Assume 'the Position,' Hoosier Fans

You know what to do.

Batten down the hatches ... get the family out of the house ... get your shotgun ... load up on reasonably priced Viceroy's ... drink yourself numb ... grab your fucking trumpet ... and if you've got a pistol lying around, grab that too. (You don't have to holster it ... just make sure it's nearby.)

This isn't a drill. I repeat: this is NOT a drill. We just don't know what's coming next. I wish we did ... but we don't. We don't. Go ahead and expect the worst, though. And make sure you're goddamn ready. Make sure you're in position.

Me? I'm already there. Been there all day. So fuck you
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This probably won't end well.

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Meet the Pagoda

...................[Reprinted from "The Silent Pagoda" on IndyCar.com]

Welcome to the Silent Pagoda ... the single most ill-informed, inexperienced, decidedly majestic racing blog on the planet. To be honest, it's destined to be embraced by beatniks and drunkards alike.

But probably not overly serious IndyCar fans. Because if you're looking for technical, constructive, factual information ... this isn't the place for you. It's just not. There's no "technical" racing analysis here. There's nothing even close to it, actually. Nor will there be. Partly because we wouldn't even know how, but mainly because such staunch doucheness seriousness goes against everything we stand for.

And if you don't know what the Pagoda stands for by now, I don't know what to tell you. I'm not saying you'll never get it. But I'm not not saying it either.

Let's get to your inevitable questions.

Is this a joke?

No.

Then what are you doing here?

As was explained to us, we're the liaison between the IndyCar Series and the 302 million other kind-hearted Americans who don't religiously follow open-wheel racing. We speak their language, frankly. And we’re here to guide them through a full season of open-wheel racing. We’re their selfless IndyCar Sherpas, so to speak.

We're also here to continuously denounce Dario Franchitti, retaliatory arson, and anyone who feels that Danica talks like a dude.

So what does all that mean?

In short, it means we’re going to cover the IndyCar series much like a 6-year-old might cover an NBA game: Yeah … the on-court action is fun. But you know what? That gorilla repelling down from the rafters is pretty fucking sweet too. I don’t see Rick Bucher talking about THAT.

The Pagoda will always recognize the splendor of the repelling gorillas, so to speak. Because that’s what winners do.

Do you have any journalistic experience?

If by "journalistic experience" you mean "writing snarky and bourbon-fueled sports-related tirades that may or may not be lucid" ... yes. We do. But on the journalistic ladder, we're one rung below a Hardee's coupon. And one rung above Jack Arute's blog.

(And so it begins. The blood feud. Go to hell, Arute.)

Do you Pagoda people even watch the IndyCar Series?

Some of us do. Some watch more than others. Some don't watch at all.

Personally speaking, I first started watching the races last year — during my contentious 14-week tryout with the IRL. My summer of IndyCar went as follows: (1) watch race; (2) write something profound — some might say Hemingway-ian — about race; (3) have Brian Barnhart scoff at me and otherwise voice how incredibly unimpressed he was; and, (4) repeat.

The point is, I learned a great deal about the sport last year. Most notably, I learned that Tony Kanaan is one of the six most badass humans on Earth. (I mean, it's only a matter of time before he unloads automatic weaponry at another driver's wheels during a restart. He's just that guy. Unimaginably reckless and hard-core.) And realistically, until some other driver opts to snort a fifth of ethanol while thrashing an opponent's car with a severed tree limb ... Kanaan will continue to wear the Crown as the League's preeminent badass. That I know.

Beyond that, I know very little about the IndyCar Series.

What are your goals with this blog?

First and foremost, the Pagoda strives to come across as blindingly self-important. We want into that upper echelon of pretentious, awesomely cocksure writers (see: Edgar Allen Poe; Mike Lupica; whoever wrote the Dead Sea Scrolls; William Faulkner; and Jose Canseco).

Also, we want to portray the fact that watching the IndyCar Series can be immensely awesome — even for those unfamiliar with the sport — provided that you give it a chance ... that you know what to look for. Our goal, obviously, is to point you in the right direction.

(And just so we’re clear here, “the right direction” most often means “Tony Kanaan’s jaw-dropping insanity.” Not always, mind you. But usually. The man bounces through traffic like a meth’d-out proton. It’s highly compelling theater, really.)

Quickly, here are a few more goals currently being pursued*:

(1) Destroy Jack Arute;

(2) Secure a fully-loaded Honda Ridgeline for the Pagoda’s personal use — the kind used by the Delphi Safety Team — which comes with 18 fire extinguishers, fender-mounted shovels, and the ability to go 170 mph;

(3) Continuously explore the vast magnificence of Willy T. Ribbs;

(4) Have Curt Cavin physically threaten us;

(5) Obtain recognition from Pulitzer committee;

(6) Make it known that we accept any and all forms of tomfoolery, bribes;

(7) Keep Marco Andretti away from our women folk;

(8) Pit Roger Penske against an adult puma in a battle to the death ... watch as overmatched puma gets quickly subdued by man's raw power and superior cunning; and,

(9) Get Malcolm Jamal Warner onto the Pagoda staff.

(*This list is subject to change.)

Why "The Silent Pagoda?" What's with that? What are you, a Taiwanese playwright?

Well, actually ... [giving the Jedi "move-along" gesture] ... the title of this blog is of no concern to you, friend. You have other, more off-topic questions to ask.

I have an off-topic question to ask: who was the better 1980’s-era single dad … Philip Drummond or Edward Stratton III?

Stratton, no doubt. He had a train running through his living room. A FUCKING TRAIN, I tell you!!! That’s the American dream right there. That man got it. He just got it.

Finally we agree on something. Maybe there’s hope for you yet.

Thanks. And that really wasn’t a question.

Can I go now?

Please.



[Roy Hobbson]

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A New Mid Major

Rome has burned. John C. Holmes needs Viagra. St. Elmo's has an "All You Can Eat" buffet and is serving food under a sneeze guard. Winston Churchill has begun to stutter. The most historically significant collegiate athletic conference has become little more than a bloated and charmless version of the MAC. The Big Ten has become an embarrassment and a national laughingstock. I don't know who is to blame, but the evidence is now undeniable. The slide is occurring in every sport, at every school, and it has to stop.

The last week provided yet another avalanche of feces to support this assertion. The last two Big Ten teams in the tournament went down like Glass Joe in Tyson's Punchout. Playing the role of the Polish in World War II were the Michigan State Spartans who were destroyed by a school that gives diplomas printed with finger paint on construction paper. On the other side of the bracket were the Wisconsin Badgers who were boatraced by a school so small that they took the entire student body on a field trip to the Elite Eight. And to cap off this turdcicle of a week was the indignity offered to the conference's preeminent basketball program. Indiana offered its head coach position to a 37 year old midwesterner who coaches at a school that hadn't won a conference title since 1941 and he turned it down. Why write for Sports Illustrated when I can track high school hoops at the Churabusco Chronicle sayeth Tony Bennett?

These embarrassments are just the latest in a long line. How about the Big Ten in bowl games? Just a guess, but I would bet that the entire AP Top 10 would have to be shipped to Iraq before Ohio State gets asked back to the BCS Championship. The last two Buckeye performances were reminiscent of the game scenes in 'Lucas'. Illinois played the part of Michael Spinks to USC's Mike Tyson. Purdue for their part held serve by beating Central Frickin' Michigan on a last second field goal. Michigan redeemed their pathetic season by outlasting a Florida team that looked as if they had spent the last week binge drinking and watching Sponge Bob to prepare for a team that lost to a Division II opponent named after a mountain range. Penn State has a coach that literally still draws up plays in the dirt. And we need to stop the OSU/Michigan is the "best rivalry in sports" talk. It is now an annual play-in game for an eventual USC/SEC asswhipping.

And doesn't the Big Ten have to win someday for it to be called the ACC/Big Ten Challenge? How about less prominent sports like Women's Basketball? Well conference champ Purdue played host to UConn in January, trailed 50-14 at half and lost by 58 points. No Big Ten team ended the season ranked in the Top 25. Baseball? The MAC and the Valley have been better for a long time. But hey, we've still got Wrestling.

The Big Ten is in a sad state indeed. You think Notre Dame will want to join? Judging by their recent performance, they'd fit right in.

Roll Tide, Excuse Me...Go Hoosiers

Sadly, this is what IU basketball has become. A proud program once looked upon by many as the creme de la creme of it's respective sport. Now, well just a memory. Time to come to grips with it people.

There are so many parallels between the decline in Alabama's football program and Indiana's basketball outfit:

• Legendary Coach: Bear Bryant v. Bobby Knight
• Conference Championships: 25 v. 20
• National Championships: 7 (Not counting pre-Bear) v. 5
• Most Recent Championship: 1992 (Yes, Jay Barker has a title) v. 1993 (Damn you A. Hendo's knee)
• Conf. Titles Since Nat'l Relevancy (1992/1993): 1 v. 1 (IU shared it in 2002)
• Ravenous, Unrealistic Fanbases

I think that about covers it. Both of these programs are, in relation to their own history, grossly underperforming. At least in Alabama's case they've got someone righting the ship in Nick Saban. Even though he's one of the most arrogant pr--ks out there you get the feeling he'll have Bama back contending in the SEC. Combine that with the fact they're always going to be in the black financially due to it major revenue sport always selling out home games and there's reason for Bama fans to be optimistic.

In IU's case things are much more dire. If reports are accurate, we just got rebuffed by a 2nd year coach living in Pullman, WA. Think about that for a second.....ok, now put your head in a vice and tell your nearest family member to "TURN"! No, anesthesia kiddies.

If Indiana were still such an elite program Tony Bennett and his kind come running. The better question is how in the hell does IU go after a guy like Bennett without knowing he's going to take the job? You just can't let yourselves be made a mockery of when said candidate turns around and says, "nah, thanks but I think I'll just enjoy the Boomtown that is Pullman. If you're Iowa or Missouri, sure you can handle the embarrassment. But, not when you're one of the blue bloods of college basketball.

Where does IU turn? Well, when you swing and miss like this there aren't a lot of places to turn. Pitino, Calipari, Pearl, Matta etc. aka the pipe dream candidates were probably never going to consider IU anyway. Surely, these guys will not let themselves look like Dan Quayleesque fallback plan/2nd fiddle types. So, IU is left with other up and comers (PAGING ANTHONY GRANT) or put-out-to-pasture types like Mike Montgomery. Left with that choice, please get the younger guy.

Has the sky fallen? No, not completely. But whatever happens, one thing is clear, Indiana isn't the brand it used to be.

Just Say No to Mike Montgomery

Please God -- No. (Andy Katz sneaks this little nugget in the middle of his Tony Bennett speculation but -- trust me -- it's there, it's real, and it stinks mightily.)
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The Bruce is Loose!

The McMuffin inventor dies (eye-gougingly sad) ... and then this Bruce Pearl video emerges (unspeakably awesome).

Such is the circle of life. So much heartbreak in this world. And yet, if you wait long enough ... so much beauty.

God bless America.

More videos from the "ryanparkersongs's channel" channel at Heavy.com

A Sad Day

It's raining today because the world is crying. "He was very partial to eggs Benedict," we learn. Say no more. Say no more.

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Godspeed, Herb.

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Sweet 16 Picks

A week ago, free money lay strewn across lawns, overpasses and bong-ridden spring break hotel rooms (8-2 last week). This week is no different. The first two rounds of the tourney you play selectively. From here on out, you play every game on the board. Much like the spring break trips of the past, now is not the time to say, "Maybe I'll take tonight off and get back on the Natty Light/opium highway tomorrow." No. It's time to power through.

THE DOGS BE A BARKIN'

Xavier (+1) You're kidding me, right? Sure, West Virginia may be the hottest team in the country the last two weeks, but Xavier's defensive intensity and ability to hit FT's will get it done in the last 5 minutes.

Louisville (+3) Tennessee's modus operandi is to run people off the court with superior athleticism coupled with forcing turnovers. The problem in this game is that L'ville has the horses to run with the Vols (while Padgett and Palacios inside should exploit the Vols weak post defense).

Louisville over (145') Up and down game for sure. If you don't think this game is at least in the 70s, then you probably also believe Pol Pot was a regular humanitarian. Easiest pick of the day here.

Washington St. (+8') Tough game to call, but there's absolutely no way Washington St. is going to allow UNC to run rampant with their fast break game. UNC wins this one because they're just enormously deep (I feel uncomfortable typing that for some reason). It's all a matter of how the FT's go at the end for the cover. You gotta play it though. It's Thursday night for godsake. What else are you going to do?

Western Kentucky (+12) UCLA has played a ton of relatively close games the last two weeks and they're just not the type of team that consistently blows people out. Their style just doesn't lend itself to it. Plus, any time you can get double digit points in a S16 game, you've got to take it. Like Wash St., though, the Hilltoppers stand no real chance of winning. But I really like them losing by 9.

Put a Cecil on each and check back tomorrow after you go at least 5-1.
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The Pearl Makes His Move

Whaaaaaaadup, Indiana?! Mmmmmmm, GODdamn you got a fine ass! Give The Pearl some pound, sweet tits. There you go. Niiiiiiice!!!

Listen here, sweetie ... The Pearl has a question to ask of you. Is there a giant mirror in Assembly Hall? Why do I ask, you say? That's easy, baby. 'Cause The Pearl can see himself in there. .[starts combing hair suavely]. The Pearl sees himself in there stalking the sidelines -- with or without a shirt ... your call -- and generally making love to winning.

Here's The Pearl's number, darling.. [hands over business card ... seductively mouths the words "call me" while holding his crotch]. Remember: The Pearl is hung like a Sudanese pack mule. If you think you can handle the girth and power, come get some.

Pearl out. Ciao.

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Walsh Out ... Bird In

Leaving: The man who built the Pacers into a formidable power.


Staying: The man who hired Lil' Ronnie as the team's PR director.



Forecast for the next 12 years: Torrential shitstorms (with mixed felony charges and gusting irrelevancy).

More on this later.
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Friend or Foe: Weekend Roundup

IU/Arkansas game: Listen, I've had colon surgery before. A total nightmare, really. At some point -- after I've made peace with the horrifying ordeal -- maybe I'll be comfortable discussing it. In the meantime, just know that I had a morphine pump stitched into my ass and I couldn't walk for three days. Again, nightmare. Of course, they told me this going in; I knew exactly what I was in for. The point is, the IU/Arkansas game -- compared to having my lower intestine essentially sand-blasted -- was more painful, more predictable, and more "just-shove-the-narcotics-down-my-throat-and-leave-me-be." In fact, I don't want to talk about it right now. I'm not ready. Foe.

West Virginia: You've done the Lord's work, Mountaineers. You've vanquished Evil from this world. You're to be commended. Friend

Bill Raftery: So help me God, he could commentate a Congressional filibuster and make it six different types of awesome. Plus, any person who glorifies a fellow coach as "a good man to know after hours" -- obviously in reference to said coach's gargantuan gin gimlet cravings -- is going to be well-received. (See 2nd half of Butler game.) Friend, in perpetuity.

Olive Garden: Nobody trudges through your doors for world-class shrimp scampi. Rather, we go there for an easy, reasonably priced, family-friendly meal that takes 23 minutes, start to finish. You got that? And at 4:35 PM, that number should drop to 18 minutes. Tops. Except it didn't. On Saturday, we waited for 25 minutes to just get seated. So I'm forced to ask: what the holy f--k is going on with you?!?! Nobody should ever have to wait at Olive Garden. Nobody! And yet, we stood in your goddamn foyer for 25 excruciating minutes ... me, my wife, and our fantastically amped-up 2 year old. That's the kind of shit that makes one re-evaluate one's life path. Foe. Go to hell, Olive Garden.

Pacers: I have no idea who/when/if they played this weekend. Nor do I have the desire to even check. Damn them for this stage-4 apathy. Foe.

My NCAA Brackets: [shaking head sadly] If this tournament were an episode of "Star Trek," my brackets were the scholarly looking black pulmonologist from sick bay who nobody had ever seen before. He was destined for an early, inglorious death. Which is exactly what happened, to the surprise of no one. F--k you, Pitt. You too, Georgetown. RIP, doc. Foe.

Stephen Curry: I don't care if he looks like Cheryl Miller. I just don't. Because he plays like a 1958 Rick Mount ... if 1958 Rick Mount was actually a Predator attack drone. And his mom is Sheena Easton, I think. Friend.

Gas Prices: Really? You couldn't just inch up? You had to be a hero and "skyrocket?" Awesome. You know what else is awesome, you deplorable rapist? Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. And their 1:1 person-to-moped ratio. Because you keep this shit up, and that'll be us. This shining beacon of freedom and ass-kicking will be reduced to a nation of sorry-assed moped-riders. It's a slippery slope from there. The next thing we know, we're eating cobra meat and trying to lure wealthy European tourists here to jump-start our economy. Holy Jesus. Foe. A thousand times foe. I f--king hate you.

Easter Ham: Ahhh, the fair-haired child of the holiday meals. We're supposed to love them all equally ... but we don't. We don't. We favor you, ham. You and your golden-glazed, spiral-sliced goodness. You, sir, are the One. Friend. Always and forever.

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Not Our Fault

Sunday's tournament games came to a conclusion. I just returned to the family room from dinner. I turn on the TV and I am tuned into CBS. '60 Minutes' is airing an interview with David Beckham. The handsome Brit is explaining how soccer can finally take hold in the United States. I will sum this up as politely as I can. Ain't gonna' happen. Shouldn't happen. And it's not our fault. A year ago I wrote a column about the overt suckiness of Hockey. This is my anti-soccer diatribe. I know this will offend some. I will try to shy away from cheap shots and generalizations. But make no mistake, America will never love soccer, and the game and it's fans are to blame.

I will attempt to put this hatred in context. I am not some 'chest thumping', Charlie Daniels loving, America first, Ann Coulter devotee who hates all things foreign. One can discern from previous columns that I am on the left side of the political spectrum and I am an Internationalist in my world view. I went to the preeminent soccer high school in the state. I have lived in Bloomington and attended Indiana University, truly the gold standard of soccer schools. I am a short, white guy from an affluent suburb. I own a Toyota Sienna. In short, if there is any American who should be hardwired to like soccer it is me. But I don't, and it's not my fault. The sport sucks.

I am not going to take the easy route and call it a 'p---y' sport. It's not and as a person who enjoys tennis and recently hurt himself installing child safety locks on the cabinetry, I am hardly Chuck Yeager myself. I will also not claim that the sport lacks value. Little kids seem to love it, it's not particulary complicated, and if you have a 7 year old with ADHD and a Ding Dong addiction, it is one helluva parental coping mechanism. I also appreciate what it means to some of the poorest people in the world. One ball and a couple of sticks to mark a goal and you've got a game. It's a little tough to ask a Sri Lankan to splurge for a bag of Callaway's.

However, it is an insomnia cure-all that is beloved by hooligans and snobs. And the latter two points are the real rub. There are plenty of boring activities to watch. However, no needlepoint enthusiast has come up to me and told me that I am stupid or lack sophistication for not loving it too. Soccer fans are different.

A French official in a lengthy anti-American diatribe included a lack of interest in Soccer and other games not developed in the U.S. as one of a long list of grievances against America. I have been told by a bartender that I just don't 'understand' the many 'nuances'of the 'beautiful game'. Others have opined that Americans lack the 'patience' to appreciate a sport like soccer.

Bull---t. There are many things better in foreign countries than in America. Public transportation, produce, TV commercials, architecture, are just a few that come to mind. America has plenty of faults and I am more than willing to accept and admit to those. However, America leads the world in three distinct respects. We use ice cubes (Thanks for the 74 degree Cherry Coke in August, Madrid Miguel), understand the value of circumcision, and our sports are clearly better.

We reject soccer, because soccer is terrible to watch. Call us fat. Call us dumb. Call us what you will, but we are the best and most discriminating consumers on earth. We'll try anything and if it's good, we'll adopt it. American women wear Aussie Ugg boots and carry French Louis Vuitton handbags. The Japanese tell us that wrapping an eel in seaweed is delicious, we try it, and now sushi is sold at Wal-Mart. We have the best Mexican food in the world and most of the best Mexicans. We adopted the Beatles and we let Bjork through the gate at the Academy Awards. My fellow citizens of the world, we tried your soccer and it touched our national gag reflex.

Mr. Foreign Born Soccer Fan, don't call me 'stupid' for not liking soccer. In France, they throw bananas on the field when black players take to the pitch. In England, spectators are crushed routinely. I'm no Norman Einstein, but I'll put my IQ up against that contingent any day of the week. Italians think we lack patience. We're not the ones who fell a little behind economically and gave the car keys to Benito Moussolini. Have you ever driven in Rome? We're frickin' Job (he sat on a pile of ashes for a while) compared to those people. Soccer fans make the Artest/Pistons melee crowdvlook like a Brookings Institute symposium by contrast.

Mr. American Soccer Fan, don't act like you are William F. Buckley because you know that Tottingham finished 4th in the Premier League. Those in America who equate soccer fandom to sophistication are the same people who use the word 'paradigm' in meetings to impress people and hang out in Barnes and Noble to pick up chicks. And save me the "Baseball is low scoring too" line. Most soccer games I have watched end in a 0-0 tie (including the 94' World Cup Final). Baseball is like going to a rave with a hypoglycemic after snarfing down 12 chocolate bars and a Red Bull by comparison.

Soccer fans, enjoy it if you want. Our kids will play it and then watch something else when they grow up. Just tone down the '700 Club' evangelising routine. Soccer is a religion that we're not buying.

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Thank You, Butler

Thank you, Butler, for continuing to remind this country that Indiana is indeed a noble basketball state.* We're indebted to you.

Now ... please surgically disembowel Tennessee. We beg of you. Unleash the back-cuts, the flare screens, the hustle, the heady play, the defensive roatations, the gentlemanly triple-threat position, the ball fakes, the skip passes, the pride, the box-outs, the double screens, the floor burns, the team unity, and everything else people once associated with IU basketball. In other words, do what you do best.

The floor is yours.

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*Special thanks also to Purdue, E'Twan Moore, Matt Painter, Notre Dame, Luke Harangody, Wayman Tisdale (because I said so), Hickory High, Hinkle Fieldhouse, the dignified Oscar Robertson, and John Wooden's admirable ability to continuously elude death.

A big "f--k you" to IU, players not caring about IU, the Pacers, the IHSAA, Kelvin Sampson, Boomer, Bowser, Jamaal Tinsley, Rick Greenspan, Jermaine O'Neal, and anyone who has contributed to the gangster-ization and/or trivilaization of a once proud tradition. You can all go f--k yourselves.
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The Ship Be Sinkin'

Yes, Michael Ray ... it appears so. I'm not ready to comment fully on the state of IU basketball right now. A long discussion over several pints of Guinness with Messrs Hobbson and Barnes is in order to fully come to grips with where IU is at right now. Suffice it to say, it's not a good place.

I jumped on board with Anthony Grant back at the end of February when I believed IU could simply go the route of "righting the ship" with who appears to be the next great thing. Now, however, I believe IU is in full-blown "we're f--ked and better set this shit straight" mode. And I'm not confident that Grant, Miller, Bennett et al can definitely accomplish this.

We'll release our findings in short order, but I'm going into the Flipside staff meeting with the mindset IU has to go the route of "no-brainer/this guy cannot possibly f--k things up" mode.

I'm left with a short list. Some won't happen, but you get the idea of what I'm looking for. Nobody is going to be perfect, but these are our best bets: Pitino, Matta, Barnes, Pearl, Izzo and -- urgh -- Calipari. All of those guys would fix this scurvey-ridden ship we call Indiana basketball. Sure, some are going to have no interest for a variety of reasons, but from this list we must select.

I enjoy the forthcoming comments inviting me to have sex with myself. Thank you in advance. And go Butler. I'm riding with you now.
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I'm Done

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Goodnight, you underachieving, no-pride-having, selfish, "KS"-wearing, lazy, sulking, gutless, low-basketball-IQ, heartless lumps of protoplasmic goo.

(DJ and Basset exempted, of course.)

It was over when you refused to get on the floor for the first loose ball of the game. Could someone at least try to check Weems and maybe punch that hippy in the liver? I'm ashamed that some head-band-wearing Scott Pollard wanna-be is doing this to you. You should be too.

And while I'm at it, f--k the assholes who thought it would be a good idea to announce the search committee this week. Way to bend Dakich over without even giving him the common courtesy of a reach-around. And f--k Bob Kravitz, just because.

Commencing "Operation: Belligerent Whisky-Induced Violence."

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A Pox Upon You, Durhamites

Dismayed, we are. So very, very dismayed. So f--king close. Ugh.

/s/ America

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Non-Scientific Flipside Poll

Two-part question: (1) Has humanity peaked with this on-line NCAA Tourney feed? And (2) Are you even attempting to work today?

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% Chance: NCAA First Round Ed.

What's the percent chance that ...

... this divine technological advancement might signal the end of the United States economy as we know it? -- 93%

... at some point while filling out your brackets, you hastily demoted one of your Final Four teams to a first-round exit? -- 73%. A harrowing experience for sure.

... you picked Davidson to beat Gonzaga? -- 92%

... after you picked Davidson, you sat back, smiled, and thought to yourself, "I'm a f--king genius ... NOBODY'S going to pick Davidson"? -- 100%

... the problem with on-line bracketing is that you can't write cool shorthand shit like "G'Town," "L'Ville," and "Zona"? -- a-Unibomber-like-disdain-for-technology 100%

... you desperately WANTED to pick Cal State Fullerton over Wisconsin, but just couldn't muster the balls for it? -- an already pissed off 83%

... Billy Packer's opening-round morning ritual involves tediously reviewing game film and slaughtering ethnic drifters outside of his fancy hotel? -- 50%

... your wife will violently overreact and assume that her bracket is f--ked up beyond repair after her first projected upset goes awry? -- 10,947%. This is precisely why women make suspect gamblers.

... this is the year that the Seth Davis, during an otherwise mundane halftime analysis, goes all Lloyd Braun and mentally collapses? -- 68%. It will happen. Eventually. Nobody's THAT sane. Serenity now ... insanity later.

... Harold "The Show" Arceneaux had the skeletal structure of a mechanical cheetah? -- 83% (This fulfills our required Acreneaux reference for the year. Godspeed, "The Show." Until next year.)

... even to virgin ears, it takes about 12 seconds to realize that Bill Raftery deserves his shot as a Supreme Court Justice -- 100%. F--k you, Antonin Scalia. F--k. You. Leave. Bill deserves this.

... Ian Eagle legally changed his name when he was 5 years old (while he was in the throes of a "Fun Dip" mega-bender)? -- 98.45%.

... Ian Eagle's backup name was "Cougar McSteely"? -- 73% ("Lamborghini Jones" occupies the remaining 27%.)

... when you're at Moe & Johnny's tonight -- sitting amongst 600 frothing-at-the-mouth drunkards screaming in earnest for Winthrop to "get a stop!" -- you'll find yourself wishing that the NCAA basketball tourney was more like the BCS Championship format? -- negative-12,684%

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So It Begins...

Let's be honest with each other, you're either one of two people today: (1) the guy hiding in his office watching games on his computer while not even remotely approaching work in any capacity; or, (2) the guy who planned ahead, took the day off, and will be drunk by 3pm. Either way you're watching games and doing very little of anything else. Might as well make some cash in the process, right? Without further ado...

FREE MONEY

Xavier (-8') Georgia's spent. Toast. Finished. See Syracuse from a couple years back. This is the easiest bet for the entire tournament.
Kansas (-22) Kansas as a number one seed destroys their 1st round opponent.
Temple under (136) Sorry, no way these teams play into the 70s.
Duke over (154) Tons of easy looks for Duke and a bunch of Belmont garbage buckets in a pointless 2nd half.
Notre Dame (-6') Not this year George Mason. Too much Irish offense. Double digit win. Easy
USC (-3) Beasley and Walker will get their's, but no guard play will kill K-State.

NOT FREE MONEY, BUT CLOSE

Texas A&M (-1') Look for A&M to dominate inside with DeAndre Jordan and Co.
Arizona over (137') This has shootout written all over it. Look for AZ to fast break WV to death while simultaneously playing little to no defense.
Wisconsin under (137) Whisky isn't going to let the Titans score 60 and Whisky won't go for 80.
UNLV (+2) Yeah, I know I've been chalk heavy up until now. People are sleeping on the Rebels. I'll take the points against an overrated MAC team.

If you're out in Vegas, setup shop early at Mandalay's sportsbook. If not, hit a local bar and eat greasy food until your aorta explodes. Either way just filling out a bracket is no way to go through tourney season. And for those of you who've gone into gambling retirement (see Skeeter Barnes) welcome back. These winners should get your tourney bankroll going.

Anybody else got some more winners? I'm still trying to make up for that f--king stupid 2nd Half Super Bowl over bet.

IU vs. Arkansas: The First Salvo

Frankly, there's not nearly enough friendly fisticuffs-inducing banter between these two fan bases. F--k that.

Allow us.

According to Shaun Souers' investigative journalism, Arkansas folk -- comparatively speaking -- make Boilermakers seem like clean-cut, eloquent NASA physicists. Impossible, you say?

Decide for yourself.

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IU's Only Chance

Hoosier team meeting from Tuesday afternoon ... the one we're hoping took place:

Coach Dan Dakich: You don't want to play for me??? Fine. You don't want to listen to me??? So be it. I can't imagine HOW that could possibly be -- you know, seeing as those slimy little pigeon crotches just announced they're forming a search committee to find my f--king replacement. Whatever. F--k them. The point is, we'll see if someone else can get through to you punks. Coach McCallum ... they're all yours.

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[Coach McCallum stands up ... thunder is heard ... there is a blinding light]

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Assistant Coach Panthro McCallum: Listen here, you bastards!!!! So help me, Lion-O, I will eat your f--king faces off if you don't do what we tell you! Got it?!?! The time grows near, my minions. On Friday, we feast on the blood of slain Hogs! Who's with me?!?!?! HOOSIERS, hooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!
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[roaring approval from team]

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Good Friday = Magnificent Friday

Hats off to Christ for being resurrected this weekend and getting us all out of work on Friday.

Deftly done, Sir.

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Happy St. Patrick's Day

There's odd languages the world over, but this is just shy of Norwegian on the F--ked Up Dialect Scale. Enjoy the Guinness today, all.

Moooooooon River

Dr. Joseph Dolan: You know, it's a shame about Ed.
Fletch: Oh, it was. Yeah, it was really a shame. To go so suddenly like that.
Dr. Joseph Dolan: He was dying for years.
Fletch: Sure, but... the end was very... very sudden.
Dr. Joseph Dolan: He was in intensive care for eight weeks.
Fletch: Yeah, but I mean the very end, when he actually died. That was extremely sudden.

Pretty effectively sums up this IU season.

Not saying the Hoosiers deserve much more than an 8 seed after losing to Penn St. and Minnesota. Brutal draw, though. Just brutal. I'd really like to know when the last team from a power conference with 25 wins was this low of a seed. Anybody? How does a team (Wisconsin) go 28-4 in a supposed power conference, win the regular season title and conference tourney manage only a 3 seed? Maybe because the B10 is on par with the MEAC or Southland Conferences. One only has to look at the box scores from this weekend's tournament for proof of that.
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Tony! Toni! Tone!

Bruce Pearl would be great. I am intrigued by and would be happy with Anthony Grant. Sean Miller would be a solid choice. There are several men who could potentially be a great fit at Indiana University. However, I have my heart set on Tony Bennett of Washington State University. A great recruiter. A man of integrity. A mastermind. A motivator. A midwesterner. He is everything the Hoosier Nation could possibly ask for in a head coach and a representative.

Roy Hobbson gave personal testimony to the leadership and character of Anthony Grant. He made a compelling case. In my moment of shameless namedropping, I have crossed paths in varying degrees with members of the Bennett family and others closely associated with the man. It has been a while and I have no idea if he is interested in the job, but I have strong reason to believe that he would be ideal for the position.

Here are the few things that I do know...

-When his father was the Head Coach at Wisconsin and his sister was the Head Coach at Indiana, Tony was just out of the NBA and the third assistant on his father's staff. A relative told me "Tony will be better than us all." Dick Bennett had just led Wisconsin to the Final Four.

-Tony Bennett was personally responsible for finding and recruiting Devin Harris and Alando Tucker, the very players who placed Wisconsin as the dominant program in the Big Ten. I just threw up after writing that sentence.

-Tony Bennett's best friends on the Charlotte Hornets were Alonzo Mourning and Larry Johnson. Not significant, but that still kills me for some reason.

-His father was a brilliant strategist and tactician, but hated coaching during games. Tony stayed on the Wisconsin staff during Bo Ryan's first couple of seasons. A Bennett noted that "Tony loves film as much as my father, and game coaching as much as Bo." Dick Bennett's teams played good enough defense that they could keep Britney Spears away from a pack of Newports. Bo Ryan's teams treat Indiana like the cast of "The View" treats a box of Oreo's. That could be a lethal combination in Bloomington.

-Bob Knight has a high regard for the Bennett family and I would imagine that some of the old scars COULD heal if Tony Bennett were named the head coach. Maybe not with Knight himself, but partisan former players could be won over and put this drama to rest.

-I have been to Pullman Washington. He went 24-8 in one of the best conferences in the country. Getting a good basketball player to move to Pullman, is like getting a Memphis basketball player to take a 400 level class. I would bet he could get Indiana to 24-8 pretty quickly.

-The Bennett's have enormous respect for the tradition of Indiana basketball. Dick Bennett called his entire family with childlike anticipation the night before his first game in Assembly Hall. Kathi Bennett would routinely remind her players of the men who graced the floor they were practicing on. A big Davis/Sampson issue was the love shown to lesser places over Indiana. Anyone who would rather coach the Hawks does not belong in Bloomington.

In short, he combines the best attributes of all of the previous coaches without any of the baggage. He's as clean as Knight and is also a master tactician. He's as affable and religious (not that I care, but some do) as Davis. He coaches defense and recruits as well as Kelvin Sampson. If he would take the job, Tony Bennett would be ideal in Bloomington.
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Bennett '08.

Let's Get Started, Shall We...

Final 4 - North Carolina, UCLA, Memphis, West Virginia

National Champion - North Carolina (yes, out on a ledge, I know)

Notable Upsets

1. Butler over Tennessee - you think Butler isn't pissed right now? South Alabama, on the very edge of the bubble, gets to play in Birmingham? Really? I think this becomes a blessing in disguise, helping Butler become a Cinderella again and setting up the ultimate Hickory High v. South Bend Clay matchup in the second round.


2. West Virginia over Duke - Honestly, I don't even know if this is an upset. I don't think Duke is that great, I just think Krzyzewski is that great of a coach...preparing his team over the course of a 30-game season better than anyone. I see West Virginia with the best player, and enough size and depth to stay with Duke and beat them late.


3. St. Joseph's over Oklahoma - Good, fundamental, all around team...wildly underrated as an 11 seed


4. Drake over UConn - Drake is just SOLID...period.

Upsets I didn't have the balls to pick

1. Wisconsin over Georgetown - If there is a team suited to play and beat the Hoyas, it is Wisconsin....still can't pull the trigger though.


2. Drake over UCLA - Kevin Love....(this tied with BYU over UCLA)


3. Michigan State over Memphis - Memphis' defense takes out Neitzel and Suton which means good night Sparty.

Team with no business in the tourney

• Oregon - Lost by 8 to Oakland University on a neutral court (granted not far from OU's campus, but come on). Not sure how in this season with the 20-win teams on the outside, 18-13 gets Oregon in. On a neutral court, I believe firmly this team loses to all of the following - Dayton, VCU, Va Tech, Illinois State, and all the others on the "last out" list.

Talking Head Rants You Will Want to Stop Hearing by Tomorrow

• How does the Number 1 RPI conference only get four schools? Asked by (pick your ESPN ACC shill, plenty to choose from). Quick answer - because only four schools deserved it. Virginia Tech, I guess I'm insane on this, lost to every good time they played in non-conference. It's no crime they aren't in...sorry Billy Packer.


• "We should just have the best 64 teams with no automatic bids." Courtesy of Jay Bilas (whom I still think is the best studio guy out there) and the stereotypical grumpy old man, Bob Knight (another gem from Bobby at the beginning of conference tourney week on ESPN was his speech on how he hates conferernces tournaments...well timed, thanks ESPN). Sounds great Jay and Bobby...how do we do that? Bobby suggested "some sort of computerized solution." Perfect! So the problem is, apparently, college hoops isn't enough like college football. Count me in! And Jay, you may want to send a sympathy card to every school not in the BCS conferences...as basketball will be dead in those places if this approach is taken. Tell me, how many people would have had George Mason as "one of the 64 best" the year they went to the Final 4? Give me a break. For Christ sake - IF IT'S NOT BROKEN, DON'T FUCKING FIX IT!

Ranking the "Tournament Pool" variants

1. Good old-fashioned fill out the bracket and get points for each winner - It's an oldie but a goodie folks.


2. See above, double points for each upset picked - Fashionable as of late, but takes away from that perfect feeling you get when a big upset you saw coming happens (as you're incentivized to pick upsets and not just get every game right).


3. Auction teams and collect money for each round advanced - I have not participated in one of these yet but badly want in on one...and soon. Notify me IMMEDIATELY if you have a space open and do this. My two good buys here are West Virginia and Drake...

RIP IU

• Just zero shot....Arkansas has a 7-footer to put on DJ...they play a ball pressure defense...every possible variable that hurts this IU team Arkansas has....Dammit

Can't think of anything more to type...honestly won't sleep tonight. God, I love this tournament.

Flipside Forum

Sorry for the length of this email, but I have been on defcon 1 level of suicide watch since the Wisky game at home and Chief bending us over.

I felt like Hunter Thompson in his political diaries of Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail in 1972. Stallings is Richard Nixon. He could very well be the reason I might find myself holed up in a rented apartment half way across the country from my house, the fear setting in as I sit in my chair staring at the door with a 44 in my hand and a head full of mescaline. I mean Stallings? He is a PUke. Dakich is 10 times as sexy. The mere mention of Stallings and Greenspan's relationship sends me into convulsions.A bunch of young up and comers? Come on, we are freaking IU. I don't give a crap what every message board whore says. We are IU and only a few teams in the entire country can even say they are on par with us. Shaun Souers honestly put it as simply as possible- "We're HOOSIERS, goddamnit!" At first when I read his line I felt robbed that someone didn't say something more clever than that. You know what. He's right and hope one of you guys tell him thank you for saying the best possible thing to that bastard Sampson.

I am calling my shot right now. I have wanted Pearl ever since I saw his UW-Mil teams play Butler back in 2003. IU now has the chance to go get him. The last week and half could not have gone any better as far as getting him. I even sobered up and put that bottle of somas away for a weekend (well except for the 5 I ate last night after that game),The last week had this :Dakich looking lost and completely overmatched ( I actually feel sorry for him having his dream job humped upon him by that scumbag Sampson), IU collapsing, Tennessee losing a few times after the Memphis game. If Tn had run the tables after the Memphis win, then he becomes a Billy Donovan type and doesn't need to leave because he has built his own power. Pearl also knows IU, the tradition, has recruited the state, and obviously has coached here before. I believe Pearl to be an opportunist and he totally understands the importance of the IU job being open.

IF, a big if, Pearl loses before the elite 8 I think IU gets him. He is the only realistic outcome that would not be a roll of the dice. I would like a few other coaches, but Pearl is the right fit. He is 47, the system would absolutely wreak havoc in the offensively challenged B10, he is a great recruiter, he freaking hit on Erin Andrews, he is a Jew so we are covered on the minority part, and Illinois hates this guy.

I almost passed out thinking of Pearl getting IU level talent into his system. I am solidly in the camp that believes that IU has to get a known commodity. Most of the experienced coaches named are just trying to get raises or are not interested (Floyd, Pitino, Izzo, Barnes, etc..) I love Alford, but he had every chance in the world to get it done at Iowa and he was terrible there. Bennett, Brownell, and Miller are all very good candidates if they were there 2 years ago when we hired chief. Now is not the time to take a chance on a mid-major guy.

Sorry Roy, Grant is better than these three guys, but ultimately is inexperienced and it is a HUGE jump to go from VCU to IU. There is definitely a chance he becomes the next great one, but there is an equal chance that he follows the ridiculously long list of Mid-major stud coaches to fail at the highest level. However, Grant is the only guy besides Pearl that I would not jump off a cliff over. I like the way VCU plays, there is no question that Grant is a rising star, and Roy almost convinced me in his manifesto. The one big thing about Grant that I am not comfortable with would be his recruiting strategy. His ties are to the east coast and the south. I think he would sink most of his resources into those regions and only recruit Indiana marginally. He has also only been a head coach in college for 2 years. I don't think he is ready for the pressure cooker and future baggage of the IU program.

Pearl is worth whatever the cost. The only way I will take Grant is if Pearl signs a huge extension.

I still believe that we end up with Pearl barring the afore mentioned elite 8 or final 4 trip.

Good day sirs,

Dave in Phoenix

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As long as people keep suggesting "The Pearl," we'll continue to put up more and more damning photos. Try us.

(Not shown in the header picture: that girl's subsequent delivery of sextuplets a mere three weeks later. According to Reuters.com, The Pearl thrice impregnated her with that mere touching of the lower breast. And when The Pearl impregnates you once, you're guaranteed of at least twins. And there is no nine-month waiting period. It's usually a matter of days. The Pearl's seed is just that powerful.)

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WTF?

I'm going to abstain from commenting on yesterday's B10 tourney. Just so pathetic really. Instead watch the clip below. Not sure if this is legit or not, but if it is....holy f--king shit! I mean, (A) Tim, have your agent make the call -- or do you not have an agent? and (B) Awfully ballsy, Stephanie -- whoever you are -- to post that.



Please tell me this call fell on deaf ears. Good God. Tim Floyd? Please tell me IU is better than this.

Update: I think that call could be legit. I just used White Pages reverse lookup (yes, I realize I'm a douche, but I'm bored as hell) and the phone number comes up with an address in LA. Then, I did a White Pages search of Tim Floyd in Los Angeles and it comes up as the same address. Also, the audio sounds an awful lot like Floyd to me. Timmy might have some 'splainin' to do to the folks at USC.

Flipside Forum

Saw this posted somewhere. Lets fire up the server and start emailing Greenspan...nothing against Dakich:

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Assuming Rick Barnes will not leave for Indiana, who is the leading contender to become Head Hoosier?

We talked to Barnes, and he ain't going anywhere even though the rumor's circulating here. Write that in your stone tablets. The strongest rumor is that Indiana and Louisiana State are fighting over Virginia Commonwealth's Anthony Grant, the former 10-year assistant under Billy Donovan at Florida.

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Sad we have to fight LSU for him.

-Matt W.

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Just our luck. The ONE pro-Grant journalist out there is some kick-ass visionary who fancies himself "Mr. Bubble" ... and who also drops the occassional "ain't" in his analyses. This isn't exactly info from Thomas Friedman. Then again ...

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... f--k it. We'll take it.

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(And yes -- the picture up top is a computer-generated photo of what we think Mr. Bubble looks like. Which, ironically, is a lot like Chris Farley with a Samurai sword. Whatever. He's clearly not to be trifled with. And he's all kinds of awesome.)

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Who Really Cares?

Aside from the Big East Tourney, who really gives a shit about the power conference tournaments? Nobody. That's who. And the only reason we even like the Big East version is because we get copious amounts of Sir Bill Raftery. One can never have enough Raftery. Never. Moving Bilas out of the studio and alongside Bill is so thoroughly awesome that it trumps all else. Not to mention the games are played at The Garden, which always makes them seem more important and interesting.

I'm sure many have been to the Big Ten Tourney. Either in Chicago or Indy. It's insufferable. The games are in the 50s and 60s and about as compelling as a minor league harness-racing event. And who in their right goddamn mind wants to sit through the debacle that is the Thursday games? I'll tell you who: compulsive gamblers and homeless people. And that's it.

And today, we get a diet of shit games -- with OSU v. MSU as the only worthwhile game to watch. Things might perk up a little on Saturday, but we also have to welcome Billy F--king Packer to town. Which is like welcoming a SARS outbreak.

Never a good thing.

The worthwhile games and stories have already taken place this week. All the small schools' tournaments have already wrapped up. Maybe I'm being a bit harsh, but it's beyond obvious that these bigger tourneys are just money grabs by the respective conferences. Fine. I've got no problem with that. But if another one of these f--ks -- say Doug Gottleib or the intolerable bracketologist Dan or Joe whatever the f--k his name is Lunardi -- claim that a team's NCAA Tourney hopes rests on whether Florida St. can get by Clemson, I just might have to stab myself in the trachea.

Just play the games and wake me up Sunday at 5pm.

TSO: The Golf Outing Recap

There's no rhyme or reason to this. It's not even a real "recap," per se. It's the first 10 thoughts that popped into my brain after general coherency returned (and after the DT's thankfully subsided).

I apologize for nothing.

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(1) Do you know what "freedom" is? It's not having to say "sorry" after angrily heaving a full can of beer at a nearby saguaro because I three-putted an otherwise easy hole that would have netted me a $100 skin. Die, you f--king water-hoarding cactus. DIE!

(2) The secret of every "man trip" -- be it a bachelor party, a Vegas excursion, or the blessed golf outing -- is to avoid bringing "that guy." Because we all know "that guy," and we know what he brings to the table. And frankly, he can ruin a trip faster than you can say "felony charges."

Oddly enough, though, "that guy" -- who is usually brought by someone else -- is universally loved for the first few hours. Simply because he's bringing the noise. But soon thereafter, everyone wants to slit his douchey little throat. Why? Mainly because it becomes clear that "that guy" enjoys the following:

1. Starting fistfights with complete strangers;
2. Using copious amounts of hair gel and cocaine;
3. Making fun of those who cease drinking before sunrise;
4. Topping every story with one of his own; and,
5. Being hyper-competitive ... to the point of uncomfortableness.

The point is, we did NOT have a "that guy" with us.* And that's essentially why the trip scored a 99.8 out of a possible 100. (Minus 2/10ths of a point for failing to capture a havalina. These desert pigs are pretty f--king savvy, though. Next time.)
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(*As a relevant sidenote, we had a Purdue grad accompany us on the trip -- a Purdue grad most of us had never met. A friend of a friend, if you will. So heading into it, we just assumed that he was a Level 9 "That Guy" ... and we buckled up accordingly. However, he most certainly was not. And this changes everything. I mean, if Boilermakers can be exceedingly nice and cool and fun to hang out with, maybe I need to re-evaluate things. Maybe I've misjudged Al Qaeda folk too. Maybe wild boars DO in fact make fine house pets. And maybe "Indiana Beach" is like the south of France. What else have I missed the boat on? It's all so disorienting. Down is up ... East is West ... Boilermakers can be rather f--king awesome. This will take some time to digest. Moving on.)
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(3) There's a cartgirl in Scottsdale -- and I'm not saying where -- who looks exactly like Detlef Schrempf. Needless to say, we did NOT tip her the customary 200% that smoking hot cartgirls receive. We gave her more. Because she was the heart of that team! Her and Tank Thompson. God bless you, Detlef.

(4) The middle-aged spring break is far, far superior to the collegiate version. I've thought about this extensively. And I stand behind it. Because in college, you're simply finding a new, slightly different place to cut loose and be an idiot all day and night. In all honesty, it's like eating a bone-in fillet after 12 months of ribeyes and Porterhouses.

The middle-aged version, though, is much different. Much more majestic. For obvious reasons. In short, it's like a bone-in fillet after 12 grueling months of responsible Ramen noodles. It's a comparative thing, really.

(5) There's a cab driver in Scottsdale who thinks Peyton Manning is the most overrated athlete of our generation. He thought we were funny for arguing otherwise.

You know what else is funny, f--khead? Handsome Pete stuffing an open sack of Ricin underneath your passenger seat. We'll see if "full functioning use of your central nervous system" is overrated too.

(6) There are some incredibly white things in this world. Blindingly white things, actually. Things like Mormonism. And dental school. "Gray Brothers Cafeteria." Edie Brickell concerts. "Jenga" tournaments. And fantasy hockey leagues. Naples, Florida. Spelunking. Hank Haney. Emoticon usage. "Dockers" trousers. Competitive back-stroke events. And so forth.

Take whichever of those you feel is the MOST white and multiply it by about 85,000. Know what you get? You get a drunken, insanely heated, two-and-half hour discussion regarding a simple mathematics/ probabilities query. Which is what we had Monday night ... while on vacation ... when we clearly could have been shotgunning beers or bathing in peyote or pillaging various Valley hookers. (And just so we're clear here, by "insanely heated," I mean "on the very verge of fisticuffs." Real fisticuffs. I can't stress enough how much I wish I were kidding. I am not, though.)

I'd set forth the basis of the argument, but I'd run the risk of my keyboard melting into a bubbling heap. It's just that searingly white. All I know is that me and my supporters were right ... and the rest of you dumb motherf---kers are mathematically dysfunctional. Simple as that. And if you still think otherwise, you know where to find me. I said it before, I'll say it again: we can always just settle this like men.

(I'd also like to take this opportunity to point out that my main argumentative supporter was wearing a goddamn multi-colored sombrero.

Don't let that fool you, however. John Nash looked like a crazy bastard too.)

(7) Old Greatest Strip Club Song Ever: "Pour Some Sugar On Me." New Greatest Strip Club Song Ever: "Chain Hang Low." Sweet Jesus. It's just built for unprecedented, uninhibited lap-ocity. Clearly, it was composed with the sole intent to ruin as many marriages as possible (just as "I Won't Back Down" was composed with the sole intent to be played before every NBA Playoff game telecast). There's simply no doubt.

(And for the record ... Worst Strip Club Song Ever: "Battle Hymn of the Republic.")

(8) As we sat down to dinner Saturday night, a familiar face was seated next to us:

Kelvin. F--king. Sampson.

(In case you're at all interested, it marked the 38th time on the trip where Jesus was simply demanding that one of us get arrested.)
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We played it cool at first -- as cool as 10 wildly drunk, inherently obnoxious IU fans possibly could. But it most certainly didn't last long. Because to the casual observer, we must have looked like the "Time Bandits" crew nervously huddling together -- arms over necks -- figuring out what to do next. We quickly narrowed it down to the following:

1. Start singing the IU fight song;
2. Simply ask him to come sit with us for a moment -- "we had some questions";
3. Launch our "seafood tower" appetizer at his forehead;
4. Ask him if we could borrow $750,000; and,
5. Get up and -- one-by-one -- walk over to him and set our cell phones on his plate, "Rudy"-style.

The more amicable options got thrown out rather quickly. But not by our own doing. Sampson was just so f--king ... jovial. So carefree. He was drinking his $400 bottle of wine and yucking it up with Gregg Popovich and acting like he didn't just prison-rape the entire IU fanbase.

Un-f--king-acceptable.

Long story short, nothing came out of it ... except for Shaun Souers unleashing a mighty "We're HOOSIERS, goddamnit!" (which elicited a quick death-glare from Sampson). We never pulled the trigger on anything. Which was either very wise ... or very dumb. We haven't decided yet.
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(9) The post-big-night-out golf round is its own animal. A sluggish, wounded animal for sure ... the struggling-to-keep-up animal that quickly and easily gets picked off by large prey. Holy f--k.

Ours came Sunday morning ... roughly 48 minutes after we went to bed. So help me God, we shuffled into the pro shop smelling like a bar-room urinal -- a bar-room urinal mixed with poison and stale Camel Lights and unbrushed teeth. Certainly, nobody confused us for upstanding, non-hungover golfers. No f--king way. Not with our collective wobbly steps ... our sunglasses on ... our heads hung low ... and the fact that we were hoarsely whispering to complete (terrified) strangers if they knew where we could find some coffee.

The point is, there were no "skins" games that day. No "Nassaus." No gambling of any sort, actually. In fact, I'm fairly certain nobody even kept score. The main goal that day? To hit your shot and try to grab a quick 16-second nap ... regardless of where you were:

(10) You know it's a phenomenal trip when you start planning next year's outing on the plane ride home. Which is precisely what we did.

Next year, though, we're bagging us a havalina. Because frankly, it's the only feasible way the trip could ever get any better. Well played, gents.

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The Mets. Book It.

AL East- Boston Red Sox
AL Central- Detroit Tigers
AL West- L.A. Angels
AL WC- New York Yankees

AL Division Series- Tigers over Yankees/ Red Sox over Angels
ALCS- Tigers over Red Sox

NL East- New York Mets
NL Central- Milwaukee Brewers
NL West- L.A. Dodgers
NL WC- Arizona Diamondbacks

NL Division Series- Mets over Dodgers/ Brewers over Diamondbacks
NLCS- Mets over Brewers

World Series- Mets over Tigers 4-2

The Mets send Shea out in style. Sorry, no Cubs. Alright Hobbson fire away. Gotta have pitching Roy and the Cubbies don't have enough of it.

Thick D--k, Meet Mister Urinal Cake

Undoubtedly, some dip shit is gonna shell out 1000 bones for this piss-covered, piece of Colts memorabilia. Who really thinks to themselves, "you know I really would like to own an item that has been spackled by both Steve Emtman and Tarik Glenn's hoglegs"? This seems like a good idea? Buying a piece of stadium turf? I can see that. One of the aisle signs? Sure. But, a used urinal?

Does the value of this thing increase if there's piss remnant from a HOF'r like Marvin or Peyton? I really am not up on what determines the value of sports memorabilia, but I'd like to think that if Ron Stark saddled up to this merriment of porcelain throughout his career it would drastically increase in value. Or at least I would hope so. You think Marv or Peyton would sign a letter of authenticity confirming said usage? Hell, that might be worth even more than the pisser itself.

"I, Peyton Manning, did hereby use this urinal, Serial # 331228.09 from 1998 until it's retirement in 2008...."

I'll continue the bidding at $600. Going once...

With Nothing Better To Do...

Considering there's nothing happening in the world of sports, nothing good that is, and due to the fact I missed out on the f--king golf excursion this year, I decided to take in some local sport. Let's see: Enough Jaeger and wheat beer to kill a small horse? Check. Interesting nightlife alternatives exhausted? Check. In dire need of a sports fix? Big-time check.

One really doesn't know what to make of the Wok World Championships until you experience it. I have no doubt this will eventually make it's way stateside. Drunken stupor resulting from viewing a sporting event that involves cookery and pyrotechnics just has to. And because all hell is going to break loose in relation to IU basketball when Roy and Co. return to the Flipside offices, I've decided to get the week off to a light-hearted start. Enjoy.

Peace ... We're Out

The yearly Flipside Golf Outing commences today. It ends when one of us takes a swing at some uppity cartgirl ... which is, was, and always has been five days from now. Or, alternatively, "Tuesday."

It's what Jesus wants.

In the meantime -- before we head off to that majestic fantasy land known as the "sun-soaked, dangerously drunken, the-wives-aren't-coming golf trip" -- let us issue our temporary farewells:

F--k you, office hours. F--k you, traffic jams. F--k you, sobriety and functional coherency. F--k you 26-degree "wintery mix." F--k you, Indy Star. F--k you, general hygene. F--k you, blogsphere -- if that's even you're real name. F--k you, midwestern wildlife and your utter lack of coyotes at which to launch bottle rockets. F--k you, 12-minute Hot-Pocket-filled lunch breaks. F--k you, IU coaching search. F--k you, "super delegates." F--k you, perpetually overcast skies. F--k you, liver -- you will suffer dearly. F--k you, Lou Dobbs. F--k you, shaving. F--k you, soiled diapers. F--k you, Indiana State Legislature and your highly conservative anti-peyote laws. F--k you, shoveling. F--k you, conference calls, emails, and Westlaw. F--k you, rising cholesterol levels. And f--k you, March in Indiana.

Don't worry about us. We'll be just fine.

God bless the Golf Outing.

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Attention Mr. Kravitz:

From Jay Bilas' ESPN Blog (I say this without reservation, Bilas does the most even-handed, insightful college basketball analysis on the planet...he ALWAYS makes sense and never flies off the handle or play favorites - like I wish a certain lazy-eyed bald color man would stop doing)

"Pumping Coaches?: Remember when the media used to just report the news on a coaching search? If there was information as to what coaches were contacted for a job, or who were candidates on a school's list, the media would endeavor to report that. Then things degenerated into speculation with the use of the phrase "names expected to be mentioned", which was media code for "we don't have any real, hard information, but here are some names we think should be or could be candidates". Now some in the media are stumping for and pumping up candidates for open jobs. Assuming they are even qualified to do so, that is simply wrong, in my humble judgment. It is one thing to opine on the quality of a coach and the job he is doing, it is another to stump for that coach to be hired. The names being pumped have jobs, and if those coaches are asking for their names to be put out there (which happens), it is still wrong. Heck, if coaches were publicly pumping the media for jobs or to get canned, we would go wild over it. "

Deciding Who Should Cater the Indy Star Luncheon

Bob Kravitz: Alright, Hutch. We've been entrusted with a very important task. Let's buckle down here. We need a top-shelf caterer, and by God, we're going to get one.

Terry Hutchens: F--k yeah! I like food.

Kravitz: Of course you do. Now, did you prepare your list like I asked?

Hutchens: Yup. I've been up for 52 hours straight ... but f--k yeah. You ready? Here goes. I've narrowed down the logical possibilities to Bobby Flay, Qdoba, White Castle, Wolfgang Puck, the NASA cafeteria, Barbara Hershey, Blimpie, George Will, Penn Station, Johnny Drama, Cheesecake Factory --

Kravitz: -- whoa whoa whoa! What the hell, Hutch? Johnny Drama's not real!

Hutchens: Hell yeah he is. Real f--king awesome. Now shut up and let me finish. Where was I? Oh yeah ... Cheesecake Factory, my cousin Lester, Burger Chef, Burger King, the Knights Templar, Craig Stadler, Julia Childs, Dave Winfield, Donatos, --

Kravitz: -- easy there, Jesse Jackson. Let's think about this for a second. Dave Winfield? Dave "I'll Probably Steal Your Office Supplies" Winfield?!? What, did you have a cup of stupid this morning? Because I'm fairly certain that the Star won't hire a black caterer. And that sucks. Because that black guy who owns Rib King would be an extraordinary candidate. But, c'mon ... let's get real here. You're better than that, Hutch. Let's keep our game-faces on.

Hutchens: You're right. You're right. My bad. Winfield's out.

Kravitz: Splendid. Any more on your list?

Hutchens: Let's see ... oh yeah -- Lawrence Olivier, Steak-n-Shake, Andrew McCarthy, Emeril Lagasse, M.C.L., and of course -- we could always just buy a f--k-load of Chips Ahoy and set them out, which would be entirely awesome too.

Kravitz: Indeed it would. This is going to be tough. White Castle was my leading candidate heading into this, obviously ... but Bobby Flay would be pretty f--king delicious too. Jesus. You really think Flay would come here?

Hutchens: Hell f--king yeah he would! I mean, he never told me "no." You do the math.

Kravitz: Sweet. Alright. Let's go get Flay. Wait ... he's not black, is he?

Hutchens: No.

Kravitz: Perfect.

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OSU 80, Purdue 77

[shaking head sadly]

We're mourning along with you, Boilermakers.



'Tis a dark day indeed.

Emergency Rant

We've been going about this IU coaching search all wrong. We've been using logic, reason, and common sense. We've contacted people in the know. We've researched. We've been taking into account various circumstances, probabilities, and logistics. If nothing else, we've been ruling out the far-fetched choices.

F--k that. That's Bush League, apparently. The professionals go about this process in a much different way. And so shall we.

I mean, Bob Kravitz casually -- very nonchalantly -- rules out "another man of color" as if he were ruling out pasta for dinner tonight. I dunno. Not sure why. Just don't feel like it. Nothin' against pasta, really ... I'm just saying I'm not in the mood.

Oh. Well how the f--k was I supposed to know this was allowed? Like an idiot, I thought you needed to substantiate your arguments. Ummm ... you don't, obviously. And now I know this.

And then today, Terry Hutchens throws Tom Izzo's name into the fray because that's what he's "hearing." Of course, no word on who he's hearing that from. Just that he's heard it.

No shit? Well I've heard things too. But I guess I wasn't aware that they fall under the broad umbrella of "journalism." They do, apparently. And now I know that as well.

Alright. Time to go find us our coach, Indy-Star-style.

We'll start with who's out:

Anthony Grant -- He's black. Too black, actually. Tough luck, Slappy.

Sean Miller -- He strikes me as an Al Qaeda sympathizer. Not sure why, though.

Tony Bennett -- Simply put, he's a douchebag. My 2-year-old confirmed this.

Kevin Stallings -- In an episode of "According to Jim," we learned that all bald people are impotent. And if I know Rick Greenspan, he doesn't like men who fire blanks. Nobody does.

Bruce Pearl -- I hear he's functionally illiterate.

John Calipari -- Technically, he's not black. But close enough. IU just can't risk it.

Brad Brownell -- I'm pretty sure IU doesn't want to hire a card-carrying member of the F--kstick Club. Which all DePauw people are in.

Scott Drew -- The last thing IU wants to do is hire a devout Christian. That's just code for "crazy person."

Ray McCallum -- He's black. Technically and otherwise. Sorry. Out you go, Hip Hop.

.

You know who that leaves?

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That's right. John Wooden. The f--king Wizard.

Think about it. He's (a) still alive; (b) an Indiana man, through and through; and (c) has ears the size of barcaloungers. It makes total sense. And I hear he's ready to get back in the game. I'm hearing it from enough people to think he's interested in the job at some level.

And what level would that be?

F--k it. Who cares. It doesn't matter.

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Who Wrote This? (Vol. 18)

Who wrote this passage?

__________________________________________________

Less than a week after being forced out as head basketball coach at Indiana, Kelvin Sampson has found a new career he feels is his true life's calling.

"The world of telemarketing is like heaven. I wish I had found this earlier in my life and not wasted so many years in basketball,” said Sampson. "I can spend all day, every day on the phone – no restrictions."

Sampson is working the Noon to 8:00 pm shift with Dial Marketing USA, Inc., but has come in every day by 7:00 a.m. to get extra calls in.

__________________________________________________
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Was it ...
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(A) Paul Riser?

(B) one of Lil Ronnie's backup dancers?

(C) DJ Gallo?

(D) the semi-finalist from the obscure "Estonia's Got Talent!" show?

(E) a comedically trained llama?

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Answer below. In the meantime, enjoy this wonderful picture of Robin Quivers' luxury Manhattan condo.

Answer: (C) DJ Gallo. From this gem. Enjoy your exploded retinas.

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Has Indiana Ruined Dakich?

Is this what Dan Dakich will think of when he recalls his tenure as Indiana University's Head Coach?

The most beautiful woman he's ever met has finally said she'd go out with him, but there's one condition...she's into some weird stuff. He has to agree to play along. "It'll all be worth it. I just really need someone who understands me and you've always been there for me." she says. Poor Dan...Greenspan did this to him, the one man still there who cherished and respected the program and the university.

Dakich in '08 Campaign Still Alive

Despite rumors to the contrary, we are not done fighting. We're going Mike Huckabee with this thing right now. If he can pull this team out of the current doldrums, we're going to go after the superdelegates and get this deal done.

YES WE CAN!!

(I'm Skeeter Barnes, and I alone approve this post.)

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Flipside Exclusive Video: IU Coaches Meet to Strategize for MSU Game

How did Dan Dakich and assitant coach Jeff Meyer go about preparing the IU gameplan?

Haphazardly. The went about it haphazardly. At best.

Below is exclusive video footage of Dakich and Meyer -- a mere 45 minutes before tip-off yesterday -- mapping out their strategy to topple the Spartans. Quite telling, frankly.



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And Now, On to Other Sports

http://sportsillustrated.cnn.com/2008/more/03/02/bc.ttn.teamworldchampio.ap/index.html?eref=si_more

Maybe I should quit complaining that I can't watch IU. The box score looked pretty ugly. At least I can still see all the ping-pong I can stomach.

Looks like the only way the USA can bring home the gold in ping-pong is if we lobby to introduce a beer-pong variant.

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Ugly

Nothing more to say really.