Y2K6: Looking Back on a Year of Mets Baseball

(Note: A quickie by Sip follows this one from A.F.O.M.G.)

It's been a hell of a year here at Y2K. We passed the one-year mark, launched version 2.0, followed a winner, cried with a loser, and experienced everything in between.

We follow baseball here, and that's what baseball consists of. The highs are high, the lows are low, and the rollercoaster of it all is something we love, even if there have been more valleys than peaks over the years.

What I wanted to do today was take a look back at the year that's past. One of the nice things about running a site like this that updates every day is that it allows you to look back at your past and conjure up very specific moments, and the feelings associated with them as well.

So what I've done is I've gone through the archives month-by-month and selected the 12 articles that capture where I was in each of those months. To my fellow bloggers, please understand that the posts below are mostly by me for no other reason than that, naturally, the ones I wrote more firmly entrench me in specific moments.

Please note that you can access the original articles by clicking the blue headers.

January 11, 2006: Dudes Who Love the Man Upstairs

OK, most of these are going to be by me, but not this one. This was a classic Sip post. Completely out of left field, nothing had really spurred this post, it was just the result of an observation we've all seen in sports.

There's not much doing in the world of baseball in January. By January 2006, the Mets had made all their principal offseason transactions, so Sip and I (though mostly Sip at that point) were left to fish for content.

I can't speak for Sip, but I panic sometimes when I realize I have to write for a certain day and there's nothing going on. It's days like that that posts like this are born. Give it a read if you're a late-adopter on Y2K -- and check out the Shawn Green reference!

February 24, 2006: Selling Out and Coming Clean, or, Corporate Suites: Sweet or Salt?

This is one of my favorite early posts. At the time I hadn't been to a Knicks game in years, and I'd never sat in a corporate box at any sporting event.

That all changed when a client of my company's hooked my group up with tickets to their private box at Madison Square Garden.

Simply put, it was awesome. The food was amazing. Earlier in the day, Isiah Thomas had traded for Stevie Franchise, and I had the pleasure of talking shit about the trade with a vendor at the arena. John Starks was there.

If you've never had the opportunity to sit in a corporate suite, definitely give it a try some time, provided you have the means. I have no idea how much it would cost (again, we got comped), but between the food, the booze and the view, it's really a fine experience. Especially when you don't really care about the action on the court.

March 31, 2006: The Sounds of Summer

Three days to Opening Day and we were all getting cabin fever. That last week before the season starts you just get so desperate for baseball to be back, particularly when you couldn't care less about March Madness.

Looking back on it, this post was better conceptually than it was in execution. I really like the idea: it was a list of 10 songs that instantly remind me of the Mets for one reason or another.

So I had the idea for a post but didn't really have the time to fully develop it; hence, filler songs like "We Will Rock You" by Queen. I mean, I do actually think of the '86 Mets tape whenever I hear that one, but it shouldn't have made the list instead of a song like the Bruce Lee theme music that Kaz came out to, or that ridiculously bombastic song Carlos Beltran comes out to.

Oh well, maybe I'll do another list like it some time. One way or another, I can't re-read it without feeling the twinge of excitement that exists in late March, when you've come so far, and those last few days until baseball finally, mercifully begins feel like months.

April 14, 2006: Not Winning, Dominating

This was the first in a type of post that would become familiar as the season wore on. I'm too young to remember 1986 or 1988, so I'd never seen a Mets team dominate the way this one did in 2006.

This post was written after the Mets had started the season 7-1. We were atop the NL East, and already you were getting the feeling that we wouldn't relinquish our grip. You could see how talented the team was, you were seeing how good they could be. And for a fan my age, it was all pretty remarkable.

May 6, 2006: Great Moments in Broadcasting, Greater Moments in Baseball

I'll never forget this night. The Mets were playing the Braves at Shea on a Saturday night in early May, back when a Mets-Braves game was still a big deal.

I caught the beginning of the game but then went out for dinner with some friends, so I had to depend on Sip for text message score updates throughout the night. I transcribed the text messages from that night in the post, and I still love reading them.

In any event, the Mets fell behind 6-2, but in typical 2006 fashion, they stormed back to even the score in the bottom of the 7th. Here's how Sip relayed it to me:

9:31 p.m.: 2-6 bot 7, mets suck when i give u scores

9:47 p.m.: 6-6 top8, new mets!

By this point I was stuffing my face at a nice Italian eatery in Alphabet City, right on the same block where my sister used to live. The weather was nice and I was sitting outside with Killer Cam, Shabasito, Steve, and the rest of the regulars when I realized I had to get out of there to watch the game.

You can read the way it unfolded in the original article, but to summarize, I sprinted desperately around the LES trying to find the game, found a sweet dive, spoke to an awesome dude named Ken who longed to bag a white chick, the Mets won on a double by David Wright.

It was good to be alive. The memory just brings such a huge smile to my face.

June 7, 2006: Moon Men Walking

This is a strange post to look back on, but I really look back on it fondly. The Mets were in firm control of the NL East when I wrote this piece, but they had developed an inability to get more than 12 games over .500. It seemed like for weeks they were perpetually between 9 and 12 games over .500. They were doing the moonwalk, as Willie Randolph had called their up and down swings of a year earlier.

I wrote that piece some time in the afternoon. That evening, two things happened that I can't forget. The first is the Mets won the game and didn't lose again for another 9 days. A dominant west coast swing concluded with a 3-game sweep of the Phillies in Philadelphia. The road trip basically cemented our position as the best team in the NL East, if not the entire senior circuit.

So I remember that. More personally though, I remember listening to this game in my car as I drove up to this corporate conference we had.

The conference was in Long Island somewhere so I got to watch the end of the game, but something about the making the drive out to this unknown part of Long Island on my own just felt perfect. I was in the car with the windows down and the Mets on the radio.

I can't really explain it but it was one of those moments where everything just comes together.

July 11, 2006: That Time, It Counted

I wrote this piece the night that Trevor Hoffman failed to close out the American League in the All-Star Game.

What I love about this piece is how intensely I believed, how certain I was that the outcome of the All-Star Game would have some bearing on the Mets. That was OUR home field advantage Hoffman had just pissed away, it just didn't seem fair.

August 9, 2006: The Monster Is Out of the Cage, and Back Where He Belongs

Who can forget the night Mike Piazza returned to Shea? Not me and B.O.A.F.O.M.G, that's for sure. We were there to stand and applaud as the Monster returned to Shea Stadium. It was a very special moment. I'd never seen an ovation like that for a former Met, but it was perfect.

The fans stood and cheered like they always did when the announcer called out "Now batting, the catcher, No. 31, Mike Piazza" and "Voodoo Child" blared through the sound system. 10 out of 10 on the goosebump scale.

And then the Mets won the ballgame, 3-2, in what I found to be perfectly fitting fashion. On the night when our former franchise cornerstone returned, two of our current cornerstones sent the fans home happy:

"Piazza heard his cheers and everyone in the stadium got goosebumps. Wright went 3-for-4 and drove home the winning run. Beltran went 3-for-4 and scored the winning run. The Mets won the ballgame. One era has ended and another has begun."

September 18, 2006: The Team. The Time. The Celebration.

The single most minimalist post in Y2K history (at least as far as I can remember), I think this post is perfect. Words weren't necessary the night the Mets clinched their first NL East title in 18 years, or not many were necessary anyway. All that you needed was that picture. I don't think I'll ever forget it.

October 19/20, 2006: Win Tonight/At The End of the Night, We'd All Seen Better Days

I've gotta break with the one post theme here for October. These two posts capture everything that's perfect about sports. They capture the drama, they capture the rush of victory, the agony and ecstasy of anticipation, and yes, the devastation of defeat.

I can't forget the way my heart raced all day on October 19, the day of Game 7. I can't forget the way I couldn't possibly get anything done at work, how I had butterflies in my stomach all day long. And I can't forget the subway ride out there, and the sound of the crowd, and the amazing catch by Endy, and the way everyone was ready for a miracle, how in every mind's eye Cliff Floyd was trotting around the bases.

And I can't forget the deflated silence after strike 3 was called. And we can't escape that that's how our season ended.

There's always next year.

November 3, 2006: A Million Little Moments

There's always next year, yes, but in the weeks after the season ended, the fact of baseball being out of my life really took a toll on me.

This post was actually like a less protracted version of the one you're reading now. "That's the thing about basball," I wrote at the time. "Somewhere in the midst of those 162 games are a million little moments that just make every part of your day-to-day life better. And when it's over it's really shitty."

When you follow the team as closely as anyone who's reading this web site does, it gets in your blood. It becomes such a part of your routine that when the season's over, you'd almost say that it's like a death in the family, if only saying so weren't so overly dramatic.

What I mean is, it's a part of your life that you deal with every day until one day, just like that, it's gone. My mother can't understand how I could feel that strongly about it, my girlfriend can't either, but I'll bet some of you can. And it all just sucks.

December 12, 2006: Best Wishes From...

I thought this piece was hilarious, nice job Cheddar. This was the first day of our move to yankees2000.com, and I remember how excited I was to see the finished product. It was a big moment in the history of Y2K, and I thought this piece brought it all home.

* * * * *

And there you have it. A year in the life, a year of Mets baseball. Happy memories and the painful ones too, I'm glad I've got them all captured here, and I'm glad I had the chance to share them with our audience.

Y2K6. It was a hell of a year.

- A.F.O.M.G.

(Images appear courtesy of catholic.net, newyorkrangers.com, mlb.com, and static.flickr.com)

P2, A Town Down

(Note: A.F.O.M.G. will be in with a post this afternoon.)

I just stopped by my deli for a coffee and a Post and heard some interesting news.

My deli guy told me that he had a guy who used to sell Barry Zito this weird steroid that makes your personality insanely wacko. He said he also sold him some flaxseed oil for his hair.

So we are good. This dude will be out of baseball in 3 months.

Anyone else curious to see what Steve Trachsel is going to get on this open market? I honestly wouldn't be surprised if he got a 2-year, $10-16 mil deal.

And by the way, how awesome is El Duque's deal looking now? At the time I was shocked, but in retrospect it almost looks like a steal.

That's all from Sip. Happy New Years everyone. Looking forward to the e-mail from AFOMG where he talks about how I mailed this one in.

Short but sweet I will respond.

Vaya con dios,

Sip

Zito to Giants. Fuck.

Well it appears to be official. Barry Zito has agreed to a 7-year, $126 million deal with the San Francisco Giants-- $18 million per season.

The truth is, for Zito, signing with the Giants makes perfect sense. He lives in San Francisco, he knows the area, the weather's nice, they've got seals he can bark out to, they're willing to pay him an extremely large amount of money for a very long time, etc.

As a Mets fan though this just sucks. I really thought the Mets would sign this guy. Lou Monte definitely thought we'd sign this guy. Bright lights, big city, big bucks, big need -- it all made sense.

But it's not happening, and now we're looking at two options. One, we go into the season with the rotation we have. And what does the rotation we have look like exactly? Here's a guess:

1. Tom Glavine.
2. Orlando Hernandez.
3. John Maine.
4. Oliver Perez.
5. Mike Pelfrey/Phil Humber/Dave Williams.

Yikes.

I mean, I would have loved that rotation, particularly the bottom of it, in 2004. But in 2007? In the year after we fell one win short of the World Series? I'm sorry, there are just too many question marks.

The problem with that rotation is you look at it and you think of how everything might work out, but you can't reliably estimate how it will turn out.

I'd like to think that John Maine will win you 10-12 games, but you can't count on that. Oliver
Perez? All-or-Nothing Ollie? I wouldn't be surprised if he won 20 games next year. I'd also not be surprised if he won 2 games and once again had the worst ERA in the National League. Pelfrey/Humber? God only knows.

These are high ceiling guys, sure, but not one of them is a known commodity. Aaron Heilman? He's not a known commodity either, in spite of what everyone who points to his one 1-hitter would like you to believe.

So that's option one: a rotation that could dominate or be a complete and total disaster. Splendid.

Option two is to trade for a starter. Dan Haren maybe. Maybe Javier Vazquez -- feel free to shudder. If the Mets were going to have to include Heilman and Lastings Milledge in any such deal before, they'll almost certainly need to include the both of them plus Pelfrey/Humber in a deal now. I mean, other teams can't help but notice how desperate we are, right?

Trading players like Heilman, Milledge and Pelfrey/Humber would make us all wince, but sometimes trades like that involving players who seem so essential are the right way to go.

I remember when we traded Roger Cedeno and Octavio Dotel for Mike Hampton. I was thrilled to have a guy coming off a 20-win season, but I was nervous about losing Cedeno, who had been nasty in Y1.999K (.313 avg., .396 OBP, 66 SB), and Dotel, who had a strikeout per inning that year and appeared to be the future.

Don't get me wrong, trading Milledge, Heilman and Pelfrey/Humber is a much steeper sum than Cedeno and Dotel, but the point remains the same. We traded quality to get quality, and it was necessary, and it worked out, if only for one year. Could a similar trade lie in the weeks ahead? It's definitely possible.

This is a big day for the Mets. We missed out on the guy we really needed. Was 7 years at 18 per a price any of us wanted to pay? Probably not, but there's probably not a one of us who's surprised by the tab it took to nab Zito.

It's a shame though. I really thought he was going to come in here and be a star. I thought he was going to lead us to the World Series. But now it's not happening.

And for the Mets, with the rotation we've got right now, well, we could really come back to earth in the year ahead.

Our lineup is still nasty, and should probably be better than it was last year with Moises Alou in the mix and continued improvement from David Wright and Jose Reyes. But the Phillies have a strong lineup, too, and a better rotation than they had last year. It should make for a real tight race next year.

So fuck. Hell of a birthday present, Barry, you shouldn't have. Oh, and don't worry about the guitar lessons either.

- A.F.O.M.G.

(Images courtesy of mlb.com and sportsillustrated.cnn.com)

New Year's Resolutions for the Starting Nine

(Note: The latest in our weekly Section 423 column on the Knicks appears immediately below.)

Fun time of years, isn’t it? Every year me and the fam head out to Ohio where my grandmother and youngest uncle/aunt team live. The weather wasn’t very Christmas-y but oh well, maybe next year. I’m sure there’s no broader phenomenon going on here. I’m sure whatever the blame-America-firsters have to say about it isn’t true.

Anyway, yes, it’s a good time of year, even if there’s not much going on in the way of sports, not for a guy like me at least.

I was never a big football guy, so the Bowl games and the Giants/Jets do little for me (although I do love watching interviews with Broadway Chad, and I was pretty into the Giants last year, and the Jets in '99).

I like the Knicks, I watch them when they’re on and I’ve got nothing else to do, but I’m not masochistic enough to root for them with any real enthusiasm.

The Sabres? Sorry, Ched. I appreciate what you’re saying, and I’m envious for Buffalo right now, for that excitement, but hockey and me are like Sip and Christmas, it just wasn’t meant to be.

But ahh, the Mets are never far from my mind, and that brings me to the crux of today’s post. The end of the year brings with it parties, booze, and yes, resolutions for the year ahead.

It was true last year, when I offered my first round of new years resolutions for the Mets starters. Remember Victor Diaz?! Crazy stuff!!

With all of us primed to close the book on 2006, the time has come to offer a new round of resolutions. New Mets, new resolutions. Let's have at it.

1. Barry Zito, SP: Sign with Mets, prove you're an ace (if only in the NL), teach me to jam, leap LES chicks in a single bound.

OK, this one's kind of up in the air. There's a long way between here and Zito signing with the Mets, let alone pitching Opening Day.

But put that out of your mind; Zito signing with the Mets just makes too much sense for me to consider any alternative. The Giants could happen, but I don't know, if he's really aiming to sign with a winner, he'll come to the Mets.

And better yet, for him, he'll be coming to New York. Provided he wouldn't end up a complete bust, my god would this guy run shit in this town. Chicks want to be with him and men want to be him.

I mean, look at that guy. So dreamy!

Me, I never learned to throw a curveball (sad but true) and I just got an acoustic guitar that I don't have any clue how to play. Zito could take me under his wing, it'd be fun.

And he could take this entire staff under his wing, too. There are a lot of doubting Thomases out there arguing that he's not an ace. I understand where they're coming from, but I think if you put him in the NL he'd be a staff ace.

With Glavine and Petey still around he wouldn't be the spiritual leader of the staff, at least I wouldn't think. But he's young, talented, and he's personable -- it's just the kind of mix that could help the Pelfreys, Humbers, Maines and who-have-you's take the next step.

And he's just the kind of guy who could take the Mets to the next level. Come on Barry, what more do you really want in life?

2. Paul Lo Duca, C: Eliminate gambling debts, hook up with older (but not too much older) broads, hold on to the ball better, replicate 2006 season offensively.

Faced with the unenviable task of replacing a legend, Paulie Thumbs delivered in 2006, sliding into the 2-spot in our order perfectly and earning the nickname "Captain Red-Ass" for his ebubliency in the clubhouse.

But it wasn't all roses for Lo Duca this past year. If there was one on-field mark against Lo Duca last year it was his frustrating tendency to drop the ball on throws to the plate, so that's something he should work on.

The other thing Lo Duca should work on, of course, is his off-field behavior. The truth is, I love him for it. The teenage girlfriends, the gambling debts, the phillies he rears -- it's just too perfect.

But you know how the Wilpons are. The Mets are a family organization, and all that jazz. I want Lo Duca to keep his fast-living ways but ensure that the Wilpons don't run him out of town. Trading 19-year-olds co-eds for 22 year-old co-eds would be a start.

He could also square whatever gambling debts he has outstanding with whatever Frankie or Vinny he owes them to. The last thing we need to worry about is that our starting catcher is going to show up for a late September game with broken knee caps, so Paulie getting his finances in order is really in all of our best interests.

3. Carlos Delgado, 1B: A little more April/October, a little less everything in between.

That's not altogether fair. Carlos was solid in August, but all thing considered, Delgado was at his best in the first and last months of the season. It's possible that some of his woes were attributable to the tennis elbow injury that first cropped up in March, and if that's the case hopefully his offseason surgery will fix that problem.

Whatever though, the name of the game is consistency. and no matter how solid the final line looks for Delgado, anyone who watched the Mets in 2006 knows that Delgado was anything but consistent. He crushed the ball in April, then looked completely lost for nearly three months, in spite of one hot streak in June that boosted his overall numbers for that month.

I wouldn't have traded him for the world, or not for Mike Jacobs at least. Delgado was just what our lineup needed: an impact presence in the cleanup spot. Now I just want him to be that from start to finish, not just start and finish.

4. Jose Valentin, 2B: Flaxseed oil and more flaxseed oil.

As you guys probably know, I'm not sold on Valentin. He had a fine season in 2006, but I always felt like we were living on borrowed time. Now that we're paying him the big bucks the leash will be shorter, and the production will need to be... well, not what it was last April or October.

The anti-Delgado, Valentin sucked at the extremes. The solution? Flaxseed oil. Being reviled by everyone else in the country because you're a cheater wouldn't be as bad as getting the shit booed out of you at Shea Stadium. Just ask this guy.

5. David Wright, 3B: Remember the first half of 2006? Yeah, me too.

It was a funny year for David. In the first half he was maybe the MVP of the National League. In the second half he was still good, but he definitely wasn't great. The difference was power, and the reason, as we all know, was the home run derby.

So David: two things to concentrate on the in the year ahead. One, the first half of 2006? Now do that twice. Two, the home run derby? Yeah... let's not participate in that this year.

6. Jose Reyes, SS: From here to eternity: the best shortstop in New York.

Big debate in New York this past year: Derek Jeter or Jose Reyes, who's the best shortstop in New York? Me, I wouldn't trade Reyes for any other shortstop in baseball: not Jeter, not Tejada, not A-Rod, not nobody.

That said, it seems the consensus is that Jeter had the better year in 2006. I'm not entirely sure that's the case, but he might have, and that's where this resolution comes in.

Reyes took huge strides in 2006. He was one of the best players in baseball last year, and possibly the MVP of a Mets team that saw huge years from Carlos Beltran, David Wright and Carlos Delgado.

So what do you do for an encore? I'm looking for Reyes to produce a season that will tip this debate in his favor from here on out.

7. Moises Alou, LF: You were brought here for one reason, now it's time to execute.

Look, Moises, let's cut to the chase. You were brought here because we basically sucked against lefthanded pitchers. You've crushed lefthanded pitching in six different uniforms so far. Let's make it lucky number sleven. Seven.

8. Carlos Beltran, CF: Party like it's 2006; swing at curveballs over the middle.

What a difference a year makes. Go back and read what I wrote for Beltran in last year's resolutions, pretty amazing how down on him I was.

Or it wasn't really. I mean, Beltran sucked in 2005. But 2006, ahh, in 2006 Beltran was everything we hoped he would be when we signed him -- five tools and all.

The one knock against Beltran was, of course, that he had the unfortunate honor of making the final out of the NLCS. With the bases loaded. On a called third strike. Ugh.

It was bad. Don't ever fucking do it again, Beltran.

But yeah, other than that, we cool.

9. Shawn Green, RF: Improve, or, failing that, wear yarmulke under your hat.

Shawn, you gotta play to your strengths. Your one redeeming quality as a Met is that you're Jewish, much like the non-Latin half of our fanbase.

Here's what you do. You know how your hat falls off every time you chase after a ball hit your way? One way to get the fans back in your corner after you fail to make the catch would be by sporting a flashy orange and blue yarmulke.

Think of it as a little reminder for the fans, one that says, "Hey, I might suck, but I'm still one of your own -- you wouldn't boo one of your own would you?"

Without that, I just don't know what hope you have, Shawnie. I'm rooting for you -- in spite of everything, I still like you somehow -- but what we saw from you last year just isn't gonna cut it. Either come correct in 2007 or come straight orthodox, the choice is yours.

* * * * *

So there you have it, folks, new years resolutions for all 9 members of our assumed-Opening Day lineup. Only three months left to go. We can do this.

- A.F.O.M.G.

(Images appear courtesy of fanball.com, graphics.fansonly.com, static.flickr.com, drugstore.com and mlb.com)

Section 423: Christmas Gifts for the Knicks

(Note: A.F.O.M.G. will be in with a post later this afternoon.)

When I was traded to the Toronto Raptors, a strange twist of David Stern scheduling fate brought me back to The World's Most Depressing Arena only ten days later where I faced my former squad of blunt smoking brethren.

I showered the locker room with gifts of fine cigars, champagne, and fruit and cheese platters. It was the least I could do to show my appreciation for a wonderful ride with the Orange and Blue.

This year, I come bearing presents and stocking stuffers for the New Knicks, and I have included gift receipts. Each player received something that is a reflection of their performance this holiday season. Let's get it crackin'...

-Steve Francis: I got the best dressed Knick on the bench, Stevie "I've never won a playoff series and don't average 8 points a game but they still call me Franchise" Francis, a brand new Playstation 3 for all the down time he now has as a premanent fixture on the DL.

What's hurting him? His ego? The folks at Sony have hooked it up so he can play against Cat Mobley in LA as they curl up in their queen sized beds and dream of spooning one another as they talk trash and try their best to use the wireless controllers with only one hand.

-Stephon Marbury: Senor Gaucho and lead point guard for The Terror Squad has made every hood kid's dreams come true with his Starbury Stocking Stuffer Shoes, so as a token of their appreciation, I've helped the hood donate one blunt for every pair of kicks in the mix... these should last Steph until the All Star break.

-Jamal Crawford: The 'Seattle Somalian' gets a $100 gift certificate to Carl's Jr so he can finally gain some weight. Nothing like the Noah Lefuvre special to put on pounds. (Why does the 'Six Dollar Burger' at Carl's cost $2.99?)

-Quentin Richardson: A headband in every color of the rainbow, with matching elbow pads, socks, and wristbands. Also the Brandy Box set featuring new remixes of 'The Boy is Mine', and never before seen episodes of Moesha.

-Nate Robinson: Nate The Great gets two ringside seats to the next Bernard Hopkins vs. Antonio Tarver fight so he can study the punching techniques of the world's best. While I definately give props to the little man for the way he manhandled JR 'I'm ridiculously ill' Smith and tackled him into celebrity row, it would have been nice to have seen the little guy get off a clean shot.

-Jerome James: All expenses paid trip to Tahiti... one way ticket.

-Jared Jeffries: A year's supply of chin band aids that actually stick on his face for the whole game. The newest of the New Knicks also receives matching red and green, holiday-themed rubber bands for his braces... what a loser.

-David Lee: The hardest working Knick gets a free dinner at the new Hawaiin Tropics restaurant in Times Square. Hopefully after the 4th or 5th round of umbrella drinks and kaluah shots, hell be able to bat those baby blue eyes and pull some skank waitress tail.

After a night out on the town, hopefully the best white dunker in the league will be a little less stressed in the new year. Honestly, on a serious note, dude needs to stop arguing with the refs. He looks like a clown and he is starting to lose out on calls as a result of his reputation.

-Eddy Curry: Remember those workout info-mericals with Chuck Norris and Christie Brinkley? Well whatever they were selling, big EC needs one of those. Yes he has played the best ball of his career. Yes he is finally a forced to be reckoned with in the middle. The first true center in the Garden since the big fella.

But seriously, I know people are talking All Star game for big E.C., but dude needs to shed some pounds in order to take it to the next level. Crawford gains, Curry loses, and the Knicks win.

-Channing Frye: This dude is a joke. After a solid freshman year, he has hit the sophomore slump in full stride. How about some blackness for Christmas? His gift is a tutorial in the art of being thugged out. First step is some tattoes, then some bigger shorts, and finally, dude needs one of Starbury's holiday blunts. He also needs to be banned from Dorian's and Marquee, and needs to start rolling to the Shark bar. The guy would get his shit run at the Rucker.

Renaldo Balkman: What to get the rookie rebounding sensation? While his numbers don't reflect his impact this year, he has already exceeded our wildest expectations. I get Ro Ro a copy of every dunk contest on DVD ever so he can study for this year's slam fest. Every game it seems the young fella throws one down that's worthy of a rewind.

I hope he stays sober in Vegas to compete alongside the defensing champ in this year's contest. Only 3 other Knicks have ever competed in a dunk contest, can you name them? (Gerald Wilkins in '86, Kenny 'Sky' Walker in '89, and John Starks in '92)

So who is left? My wallet is already taking a beating from all the gifts so far. Oh! Mardy "Thug Life" Collins gets a new pair of the Carmelo kicks. And of course, 'Zeek. I get the popcorn popping head coach cole, fruit cake, socks, and a $20 gift certificate to the Olive Garden. At least at that garden, he's family. In our Garden, he's just waiting around to be evicted.

Happy Holidays to the New Knicks, and the loyal Knicks fans of Knicks Nation. Seats are filling up fast on the bandwagon express, and slowly but surely, we are starting to see light at the end of the tunnel. Here's to a happy and healthy 2007, and god bless Mo' Taylor not being on the squad.

- Chris Childs

(Images appear courtesy of nba.com, covers.com, orlandosentinel.com and knicksonline.com)

The Spirit Catches You, And You Fall Down

[Editor's note: Below, Sip breaks down some of Y2K's 2006 highlights. Enjoy.]

Sorry about the late/short update. I probably should have seen it coming, but Christmas night turned into a bit of drinking orgy at Coles, the local watering hole up here in Buffalo.

I hesitate to even bring this up, but ... you should know -- not for peace of mind, but for whatever the opposite of that feeling is -- what the booze prices here are. They're a little bit ridiculous.

Pitchers of Labatts Blue (the beer of champions) run you a cool $8. Shots are, generally speaking, $3. Car bombs, the staple of 1 a.m. bad-decision-makers, cost only $5.

Did somebody say Canadian beer sucks? This one? Grab that asshole. Oh, you're going to ...

...

Sorry. Flashback there for a second. Whoosh.

That's what happens to you after spending six months in the high-priced heaven that is the isle of Manhattan. These nights in Buffalo start out cheap, but even when the marginal utility of each drink is down around your ankles, the compulsion to take advantage of the prices is quite strong. The end result? Come morning, my wallet is still too light to fathom.

So, that's clearly all to the better.

But amidst the haze of alcohol, cold mist and drunken girls, another picture emerges up here. And that is the scene of a town wild for its team.

Sabres Time, baby. It's taking over.

We all know that feeling. We all remember this fall, not too long ago, when Los Mets took over the city during their magical late-season/playoff fun. We remember the emotions that bubbled up to the surface.

When your team is on a roll, everything seems a little bit brighter to the naked eye. Your life improves in about a million little ways, each almost imperceptible in and of themself but devastating as a collective.

Food tastes better. Beer tastes MUCH better. The newspaper seems to scream "Read Me!" off the rack, daring you to read the latest story about your beloved club.

Well, believe me when I say my hometown is in the middle of a season-long high about our hockey club. To such an extent, mind you, that even the completely awful loss the Bills suffered Sunday at the hands of Vince Young and the Titans couldn't really kill the buzz.

There was booing in the stadium at the coaching idiocy of that affair, which I won't recap here. But on the walk back to the car through the parking lot? "LET'S GO SABRES! (clap clap clap clap clap). The whole way through. I was bummed out of my mind, but the town couldn't help but try to pick me up.

People are excited. Merchandise is flying off the racks. Your Buffalo Sabres are the most exciting thing to hit the ice since a young Scott Hamilton, straight embarassing cats on the nightly. It's a team with no superstars, but plenty of winners.

I think I've already gone on a rant about my boys, but I'm inspired to recap for those of you just joining us from the old site.

To start, there's Ryan Miller, the shaggy young American goalie who takes down high school chicks and rolls with the confidence of the top jersey seller in the National Hockey League. I'm actually not engaging in any Y2K-patented exaggeration when I say that Miller and Cheddar Sam, the official brother of Cheddar Ben, are basically competing for the same 18-year-olds up here. They don't like each other very much.

What this says about Miller, I'm not sure.

There's Maxim Afinigenov, a mulleted rocket and the tricksiest Russian this side of Gorky Park. Every time this guy gets the puck, the arena literally goes silent. He cuts on a dime, weaves in and out of defenders, and is basically unstoppable. This is the guy the new rules were made for.

We can't forget about Little League hero Chris Drury, or wild red-headed terror Brian Campbell (think Chris Chelios meets Byrnesy), or bad-ass winger Jason Pominville, who has his own section of fans up in the 300 level at the HSBC Arena. (They carpet the area with signs that say "Welcome to Pominville.")

I don't expect that Y2K readers should know these guys, or really even need to get into them. Sure, it might be a nice respite from the boring-ass superstars in the Garden, or the burnouts out on the Island, or the slow-rolling train wreck that is New Jersey Devil fandom. But that's clearly your call.

It's just that the spirit is here, and it's infectious. Every game is an event, to the point that I can't get tickets for tonight's game against the Caps and the Sabres' own personal Ivan Drago, Alexander Ovechkin. The bars will be packed. The buzz will be inescapable.

This is fun, and I'm going to miss it when I come back to New York on Friday. But hey, it's the off-season here at Y2K, and there's plenty of room for updates from the other end of the state. We're the big tent party. And there's room for all to play.

Sip's Post Christmas Special

I just looked at my cellphone. It was 12:26 on 12/26. Now I am freaked out.

Christmas for the Sip was ever so merry. I went over to Steamin' Mikey Lehman's house for some Chinese food that his mother prepared around lunch time.

Then I played in an online poker tournament -- Note: I hate online poker -- but figured it might be a good way to pass the day.

Finally I watched two pretty crummy football games.

Merry Christmas!

It has been a great year here at Y2K.

- My writing skills have improved from a 10th grade level to perhaps an 11th or 12th grade level.

- We have added a ton of new members to the team.

- We have a new sleek website

- Readership is way up

- Groupies won't leave AFOMG and me alone (forget Cheddar, that kid has been secretly dating Amanda Bynes for months now)

- I found a potential future wife in the First Lady of Y2K, Ms. Coop

- We developed a solid relationship with Byrnesy

- The Mets had a great year while the Yankees did not

- A lot of players on the Mets look like celebrities. This is probably my all time favorite Y2k article so have a look if you have not already.

- While David Wright and Jose Reyes got substantial pay raises, we have made about $40 in google ads off this precious little gem of ours here. Thats right, we do this for the paper.

- Billy Wagner enters the game to my favorite song of all time, only to come out as John Franco South.

- Julio Franco is about as old as my father and he too is pretty sweet. Does that mean that all old people are sweet?

- Lindsay Lohan is looking promising with the new black hair. She is definitely a target when Sip makes the move back out west.

- The New Knicks actually have a glimmer of hope. Isiah is still unbearable. He defends his position saying he was rebuilding. This all would have been fine and good if he realized this three years ago. But instead, it took him three years to start rebuilding, meaning the process will take 6 years, which is unacceptable.

- I get it, Isiah made it out of a rough neighborhood. Thanks for the weekly reminder, Isiah. Doesn't mean it's OK that you have ruined the Knicks.

- Alex Rodriguez had a painful postsesaon yet again.

- Unit to the D-Backs?

- The Giants had perhaps the worst second half of a season in recent decades. Tom Coughlin needs to be outta here. In fact, so do most of our coaches.

- I just lost 20 lbs not drinking for a month. Strange but true.

- AFOMG got a fancy new chain and truly resembles a Goo Goo Doll.

- You can save 15% or more by switching to Geiko?

- Cheddar Ben is the future Walter Cronkite.

- Section 423 resident, Chris Childs, catch him on E's Daily Ten, every week.

- Lou Monte and Steamin, very strong showing outta the Class of '02.

- Cousin Dan loves his wife and he loves college sports almost as much.

- And finally all of you guys are pretty fierce. Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. We will be here all week so don't forget about us on this week of ZERO work.

-And as always, all we want for Christmas is for you all to spread the gospel that is our website to as many people as you know, so that one day, we can do Y2K for a living.

Vaya con dios,

Sip

(Images courtesy of usmovies1.com, tsn.ca, and emimusic.com)

Cousin Dan's Christmas Special

(Note: Sip will be back in a few with some ill...)


Welcome to a Christmas Day edition of the Y2K-U. Cousin Dan reporting live from the in-laws here in beautiful Lawrence, KS. I hope every one of my three readers took advantage of my 3-0 bowl picks against the numbers in my column, because obviously yours truly found ways to parlay them with losers. Oh well. Tis still merry here.



1) Picks for this week: Off the aforementioned 3-0, here’s a few more winners to fire at you that I will not take advantage of due to my newfound gambling moratorium. The Cousin likes Florida State (UCLA, notwithstanding the USC thing, is not good); Texas A&M (Cal still remembers that a horrid loss to Arizona kept them out of the Rose Bowl, and the Bears got clobbered the last time they played in San Diego. Also, the underdog ALWAYS covers in the Holiday); and Wisconsin (Bret Bielema, who’s a good coach, will make the Razorbacks pass, which Arkansas simply can NOT DO). Best bet: Navy (does BC even have a coach? No coach equals no stopping the triple option).

2) The most wonderful bowl of the year: In this column, we’re unabashed homers for the Scarlet Knights, since we do so love Cousin Tonks, and he does so love the Banks of the Raritan. However, we’re also journalists from a former life, so if you ask us to predict the game in Morgantown, we tell you WVU probably wins. Well, such journalistic ethics don’t carry here in the Sunflower State, where an otherwise awesome sports panel show (note: not sarcasm. Like a local PTI. Great effort.) was marred by two homers – one of whom runs the K-State message board – predicting that K-State would run away with the Texas Bowl because, well, they like K-State. Tom Fitzgerald from GoPowerCat.com or whatever – you’re better than that. (Unless you’re not).

3) And he threw two more touchdowns in the parking lot: One of my losing parlays including the Hawaii-Arizona State over, which failed because Hawaii forgot to play in the first half.



But once the Rainbow Warriors got going, that was real fun. Colt Brennan had nearly four hundred yards and five TDs in the second half of a game you missed while digesting your Christmas ham. And former Sun Devil coach Dirk Koetter showed why he is a former coach, punting with 2:30 left down 10. Typical gutsy play from the Sip’s potentially future alma mater.

4) Let’s just say if he had a good year, he would have passed: It was hardly surprising to see that Reggie Ball failed some test which meant that he was suspended for the Gator Bowl. After all, you can ask any Georgia fan how Ball does on big tests. We assume Ball’s a good guy, but he’s got as much clutch as a car with an automatic transmission. [Rim shot, we’ll be here all week, enjoy the veal.]

5) Glory days, they’ll pass you by: When your own alma mater doesn’t qualify for the postseason, it’s particularly sad when there are Armed Forces and Poinsettia Bowls featuring the Troys and Middle Tennessees of the world. So, on ESPN-U on Christmas Day, we happily caught the Virginia-Georgia bowl game from 1995. The Cavs won behind a gritty rushing attack from a soph RB named Tiki Barber.



Ah, 1995. That was also the last year our beloved Wahoos won a game in March Madness. Which essentially means that in-state “rival” George Mason won four more tournament games last year than Virginia has in the last decade.

6) And we can probably make that 12 years: Two Virginia items in a row, but that should be ending soon because the men’s basketball team is proving to be as unwatchable as the football team. The fighting Leitaos laid an absolute egg in a Puerto Rico tournament, losing to Appalachian State (the very best university in all of Boone, NC!) and then Utah by 24 before eking by 0-8 Division II University of Puerto Rico by 7. FYI, after beating U.Va, Utah lost the next day by 33 to a rather, uh, pasty Northwestern

7) Avert your eyes, it’s like a Vitale compliment: Dookie V takes a lot of heat in this column, but compared to some of the local college basketball announcers, he’s positively Vin Scully. On the way to Lawrence, we listened to the Kansas-Boston College game with some relic of an announcer stating what had clearly happened ten seconds earlier. For example, “yadda yadda yadda story-from-1965 yadda [loud cheers] blah blah blah blah and Chalmers scores! Story-from-1965 continues yadda…” Note to college announcers: we can’t see what’s happening, so for the love of goodness please tell us what’s happening. That’s all we care about. We promise.

8) Avert your eyes II, it’s like a Duke compliment: Grudgingly, we will credit “No. 5” Duke for their win at MSG over Gonzaga. (This should prepare them well for their first road game, which is still just fifteen days away).



The good news for us Blue Devil haters is that Greg Paulus – who, you may recall, was the top prep point guard in the country a few years back because Coach K said so – elevated his game all the way to “not execrable” (link to: http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/execrable) in the victory. Hopefully, this will allow the Ratface to maintain his loyalty to all-those-who-look-like-Wojo so Paulus can cost them a few more games.

9) It’s not a college sports item, unless you consider that he played in the best college game of the year: Not to go all Sports Guy on you, but sometimes you need to have someone in the draft room to remind you that test scores and Heisman trophies aren’t what actually matter on the football field. For example, was there anyone on the planet who watched the two play in college and was like, “yeah, Ron Dayne is a better football player than Shaun Alexander”? In any case, forget Reggie Bush for a second—how did the Texans not think Vince Young would be better than David Carr? On Sunday, Young may have done the first ever end-of-half drop-back-for-Hail-Mary-then-run-untouched-into-end-zone-for-a-long-touchdown. By the way, Young never ever loses any more.

10) Final Question: When Yanni releases his Ivy game of the year, do you dare not play it big? Keep ‘em comin’ in 2007, Big Cash!

The Sip Is So Back

(Note: A piece by Cheddar Ben about the Yankees farm team leaving Columbus appears immediately below.)

Fuckers, fuckers, fuckers.

I feel like Steve Stifler right now.

Life is pretty good. Last night I had my first drink in 31 days, an all time record for me and one that I can't see myself ever breaking.

This morning I had a chance to catch up on some Steamin' Mikey Lehman Yankee bashing and I'm utterly shocked.

This kid can hardly talk, yet somehow, some way he writes pretty good... kidding Mikey, but always fun to take a jab via the Blogosphere. Sippy Momo, internet thug, WHAT!

As a Jew, I am approaching what I used to think was the most depressing day of the year: Christmas.

It used to be that while all my Christian friends were really happy, I was really, really bored.

But now that there are NBA and NFL games, and now that I finally realized that the smart move was hitting up the all-you-can-drink Chinese food place by my house somewhere around 11:30 a.m., Christmas is all of a sudden turning into a pretty sweet day for us kings of Hollywood and Wall Street.

To give you a "10-12 things I hope for on Christmas" would be wrong because I am sure that AFOMG is going to write that some time this weekend. I don't even really feel like talking about sports at all right now, but I don't know if that would fly around here.

So here are a couple of quick thoughts.

I think David Stern's suspensions of Carmelo Anthony, JR Smith, Nate Robinson and co. were racially driven.

If that was David Lee fighting Ersan Ilyasova, they each get 2 games.

It is obvious that Stern is trying to rid the NBA of its thug image (read: the dress code) and by dishing out huge suspensions he is sending a message.

But still, come on. Hockey has fights every game, so does football. Let these guys throw some punches. The Garden hasn't seen that much energy in a basketball game in the better part of a decade.

And it is somewhat shocking to me that JR Smith has as many tatoos as he has. The kid is 20 and has like 94 tatoos. I don't have any. But don't those things take sometime to heal?

Baseball sucks

The Braves had to dump Marcus Giles for financial reasons. It kills me that my favorite sport is one where my arch rival can't afford to pay one of their best players and therefore loses him. That isn't fair.

The Rangers have four guys in the top 20 in scoring.

When I was a kid I was a huge hockey fan. When the Rangers won the Cup I was as happy as they come.

I remember when they got Mark Messier I thought it was the coolest thing in the world because the Rangers finally had someone that would make the paper for scoring some points.

The days of Tomas Sandstrom were supposedly behind us.

And so yesterday, while reading the bible (NY Post) I read that the Rangers are all over the net and apparently Sydney Crosby is leading hockey in scoring.

Isn't that kid 14?

I don't know. I thought it was cool.

Caught the Knicks game on Wednesday.

Only the Knicks could have two last second shot attempts with 20 seconds left on the clock to start the possession and settle for chucking 20 footers and then win on an alley-oop with 0.1 seconds remaining.

Isiah is truly the worst.

Also, Eddy Curry almost died on Wednesday. He and Channing Frye play ZERO defense.

That was my third Knicks game this year and I have already seen Malik Allen and Primoz Brezec combine for 36 points. The other center I caught, Fabricio Obierto, has SICK hair.

That's all I got. Have a great Christmas guys. A big thank you to Sip Sr. and Mom dukes. Despite denying me Christmas all year, they are about as awesome a set of parents as a young blogger could have.

Stay low guys.

Merry Christmas.

Vaya con dios,

Sip

(Pictures courtesy of Draftreview.com, Prosportpictures.com, 300bucks.ca)

Clipped

Oh, come on now. Here's Harvey Araton in the Times this morning.

Goodbye Columbus, may your minor league prospects forever prosper, just like Pettitte, a Yankee original, one of the lucky ones who made the perilous flight aboard the cynically dubbed shuttle, landing safely and securely in the South Bronx in 1995. ... Beginning next season, young Yankees willbe summoned from, or dispatched to, the franchise's new Class AAA outpost in the area around Scranton and Wilkes-Barre in Pennsylvania. The drive will be made in two hours. Maybe someone will send a limo. "It won't sound the same," Merrill said wistfully.

So that's what Columbus asked for for Christmas -- a handjob in the paper of record. Not a bad little stocking stuffer (bad pun alert!), all things considered. I mean, it's on my list too. But why is Araton going for this sort of dreck?

I'd show you the rest, but TimesSelect prevents me from doing so. Suffice to say that Harvey catches up with former Yankee and Clippers manager Stump Merrill and reminisces about how great Columbus was. To which any sensible person says, "What in the hell are you talking about?"

Now, there are any number of reasons not to write this column. For one, Columbus sucks. It's a sprawling Midwestern shithole with a massive inferiority complex and the biggest group of asshole football fans you've ever seen. When the Y2K Style Guide (grammar, not duds) goes live early in the next year, we will not be encouraging cats to call it "THE Ohio State University." Put that in the bank.

Secondly, it's especially crappy. When the obligatory Norfolk sendoff column is written, at least you can write that the weather was decent, the park was new and perfectly serviceable, and the whole thing was right next to the beach. If that's not something you can get excited about, it's nothing to sneeze at.

With Columbus, feel free to snot all over that. The ballpark there was in shambles, easily the worst in the IL. Clippers fans had long ago been drained away by the Crew and whatever it else central Ohioans do when OSU isn't in session. Lose elections, presumably.

But aside from being a crappy, "It's the holidays" blowoff type of column, Araton conveniently forgets what a prospect wasteland Columbus has been since the raison-d'etre for this Web site came into existence.

There's a reason Araton called up Merrill, who hadn't managed the Clippers since 1998, and that's because the Clippers basically haven't been used since at least then. Perhaps further back. This is a clear and entirely sensible consequence of trying to buy your way to a championship.


Who gets mentioned in the column? Jeter, Pettitte, Bernie, Posada and an Aussie washout named Mark Hutton. Exactly. The Yankees haven't come up with a real farm kid since Jeter showed up in '95, and Pettitte was the last pitcher.

Which is sort of the point. For any number of reasons, Columbus has not been a productive baseball town since the first Clinton term. Uber-Yankee writer Steve Goldman hammers on the Yankees' inability or unwillingness to trust young players every chance he gets.

Sometimes, it's Joe Torre's complete and debilitating lack of faith in anyone who hasn't won a World Series for him. Sometimes, it's management's happy trigger finger, unwilling to wield the necessary patience with the younger types.

On the current Yankees roster, we've got the Cancer-Curing Kid, Robby Cano; the tricksy Chien-Ming Wang, possibly my most hated player in the majors, and Got Melky Cabrera, soon to be shipped to Pittsburgh for reliever Mike Gonzalez. And this, my friends, might as well be a revolution.

Of all our least favorite Yankee squads from 2001 to 2005, how many had farm products on them? None. Shane Spencer was still around on the bench, before they shipped him out of town, as was Ted Lilly. Nick Johnson got some dap before they swapped him for the highly successful Javy Vazquez.

The Yankees have been shipping prospects out of their system for as long as a lot of us have been following baseball. Mike Lowell. Jake Westbrook. Craig Wilson, the first time. Sal Fasano, for the love of all that's holy.

If you were a young guy, you got once chance before they moved your ass. Admiral Halsey had a fantastic first start against the Red Sox, muffed his second one, and was in Arizona before he knew what happened. So was Dioner Navarro, at that time the Yanks' top prospect aside from the crap-out Drew Henson/Eric Duncan duo. Now, the Bombers' catching situation is nearly dire, and Navarro's set to break out with Tampa.

This is a vital characteristic of the hateable Yankees, and Araton pretends not to have noticed. Well, guess what? We noticed.

Even more importantly, this column was a wasted opportunity. There's plenty to say about the tenuous state of AAA baseball, arguably at the lowest point in its history.

You've got the structural/prospect issues tearing at its importance. Most top youngsters these days jump right from AA to the majors, bypassing their former proving grounds in the IL/PCL. If you're a baseball fan in Sac-town or Indianapolis or Buffalo, this is not really to your benefit. Reasonable food prices won't save you there.

Then, there's the trickle-down effect of the level jumping -- the players left behind are older, and mostly less interesting. Baseball Prospectus' Clay Davenport has the average age of the AAA player at 27.4, which is pretty damn up there. Again, Jeff Manto (the real-life Crash Davis) sideshows aside, fans will pay to see the stars of the future, not Enrique Wilson.

There are points to be made about potential financial support from organizations swimming (hello, Ted Lilly contract) in cash. A couple mil here and there could shore up fan bases the nation over, but front offices don't seem to be thinking in those terms.

But no. As far as Araton is concerned, the plane to Columbus had a funny name, and Stump Merrill did some interesting things. Let's go nuts.

And with all the metaphorical ground available for exploration in the New York/New Orleans connection ... well, watch your ass.

The Softest Dudes in New York Baseball

(Note: The latest in our weekly column on the Knicks appears immediately below.)

Before we get going this morning I’d like to address a comment made about the article last week. Essentially, the reader complained that my list of shit-talkers only included players from the last ten years and could therefore not be labeled an all-time list. This is a fair-point and I apologize for mislabeling the list. I’m only 23.

However, whatever twirp anonymously decided to rudely sound off about my Rickey blurb needs to check himself. Be careful before you get sarcastic with Steamin’ Mikey Lehman.

I love the rest of you.

Now, the only way to appropriately follow up the biggest shit-talkers in recent Mets history would be to make a list of the softest dudes in New York baseball. Enjoy:

Right Field: Paul O'Neill

Ultimate warrior? More like the ultimate crybaby. Can anybody remember one time a strike was called on this guy and he didn’t carry on like a spoiled 9-year-old for 15 minutes aftewards?

I don’t know about you, but when I see that pathetic, quivering lip, constipated, why-me face, it doesn’t really conjure up images of the classic American tough-guy.

And if I hear one more Yankee fan use the words Paul O’Neill and Hall of Fame in the same sentence I might make that same face. What hall are we talking about here, guys? The hall of mediocrity?

Center Field: Bernie Williams

Bernie Williams might be the softest dude I have ever seen in my entire life. He’s probably the the last guy I’d want sticking up for me in a baseball brawl. Not to mention he might be the least exciting athlete in professional sports.

Can anybody remember one time they didn’t find themselves nodding off and drooling on their T-shirt during a Bernie at-bat? Anybody? Anybody? Thought so.

Left Field: David Justice

A cool name is about the only thing this herb had going for him. His cue ball head and choppy swing didn’t last long in New York. Even Yankee fans hated this guy.

First Base: Jason Giambi

It’s too bad Giambi made this list because only a few years back in Oakland he might have been one of the biggest bad asses in the game.

Then he went corporate, signed the fat contract with the Yankees, shaved the goatee, combed the hair, got busted for steroids, and has pretty much become the most pitiful guy in the game. Maybe he could’ve gotten rid of the greasy male stripper look while he was at it.

Giambi probably still asks George Steinbrenner if he’s allowed to use the bathroom every time he takes a dump in the clubhouse.

Second Base: Chuck Knoblauch

Wait, can somebody remind me what happened here? After ten years in the big leagues (and a lifetime of playing the game before that) the guy forgets how to throw a baseball? You can’t be serious.

One day Knoblauch woke up, literally started throwing like my 86-year-old grandmother, and spent the rest of the season moping around the diamond hanging his head. The Yankees then start encouraging fans to get behind the guy, support him, and help him get through this difficult time.

So let me get this straight. Some second baseman making $8 million can’t throw the ball 50 feet and I’m supposed to feel bad for him? How about people with real problems? Dude should not be allowed near a baseball stadium for the rest of his life.

Shortstop: Derek Jeter

Be sure to pick up DJ’s new cologne, Driven, in stores now.

Third Base: Alex Rodriguez

Not until Alex Rodriguez brought his metrosexual act to the Bronx did New Yorkers really learn the meaning of soft.

A-Rod’s insecurities and shortcomings have been so eagerly dissected over the past three seasons that I feel bad even going after the guy. It must be because he’s so good-looking.

Catcher: Jorge Posada (apologies Jimmy Leyritz)

Has anybody noticed that when Jorge gets a hit the scoreboard at Yankee Stadium reads “Hip Hip Jorge!” How has this not been the butt-end of a thousand jokes since the guy was called up in 1996? Also, while we’re at it, go check out his picture under the ESPN.com players section. God that’s hilarious.

SP: Carl Pavano

There are a lot of Yankee pitchers I have hated over the years and, to be honest, I don’t really give a shit about Pavano. But I had to stick to the theme of this list and this guy is soft. Really soft. If we’re talking physically, Pavano might be as brittle than anybody in history. Although maybe we should idolize him - $40 mil to do nothing. He scored himself a pretty sweet deal.

RP: Mariano Rivera

His numbers are obviously very strong, but I still don’t understand how this guy has been so successful with only one pitch. Nonetheless, he's skinny and sickly looking, and I’d bet my sister that A.F.O.M.G could break Mariano in half.

Enjoy the weekend, everybody.

- Steamin' Mikey Lehman

(Note: The images above appear courtesy of mlb.com)

Section 423: 10 Things to Do in Denver When You're Thugged Out

(Note: Steamin' Mikey Lehman will be in with a piece later in the day today.)

1. Appearring on Lala "Anthony's" XM Radio show.
2. Host a charity softball game at Mile High followed by a Lloyd Banks concert.
3. Skipping practice to buy 2008 Yukons.
4. Snowmobile racing for jewelry.
5. Slipping 151 into Earl Boykins Diet Dr. Pepper on the team bus.
6. Hiding your weed in Edujardo Najera's bag on road trips.
7. Catching head in a new 2008 Yukon from Kiki Vandeweghe's daughter.
8. Opening a sports bar with a sunday gospel brunch.
9. Dropping a mixtape with Rick Ross called "Snow Men."
10. Shopping for matching elbow sleeves.

What a week at the Garden, and how fitting, that during the year long celebration of the 50 Greatest Moments @ The World's Most Depressing Arena, we should be so lucky to add three more.

Things kicked off earlier in the week with the Denver B.A.I. Nugetts, and what will forever remembered for Mike Breen's call of, "And down goes Mardy Collins."

First off, 'Melo is a bitch, and Nate is a thug and scrapped his way out of my dog house. Melo threw what had to be the definition of an "NBA" punch, and then retreated back to his bench and hid behind some Alex English looking dude in a suit. Nate The Great on the other hand was deep into celebrity row throwing punches like a rabbit.

While the fight is not as historic as Chris Childs punching Kobe in the face, or both playoff fights vs the Heat (PJ Brown is a Nazi), it does signify a new era in New York, or rather the return of an old era. There is a fire lit in the hearts of these Knick warriors. A sense of pride and dignity swept the Garden, despite Jared "Band Aid, Brace face" Jeffries tripping all over himself...what a trainwreck.

The second memorable moment of the week came on a three-second, two-dribble highlight that will stand the test of time. The Knicks were having their way with one of the league's best teams in the Jizzaz when they of course fell apart on several Daren Williams rainbow threes. Not only am I surprised that this dude is even in the league, you should have seen my jaw as it sat wide open in wonderment.

But then, the basketball gods finally blessed the prodigal son, and Starbury shined bright once again. The buzz was back. Overtime wins at home are the stuff of legend, while losses rip at the soul and birth demons. It was another solid game for David Lee... this kid is really letting the world know that he is the truth.

Last but not least, Wednesday night's classic with those pesky Bobcats. An athletic and young team, the Charlotte squad put up a better fight than expected.

Once again, at the end of regulation, the team stands around and watches Crawford. He always starts his drives too late in the countdown, and ends up settling for a jacked up 18-footer off a deep crossover.

It's weak, predictable, and ineffective. At least Marbury, in addition to jacking 18 footers, can get in the lane and create something for those around him. Crawford is the abyss.

But with one tenth of a second left, after showing the footage that created the 'Trent Tucker' rule, lightening would strike on the Truth David Lee, and his magical tip gave the Knicks their second overtime victory in as many games.

It just worked, and it felt so good. Losing at home to Charlotte would have been a horrible feeling. The Garden breathed a collective sigh of relief as the orange and blue chalked up another much need victory.

So it's Christmas time, and the Knicks gave their hundreds of loyal fans 3 extra special gifts on the early side of the holiday. These are the moments we tell our children, and our grandchildren.

These Knicks are the Children of Men. The time is now.

- Chris & Mase

(Note: The images that appear in this article appear courtesy of chieftan.com and nba.com.)

YouTube's Finest

YouTube. Kind of a big deal right now. Its innovator just got paid. Its users just got named Time’s People of the Year. Big things are happening over there.

Me, my experience with YouTube is kind of limited. Friends send me links from time to time. If I’ve got nothing to do at work I may search for videos from my favorite bands or comedians. That’s been about it.

But not today. See, this little site we run here, we gotta have something up for you every day. On a day like today, that presents me, the writer, with two options: write perhaps our 84th piece on Barry Zito, or use my imagination.

Really, the Zito thing’s been done. That doesn’t mean we won’t have more content on him. At some point he’ll either sign with the Mets or he won’t, and when that day comes we’ll either celebrate or we’ll mourn.

In the meantime though, I can’t really offer you anything on the Zito sweepstakes that you didn’t read in the papers this morning. Or here, I can sum up my feelings on Zito thusly: I want him on the team next year. Next?

So back to YouTube. I had a chance to give the online video resource the once over yesterday, and it seems some of you wacky Mets fans out there got to this whole YouTube thing before I did.

There’s no way to do justice to the entire canon of Mets videos out there. However, as far as I can tell (and I base this on about 30 minutes of YouTube exposure yesterday evening, so forgive me if I’m leaving anything out), Mets videos fall into one of the following five categories, which I’ll categorize here with an example of each.

1. The ‘Mets Do Something Good, and Nothing Captures the Moment Like a Cellphone’ Video.

Clinching, for example, or someone hitting a home run. These videos are meant to bring you back to a particular point in time, and by god if they’re not good at doing just that.



Honestly, I’m a sucker for this kind of thing, and videos such as the one above are right in my wheelhouse. They give me goosebumps every time.

To those who produce videos such as this and have the wherewithal to post them on YouTube, cheers. As we will see, it only goes downhill from here.

2. The ‘I’m Kind of a Psychotic in My Mets Appreciation, and I’m Going to Prove it to You’ Video.



Look at that video. What the eff is going on there? I really hope this male cheerleader isn’t part of our audience. If he is, I’d like to talk to him. Find out what was going through his mind when he agreed to let somebody film him doing this routine.

The comment by “deedub24” really captures it all, so let’s turn it over to him (I won’t correct for spelling, it adds too much): “that's one of THE corniest videos i have EVER seen. please don't ever do this again. you're a disgrace to Mets fans everywhere. i hope a Yankee or Brave fan doesn't see this shit cuz we as Mets' fans will never hear the end of it."

From your lips to god's ears, deedub.

3. The ‘Death Metal Gets Me Really Fucking Pumped, and So Do the Mets’ Video.



Remember Papa Roach? “Brod615” sure does! Set to the backdrop of a 6-year old song, the above clip from Brod615 (Talisman?) captures the essence of the death metal variety Mets clip.

The idea here is to inspire. In fairness, these videos do not always feature death metal, but a shockingly high percentage do. Why death metal? Because sometimes steroids, Red Bull, and coke just aren't enough.

4. The “Wow, the Mets Just Found a Way to Rip My Heart Out of My Chest, Here’s How I’m Handling It” Video.

Unfortunately, these are far too numerous.



What do you expect? This team, love it though we do, hasn't always been good to us. There have been some dark moments, and unfortunately enough, one of those moments occurred in the post-YouTube world. Hence the numerous videos of people in a drunken rage, crying their eyes out, paralyzed by their emotional pain, etc.

Sigh. At least these two had a sense of humor about it.

5. The ‘Holy Shit, Did Endy Just Catch That?’ Video.

I couldn’t leave you on a sour note.



Is this a “Mets Do Something Good, and I Was There” by another name? Yes. I concede that. Whatever. Watch it and be happy.

(Note: If this last video won't play, you can watch it here.)

- A.F.O.M.G.

(Note: The picture above appears courtesy of mlb.com)

Why Poker is Definitely Not a Sport

These last couple of nights have been high stress mode for the Sip. On Sunday, the Giants lost and my fantasy team let me down like none other (Read: Marc Bulger, Bears D, Tatum Bell) in some favorable matchups.

Last night I had Carson Palmer playing against the Colts.

You see where I am going. Sunday and Monday were long, sleepless nights. I found myself, like many other nights, watching replays of the World Series of Poker.

Poker to me may be the biggest paradox in my life.

I love to play poker. I love the gambling and the strategy.

I actually love to watch poker. I think it makes for pretty good television. It is something that I can relate to and can judge and potentially learn from.

But I actually HATE poker.

I hate poker because poker has replaced Star Wars, magic cards, dungeons and dragons and science as the thing that all nerds do. I find the type of people that congregate at casinos and appear on ESPN to be despicably corny. But still I want to beat them.

Poker players call poker a sport. I think that is about the dumbest thing in the world. It is a sport to them because they couldn't play baseball or football.

Here are a few reasons why Poker is not a sport.

1. "I'm playing well, right?"

The famous words of this year's WSOP champion, Jamie Gold, at the final table (The Final 9 players of over 8,000).

Here was a guy that was steamrolling through the largest poker tournament ever, and yet he was so insecure of himself and his abilities that he had to ask his mentor, poker legend Johnny Chan, if he was playing well.

Imagine Dwyane Wade going for 50 in the finals, and then asking Pat Riley if he is playing well, and being truly curious.

2. The co-ed factor.

Name a sport where men and women compete against each other. The only one that comes to mind is mixed doubles in tennis, and tennnis players view that as more of an exhibition.

First, let me say that I support women's atheltics. I am in many ways pro Title IX and think it is great when women take interest in sports.

So I don't mean this in any kind of pejorative way, but sports, by their nature, are dominated by men. As far as I can tell there's nothing that can change the fact that men are physically more powerful, which makes them better athletes.

I'm not trying to offend anyone by saying th