The Loss Column — Baltimore Sports Blog and Community

Soon there’ll be lots of college basketball on TV. But with college basketball on TV comes college mascots on TV, and you’re gonna need to be prepared.

People either love mascots or hate mascots. But there’s one thing you can’t do: ignore mascots. Here’s the best and the worst from the place where athletics meets community theatre and puts on a costume.

Worst:

5. St. Joseph’s University – The Hawk (view)

A school as over-priced as SJU should be able to pay for an actual mascot costume instead of getting the equipment manager’s mom to sew something together in her free time. The fuzzy sweatpants and Down Syndrome eyes and non-stop arm-flapping and delusions of immortality (The Hawk Will Never Die) inspire involuntary hospitalization as opposed to school pride. It’s telling when people find out you’re an alumnus and immediately ask “What’s the deal with that hawk?”

4. University of Southern Illinois – Grey Dog (yeah, that’s the official name of the mascot) (view)

Good old-fashioned nightmare fuel.

3. Three-way tie:
Purdue - Purdue Pete (view)
UMASS – The Minuteman (view)
New England Patriots - Pat Patriot (view)

People are ugly and scary. Mascots that look like giant plastic people are even uglier and scarier. The clever names are telling of the laziness involved in opting for these cop-out mascots. Two of these horrid things are from Massachusetts. Go figure.

2. Notre Dame – The Leprechaun (view)

Short, bearded, red-headed guys in green vests are made to be ridiculed and hated so it kinda makes sense that Notre Dame chose one to be the face of their school.

1. Philadelphia 76ers - Hip Hop (view)

Hip-Hop is the mascot equivalent of Poochie the Rockin’ Dog meets Chester Cheetah meets The Worst Attempt at Urban Youth-Focused Marketing Since Boost Mobile Phones.

Best:

5. UC Santa Cruz - Sammy the Slug (view)

Look at how hard he’s chillin’. That kind of easy unflappability can’t be bought. It can only be earned. Insect mascots are difficult to pull off. Where Buzz the Georgia Tech Yellowjacket goes so wrong with it’s translucent fish bowl eyes, Sammy goes so right. He looks like a less creepy Gelfling from the Dark Crystal. Plus he’s a slug.

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Ed. note: this is the Loss Column’s official 2008 mock NFL draft, courtesy of quasi-regular contributor Chris. Enjoy.

1. Dolphins – RB - Darren McFadden – Arkansas. Miami would love to trade down, but no one will be desperate enough to bite. After shopping the pick around to no avail, they go BPA. Run D-MC is being touted as an Adrian Pederson clone and is, by default, this draft’s “playmaker”. Don’t assume having Ronnie Brown puts Miami out of the running for McFadden. The two-back system trend doesn’t look to be waning and the two of them would be a fearsome (albeit, expensive) backfield. Miami can fill in their myriad D/O-line gaps in the later rounds. McFadden puts asses in the oft vacant seats at Pro Robbie Stadium. DT Glenn Dorsey seems to be the popular choice here but he’s not a prototypical lineman for the (Parcells) Dolphins system and there are concerns about his suspect ankles.

2. Rams - OT - Jake Long – Michigan. Orlando Pace may be balking on retirement, but if he’s not gone this year, he’s gone next year. The Rams go pragmatic in a draft filled with question marks and take the one (pretty much) sure thing in Jake Long.

3. Falcons – DT – Glenn Dorsey – LSU. The Falcons would and should be able to trade down here, amass picks, and still get their QB. But who is so desirable at this spot that a team will hand over picks to jump up? The QBs in this draft are a huge gamble at #3. Falcons swallow their pride and go BPA.

4. Raiders – DE - Chris Long – Virginia. Al Davis keeps it in the family and makes the feel-good pick here. He would have liked to have Darren Mac in the backfield with JaMarcus Russell, but drafting the son of a Raider legend who looks primed to follow in daddy’s footsteps is a no-brainer…IF McFadden is gone.

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It’s that time of year again again. Leaves, Leafs, candy apples, Candy Samples, light wraps (including but not limited to shawls, tunics, neo-wimples, and jumpers), used Type O Negative CDs, Dane Cook, the farthest time from when employees of the PAAS corporation have to think about going back to work again, and best of all, gratuitous use of the suffix “-tober”.

The newest entry to the list (which previously included Z104.3 The Edge’s Rock-tober, Martin Yan’s Wok-tober, Bushwick Bill’s Glock-tober, The Dukes of Hazzard Appreciation Society’s Catherine Bach-tober, etc) comes to us from ESPN’s MLS Primetime Thursday. Yup, it’s “Socc-tober” according to Rob Stone (guy who used to play soccer and now just talks about it on the TV).

After proclaiming this newly crowned “–tober”, Rob went on the show us WHY the prefix “Socc-” is so apt. Apparently, this is when the MLS playoffs happen. And before the DC United v. ,b>Chicago Fire 1st leg match, we got the obligatory “Let’s try to rope in the folks who flipped to ESPN instinctively during a World Series commercial break” feature, which consisted of a comparative baseball/soccer montage: “We’ve got strikes, steals, and slides too!” No lie, that was an actually quote. Now the potential viewer is bored because he realizes it’s soccer (because there’s not that much scoring in soccer and excitement and intrigue only come with scoring and LOTS of it, see the NHL) on the other end of the spectrum, the dedicated soccer fan is insulted and embarrassed at the overt pandering to Joe Nascar.

Add this to the litany of poor marketing strategies the MLS/EPSN has rolled out in an attempt to snag new fans. Instead of marketing to the core audience who knows and faithfully follows the game, they continually choose to alienate that demographic with constant attempts to draw parallels to American sports (”They’re in the red zone!”, “We’re coming up on the 2 minute warning.”, “The attacking midfielder is like the quarterback of the team.”), and the continuous explanations of the rules and practices, made famous by Dave O’Brien and his “This is an example of the spirit of the game!”, uttered every time a ball is purposefully played into touch while an opposing player is injured. That’s American soccer coverage: plenty of dumbin’ it down, hypin’ it up, and Sierra Mist.

The ESPN Thursday night MLS team had previously injected some insta-cred by including international soccer mainstay, the leprechaunish Tommy Smyth, whose catch phrase “bulge in the ol’ onion sack” is the comedy gold at the end of a dreary American soccer commentator rainbow. Instead, we get the Alex P. Keaton of the soccer world, the surly, snarky Eric Wynalda who is best known as Landon Donovan’s less-talented predecessor.

Last night, Eric thought it acceptable to liken the red flames of the road flares fans had set off in the crowd to the wildfires destroying homes and lives in Southern California. Yes. And aside from making light-hearted references to a continuing tragedy, Eric wouldn’t shut up about how “hated” Cuauhtémoc Blanco is despite every other spectator in the crowd wearing his #10 jersey.

This collective hatred that we are supposed to hold can be traced back to Blanco’s Mexican national team consistently dominating Wynalda’s US national team during the 90s. A lack of commentator objectivity due to unresolved issues and past failures (Tony Kornheiser) or blatant homerism (the Redskins radio broadcast team) is usually a recipe for unintentional hilarity, but Wynalda’s agenda is much too pitiful.

Not even the silky, lovable Valium that is Julie Foudy could save this embarrassing production. Instead of letting her do color commentary, which she has done more than competently in the past, they shove her into the Keyshawn Johnson/Shannon Sharpe novelty corner of the coverage desk. “Hey look everybody! It’s a girl! How crazy is THAT?” Julie is too dignified and sleepy to be up that late and not have a major speaking role. ESPN, please for the love of the game soccer and the people who watch it, put Julie Foudy up front where she belongs and give her a new Sierra Mist X with invigorating Ginkgo Biloba and other botanical extracts and sugar. We’re sure she can hit it out of the park, take it to the house, drive the lane for an and-one, and maybe even put the bulge in the ol’ onion sack.

“One Julie Fooooudy!! There’s only ONE Julie Foooooooudy!!!”

Our friends at Behind Enemy Lines blog alliance member AZ Sports Hub reached out to us earlier this week in the interest of goodwill and camaraderie. Specifically, they reached out to our esteemed contributor Chris and asked him to do a quick preview of this weekend’s Cardinals – Ravens match. He rose to the challenge in a big way.

Read what he has to say by clicking here.

Later on today, the AZSH will be sending a contribution of their own for us to enjoy. Keep your eyes peeled.

Super Bowl III: Arguably the most important Super Bowl in the history of the NFL. The AFL upstart New York Jets stunned the mighty Baltimore Colts and ended the longstanding dominance of the powerful NFL, thereby facilitating the merger that gave us our current National Football League. This Sunday we have another Baltimore vs. New York match up, although Jets/Ravens doesn’t carry that same historical cache as Jets/Colts.

The Jets do have some history with the Browns, most notably the 1987 Divisional playoff game. The one where Mark Gastineau personally handed over the game to the Browns by roughing Bernie Kosar and giving the Browns the momentum to score 10 points in the game’s final four minutes, and force an overtime in which Mark Moseley kicked the game-winning field goal. But the Purple Browns, or Baltimore Ravens, haven’t yet had a chance to develop the kind of rivalry the Jets and Colts had back when they shared the AFC East with the Dolphins, Patriots, and Bills.

Ravens fans seem to be under the impression that this game will be a cake walk. Plus the Ravens lost last week and how could they possibly lose again?! That would make it difficult to achieve that 13-3 record they’ve been guaranteed. I mean, they’re the RAVENS!

So let’s examine what could lead to such confidence:

QB: Both teams are tentative to tip their hand regarding who will be under center come game time. For now, let’s assume it’s the backups. Kellen Clemens: 2nd year unproven 2nd round pick. Hailed by some (Ron Jaworski, if that counts) as the best QB in the 2006 draft. Had a decent preseason this year, but he remains relatively un-battletested. Kyle Boller: 4th year unproven 1st round pick. His arm strength has never been in question (Everyone knows of the mythical throwing-the-football-through-the-goalpost-from-midfield-on-his-knees that seduced Brian Billick). What IS in question and has been in question since his arrival are his leadership skills, his accuracy, and his heart. Even with that being the case, the edge has to go to the Ravens due to Boller’s (for better or worse) experience.

RB: Here lies a major disparity. During his time with the Bills, Willis McGahee was a perennial Jet-killer. If McGahee played the Jets every week, he’d be a lead-pipe cinch 1st ballot HOFer. He didn’t show much against Cincinnati, but this could very well be the breakout game where we find out exactly what Willis is “talkin’ ‘bout’. The Jets are listing Thomas Jones as “questionable”, but they have an underrated sleeper of a 2nd RB in Leon Washington. Washington thrives in Brian Scottenheimer’s offense with its dump-offs and screens that allow him to utilize his elusiveness and “exscapablity”. Schottenheimer may be able to prey on Rex Ryan’s defenses’ tendency to over pursue and open up the field with some misdirection screens to Washington. Be that as it may, it’s still McGahee vs the Jets, so big edge to the Ravens.

TE: Even with Monday’s dropsies and endzone stiff-arm (yes, holding the defender at bay with an extended arm IS offensive pass interference), Todd Heap is still one of the best TEs in the league. Chris Baker isn’t. Advantage Ravens.

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I figured the Loss Column should weigh in on the Beckham invasion since it’s been so grossly under-reported. Beckham is good for American Soccer in the same way Gorgeous George was good for pro-wrestling. Pretty boys are fun to hate, and when they wear sarongs and fauxhawks, they’re even more fun to hate. I will go see Beckham play vs. DC United Sept 8th to boo him and to hope that Ben Olsen spikes him in the calf. But I’m not sure why.

Why am I paying to go to a game in the interest of spite for someone I never met? Probably for the same reason I felt a sense of indignation when Paris Hilton got out of jail early. I hate and envy the famous, and like much of America, hope and pray for their downfall. Beckham is like Paris Hilton with talent. They’re both vacuous, good-looking (more in the case of Beckham than Paris) clothes horses who are famous for being famous. The only exception is that Beckham is a vacuous, good looking clothes horse who, at 32, can still take free kicks better than anyone in the world.

On second thought, maybe the Paris Hilton comparison is a bit harsh. Beckham is more like Jon Bon Jovi. Girls love him, most guys hate him, and the ones that don’t hate him won’t admit to loving him. They’re both good at what they do, and they look good doing it. While JBJ excels at radio-friendly pop goo, Beckham excels at free kicks. He doesn’t make dazzling runs or acrobatic bicycle kicks, he just takes free kicks. What’s amazing is that he’s done it well and for long enough to make him the most recognizable sports figure in the world.

Compared to past euro soccer giants who wound up in America, he doesn’t really measure up in talent or personality. He doesn’t have the charm and otherworldly skill of a Pele, he doesn’t have the loathsome sliminess and opportunistic goal hunger of a Giorgio Chinaglia, and he doesn’t have the poise, class, or leadership of a Franz Beckenbauer. He’s a one-note virtuoso with the personality of a hitching post who got swept up in the British tabloid hype machine which spread like a viral infection to the rest of the world. Now, like it or not, America is battling the infection and our media is doing it’s best to dump the vaccine down the sink.

According to some message boards and blogs, many Americans see the Beckham hype as an attempt to “force” soccer onto Americans. If soccer was really being forced on Americans, we’d see MLS highlights on Sportscenter. The Beckham madness isn’t about some global agenda to cram the world’s game down America’s throat. It’s not even about sport. It’s more about our fascination with fame.

It doesn’t matter what you’re famous for in America. It makes no difference whether you’re famous for taking out your competition by having them whacked in the knee or famous for marrying a wealthy, dying man 60+ years your senior. David Beckham is just some guy who plays a game most Americans don’t really care about, but he’s some guy who you recognize and about whom you have most likely already formed an opinion. You don’t have to love him or even respect him, you just have to recognize him. And in that respect, he’s already done more for the MLS in one weekend than any single player has in the league’s entire history. (more…)

The French Open provided what it promised: the two best tennis players in the world skidding around on mushed-up brick. Some of you may have an aversion to watching tennis for whatever reason. Even more of you may be unwilling/unable to rouse yourself awake at 9am on a Sunday. Don’t sleep on tennis. It’s a great game to watch, especially hung over. Maybe it’s because they force the crowd to be quiet. Maybe it’s because of soothing, rhythmic grunting. Maybe it’s because the dulcet tones of Bud Collins are like Advil and a bloody mary without the stomach irritation. Either way, it’s a great game and this was a great match and a perfect way to kick off a long day of lying in bed and watching sports.

This match was a study in contrasts. As clichéd as that sounds, it’s hella apt. You have Roger Federer, the demure, beheadbanded, Swiss Morrissey vs. Rafael Nadal, the wild eyed, scruffy, Mallorcan man-child in Laura Petrie pants. Nadal, despite being ranked #2 in the world behind Federer, was the favorite in the match, having yet to lose in the French Open, ever. It’s been widely documented that Nadal is undefeated at Roland Garros, and the French Open is the only major tournament Federer has never won.

It looks like these facts were all too apparent to Roger.

He played scared at times. He made uncharacteristic unforced errors. He seemed to be battling Nadal as well as his own French Open demons. During one telling Nadal 2nd serve – which, according to conventional wisdom, is going to have a little less horseradish than the 1st serve – he backpedaled instead of charging in. One can only assume this was out of fear, fear of an opponent he knows owns that surface and that tournament. Though Roger cannot be blamed for his trepidation. Nadal must be an imposing force to anyone across the net from him at the French. Looking like Mowgli from the Jungle Book with a Wet Seal wardrobe, opponents have to admire the strength of his couture convictions to adhere to such tragically European fashion choices.

That and he navigates the clay surface with such quickness that it’s almost unfair. Clay is supposed to bog speedy players down and shorten the points. Yet whenever Federer attempted drop shots, Rafael was able to catch up with them with surprising ease. Nadal has a mysterious immunity to the trappings and limitations of the clay court. He once had a gaudy 81-match win streak on the red dirt, and can now take his place among French Open clay masters like Swedish heart-thrÖb BjÖrn Borg and Australia’s Ken Rosewall, who isn’t all that attractive.

Federer may very well be “the best player ever to play the game,” but until he can solve Nadal and the French, there will remain an asterisk next to his name.

There is a faction of hockey pundits that will be disappointed with this year’s NHL finals matchup between The California Mighty Ducks of Anaheim and the Ottawa Senators. Some may see it as a battle of no-names. But upon closer inspection, this is a hockey holy war pitting good vs. evil, right vs. wrong, pure vs. diluted.

If you’re a fan of traditional hockey, it’s likely that you have become disenfranchised with the game over the years, what with the over-expansion to nonsensical markets and rule-changes bent on placating those fans who believe that goals translate to exciting hockey. This matchup is a prefectly-timed metaphorical battle between what used to be great about hockey and what has poisoned the frozen well. You have a team hailing from the game’s country of origin, whose original roots date back to the 19th century and who are named for the governing body of the Roman Empire. They’re going against a team from a suburb of the most ambivalent, fair-weather sports city in America, who are named after a fictional children’s hockey team in a Disney movie.

If you grew up loving the game of hockey that included the illegal two-line pass, the tie game, the Patrick, Norris, Smythe, Adams divisions, and the occasional bench clearing brawl, then you saw the steady decline in quality that came with the enforcement of new rules and the expansion that has dispersed talent and spit on tradition. Not that this is a new phenomenon: the same expansion that has diluted today’s game had a hand in killing the original Senators.

That came in 1934, partly because of the depression and partly because no one wanted to see the new American expansion teams from Detroit and Boston. The only draw came when the other Canadian teams were in town. And yet 73 years later, the new Ottawa Senators are playing in the 2007 Stanley Cup finals against the embodiment of the insidiousness of rampant expansion, the 2nd of two ice hockey teams in southern California.

Any city where ice can only be found in freezers should not have an ice hockey team. It’s just common sense. There are no surfing competitions in Iowa, nor should there be hockey in southern California. The LA Kings get a pass since they’ve been a solid, perennial laughing stock for 40 years, but there’s no reason for the Anaheim Mighty Ducks. The name itself is an affront to the game.

So if you used to be a hockey fan, but have lost touch with today’s bloated, sanitized, goal-fest NHL, you have a rooting interest.