There's been some talk on other blogs and other threads about organized dodgeball.

      I didn't want it to come to this but I guess now that it's out in the open I have something to say.

     My name is Jon, and I'm addicted to dodgeball. I wrote about it once in an old blog in the first competition and I don't feel like re-hashing. You can read it here.

     My whole point for this post is to gain some recognition for one of the fastest growing sports in America, while also finding out if anyone out there in blog land can handle us.

     And by us I mean my team: Sal Dodgeball A.K.A. the Weekend Warriors based out of metro Detroit.

     There has been some talk from Norcal, he could take us, and maybe he could, but since he is from California there is really no way to know. So if there is anyone out there who is relatively close, who wants to give it a shot and challenge the best let me know.

We will be competing in the following upcoming tournaments:

June 17 2006: Michigan Indoor State Dodgeball Championships, Taylor Michigan

-Last year we won this tournament and sealed the season long state championship. We then earned a bid to outdoor nationals in Chicago. We won three tournaments throughout the 10 tournament series, and won more matches than 71 other competing adult male teams. This season we are once again ranked amongst the top teams, and we are ready to win our second straight state title.

July 21 2006: National Outdoor Amatuer Dodgeball Championships, Schaumburg, Illinois.

-In our first stint in an outdoor tournament last season,  we placed ninth out of 36 teams. This year we are hoping to win it all by defeating the Battletoads, a team out of Chicago which squeeked by us in two tournaments already this season. They are the two-time defending national outdoor dodgeball championships and they are the only team that has beaten us since July of last year.

     Anyway I don't mean to put a shameless plug out here for no reason, so if you think you can take us, get your team together and join up. There is no use talking trash on the message boards trying to prove your dodgeball prowess is better than Norcal's or mine. That will prove nothing.

     So what are you waiting for? Go rally the troops and get ready for some intense dodgeball action.

To sign up for upcoming tournaments visit www.detroitsportsclub.com or www.dodgeballusa.com

 

     Its times like these that make me wish my apartment had a third television in the living room. Lost, the greatest television show on earth is on, and so is the big game. So while I will be watching Sawyer, Kate, John and Jack fight off the bearded island hermit, I will also be glancing to the other television where the best team in the league will be representing Detroit. On top of that, the Pistons are also playing the Cavaliers in a pivotal game five. So if you didn't catch it the first time, that means I need a third television so I can watch the Pistons in addition to the Tigers and Lost.

     Now don't get me wrong, I love the "Stones" and I'm glad they can represent the state well so I can give out of town bloggers a hard time, but come on the Tigers haven't been this good since 1989. At this time in 1989 I wasn't even four.

     There has to be a small minority of fans like myself, who care more about the Tigers than the Pistons, and to the majority we may seem insane, but at least we know what's going to happen with the Pistons. Sure they struggled in Cleveland, but does anyone really think the best defensive team in the league won't be able to stop LeBron for a third straight game? Me neither. The Pistons will finish off the Cavs in six games making my decision to watch another deep version of Lost much easier. Speaking of Lost, where does it rank among the best television shows on right now?

Here is my list of current favorites:

1. Lost

2. The Sopranos

 3. The Simpsons

4. Family Guy

5. Teachers (a great new show on NBC)

6. Curb Your Enthusiasm

     The thing about Lost is, it reads like a good book. Every episode ends like a chapter you just have to read again. But lost has taken television writing to a whole different level with interactive websites and all that jazz, so really, for me to skip that to watch the Pistons would be insane. Lets be honest, we know what's going to happen in games five and six, but nobody knows where Walt is, or if they are going to fight the others. We also don't know why Hurley hasn't lost any weight, or why Michael shot Libby and Anna Lucia.

     The answers to these questions are what keep me up every night. Anyway, I think it is almost time to get myself in my body groove on the couch. Go Tigers, Go Pistons!

Jon Gunnells is a journalism senior at Michigan State University who is addicted to Lost. He can be reached at gunnell2@msu.edu

     I knew from the long distance nature of the call that it had to be serious business, but I didn't think it was going to be that serious.

            "Trammel's the new skipper of the Tigers," the caller said in a booming stadium announcer voice. "We're going to win the pennant this year."

            "I know," I replied. "It looks like this is finally going to be our year."

        Any well-seasoned Detroit Tigers fan would know "our" year has been a long coming. But, sports fans like my buddy Erik and I tend to act irrationally sometimes, especially at our immature age of twenty. Sure we live on our own, drive by ourselves and can eat cake for breakfast, which we still do, but it terms of sports knowledge a 20 year old kid is like negative three.

            We weren't around to see George Brett's pine tar incident, the Immaculate Reception or even the Miracle on Ice, but for some reason we still thought we were sports gurus.

            At our ignorant age, we believed Alan Trammel's reemergence in the Motor City meant restoration of Tigers glory, glory that had been missing for since Kirk Gibson hit that long fly ball to win the World Series in 1984.

 

            Three years, and what seemed like three hundred losses later, the Tigers canned Trammel and Erik and I felt our own personal sense of defeat.

            What started off as the greatest front office move for the Tigers since the California Raisins were popular ended about as poorly as the War of the Worlds remake.

                        To make matters worse, this hadn't been the first time we'd been let down by one of our favorite teams. See, Erik and I also whole heartedly root for the Lions, which in recent years has become a chore in itself.  

            Regardless, Erik and I still have a set of rules we follow.

            For instance, even though the Lions weren't good enough to win the Big Ten Conference last year, we still root for them. There is no bandwagon silliness to be had on our watch; the team you're born with is the team you die with, end of story. Erik and I have no tolerance for people who root for the team of the week.

            Erik and I also have zero tolerance for passive fans. You know the person from Boston who waited until after the 2004 World Series to buy their Red Sox hat and jersey. That's the kind of thing that gets you shot if you live in L.A.

            We are increasingly fed up with those new Pistons fans, the ones who cheer for them now that they've won the title, but were too busy watching the Red Wings to notice the consistent 30-52 season's Grant Hill was helping us stagger too.

            This is why Erik and I pour most of our heart and sole into rooting for home teams that involve claws. If you ask any sports fan over eighty, they'll tell you that's the way it's supposed to be.

            Like the senior citizens, we believe baseball should be recognized as the national pastime while football is honored as a close second. Basketball and hockey should only be watched when the first too aren't in season. Don't even get us started on soccer or this WNBA crap.

            After high school, Erik moved to Tennessee so it became commonplace for us to enforce our unique set of sports rules over the phone.

Shortly after the ill-fated hire of Alan Trammel back in 2001, I received another phone call from Erik.

"Lion Time," Erik yelled into the phone. "We're going to the Super Bowl."

"Yeah, I heard," I said. "Steve Mariucci is a Lion, this year is going to be great."

Of course, that's the same thing Erik and I said when Marty Morningwheg came to town and Matt Millen, and Gary Moeller, and Bobby Ross, and so the story goes for both the Lions and the Tigers.

I don't know if subconsciously we realize the Tigers and Lions will never satisfy us, but during our phone conversations, we truly believe our favorite teams can be champions. Maybe it's an escape from reality. After all, not many people around us feel the Lions or Tigers are worthy of any praise. Personally, I hate those people. I hate them about as much as the people who think Candice Parker deserved to win the High School Dunk Contest a few years ago. Laying the ball up and grabbing the rim while closing your eyes for a split second does not take talent. Not to go off on a tangent or anything but my old high school swim coach can do that and he eats Taco Bell five times a week.

When it comes to sports philosophy Erik and I are of an old school breed.

                   Erik would step over his own mother to get a Lions Super Bowl Championship and a Tigers World Series title, and to be quite honest I'd step right over his mother too. Heck, as long as it meant post season action, I'd step over his Dad, his hot sister and Roy, his cat who was named after Roy Williams, one of the Lions receivers.

      However, considering the recent trends in Detroit for teams with mascots who have sharp teeth, a Lions or Tigers championship is unfathomable. In our lifetime, the Tigers have been to the playoffs once, and the Lions have only won one playoff game, which should be negated because they lost the next week by thirty five points. Meanwhile the Red Wings and Pistons have combined for six titles. Sure, it's better than say, Chicago winning titles but honestly, we could care less. We'd gladly trade in the Red Wings and Pistons conference championships and league titles just for one crack at what we would consider a meaningful title.

That's why when the Lions or the Tigers make a big free agent acquisition a trade, or sign a new coach, a phone call follows.

      It happened when Dre Bly signed with the Lions, when Placido Polanco was traded to the Tigers and when Matt Mantai signed by the Tigers AA affiliate this offseason. For those of you who aren't fluent in sports, he's the baseball version of the Backstreet Boys, he hasn't done anything since 2001.

      Deep down, Erik and I believe these changes can lead our teams to the holy land. A Mecca for sports fans. But, months after every acquisition or trade, the result is the same, the Lions and the Tigers wind up in the cellar, and we end up dreaming once more about what could have been.

      Once again, this year's off-season brought another long distance phone call from that familiar number from Tennessee.

      "Do you know what time it is?" the caller asked

      "Four thirty nine," I replied as if I was unsure.

      "Nope, it's Lion Time," Erik yelled as he always does.

 "It's Lion Time; we're going to the Super Bowl,"

If we we're in person Erik's declaration of Lion Time would be followed by a powerful high five. More than likely Erik would be clad in his oversized blue sun glasses with gray and blue Lion shaped frames. But he's not in person. And he's said Lion Time or Tiger Time, hundreds of times before with the same expectation; The expectation that this year's football or baseball seasons would be different than the last. We said it when Jim Leyland got hired, and Trammel, and Phil Garner even Buddy Bell, we got excited over a coach named Buddy.

      "Same shit, new year," I said sadly into the phone.

Erik paused for a while I tried to pull out the best comeback he could

      "Well, he said. "They signed Mike Martz too, and the last time he was an offensive coordinator somewhere he won a title."

      "Hey wasn't Dre' Bly on that team?" I asked.

      "Yep, it's destiny" Erik said.

"Dude, you know what it is destiny," I said.

"You know what else?" I said.

"It's Lion Time."

Jon Gunnells is a journalism senior at Michigan State University who has apparently inspired the Detroit Tigers. Since he wrote this, they have earned the best record in the MLB. He can be reached at gunnell2@msu.edu

     As promised here is an update of the Gunn Show's first ever All in the Family NBA Prognostication challenge:

     After the Suns came back to defeat the Lakers, things got ugly for my mom. Her only chance of beating me was wiped out with the Suns victory. With that I will give you, my loyal readers, an update of how things look so far.

The Gunn Show 7,  The Gunn Show's mom 5

     As you can see, although it is a very tight race, I still hold a two point advantage. But because my Mom has the Lakers making the Western Conference semis, two points are all I need to ensure my victory.

     What ended up hurting my mom the most were the close series between the Pacers-Nets, the Suns-Lakers and Wizards-Cavaliers. She got all three wrong, but in her defense, so did a lot of great basketball minds. Those match-ups could have gone the other way and she could have gone 8-0.

     My only slip up was my prediction that the Pacers would beat the Nets. I miscalculated and thought the Pacers would be a better playoff team this year not the Nets. Oh well, nobody is perfect.

     I will say, although the pick was ridiculous, it could have led her to the promised land in the form of a big victory over her son.

     Anyway, valiant effort mom, you still know more about sports than most of my friends.

Jon Gunnells is a journalism senior at Michigan State University who is pretty sure his mom knows more about baseball and college football than your mom, and probably your dad too. He can be reached at gunnell2@msu.edu

When Barry Bonds cranks out his record setting home run, someone has to catch it. Whoever does, will be the most powerful person in baseball ever.

Think about it. Assuming Barry eventually eclipses Babe Ruth's 714 home runs, then Hank Aaron's 755, someone has to come away with the ball. And Barry, Major League Baseball, and every wealthy sports memorabilia collector will pay top dollar for it.

Whoever this person may be, he or she should start considering his or her options because they impending decision could change the face of baseball forever.

Option 1: Keep the Ball and Sell it Back to Barry:

For anyone sports enthusiasts who have a soft spot for law-breakers or San Francisco Giants fans option one is the easiest choice. The ball sale could generate enough money to change someone's life, and it would also ensure the ball return to it's proper place, either Barry's shrine, or a place in the Baseball Hall of Fame.

Option 2: Throw it Back:

If there is any person in the world with enough cajones to throw the record setting ball back onto the field I would like to shake their hand. A throw back is baseball's version of a slap in the face. I mean what better way to defend your team's honor and make Barry feel unwelcome by throwing the ball back into the field of play. Sure throwing the ball back would cancel a chance at making millions off of selling the ball, but it would garner enough media attention that would make you famous, which could lead to money. But then again it isn't all about money.

Option 3: Keep it:

It would be a once in a lifetime chance at getting a great sports collectable. But how anti-climactic would that be?

Option 4: The Truth:

If I were the one who caught Barry's record blast I wouldn't sell it for money, and I surely wouldn't have the testicular fortitude to throw it back. Instead I would agree to give Barry the ball back after he tells the whole truth about everything including Victor Conte, Balco, the Clear, the Cream and all those other controversial performance enhancers. I would also make Barry tell the truth during a press conference where he would be sporting a Tommy LaSorda Dodgers jersey while washing my car.

Far fetched? Maybe, but my car needs cleaning up and so does this steroid controversy.

Chances are, the person who catches the home run ball wouldn't dare throw it back. The one who grabs it will probably be some lucky fan who has dreamed of catching a home run or grabbing a foul ball. Heck, I know I have.

I just hope the person that catches it frequents my blog, then maybe baseball would have a saving grace. You may think it is foolishness on my part to think about the integrity of the game of baseball over money, but wouldn't it be nice if things were that way?

Somewhere in this strange world of ours there is the small chance that the person who grabs that ball will either be rich and not need the money, or will have read this blog, and think twice about selling the ball right back to Uncle Barry.

I don't care who catches Barry's record setting home run ball, I just hope it someone who cares greatly about baseball.

Actually, on second thought, Barry in a Dodgers jersey washing my car sounds like a pretty good idea. I think I'll go order some Giants tickets now.

#### End Note#### What would you do if you caught number 715, or 756? Would it all be about money? Or the game?

Jon Gunnells is journalism senior at Michigan State University who has never caught a home run, but plans to throw it back if it comes from the opposing team. He can be reached at Gunnell2@msu.edu