NFL Draft: Neither You, nor Mel Kiper Know Squat

So we're in the smack dab in the middle of playoff season and getting underway with baseball, but this weekend it seems that all three major sports are being overshadowed by – drum-roll please – THE NFL DRAFT! The draft is upon us! All day coverage! Mel Kiper Jr's Hair, complete with matching outfit and kung-fu grip! Hooray! Personally, I don’t think ESPN’s hype machine is working nearly hard enough to drum up interest in what essentially amounts to a multi-million dollar roll call. When did it become necessary to sit around and waste a weekend watching the draft unfold live? I'm not saying I'm not *interested* in the draft and its outcome, but what exactly are you missing out on by checking out a draft recap every once in a while? Woe is me, I only have months to fully get to know this year’s crop of rookies… but I need my draft information the minute it unfolds!

And while we're talking about this over-hyped snooze-fest, can we please just come to our senses and stop the senseless spectacle of speculation that is draft analysis? Why is it that ESPN thinks that talking to Mel Kiper Jr. every five minutes about the latest developments in the draft is interesting? I think it’s about time to retire the phrase "draft guru” because, let’s be frank, how often is the man actually right? Well, last year he went 8 for 32 in the first (and presumably most predictable) round… an astounding 25% accuracy rate. I’m pretty sure the local weatherman would be fired for that kind forecasting, so I’m not sure why we all have to bow at the altar of Mel.

Hey, I've got a great idea! I'm going to write 50 billion mock drafts as the year progresses, and they're all going to turn out horribly wrong! Brilliant! Yes, Mel Kiper Jr. probably knows more about every NFL prospect than anyone in the country, but I think it’s safe to say that it’s impossible to even remotely accurately predict how an entire draft will unfold. Here’s my super top-secret break down for the first round of the draft this year:

Speculation.

More Speculation.

Speculation?

You get the idea.

Vegas Odds: Vince Young's Impending Doom

Now that Vince Young has been named Madden 2008 Coverboy, I hereby present to you the Vegas odds for circumstances of his inevitable injury and/or misfortune:

2:1 – Spontaneous eruption of ACL/MCL/PCL/LCD/ABC muscles on a routine scramble.

3:1 – On-field decapitation by an enraged Ray Lewis.

4:1 – Eaten by Jeff Fisher’s Mustache.

5:1 – Pacman Jones, in the strip club, with the revolver.

7:1 – Ray Lewis, behind the nightclub, with the knife.

9:1 – Mario Williams, on the highway, with his Lamborghini.

10:1 – Smothered in sleep by a David Carr jersey wielding Texans’ fan.

11:1 – Kidnapped and held hostage by entire Cincinnati Bengals organization.

12:1 – Simultaneous outbreak of 7 groupie induced STDs.

14:1 – Mistaken for Turducken by John Madden, torn limb from limb and devoured.

20:1 – Terrell Owens. He’ll find a way.

10,000:1 - Tonya Harding in the ballroom with the lead pipe.

Best of luck, Vince.

March's Maddening Madness

Ah, the magical month of March - Spring is once again upon us, and we find ourselves smack dab in the middle of the season in which a young man's fancy turns to love… and basketball. Also, gambling. Anyway, the brackets have once again been set, and every man in a semi-illegal office pool is rearing for the Madness to begin. Unfortunately, the gap between Selection Sunday and the round of 64 is excruciating - not just because we just want the damn tournament to start, but mainly because talking heads spend an excruciating amount of time talking about who won’t be playing in the round of 64.

Look, I understand that teams get snubbed. Really, I do. But how much time needs to be devoted to this subject? Is ESPN really still discussing the absence of Syracuse and Drexel? The subject needs about 10 minutes of coverage, but instead you get to hear throngs of analysts ramble on about the snubtastic snubbing of snubby the snubbity snub. This time next year - not to mention next week - about 5 people will remember who got screwed out of a tournament spot, so let’s save the outrage for a subject we might actually care about in two weeks.

Even more ridiculous is ESPN’s notion that they’re providing us, the amateur bracketologists, with key analysis of the upcoming tournament. “Stay tuned to Sportscenter so we can reveal the secrets that will help you win your office pool!” You mean in case the rest of my office hasn’t heard of ESPN or Sportscenter? I’m so privileged to be the only one in the whole country receiving these insider tips!

Let’s take a look at some expert advice on who to take to your final four! A compilation of 19 experts final four picks (available at faniq.com) breaks down like so:

Midwest: 19 Florida

West: 8 Kansas, 9 UCLA, 1 So. Ill, 1 VA Tech

East: 6 UNC, 11 Georgetown, 2 Texas

South: 6 Ohio St, 2 Memphis, 9 Texas A&M, 2 VA, 1 Louisville

An astounding 6 teams make up some 90% of experts final four picks… meaning that the super top secret picks of the experts will probably give you the same Final Four as every other shmoe in your office. Say hello to the middle of the pack, baby!

OK, so the experts see similar things in the end run of the tournament, meaning you need to shine early on in the brackets to have a shot, right? So not only do I keep the channel on ESPN, I find myself perusing 3 different websites in order to properly absorb the wisdom of the experts for the opening rounds. Of course, now the problem is that all 3 billion “experts” have a different take on who to take and why to take them. Fantastic. So, essentially, I just spent time trying to glean extra information in order to further confuse the hell out of myself when filling out a bracket.

There is such thing as information overload, and that’s exactly what the start of the tournament is all about. So what’s the take home point? No one knows what they’re talking about. Period. This is precisely why the random guy (or gal) in your office who knows nothing about college basketball and chooses winners based on mascots will win your office pool. So prepare for a letdown.

Breakup in the Bronx, A Norv for All Seasons, and Pippen's Pipe Dream

I never thought I'd find myself writing these words. I thought they'd go the distance. I thought they were stronger than this... stronger than Andre and Steffi, stronger then Mia and Nomar. And yet, this President's Day weekend, the earth-shattering news broke: Alex Rodriguez and Derek Jeter are no longer best friends forever. You read that correctly, folks - A-Rod and Jeter are BFFs no more. How will we go on? How will we cope? Can the Yankees even bring themselves to compete in light of the biggest of big chills?

Right.

Look, I know that football just ended and that we're still a month away from March Madness, but there's no need to flip our lids over the first non-story of pre-preseason baseball. Chemistry is vital in most team sports, but baseball involves so much player autonomy that unless A-Rod were to sleep with Jeter's mother, I somehow doubt that a petty rift could disrupt the Yankee clubhouse and make any kind of difference in their season. This isn't a feud, this isn't a scandal; this is a simple case of two players having a strictly professional relationship. Wake me up when the steroid witch-hunts resume.

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Speaking of break-ups and their resolutions, the newly coach-divorced AJ Smith and his San Diego Chargers have announced that the coach to take their team to the lofty heights that Martyball could not attain is... Norv Turner. That's right, legendary Norv Turner - owner of a stellar career record (52-82-1) and an impressive one playoff appearance in nine seasons as a head coach - is the man who will replace the post-seasonally impotent Schottenheimer. In other words, a team that went 14-2 last season went out and hired a coach who, at his best, won 10 games in a season. An inspiring choice if there ever was one... was Rich Kotite not available?

At the end of the day, the Chargers decided to join the head-coach hunt...well, at the end of the day. So what was the rush to sack Marty? Sure, if it were possible to land a big-name assistant coach or a well-established veteran coach, we wouldn't be talking about this as a gaffe - but when your team has the league's best record, anything but a serious coaching upgrade is probably a downgrade. The drama between Smith and Schottenheimer should have been the football equivalent of "Let's stay together for the kids," but, instead, Smith decided to marry a two-time divorcée with a history of failed marriages. You stay classy, San Diego.

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Lastly, 41-year-old Scottie Pippen has made it known that he's ready to contribute to a playoff contender despite having been absent from pro-basketball for some three years. Unretirement. Scottie Pippen. There's a reason `unretirement' isn't a real word, people, and it's because it doesn't work. Ever. Seriously, not-counting "in-prime" retirements where athletes leave and return to a sport while still at their physical peaks, can someone name me more than one comeback attempt by an over-the-hill athlete that has worked out well? There is a point where veteran leadership is trumped by lack of ability, and I'm pretty sure that a post-40 basketball player is at that point regardless of what he once was capable of doing. If Scottie really wants to be relevant again, he needs to pull an Emmitt and compete on "Dancing with the Stars."

Now, if this act of comeback lunacy doesn't rate high enough on the insanity meter for you, consider this recent gem by Pippen: "The fans who understand the game, the GMs and coaches... I think they'd rather have a Scottie than a Michael." Um, Scottie...are you high? It isn't a stretch to call you an all-time great, but one thing is very clear: you will always be Robin to MJ's Batman. This isn't a discussion, it's a simple fact, so let's just take a few deep breaths and promise to think before we speak from now on.

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End Rant, over and out.

Garcia vs. McNabb? Not even a question.

While the NFL season is rife with ridiculous comparisons and commentary, nothing has bothered me as much as the ludicrous assertion that the Philadelphia Eagles are a better team with Jeff Garcia than they are with Donovan McNabb. Look, I'll grant you the fact that the Eagles are a team transformed – six straight wins leaves the current squad looking nothing like the team that even the most fervent of fans had left for dead following McNabb's injury and a blowout loss against Indianapolis. Hell, I'll even go so far as to say that the loss of McNabb is ultimately why the Eagles have seen such a change in their fortunes… but not because Jeff Garcia brings anything to the table that Donovan does not.

At first glance, my stance may seem paradoxical… it isn't. First, let me clarify that this isn't an attack on Garcia – he's played inspired, efficient football since he took over the team. In reality, the Eagles have succeeded because of the adjustments made in offensive play calling since McNabb went down. Sure, it's obviously helpful that Garcia isn't a Detmer brother, but committing to the running game is what has turned Philly's season around. This is partially because Brian Westbrook is a should-be/would-be Pro-Bowler who averages 5.1 yard per carry, but there’s more to it than that.

Think about this: the first few losses of the season were characterized by close defeats in games where teams came from behind to win. Why did this happen? Because the Eagles did not run out the clock! The Eagles had the ball less than their opponents in 7 of 9 games McNabb played, a stat that drops to 2 of 6 with Garcia. Average time of possession over the first 9 weeks of the season is a solid 4.5 minutes less than in weeks 10 through 16 (27:06 to 31:36). It might not seem like a big difference but, over that same stretch, I can’t be the only one who has noticed the defense playing loads better. Seems like keeping the defense off the field keeps them fresh enough to make big plays, which in turn leads to wins. Apparently, if you run the ball, you kill the clock and prevent the possibility of ridiculous comebacks while giving your defense a chance to breathe. Who knew?

So, what does the Eagles success in recent weeks come down to? Simple football logic. Essentially, it took a season ending injury of a pro-bowler for Andy Reid to sober up and stop drinking the Martz kool-aid of run/pass calling. Any way you slice it, Garcia is a perfect backup who knows the system and plays a smart game, but he’s still just that: a good backup.

Let The Tirades Begin

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Ladies, gents, and the three people actually reading: welcome. I suppose now’s a good a time as ever to debut the online, in-print version of my UTV “Man on a Rant” persona, so hang on to your hat and galoshes, we’re going to start talking sports. And by talking sports, I mean that I’ll be discussing them in the Jim Mora sort of way.

Playoffs?! (Who could resist…)

Without further ado:

As a sports fan in the last decade of the ESPN era, we’ve all been assaulted by the astounding quantity of information available to us with the touch of one finger. If you own a computer - and if you don’t, I’ll go out on a limb and assume you aren’t reading this column - you’re frantically checking up on every score and news tidbit that concerns your favorite squadron more often than Ken Griffey Jr. has injured his hammy. We’re so hooked on this instant availability of information that our sports outlets have resorted to soothsaying just to keep us hanging. Real-time info isn’t good enough anymore – we need prophetic visions to keep us satisfied.

Case in point? The MLB trade deadline. Egads man, a GM couldn’t sneeze these last few weeks without it resulting in a trade rumor that came nowhere close to coming to fruition. “Well Stew, it seems that Brian Cashman was playing tennis with a friend earlier today, and amidst the grunting and yelling, I believe he revealed that he was willing to trade away Alex Rodriguez and Bernie Williams for a turkey sandwich and a player to be named later.” Did anyone actually believe that Manny was heading elsewhere? Maybe Cracky, the crackhead Mets fan, but certainly no one of their right mind was this deluded. I mean, I know it’s quite common that a team in first place trades away the reigning World Series MVP and league RBI leader for peanuts just as the divisional hunt kicks into 5^th gear, but it all seemed so legit at the time! Can we please put an end to the diarrhea of deluded drivel and stick to talking about actual happenings in sports? They’re called “rumors” for a reason, people.

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You’ll have to forgive me for the lateness of the discussion, being that Tiger Woods wrapped up his 10^th major victory at the British Open over two weeks ago, but sometimes I just can’t stand the two-faced lunacy of sports writers. Has anyone noticed how quickly everyone hopped back on to the Tiger Train? Hip-hip, hypocrisy! For three years we hear endless declarations of “Tiger’s slumping! Tiger’s finished! The field has caught up with Tiger!” while the guy retools his swing and marries a hottie with a body. So sure, he goes Agassi on us for a while, but now that he’s strung together another pair of major victories, everyone can’t wait to suckle on the teat of Tiger. “Oh, Tiger, you magnificent beast, tell us again about how you’re the greatest golfer of a generation?” Let’s all do the fickle flip-flop fandango and pretend we never doubted the guy.

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Speaking of things in the not-too-distant past, a buddy and I were discussing the outrageous Jimmy Rollins deal in the car a few days ago. You know, the one where the Phillies decided to pay him 40 million dollars on the heels of a 12-1 homestand until 2011? Really? Jimmy Rollins is now earning top 5 shortstop money? I mean, I realize there’s quite a dearth at SS in baseball, and that Rollins would technically find himself ranked in the top 5-10 players at the position right now… but that doesn’t mean you need to reward a career .270 hitter with insane money! And who the hell renegotiates contracts during a winning stretch? That’s what I like to call baseball’s equivalent of drunk driving.

Here’s the analogous scenario:

You’re a guy on a ridiculously long dry streak, when suddenly you find a reasonably attractive girl with whom you start fooling around with. Only now, because it’s been so long since you’ve gotten laid, you get so excited in the heat of the moment that you yell out, “I love you!” without a second thought. Except in reality, since this contract is a long-term investment, it’s more like yelling, “MARRY ME!” right before orgasm, and only realizing what you’ve done upon awakening from your post-coital high. “Oh man, this is what I’m tied down to? Houston, we have a problem…Abort! Abort!”

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End rant, over and out.