With the NFL investigating adding a 17th game to the schedule outside of the United States, I'm not happy about how they ignore the fact that the city of Los Angeles is still without a franchise.

Let's make it simple and help the NFL while creating an interest again for football in Los Angeles. Instead of playing any games overseas, the NFL should move the proposed extra game to Los Angeles.

The City of Angels has been without a pro football team (USC doesn't count as a professional franchise, wink wink) for over 10 years and it doesn't look like we will be getting a team anytime soon.

You certainly can't put an expansion team in L.A. because the league is perfectly aligned as it is right now. Two conferences, 16 teams each divided into four team divisions. If you add one team to the 32 current teams then the league is out of balance and every week will have to have a team on a bye.

So, mathematically speaking, adding one franchise creates a mess, so lets just skip that idea.

A different idea for fielding a permanent team in Los Angeles would be to have a current team move there, but again, not a good idea. If a team (lets say the Saints or Vikings) would happen to move from their hometown and claim L.A. as their new home, the city won't accept them. You may sell a few tickets, but honestly, I can't think of one current team that I would buy season tickets for if they moved out West. I already have my team that I root for (Dallas) and since most people who live in the Golden State are not from here, we wouldn't have interest in rooting for some transplanted team.

Without a state of the art stadium, the possibility of another team moving here is remote at best, so you can also scrap the idea of another team moving here.

Make Los Angeles the home of the NFL, every team can play here one time per season. I guarantee sellouts every week. Do you know how many Cleveland fans live here, Patriot's fans, Steelers? What average fan in California wouldn't plop down good money to see their favorite team play one time out here? It's a sure 100% win for the NFL and the city.

Taking the number one sport in America (sorry baseball fans) overseas sounds like an idea, but is it a good idea? Longer travel for teams and not to mention the time difference seems to put that idea into the "not such a great idea" category. Traveling to Los Angeles one time per season would put a strain on the East Coast teams, but not nearly the strain of a West Coast team traveling to Europe. The time difference would be a maximum of three hours from each coast, while the European time difference could be up to 10 hours difference.

So there it is NFL. You can have your 17th game, bring the NFL to Los Angeles and make everyone on the left coast excited. I know if I have a chance to see my team play locally, I'm going, even if they play the games in the Rose Bowl or the Coliseum. It will probably be safe, unless the Raiders come to town, and then I'll still go, but with some very big friends.

What’s a man to do when the four major sporting leagues are all in action this weekend?  You shy away from all chores and deepen that groove in the couch. 

Start by giving the wife your credit card and sending her to the mall.  Call the credit card company and report it stolen, grab the remote control.

Saturday morning - The biggest reality show of all, the NFL draft.  I don't suggest watching the whole process, just watch the first hour or two.  Call your friends and #### about the choice your team made and then kick the cat.  The cat isn't yours, it's your wife’s cat.  Besides, his name is Pookie and deserves to be punted with that name.

Breakfast is optional, you may be sleeping off Friday night's happy hour, so an Egg McMuffin is the easy choice.  It’s quick, greasy and cheap, just like Mel Kiper Jr.  (Get the McMuffin combo and choose the orange juice in case you want something to mix with your Vodka and take the edge off).

Saturday afternoon - This is where it gets good.   You have the NBA playoffs, the NHL playoffs and you can sprinkle in a little golf, baseball and Nascar.  This is where split screen TVs, picture in picture and TIVO are a must.   Tell the wife (if she’s back from the mall already) that you are sick.  This will get you out of all work and will also offer an explanation as to why you performed a Vinatieri on the cat.  You are running a fever and are delusional, and that is the common theme you should stick with today.

Lunch calls for a meatball sandwich.  Don't spill any on the remote control, you don't want to ruin the weekend that early.

Now take a nap, play Xbox or check your NFL team’s picks on the internet.  Throw an empty beer bottle at the cat for waking you from your cheerleader laced dream.

Saturday evening - I suggest the 2006 Madden Bowl  on ESPN 2 at 9:30PM.  This was played in January with NFL members competing against each other.  Anytime you can listen to professional athletes verbally assault other athletes during a competition, you can’t miss the opportunity to listen.  You are going to have to explain your NFL team’s picks to your coworkers on Monday, and a little smack talk is never a bad thing to have in your glossary.

Saturday night - Drink four beers for every draft choice your NFL team wasted.  Drink two beers for every round they didn’t have a pick because they traded it last year for the “steal of the draft who now collects unemployment”.

For comedy, I suggest Saturday Night Live.  This week is hosted by the Ambiguously #### Duo and features the best of TV Funhouse.  A can’t miss 90 minutes of the best SNL cartoons.  During the commercials, feed the cat some coins that are in your pocket.

Sunday – More and more of the same.  The four major sports, along with golf and there is even some poker on cable. 

Your eyeballs may be a little tired from all the TV yesterday, so I suggest a trip down to the local driving range for a large bucket of golf balls to change the pace.   To get out of the house, tell the spouse that you are going to get flowers for her since you feel bad about the whole “cat thing”.

While at the range, drink one beer for every yardage sign, aluminum pole and innocent bystander that you hit with a skulled 2 iron.

Sunday night – Sopranos at 9PM.  You can’t miss this show.  The season is now halfway done and you know it’s more fun than two drunk girls in bikinis eating hot dogs. For good measure, place a wager with your friends that Vito ends up with a tire rod shoved down his throat. 

After the show, you might want to tell the spouse you are feeling better and apologize for not getting to the flower shop before they closed.  Then you should go pet the cat. 

On second thought, give it one more good kick because that’s what Tony Soprano would do.

Crawl into bed, steal the covers from your wife and try to conjure up that cheerleader dream again.

Do you need viewing guidance for the NFL Draft this Saturday?  I've got some advice for the casual NFL fan who doesn't know too much about the NFL and their annual cattle auction.

 
Many years ago, while watching a movie with my Mom, the bad guy in the scene was offered a beverage. He quickly replied "I don't drink".  

I, being the wise old age of about seven, asked my Mom "what does he do when he gets thirsty"?

My Mom, who up to that point was probably proud of me, calmly replied that he doesn't drink anything with alcohol, but he probably drinks water or milk when he gets thirsty.  

Now with guidance and quick answers like that from Mom, one could go through life pretty easily.

We have since all grown up and dear Mom isn't there to guide us on every journey, and we probably don't need her as much.  Mom had some good advice through the years, but she doesn't have the answers to everything, like what to do about that green stuff on your toes that won't wash off and how to get out of speeding tickets. 

 Luckily, we now have books for dummies.

 In case you haven't noticed, the NFL draft is once again upon us.  While your Mom may help you with life decisions, she won't be there for you this Saturday to break down the draft and what it means.  That's why I'm here.  

Today, we talk about the NFL Draft for those who are draft illiterate.

Lesson 1.  Tune in on Saturday, 12:00PM to a certain channel that isn’t FOX.  (Hint:  it rhymes with TSPN).  There you will see a couple of guys talking about amateur football players becoming professional football players.

The one huge guy is called Berman.  He’s been on TV for about 25 years and is an icon on this channel. (When they say that the camera adds 10 pounds, he looks like he swallowed 12 of them.)

The other guy who looks like he drank 6 espressos and chased it with a B-12 shot is called Kiper Jr.  Nobody knows who he is and where he came from, but he’s the expert.  We don’t ask where Santa Claus came from and everyone knows he’s the expert at delivering gifts, so just think that Kiper is the Santa of the NFL.  He shows up once a year, and does his job, then hides for a long time.  (Kiper has hair that looks wind-blown, while Santa doesn’t, but I can’t figure that out, so I don’t talk about it).

Lesson 2.  Ignore any and all mock drafts.  They are never correct.  It’s best to just watch and see which team drafts which player.  Correctly predicting the draft is like trying to figure out what party Lindsey Lohan will go to and whom she will hook-up with. 

In the end, nobody knows and it can change at any second. (More importantly, nobody cares until after it is done, and honestly, we only want to see the pictures.)

 

Lesson 3.  New York fans.  Whenever a team from New York announces their draft pick, the fans in attendance will boo loudly.  There is nothing wrong with this.  This is tradition and will never change.  New York teams could choose Jesus in cleats and the fans would still boo. 

The only way to change this would be if a New York team drafted a player who was dating a Playmate.  All the guys in attendance would then cheer, thinking they had a chance with the hottie since she would be moving in the close 100 mile proximity of the apartment they have above their Dad’s garage.

Lesson 4.  Don’t get too excited about your team’s draft choice.  For every Joe Montana drafted, there are 100 Ryan Leafs.  Be cautious about buying the draft choice’s jersey on the first day it’s available.  Even though you think your team got a once-in-a-lifetime player, he may be known in five years for transporting his body weight in drugs across the Canadian border with a rival team’s cheerleader (who’s only 17).  Ouch.

Lesson 5.  Watch the first hour and then go to the bar.  In today’s technology world, you can read all about it in about 5 minutes that night on the internet.  While at the bar, if someone asks you if you want a drink, say yes, even though you may not be thirsty.

In his 2002 autobiographical movie 8 Mile, rapper Eminem posed a question.

If you had one shot, one opportunity to seize everything you ever wanted, in one moment, could you capture it?

 Baseball player Rick Monday captured the moment and more, 30 years ago today. 

On April 25th, 1976 the Chicago Cubs center fielder rescued the American flag moments before it was to be burned by two protesters who stormed the field in a game against the Los Angeles Dodgers.

Running from center field,  Monday, a former Marine Reserve, intercepted the flag from the two men who were only seconds away from igniting the cloth.  He left them there empty handed looking like two teenagers in disbelief  who had the phone number for Paris Hilton just fall out their hands into the Grand Canyon.

 

The history of sports is littered with athletes who fail or succeed under pressure.  Big games make and break careers and lives can be changed by how a person reacts.  Sometimes an incident in a sporting event can define a person beyond the sidelines.  Just ask Roberto Alomar, who snapped and spit on Umpire John Hirschbeck in 1996. 

Ask anyone about Alomar and most will remember him more for his saliva than his clutch hits.

Adam Vinatieri is known for being cool under pressure, the same with Michael Jordan, Derek Jeter, Magic Johnson, Kerri Strug, and Larry Bird, The list of players who performed under pressure during a game can go on longer than the final two minutes of an NBA game. 

If you are prepared, how you perform can also solidify you as a great person and not just an athlete. 

Today on the anniversary of the event, Monday was interviewed on ESPN radio in Los Angeles.  If like me, you were lucky enough to hear the hosts recap the incident, (complete with the radio play-by-play by Vin Scully) you would come away remembering Rick Monday not as a baseball player, but a Patriot who stood up for something that was right and what he believed in.

Monday has received various sorts of praise for his act, complete with awards, plaques, admiration and in 1976 the Chicago Cubs presented him with the actual flag from the incident. 

Recently, the baseball Hall of Fame named the quick thinking act of Monday one of the top 100 events in baseball history.   It  may be a top performance in baseball, but it was more than that, it was a top performance from an athlete who made a life changing decision in a split second.

In 2003, Eminem walked away with the Oscar for best song in a movie.  30 years ago, Rick Monday waked away with the respect of Americans. 

Some rewards are gold, some are more valuable.

 

When Guns 'N Roses burst onto the scene in the late 80's they were the group of all groups. They were my generation's Beatles and Stones all packaged into one glorious screeching package of smoke, alcohol and angst.

Guns 'N Roses lead the revolution to bring down the hair bands - no, it wasn't Nirvana or Pearl Jam or any Seattle grunge group that got rid of Bon Jovi, Cinderella or Winger, IT WAS GNR BABY !!! They were first onto the scene like the Marines and saved us from another decade of Spandex and 6 foot high hair.

If you compare Guns 'N Roses with the Los Angeles Lakers, you can see several unflattering comparisons. Sure, the outfits are different and a bunch of skinny drug addicted screamers can't be compared to a powerful triangle offense, but the two groups have more in common than Nick and Jessica. The rise to greatness followed by years of mediocrity are too obvious to not compare.

How do they compare? Let's break it down a little bit.

The lead singer Axl Rose was a huge talent, somewhat moody and occasionally in the police blotter (sounds like someone on the Lakers doesn't it?)

As the band rose to fame they were looked at as one group, not a lead singer with a backup band. As they sold more and more albums and more and more tickets to jammed auditoriums, Axl started taking too much credit, getting too moody and shying away from the group. He became about as dependable to show up as a trailer trash wife hearing she's needed on the Jerry Springer show for the third time.

They still rocked and sold tickets until...

Eventually, they teamed up with Metallica which everyone thought was going to be the tour of all tours. It never was.

Axl then became an even bigger ego, the group eventually broke up with Axl thinking he could front any group of musicians and call themselves the same band. The relationship fizzled quicker than a stripper when she finds out you only have $1 dollar bills.

When you look at the Los Angeles Lakers, you start and end with how Kobe broke up the band. Kobe is Axl, without the headband, but with the tights.

I was never in the Laker locker rooms, and Kobe will always deny he was the reason for the breakup of him and Shaq, but he will forever be known as the reason they broke up. Kobe is to the Lakers what Axl was to GNR.

When Karl Malone and Gary Payton teamed up with the Lakers in 2003, they were the team to be beat. Just like GNR teaming up with Metallica, it never panned out and it left all the hard core fans wondering what could have been.

Now Kobe is fronting his own band, but they aren't the same crowd pleasing - hottest ticket in L.A. - rock star group that they once were. The Lakers are the Lakers light, a never to be seen again powerhouse.

The group is always better than the individual. The ones left wondering what went wrong can speculate and ponder and try to bring back the band, but it will never happen.

Kobe gets a little bit of love from the fans, but deep down they all resent him for putting himself first, and that is what will be the final chapter written about Kobe.

At least Guns 'N Roses can reunite for one more tour, but I don't see that happening with Kobe, Shaq and the Lakers.

A couple of years ago I paraphrased to my Dad the reason I was leaving my then current job was because I was tired of being an assistant coach on the Patriots and wanted to be a head coach for the Bengals. What I was saying was that I was leaving a good assistant position on an established franchise to be the lead dog on an unproven team that needed guidance. Of course my Dad immediately understood because he follows football just like I do.

Talking about sports, especially football is the only way I know how to communicate. I can't talk to my wife about her cooking unless I mention that she went over on the under/over for garlic in last night's roast.

My cell phone ring tone is the Monday Night Football theme.

My first son will be named Tom.
My second son will be named Brady.

I once turned down a job that would have required me to work one Sunday a month. I can't miss any football games, not even one week a month.

When I used to work 2nd shift I would take vacation days when my favorite team played on Monday nights just so that I could see all of their games.

My wedding vows included the phrase - love, honor, obey and peace and quiet while highlights are played.

My lawn gets cut on Sundays, but only after the the morning games have been played and as long as there isn't a good game on in the afternoon that I need to watch. During the summer, the lawn can be cut anytime on Sunday, there's nothing on that I need to see when football is in it's offseason.

When describing how my my neighborhood had so many retired people selling their homes to young people and how the area was becoming filled with toddlers, I called it neighborhood parity. (The NFL describes how it likes their competition to change every few years and not have dynasties as parity and it made perfect sense to me when talking about the new neighbors.)

I set my alarm for early Sunday mornings so that I can check the latest and greatest news on all the websites and TV shows. I want my pick'em pools and fantasy team information to be fresh and new and not stale old news from Saturday night.

My dog's name is Ditka, but not because the Bears are my favorite team but because it's just a great name for a bruiser of a dog who runs over people and needs Viagra.

In my will and testament it states that I'm not to be buried on Sundays during the football season because I don't want my friends to remember me as someone who made them miss their NFL games.

Why does my life revolve around football so much? Who knows and who cares, but I'm not changing. I'm an American red blooded male and the NFL is what I like to talk about. At least I'm not one of those guys who is always writing about it on websites. Ooops.

With the recent report coming out of Dallas this weekend that Bill Parcells my call it quits, it can only mean one thing.  He already has Texas in his rear view mirror.

Just like when Larry Brown was with the Pistons, actually, when Larry was with any team, there comes an unconfirmed story in the press that the coach is moving on. 

When stories get leaked to the press about coaches seeking other jobs or retiring, it always comes true, I repeat, always.

Larry Brown started getting stories leaked out to the press, denied all reports he was leaving and then found a way to leave Detroit, making himself as popular as Toyotas in the Motor City or rats in New York.

Coach Parcells will not take a stand as to whether the reports are true or false, which is basically saying that right now it's a definite maybe that could be turned into a probable yes.

While none of Parcells' draft choices have made the Pro Bowl, and he has yet to win a playoff game since taking over the team, the Tuna may have succeeded in doing one thing for the city of Dallas and the Cowboys owner Jerry Jones that won't show up in any NFL record books.  Parcells brought a Smurf's pimple of hope and respect back to Dallas at the right time for voters to pass a stadium bill to get the team a new state of the art stadium in 2008. 

As far as Jerry Jones is concerned, the four year, 17 million dollar contract he gave to the coach may be better than any Super Bowl the Tuna could have delivered.

When the coach leaves, he will be leaving a medium rare filet mignon after inheriting hamburger helper.  He may not have the warm fuzzy feeling of getting a playoff win, but he'll be able to see the new stadium on opening night in a few years and know he had a hand in building the new stadium. 

Now all he has to do is get Jerry Jones to name it after him.

Would you rather be the number one pick in the draft like Alex Smith and have the extremely high expectations, or would you want to be a high first rounder like Ronnie Brown where the pressure and spotlight aren't as great?

 Would you rather be an assistant coach on the Super Bowl winning team, or a head coach on a 8-8 team?

Is it better to be on the Atlanta Braves and make the playoffs every year, or to be on the Astros and make it to the World Series only to lose? 

Who's career would you rather have? Terrell Davis who had a short stellar career, or Vinnie Testaverde who has been playing for what seems like an eternity and is so old that his Social Security Number is 1.

If you could be Tiger Woods for 12 hours, would you choose the day shift or the night shift?

 

Do you remember Rockin' Rollen?  He was the rainbow wig wearing, biblical verse waving fanatic that appeared at all kinds of sporting events over the years.  If you remember when new Coke was the old Coke, you remember the rainbow wig.

My Dad used to say something like "Oh, there's the rainbow guy" sort of like a television game of finding Waldo?

Sadly, the wigged one is serving 3 life sentences for holding a lady hostage.

In today's world of hyper competitive, I wanna be a reality TV star world, I was wondering why nobody has taken the opportunity to slip on the rainbow wig and continue this tradition.

Maybe you don't have to use the same wig, but you could come up with something that everyone would notice.

You could be a banana suit guy or a flesh covered body suit guy (like Costanza in Seinfeld). 
Or, if you wanted to make some cash you might want to dress up as the Taco Bell Chihuahua and get an endorsement.

Back in the 70's and 80's (I remember very little about the 70's because of my age and not my vices) there were some great traditions, rituals and standards that happened at sporting events that are no longer a tradition today.  They have been swept aside and forgotten like the glow puck from Fox.

One tradition long ago forgotten was after the Super Bowls and World Series the President of the United States would call the winning MVP.  These were horrible conversations between the two, but it did provide some great comedy.  After Super Bowl 18, President Reagan called Marcus Allen stating that he had just previously received a phone call from the Russians asking the USA to dismantle Marcus because he was such a powerful weapon.

I'm not making that up.  Those conversations were always awkward between the player and the President and to make it more hilarious, they were carried live on TV. 

It was pure comedy because the President would make statements that the athletes couldn't respond to.  They weren't questions, and it left the athlete wondering if he was supposed to respond to that statement or wait for an actual question. The player always hesitated before trying to get someone else to come over, pass the phone to and then go hide.

 

Another sports tradition that I miss as much as bell-bottom jeans is the bullpen carts in baseball. 

These were modified golf carts for driving the relief pitcher to the mound from the bullpen.   If today's Zamboni is the coolest ride in stadium sports, then the bullpen carts were the Zamboni's ugly bald cousin who has asthma and a limp.

Not one player would ride in the bullpen cart now.  Each passenger seat probably came with a Rubik’s Cube. They were that nerdy.

 

I find out that as I get older (I'm really not that old, I just remember a bunch of useless ####) that all the weird traditions and customs at sporting events eventually get fazed out or eliminated.

Why is there no longer a baseball bat giveaway at games anymore? 

What happened to those little cardboard box viewers that people used to use at golf tournaments to see over the crowd?  Are those as illegal as cell phones at the Masters now?

Is there one straight-on field goal kicker out there?

What happened to college football kickers using a small block for a tee on field goals?

Why can’t we have tear-away jerseys anymore?  Seriously, why are those jerseys gone?

Where is the San Diego Chicken?  Can’t anyone do that job?  Anyone?

Most of what happened back in the day is gone for a reason.  People get tired of the same old stuff, there are lawsuits and some are just plain old bad decisions.

I can only imagine about 25 years from now when my son complains that nobody does the Gatorade bath on the coach anymore and the MVP won’t say that he’s going to Disney World because he has a contract with Six Flags

This past week I've been noticing on a few websites the negative and nasty comments made by Boston fans regarding the departure of Johnny Damon to the Yankees.

I got to thinking about this and wondered why there was so much hatred directed at the Boston Jesus. The more I thought about it, the more I came to the conclusion that athletes are like porn stars. Not the run of the mill San Fernando Valley big studio porn stars, the ones that live next door to you and do the amateur stuff.

Let me draw this out a little bit.

You live in a nice neighborhood, you know your neighbors (at least you think you do). You call them by their first name, you know their kids, and you know what both adults do for a living. Some you like, some you dislike, but it's your neighborhood and you like living there, since you lived in that area from first grade until now.
You plan on dying there someday whether the neighborhood gets run down or whether a nice shopping center a mile away drives up the real estate.

Now imagine that a new single bachelor moves next door. He seems nice, a good looking chap and seems to have an abundance of hot women hanging out at his house on the weekends.
After a few weeks, you get to know the man, you have a few cookouts, drink a few cold ones and chat him up when you see him working in the garage. Seems like a normal guy.

You then find out that for a living he works in X-rated films. Holy ####, that explains the hot women hanging out in bikinis every Saturday. You not being one to judge a man on his occupation, are OK with the fact he makes his living with his Johnson. Like I said, you are not one to judge.

The more you hang out with this guy, the more you live vicariously through him. You ask him, "what's it like", "who you doing this weekend?" and the ever popular "how's it hanging?"

You become preoccupied with this guy. You want to be him, you want to hang out with him, but the more you try to get close to him, the more he hides in his garage. He never tells you too much, just a litte story here and there, always leaving you wanting to hear more. He's too busy to hang out with you, he won't invite you to the big director's Christmas pool party, but the more he denies you, the more you want to hang out with him since he seems cooler than Jordan in overtime.

After a few years go by, he puts his house on the market and you find out he's moving to the big city. You are devastated. No more stories, no more thongs washing cars in the driveway. No more telling your buddies who you live next to. You immediately wonder if there is another house for sale right next to his new one in the big city and if you can make an offer on it.
How can he leave? Doesn't he see how wonderful your neighborhood is? He's a jerk, he can't leave us can he? You had so much more you wanted to know about him.

When you finally confront him he states that he got a normal job which requires him to move. He can't be in porn for ever. He's got to think about his family, his future and how he can provide for them in 10 years and not just in the present. Big city dollars are hard to come by for most folk, but they are his for the taking. You can't help but feel a little jealous.

He moves away, you tell everyone at work that he was obnoxious, and how he wasn't that good of a neighbor. Seems like the normal thing to do since everyone else in your little community feels the same betrayal. Deep down you want him back, but you won't tell anyone. You're a guy, you don't reverse your feelings after telling someone.

You see, he wasn't from here. He had moved from another town where he had lived for a couple of years after moving from another town where he had moved from another town. He's a wanderer. He's always looking for the next big dollar while you slave away at the same job you have had since leaving high school. You are a grinder, he's a mover. He's a movie star where as you had only one split second on screen in a foreign film as an extra.
You are different people. He wasn't really into your town, he was just passing by. Sure you had a few good laughs, some good parties, but it had to end sometime didn't it?

Boston fans, don't hate Johnny, he liked you, you had a good time, but there were bigger fish to catch and he had to look for the future. He's a bright shining star that will someday fade out. You're a star watcher just waiting for that star to fade and bitter until it does.

You can only hope that Manny, the goofy guy down the street doesn't move. You couldn't take two of your favorite neighbors moving in one year. That would be like a curse.

Let me preface this article by saying that yes, I have participated in fantasy leagues (even won a couple) and I am currently involved in one for the 2005 NFL season. Still alive in the playoffs BABY!!

With that being said, I can now state that fantasy football or baseball just doesn't do it for me. It's less fun for me than season long pick'em pools or wagering. I'm only including baseball and football out of the numerous types of season long stat competitions because they are the most commonly played and accepted roto leagues. There are tons of others, too numerous to list and frankly I don't want to waste time discussing Nascar roto or CBS Survivor Guatemala leagues. If you are participating in a Sopranos killing league, you need a long sit with Dr. Melphi.

Lets start with why fantasy leagues don't make sense. Reason One. Luck, Luck and more Luck.

The first of many reasons is that to win your league you need some one in a gazillion - child of Brangelina - type of luck. Not $5 scratcher winner luck, you need Vegas progressive slot luck.

Your players need to stay healthy and they need to play on a team that neither wins nor sucks. Tony Dungy of the Colts wants to win games to get ready for the postseason but not at the expense of losing his best player. Mike Sherman of the Packers doesn't want to force Favre into retirement by sitting him. Well, that's what I'm thinking, but the coaches may be thinking something else, or have different strategies.

It's too hard to find out what each coach of every player on your roster is thinking. This is week 16!  Most NFL leagues are in the playoffs and sitting a star player to either rest or find out if the backup is a dime or a dollar can cause extreme havoc on many leagues. You need extreme Hollywood Henderson luck and you can even add that you need to have a little of Miss Cleo in you.

Reason number two. Mass amounts of information is needed.
You have to follow the whole league and not one particular favorite team. Do you know how many hits the Eagles website got when Terrell Owens was suspended? I don't have the particular numbers, but I"m guessing that 90% of those visits were from cyber GM's looking to find out who the backup to T.O. was. I can't stand the Packers, but yes I visited their website to find out how to correctly spell Samkon so I could pick him up about a month ago.

Reason number three. Rolling the dice. Sitting and starting players and deciding who to play is pure speculation. I sat Jimmy Smith two weeks ago while he exploded. I started him last week and he went into the toilet quicker than McDonalds from Morgan Spurlock.

Who can figure this out and why isn't there a sure fire theory from Steven Hawking to figure out who to start? I know, you are going to say there are roto radio shows, roto websites, roto lists to start'em or sit'em in every local grocery store but It's a #### shoot and nothing more.

Rolling the dice some more. Everyone has dropped, traded or sat players who caught on fire with strikeouts and touchdowns at the precise moment you exorcised them from your roster. Everyone has picked up players who are the flavor of the afternoon and they burn out quicker than a Zellweger/Chesney marriage.

It's like breaking up with your girlfriend one night to start dating the wet t-shirt contest winner to only find out that your recent ex-mate dropped 50 pounds and became a runway model the next morning while the t-shirt model grew a beard after you passed out. You then drop the newly mustached trophy to crawl back to the former sidekick to find out that she broke her ankle on the runway and has become allergic to vegetables and can only exist with a diet of chocolate and peanut butter while resting her ankle laying prone on the sofa.

Last reason. Conflict of sporting interests. It goes against your love or hate of a team. Did you Chiefs fans cringe or leap when Priest Holmes' hip became his elbow? He's the steering wheel of your jalopy but the starting 1st round draft choice of your division roto rival. I love to see my team win but can't watch the highlights when they let Tiki run for 150 making me lose my weekly matchup.

Loving your sports team should come in a close second place to loving your spouse. The love shouldn't be based on stats, and if it is, it's because you are looking at an Excel spreadsheet detailing your assets to the wife's divorce lawyer.

Why do I participate when I don't really care that much about it? One reason, competition. It's the lowest common denominator for families and friends who want to participate in some form of gamesmanship. You don't need to be Peter Gammons or Chris Mortensen and know every player's hometown. You just need an internet connection, time at work to surf the web and an email address to talk trash to all losers.

To all the 1972 Dolphins, congrats you old pompous ####s.

Everyone knows that you will get together this week and tip back a few champagne coctails and your ugly old faces will grace the evening Sportscenter.

One question, do you have to do right after the last undefeated team loses? It makes you look arrogant.

Can you imagine Dan Marino in the stands last year as Peyton Manning passed him on the season touchdown record and blowing an air horn at all the Colt receivers?

Can you see anyone from Ted Williams family shining a mirror at the batter during the last day of the season so that old Grandpa's record of being the last .400 hitter will stay in tact?

Now the 72 Dolphins didn't openly root for the the Colts to lose, but deep down everyone knows they wanted the Chargers to win.

They will get together this week and raise a few glasses and toast the 1972 team and that is perfectly fine.

How about you just wait until the Super Bowl and celebrate after that. It's called being a gracious winner.

Everyone knows you were the first undefeated team, nobody is disputing that.

Get together sometime long after the last team loses, then have your party.

When you toast right after they lose, they may come back next year and go undefeated. Then every year they will be the ones toasting each year after that, copying your ritual. See, teams are like that. They'll remember that you toasted them this year and will create their own toasting party when they go undefeated and ruin your little party.

They'll sort of rub it your faces.

One of the reasons I liked John McEnroe was the fact that he played often for team USA in the Davis Cup. When he was the coach of that team he lobbied hard for the best players to play for Team USA and was a great example of someone who cared about playing for his country.

As far as I'm concerned, there is great pride when representing your country as an individual or team member. There can be nothing better than pulling on the colors.

Now, with that said, I was terribly disappointed in Alex Rodriguez's decision to not play in the spring World Baseball Classic. In fact I was pretty pissed off.
He backed out last week by saying that he didn't know who to play for, the United States or the Dominican Republic. See, A-Rod was born in the United States, but his heritage is Dominican. He had previously said that he was going to represent the Dominican Republic and I'm OK with that. Perfectly fine. What I'm not OK with is his decision to not partake as to not offend any one country.

Are you kidding me? This is the absolutely worst decision he could have made. When given three choices, he chose the worst one. Choice one, play for the USA. Could have done that easily. Born here, plays here, has fans and family here.

Choice two, play for the Dominican Republic. Could have made that decision just as easily based on his parents being from that country. Could you imagine the pride the Dominicans would have had if A-Rod had accepted their invitation to play for them? It would have been like Reggie White going to play in Green Bay. Nobody had ever picked their team before to represent them and play for them. Now one of the world's greatest is going to call you one of his own? Pure eternal love if there ever is. A lifetime of hugs, slaps and pats on the back every time you walk down the street.

Nope, A-Rod chose choice number three. Not playing for anyone.

How can the reigning MVP of MLB just skip this tourney? Not one American would have been disappointed with his decision to represent the Dominican Republic. In fact if he would have done well and carried that team on his back then Yankee fan would have been joyous over his leadership and ability to show up when it counts.

If thousands of Americans are representing this country overseas during Holidays, birthdays and anniversaries, then don't you think that little Alex could have suited up for at least one country for a couple of games?

He could have changed his view from baseball fans as a great player who can't get a hit when it counts to one who can carry a weak team when needed.

Just my own $.02

All of you guys have them. Old team jerseys. Some jerseys you never washed, some you took naps in.

What are you supposed to do with them? Can you throw them out? Toss one in the trash and as it leaves your hand you see it's every joyous moment flash before your eyes. For just one second you vision yourself throwing out that player, which then again could be good therapy when applied to the old Randy Moss Viking jerseys.

Seams are frayed, the name is peeling, it barely fits anymore. Those are the classics, but probably not worn that much, not to say that some of you don't still wear them. That shirt's player has since retired and you got a brand new shiny authentic one with the new free agent's name on it for Christmas last year from your cousins who only know that you are a diehard Eagles fan. Wear that new one when going for groceries or your morning coffee or to the game. Makes you look like you have more money.

They old ones should sit in the back of the closet, but should be given number one status on the good wooden hanger you got when you bought your one suit.

If the player on your jersey makes it to that Hall of Fame, like Bradshaw, Sanders, Ditka, you can wear it any time around the house. On the street it makes you look like a cheapie who only bought one jersey in their life.
Do not wear your Barry Sanders jersey at the mall anymore. It's ridiculous.

This does not apply to the super cool Mitchell and Ness throwbacks. Now those are sweeeeeet.

I'm talking about the one that has the paint peeling off of the numbers and a hole in the armpit you got from a victory cigar back in the 80's. Don't wear those out in public, it should be like a bath robe, only seen by your spouse and kids and early in the morning before the eyes have been showered clean.

Hold on to those jerseys though. They have history, they have luck, they are the closest thing to your old high school yearbooks. Think about it, you can recall every big game party when you wore that jersey, remember all those old friends, just like going back and visiting your old yearbook and you flash back to all the great keggers and all the arrests. Ahhhhhh, the memories.

Whatever you do, don't throw it away. The only possible explanation for getting rid of that old jersey is that your girlfriend or wife just bought the same old jersey on Ebay. It is then allowed to conveniently lose it for fear that she will want to tailgate as "team buddies" next week. Then again, you Denver fans can get rid of all your old Portis jerseys, however you are required to keep every piece of sewn material that says T.Davis or Elway.

An old friend came into work one day back in the mid 1990's and informed me that he was no longer a Denver Broncos fan. After listening to how his beloved Broncos had unceremoniously dumped head coach Dan Reeves and how he was going to perform his own voodoo hex in hopes that it would bring bad mojo to the owner, it got me to thinking.

Over the years I wondered every time I heard a negative report about a professional team. Would that cause a fan to drop that team as a supporter? How much #### are their fans going to take over that bad PR?
How many season tickets are they going to lose? I finally asked, is there such a thing as a sports team divorce?

After years and years of seeing teams move, players go Spreewell on coaches, I have come to a few conclusions. Yes, a team separation is allowed, but only if followed under the newly designed lawyer friendly format (an oxmoron in "lawyer friendly" if there ever was one).

Some reasons you are allowed to dump your favorite team:

The owner just up and moves.
Too bad Baltimore Colts, Los Angeles Ram and Raider fans, and the one Montreal Expo fan. The owner just called it quits in your town and ran to a richer climate. This is the number one reason you can just walk away. Do you know how many EX Ram fans I run into here in Southern California? Even after they won the Super Bowl, you could only find a few of their team shirts out here for sale. Check back here in the spring of 2006, Saints fans may be the next ones seeking counseling.

The team refuses to improve via the draft or free agency.
See the Bengals from 1990 to 2004. See the Los Angeles Clippers from inception to 2004. This is probable cause, but hey, you stuck with them for so long, why leave now?

They sign a bad apple via free agency.
Mass suicides will be performed in the next city that Terrell Owens lands in.

They fire a legend of a coach.
I'll buy this. Tom Landry, Don Shula, I feel for you Dallas fans and Dolphin long timers. Actually, I don't feel sorry for you Dallas fans, it didn't take long to heal did it?

They raise prices for tickets.
This one is pretty weak. You can still watch them on TV can't you?

Too many problems.
There were so many broken ankles in Los Angeles from "big fans" jumping off of the bandwagon when they traded Shaq. Kobe had his legal issues, Phil was gone, Rudy went AWOL, they got garbage in return for one of the all time great centers. This I buy also. Too many issues, too much embarassment, and if they can't see the basic problem that is right in front of their eyes, then why should you support them?

They wind up on probation.
This only applies to college fans, but if you find out that there is no bowl game for the next 3 years, you have full right to stick your old college sweatshirts into a Goodwill bag.

Your favorite player gets traded.
I'm wishy washy on this. Joe Montana was one of the greatest ever and still got traded. So did Wayne Gretzky. All in all, it ended up OK for both teams. Both former teams won championships shortly thereafter.

The team just sucks.
Again, I'll buy it, but you should be warned. If you stick with them long enough, they will probably raise the banner in your lifetime. See the 2004 Boston Red Sox and the 2005 Chicago White Sox.
You wouldn't want to be one of those guys who showed up at his Boston 25 year high school reunion in November of 2004 and explain how you dumped the BoSox when they just sucked throughout the 90's.

I guess that living in Southern California in the present day causes me to run up against some of the all time worst sports fans ever. Everyone (including myself) is from somewhere else. If you used to be a Seahawk fan but have lived here for the past 15 years, you have probably changed and become a San Diego Charger fan. It's just the way it is.

I will have this to say though, you East Coast fans are some of the most die-hard fans there are. You never hear about a "former" Steeler fan. Boston, New York, Philly, you fans are hard core also. There is no such thing as a sports divorce for you. I do wonder how you Boston Bruin fans hang on though.

Chicago is the same. You long time Cubby sufferers should hang on. Sometimes it's better to be in a mediocre marriage than to have never been married at all. Did I just write that? If you Cub fans die, you should have it written in your will and testament that your tombstone should have the year of your death chiseled in and to have that tombstone updated with the phrase "Died (insert amount of years) before the Cubs won the World Series".

All in all, you can do what you want, any reason to trash your team in hopes of catching lightning in a bottle with the new sexy starlets of the season is just cause. Some of your friends may not buy it, which can very very very important in your social status.

They will all say, "he used to be a long time Golden State Warrior fan, but became a Spur fan when they rattled off three Championships because his wife is from San Antonio". Believe me, that is 100 times worse than having them say that you've been married and divored three times.