Zone channel switches to whichever game has a team close to the goal line. Or just to whatever game is the best. And they show every touchdown. No commercials. I really don't remember how I used to watch football.

I guess ... that's crazy. So if there aren't commercials when do you take a piss?

That's why I save all my empty Gatorade bottles.

Gotcha. I was going to ask about that ...

Anyway, get me up to speed! Who are the best teams this year? Are the Pats still dominating? Did we ever lose in '07? How many Super Bowl wins did I miss?

Yeah, they dropped a squeaker. Let's not talk about 2007. They're probably going to win the division but they have lost some tough ones this year. The Colts and Saints are both undefeated though.

The Saints!?! I remember them as a 5-7 team.

Yeah man ... things change, I guess.

The Colts always start strong, so that's not surprising. Is the Manning-to-Harrison connection still tearing it up?

Not exactly. I think Marvin Harrison allegedly shot a guy and then hid the gun in a trash can outside a bar he owned. He was never arrested, and ESPN was too busy reporting on Randy Moss missing a blocking assignment to cover it.

Oh. Crazy. And speaking of crazy, how the hell does this Scott Hanson guy stay so energetic throughout all of these games?

I'm guessing Red Bull. And lots of it.

(Red Zone cuts to highlights of Michael Vick scoring a touchdown in Atlanta.)

PFFFFT!!??!! (Spits out his beer)

MICHAEL VICK IS STILL PLAYING FOOTBALL!!??!!

Um, yeah. He paid his debt to society.

This is the same guy that admitted to beating, drowning and electrocuting dogs, right?

Everyone deserves a second chance.

(Red Zone cuts to a shot of Brett Favre getting off the Vikings team bus in Arizona.)

Wait ... did I ... is he ... MINNESOTA???

Haha, yeah.

You mean he didn't--

No. He actually played for the freaking Jets last year. He retires every off-season, but he always comes back. Playing for the Vikings is just a way for him to selfishly get back at the Packers.

What a jackass. Do they still air that awful Wrangler Jeans commercials?

Yup. That's the best part about the Red Zone channel.

(Seven touchdowns four beers and two Gatorade bottles later.)

Are the Dolphins really about to beat us by one freaking point!?! Why didn't we just kick that field goal on 4th and 1???

Belichick is employing a unique fourth-down strategy this year. Don't question him.

Wow. That was miserable! I haven't seen them lose a game like that since the Bledsoe years. How do you do this every week?

Beer. And lots of it.

(Red Zone cuts to highlights of the Bengals-Lions game.)

Why are the announcers calling Chad Johnson Chad Ochocinco? And why is it on the back of his jersey? He didn't legally change his name did he?

Oh, he most certainly did. And if you followed him on Twitter you would know that he also calls himself "Esteban the Black Mexican."

What's Twitter?

A conversation for another day.

Read more of Mike Stiriti at the original "Sports Fan Paradise" blog.

With Turkey Day rapidly approaching I thought that now would be a good time to express what I'm thankful for as a sports fan. I think I could use some positive reflection, considering I recently spent hours of my life dissecting, arguing and getting sick over a 4th-and-2 during a regular-season game. So here goes nothing ...

I'm thankful that I live in a city that has won 6 championships this decade. I am thankful that I am not a fan of a small-market baseball team that refuses to spend the money that it takes to win. I am thankful that my NBA team is very good when it comes to finagling the salary cap, and even more so that it didn't move to Oklahoma City. I am thankful that my NFL team just focuses on the next game, and lets us fans focus on the distractions. And I am also thankful that nobody in Boston gives me shit for only watching the Bruins during the playoffs.

I am thankful for the Red Zone Channel, Yahoo! StatTracker and how easy it is to bet on sports online. I am thankful for the countless hours I have been able to spend in Fenway Park, and for the liberal tailgating rules across the street from Gillette Stadium. I am thankful to Minnesota for giving us all of its best athletes, and to New York for taking the ones that we're done with. I am thankful to Los Angeles for reminding me that true sports fans don't leave early to beat the traffic, and to Las Vegas for reminding me that I need to keep writing because I'll never make it as a professional gambler.

I am thankful for mulligans and gimmes, beverage cart girls and the perfect afternoons spent with my buddies on the golf course. I am thankful that my Dad took me to Larry Bird's 10th Greatest Game, and for the highlight tapes of the other 9. I am thankful for the few years that I was old enough to watch pro wrestling but still young enough to think it was real, and thankful to my younger brother for letting me try all the finishing moves on him. I am also thankful that my girlfriend thinks it's sexy when I eat wings, drink beer and talk about sports. I don't understand it, but I'm not complaining either.

I am thankful to Bill Simmons, for truly being the revolutionary figure of the sports blogging movement, and for proving that you could make a living by covering sports from the fan's perspective. I am also thankful to Bill Simmons, for selling out and leaving room for other anti-establishment sports writers to someday take his place. And while we're on the subject, I am thankful to the guy who videotaped Erin Andrews naked in her hotel room. Does he deserve to go to jail? Probably. Am I upset that he did it and disgusted with myself for watching it? No. Sorry.

Finally, I am thankful to whoever is reading this. I'll be even more thankful if you leave a comment to prove that you exist, but just the idea of you keeps me writing, and for that I say thanks.

Read more of Mike Stiriti at the original "Sports Fan Paradise" blog.

You want to know my true fantasy? A world in which I don't care whether or not Brian Westbrook's ankle injury will prevent him from starting. A world in which it doesn't matter to me which receiver Tom Brady chooses to throw a touchdown pass to. A world in which leaving DeSean Jackson on the bench as he racks up 136 yards and 2 touchdowns wouldn't completely ruin my week.

I fantasize about a world without fantasy football.

Sounds crazy, doesn't it? Especially coming from such a sports-obsessed blogger who enters every fantasy league he can get his hands on. The resume speaks for itself. I have been doing fantasy baseball since 7th grade, when my buddy Klinky added up the scores by hand. I am in 2nd place in my fantasy Real World/Road Rules Challenge league thanks to a huge performance by Sarah in The Ruins last night and don't get me started on my 2008 ESPN.com golf fantasy team 2 Girls 1 Couples.

But yet, at the end of the day, fantasy football makes me miserable. And it's not because I lose all the time, because I know that's what you're thinking. While I have had a very disappointing run in my current keeper league with my best friends from home, I still manage to stay competitive and finish in the middle of the pack, and I completely dominated a league with my college buddies last year. (I still don't know how you guys let me draft Westbrook, Chris Johnson, Matt Forte, Larry Fitzgerald, Andre Johnson AND Steve (CAR) Smith, but you still owe me the prize money. No, I didn't forget. Quit ducking me).

After winning that championship was when it hit me: This shit just isn't worth it. Week to week I stress over what lineup I'm going to start on Sunday. I spend hours upon hours at work on our Yahoo! league homepage, scour the free agent wire like a cure for cancer is about to pop up, and negotiate trades like I'm freeing hostages from North Korea. And for what? For the minor tinge of joy that I feel when I win? After a victory my emotions rank at about a 2 or 3 on the happiness scale. After a loss it's about a 40 on the depression scale.

Is there any other area of life where the positive result of an event is so disproportionate to the negative? The only thing I can think of is when a plane lands safely. As my plane pulls up to a stop at the gate I quickly reflect on the fact that I didn't die, but I don't dwell on it for more than 3 seconds. If it were to crash, well, it would be a much bigger deal, like when my opponent's kicker drills 3 field goals on Monday night to beat me by 1 point.

Now that I have finally come to terms with how miserable fantasy football makes me, does that mean I'll stop? Probably not. When you're hooked you're hooked, and I'm hooked bad. Is there a 12-step program for quitting fantasy sports? Today I finally began to accept my problem, tomorrow I will come to believe that a power greater than myself can restore me to sanity.

But first I need to finalize a trade for Kurt Warner.

Read more of Mike Stiriti at the original "Sports Fan Paradise" blog.

Wednesday November 4th, 2009

8:05 PM: "Whooo's yoouur daaaddy!?!" chants are reigning down on a 38-year-old Pedro Martinez as he takes the mound in the House That Taxpayer Dollars Built. He looks calm and confident. He may have lost a few mph on his fastball, and his change-up is no longer the unhittable anomaly that it was in the late-90s, but the bravado is still there.

Curt Schilling once famously said that "I'm not sure I can think of any scenario more enjoyable than making 55,000 people from New York shut up." Schill and his bloody sock did just that in another Game 6 half a decade ago, and Pedro looks to do the same tonight, but with all due respect to Curt in the Car, he will never be viewed in the same light as Martinez.

8:06 PM: Fox's scouting report on Pedro calls him "wily and creative." Not exactly the adjectives that the once-dominant ace used to receive, another clue that this is not the same Pedro that once came out of the bullpen to throw 6 no-hit innings and win the deciding game of the 1999 ALDS.

Pedro was always the guy that opposing fans loved to hate, and nowhere was that sentiment stronger than in the Big Apple. There have always been certain athletes that seemed to thrive when playing in front of thousands of angry fans that wanted nothing more than to see them fail (Reggie Miller in Madison Square Garden comes to mind). Pedro has always been one of those guys, a man who would never shy away from the New York media or fail to give the type of soundbite that could cause riots.

8:33 PM: Joe Buck reflects that "Pedro Martinez could be pitching his biggest game in that career ..." as Fox flashes his career resume filled with Hall of Fame numbers accolades. Then, just as Buck mentions Game 7 of the 2003 ALCS and how he "didn't have enough that night," Pedro grooves a 3-2 fastball into Hideki Matsui that the Yankee's DH promptly deposits into the second deck in right field, well over the short porch. 2-0 Yankees.

He was the guy that said that if somebody woke up the damn Bambino he would bean him in the ass. He got away with it because he was the most intimidating 170 lb man in baseball history.

8:39 PM: Martinez retires Nick Swisher on a fly ball to left to end the bottom of the 2nd.

If a young Boston sports fan asked me what it was like to watch Pedro in his prime, I would tell him this: Pretend Tom Brady only played quarterback for the Patriots one out of every five games. That's what it was like.

8:46 PM: A Jimmy Rollins sac-fly scores Carlos Ruiz. 2-1 Yankees.

There weren't the type of tears for Martinez upon his departure from Beantown that there were for the likes of Ray Bourque and Nomar Garciaparra, but that was Pedro. He was the kind of guy that you loved because he was your on your side, but you knew you would probably despise if he ever changed uniforms (Rodney Harrison comes to mind).

9:00 PM: Martinez drills Mark Teixeira to load the bases for Alex Rodriguez. This has all the makings of a game-making or game-breaking at-bat. Those 55,000 plus have not shut up yet.

My defining Pedro Moment was the 1999 All Star Game in Fenway Park, when he struck out five in two no-hit innings. To put his dominance that night in perspective, Mark McGwire was the only strikeout victim not to win an NL MVP award.

9:04 PM: Pedro strikes A-Rod out looking on an outside fastball that is only called a strike for a handful of pitchers. Luckily for Pedro (and Philadelphia and Boston) he is one of them.

Wednesday night will most likely be the last time that Pedro pitches in the Bronx, and possibly the last time we ever see him take the mound. It's an interesting conflict, because the bravado that keeps him thinking that he can compete will be the same bravado that won't let himself go out there if he doesn't truly think he can be effective.

9:07 PM: Matsui lines a 2-out single that plates a pair. As Tim McCarver astutely puts it, "4-1 Matsui." This is fitting, he always kills the Sox.

As Buck said, this could be the biggest game of Pedro's career, and it's difficult to argue that Game 6 of a World Series isn't as important as it gets. That said, and maybe it's the Sox fan in me talking, but I can't believe that any game occurring after 2004 could have equal importance in Pedro's mind as any of the heroic gems he through during his Boston years.

9:44 PM: Chad Durbin takes over for Phillies to start the bottom of the 5th. Four runs, 3 hits, 2 walks, 5 strikeouts, a hit batsman and a home run. Not the type of line that will make 55,000+ Yankees fans do anything but prepare to party like it's 1999.

Tonight was not the Pedro Martinez that I remember, and there was no reason it should have been. It must have been like watching Muhammad Ali lose by unanimous decision to Trevor Berbick in '81. Of course, I don't remember that fight, I wasn't born for another few years. I came of age as a sports fan during The Pedro Era, and I'm thrilled to be able to say that.

... I would pay a Vegas bookie to make my NFL picks every week.

... I would buy the jersey of every guy on my fantasy football team and change them as quickly as the RedZone channel switches games.

... I would hire Lon McEachern and Norman Chad to narrate my life.

... I would buy the WNBA and change game coverage from ESPN to Oxygen.

... I would give it to Theo Epstein and tell him to use it in the future if the difference between signing a guy like Mark Teixeira and not signing a guy like Mark Teixeira is $1 million.

... I would buy 1,123,595 Cheesy Double Beef Burritos from Taco Bell and host a promotion during a Celtics game offering a free Beef Burrito to everyone in Massachusetts if Kendrick Perkins complains about a foul called against him. The next day I would hire a team to set up a 18-wheeler on a busy street in downtown Boston to hand out the Burritos. And then I would go to the RMV and get my license renewed because there wouldn't be a line.

... I would hire actors to play fans, coaches, players and refs and re-create Valparaiso's 1st round buzzer-beater in the '98 tournament. I will be playing the role of Bryce Drew.

... I would put $100K on the Philadelphia Passion to cover -7.5 against the Miami Caliente in tonight's Lingerie Football league game. Philly is coming home after last week's 40-6 THRASHING over the New York Majesty. The Passion's Tyrah Lusby was an absolute BEAST, tallying 65 rushing yards, 77 receiving yards and 5 touchdowns. To put that stat line in perspective, it would have been good for 44.2 fantasy points in my league. Miami won't have an answer for Lusby and Philly will roll. LOCK OF THE WEEK.

... I would quit my job and blog all day. But unless someone gives me a million dollars (or at least 50K) that ain't gonna happen. So you're only going to get a few posts a week, but I'll do my best to make them entertaining.

More to come.