Unfortunately for Humpty Dumpty, all Tito Francona's horses and all Tito Francona's men could not put him back together again this evening in the Bronx. The Yankees took two out of three from the Sox, and there are some signs that everything that has gone so spectacularly awry to this point just might start coming together over the next few weeks. Whatever else may happen, it's sure to be a downbeat post on 38pitches, and that's usually cause for celebration on this end.

But baseball is only a peripheral concern this evening. Over the last few weeks, the story that Michael Vick owned a home where his cousin lived and allegedly operated a dog fighting ring has for some strange reason become the biggest single problem in America today. A very, very, very small part of this is my fault because I enjoying ripping Vick and his alter ego Ron Mexico. But now it has gotten way out of hand.

Out of all the parties that have weighed in on this sordid little mess, it is hard to determine who is the most wrong (not grammatically or stylistically elegant, but this situation defies conventional forms of expression). Somewhere in all of this, a tool of note is waiting to be mocked. Clinton Portis, tailback of the Washington Redskins, is a good place to begin.



Portis has waded into the midst of this farce and attempted to defend the indefensible player (Vick) and pastime (dog fighting). NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell was not only disappointed, but also embarrassed at Portis' words of something less than wisdom. I don't know if Portis found much time to study jurisprudence in his time at the University of Miami, but that's no excuse for some of what he said.

I particularly enjoyed this gem from Portis' comments: "I don't know if he was fighting dogs or not, but it's his property. It's his dog. If that's what he wants to do, do it." While I appreciate the sanctity of private property as much as the next man, I don't think the "a man's home is his castle" defense is going to fly in this case. Just because you own a house doesn't mean that you or your guests can commit felonies there till the cows come home. You (or your cousin) can't run a meth lab or fight dogs or ritualistically kill people in your home and get away with it. That's just not the way the world works.

But some of the forces that have arrayed themselves against Michael Vick in this are little better than his would-be defender Clinton Portis. Animal rights groups are calling for the NFL commissioner to make sure that dog fighting is treated with the greatest possible severity under the newly adopted standardized personal conduct policy. And even better, a member United States House of Representatives agrees. And all I can say is...who cares?

Dog fighting is a felony. As such, it should be treated like any other felony under the terms of the new conduct policy at best. At worst, people should realize that just because they have formed inexplicable attachments to a vaguely domesticated four-legged pest-carrying civic nuisance doesn't mean the rest of us have to follow suit. Domestic violence, operating a motor vehicle, providing dangerous narcotic substances or partaking of same are far more serious offenses than going to the occasional dog fight or sponsoring a combatant.

Don't get me wrong, I do not support dog fighting. I think it is an antiquated, barbaric, disgusting endeavor. It should be illegal. Offenders should be punished when caught in the act. I just hate dogs. And before any reader rises up with bleeding heart over my egregious insensitivity to man's best friend, consider this proposition: when should a felony committed against an animal be regarded as more serious than a felony committed against a person? If your answer isn't never (the malapropism is deliberate, hoping to shock the dog lover back into consciousness), then you're a jackass, and the world would be best served if you opted to save the next generation from the burden of your progeny.

And as for Congressman Tom Lantos, who feels that he needs to take time out of his busy day to press Roger Goodell to strike down on Michael Vick with great vengeance and furious anger, I wonder would the Gentleman from California kindly consider the notion that he and his 434 colleagues might want to exercise the power of the purse to stave off financial ruin from the nation? Perhaps it's better that the Congress confine its powers to regulating sport. God only knows what a mess they could make out of the nation if they actually addressed issues of immediate concern like the war.

I will leave you to decide which of the interested parties can best be described as a tool of note from this post. If I say any more, I fear my readers and I might meet in the Place Where There Is No Darkness.

I must apologize for my long silence. I had some personal business which occupied my time for a few days and I had some travelling I had to do. I really hate flying, so I wasn't in much of a frame of mind to post. The problem with the long delay, beyond the fact that it puts a dent in the slowly increasing stream of visitors to my site, is that I have a few topics I need to cover in a hurry before they get too stale.

First, toward the end of last week, an unnamed source close to Ron Mexico informed a Sports Illustrated writer that the embattled Falcons quarterback (my three word effort at conventional sports journalism) almost certainly knew of the dog fighting ring that allegedly operated out of a Virgina house owned by Michael Vick and inhabited by some of his relatives. This story has been covered thoroughly, but I have to discuss it because it's been bothering me.

I have never understood the rationale that allows sportswriters to cite unnamed sources. Investigative reporters like Woodward and Bernstein need to use unnamed sources because they break important stories which could result in death or serious injury for the whistle-blowers who leak key information. Sports journalists use unnamed sources to carp at athletes, coaches, team executives and owners with immunity for both source and writer with little or no reason to fear anything more than an ass kicking.

Journalists who cover sports aren't breaking stories that will cause the planet to spin off its axis, literally or metaphorically. Even Game of Shadows was little more than a series of leaks from grand jury testimony that did not conclusively prove what 99.9% of sports fans suspected about Barry Bonds in the first place. I have long suspected, with neither the access or to be honest the inclination to ferret out the cold hard truth, that those who use unnamed sources in their coverage of a team or a player are simply protecting a good man for a sound byte because said source makes their jobs easier. To wrap that up in a mantle of journalistic ethics fails to impress me.

But long story short, back to the Ron Mexico story. Don Banks, the SI writer in question, has an unnamed source who has the dirt on the nature of Vick's association with a family member who allegedly ran a dog fighting ring out of the notorious Virginia home and on the nature of Vick's relationship to Falcons owner Arthur Blank. The writer claims that the multiple sources whom he consulted in writing his piece on Michael Vick had to remain anonymous because of their close relationship with him. Perhaps you are willing to accept this, but I am not.

Reviewing the small segments of quotations from these sources provided by Banks, I just don't believe that they came from a member of Vick's inner circle. I know next to nothing about Vick's entourage, but I bet there are very few (if any) guys in his crew who make a habit of using words like affinity. It just doesn't strike me as a word that makes the rounds of those connected to the dog fighting subculture (another choice phrase from the Banks article).

The sources go on to talk about Vick's posse and circle of friends being a part (if not all) of the problem. My question here is simple - if Vick's posse surround him at all times, who is telling Don Banks about his affinity for barbaric sports best left in the medieval period? Sources go on to say (it was unclear whether these were the same unnamed informants or a whole new crop) that Arthur Blank and his wife coddle Vick and let him get away with murder.

Not being a journalist, I can indulge in all sorts of wild speculation. When I first heard the quotes from the article on ESPN, I was no more convinced of the authenticity of the source close to Vick than I am now. For some reason, I got to thinking that it could have been a guy like Jim Mora (Sr. or Jr.) or Greg Knapp who made the comments to Banks.

There is no easy way to prove that either Knapp or Mora made the comments. It would make sense for either one to stay anonymous if they had any hope of landing another coaching gig in the NFL but still wanted to air some grievances against Vick or Blank or both. I couldn't find any smoking gun to that effect, however (this was about as close as I could come).

For a while, I was looking forward to the new season of Mind of Mencia. I saw his stand-up show, Take a Joke, America about 5 years ago. I've been watching his Comedy Central show since it came on the air. But then I saw the commercials for the season premiere. And it reminded me that there's a lot to be said for the cliche that timing is everything.

I think at this point, every joke that can be (and probably should be) made about that astronaut that went on the cross-country spree of insanity. It's too bad for Carlos that his show was on hiatus and he didn't get a chance to beat that to death with the rest of the media when it happened. But it would have been far better to let it go than to cram it into a season opening episode three months after the fact like a little "dee-de-dee" (sorry to steal his catch phrase) trying to force the round peg into the square hole.

I said all that because I'm running the risk of making that same mistake tonight. It's been nearly two weeks since the Falcons traded backup quarterback Matt Schaub to the Houston Texans. I really don't know why I care, but this trade seems like a mistake for both teams.

It seems like the Texans made this move so that they'll never have to hear commentators rip them for passing on Reggie Bush and Vince Young. As bad as the Mario Williams move looks now (I am still not willing to say this was a wasted pick after only one season, give him another year or two before the verdict is delivered), it's still a million times better than giving a guy with 2 career starts a $48 million dollar deal over 6 seasons. Fortunately for the Texans, only $7 million is guaranteed.

I think my favorite line from that link was Schaub's agent referring to this deal as "a real contract." That's the guy I want to represent me. Where did he go to business school? DeVry? I bet he's the type of guy who calls business school "B-school" in casual conversation.

The real problem here is that the Texans have been around now for five full seasons and they show no real signs of improvement as a franchise. It seems like the team faces an either/or decision every year and they choose poorly every time. It's actually kind of amusing, it must be what non-Celtics fans and people who aren't consumed by a bitter hatred of Danny Ainge see when they look at his tenure as the Celtics GM. If the Celtics come out of this draft without landing a franchise savior, it might just be the NBA's version of that Mario Williams pick.

This is a mistake for the Falcons, too. They're rolling into a season with plenty of turmoil (new coach, Vick's trick water bottle and the rest). And they have no reliable backup for Ron Mexico. A wild rumor has them considering bringing in Drew Bledsoe, which has disaster written all over it. So Atlanta is one injury or ill-advised carry-on item away from a lost season. What a shame it would be if they missed the postseason again.

I don't see the logic of this move from the Texans standpoint. I haven't seen a lot of Matt Schaub, but then again who has? After only two starts, who knows what he can deliver in the long run? He seems like a younger David Carr with less mileage on him. Considerably less mileage, what with the fact that David Carr gets hit more than some tackling dummies every week. But if David Carr wasn't the answer in Houston, I don't see how Matt Schaub will make them any better.

As for yesterday's Final Four games, I was right about Ohio State and wrong about Florida. Too bad. I hate Florida even more now than I did yesterday. With any luck Ohio State will beat them by a ludicrous, inconceivable margin. I was right, I think, about the Oden-Hibbert matchup. When the two of them were on the floor together, however brief that time may have been on account of foul trouble, it was very interesting. There might be some hope for the NBA yet.

I don't know if you got a chance to see any of the Detroit-Miami game, but it was very depressing. Miami took a 9 point lead into the fourth quarter and murdered it. Jason Williams is not remotely qualified to run an offense in the NBA. Detroit went to a full-court press, with Richard Hamilton guarding the point. And Miami's offense went into cardiac arrest. Antoine Walker was forced to bring the ball up when Gary Payton was in the game. And I was, in all fairness, disappointed with Toine's performance too, but maybe if Riley played him more he'd be less rusty.

If a full court press by Richard Hamilton destroys your offense, it might be time to consider a new sport. I never would have believed a veteran team would be so mystified by a simple tactic like the full court press. After all, elementary school kids are taught the full court press. And a "coaching legend" like Pat Riley had absolutely no answer. Miami might as well have had four guys on the court, for all the good Williams did there.

God help the Heat in the playoffs. I never thought Dwayne Wade's ability to bring the ball up against the full court press would be the aspect of game the team missed the most. I figured it would be much harder to make up for his scoring and his defense than for a rudimentary skill like handling Richard Hamilton pressuring the ball. Not that I could bring up the ball against Rip Hamilton, but he's not exactly a fearsome defender.

Ladies and gentlemen, I didn't realise until a moment ago that this is the 100th post in the history of Sedition in Red Sox Nation. I was hoping that some interesting would emerge from spring training in Fort Myers, but no such luck. I don't want to be the guy who writes about split squad games until people want to track him down and beat him with a bag full of oranges because of the citrus metaphors in the column.

Thankfully, there have been a few moves of note in the NFL free agency period. I'm not sure how the Joey Porter signing will work for the Dolphins. Based on his past performance, the amount of money involved and his age, this will either be a huge coup or a catastrophic mistake.

Personally, I think it's not going to work. I don't like the idea of switching Jason Taylor from defensive end in the 4-3 to OLB in the new 3-4 scheme. Then there is the performance history of linebackers who have left the Steelers. For every Mike Vrabel there is a Kevin Greene, Chad Brown, Greg Lloyd or Jason Gildon who did not live up to their past performance when they signed the big free agent contract.

Then there is Rich McKay, Atlanta Falcons GM and the man who frantically searches the main streets and back roads of Tampa for the mojo he left behind when he came over from the Bucs. I think it was his signing of Joe Horn that made the Bears panic and deal Thomas Jones. Pairing Ron Mexico with a 35 year old wide receiver makes the Falcons the prohibitive favorites in the NFC next season.

If I were smarter, I wouldn't do this. Joe Horn is overrated. He has done excellent things, as the face of the Saints in their year in exile and in the triumphant return this season. Unfortunately, the NFL is a business where an aging, but media savvy player is a luxury few teams can afford at the rate of $3.3 million per year. I don't think this was as personal a matter as Horn has claimed. It seems like a wise business decision to cut him.

Looking at his career statistics, Joe Horn is a particularly expensive commodity at $3.3 million. He played only 10 games last season, and caught 37 passes. In 2005, Horn caught 49 passes over 13 games. On average, he's caught about 50 passes and 5 TDs a season over his 11 year career. That really isn't #1 receiver production, in spite of his pay. Horn's best season as a pro came back in 2004 (94 catches, 11 TDs), but he's coming back from a serious groin injury and he's 35.

When it comes to pro athletes advancing in years, I tend to think along the same lines as Marsellus Wallace (the Ving Rhames character from Pulp Fiction). Athletes do not age like wine, in the sense that they improve with age. Athletes age like wine in the sense that they grow bitter and turn into vinegar. At age 35, a wide receiver is more like champale than Dom Perignon. Yeah, Jerry Rice played into his 40s, but if you're honest with yourself, you'll admit that he was just a shadow of his former self.

In spite of all of this, and the fact that Ron Mexico seems to continually regress rather than progress personally and professionally, we are expected to take the Falcons seriously as contenders? At the risk of using the editorial we, let me just say...we are not amused. Horn may solidify a shaky receiving corps, provided that he's healthy enough to stay on the field and contribute, or he may not. But the Falcons still cannot protect the passer very well, and their defense has holes galore. So I will short the Falcons until they prove me wrong.

For those of you who are new to this blog, you might not know it, but I spent much of the last season navigating the trials and tribulations of the Bears bandwagon as though I were the Ringo Kid from the John Ford classic Stagecoach. During that process, I became emotionally invested in the team. Even though this offseason has been a nightmare so far, I am not ready to give up on the Bears for next season.

I have tried not to let the Thomas Jones trade bother me too terribly. Make no mistake about it, I am sorry to see him go. I like him as a running back, and he's a proven commodity. But the team put a lot of money and a high draft pick into the development of Cedric Benson, and that was never going to come to fruition with Thomas Jones on the team.

One of my problems is that I am a football fan with a very long memory. I can remember the 1999 NFL draft. The Arizona Cardinals drafted a running back from Virginia with the 7th pick of the 1st round. He didn't develop into the player they had hoped he would, so the team traded him to Tampa Bay for Marquise Walker. Even though providing the link in this paragraph kills what little drama was building, I'll pretend it's still a surprising revelation. That running back was the same Thomas Jones.

That paragraph points to two possible interpretations. First, the Cardinals and the Bucs regret letting Jones go, so will the Bears. That is the line this blogger takes. The other, the Cardinals made a mistake choosing an older back of a younger one (they signed Emmet Smith before they dealt Jones) who had shown promise but not produced to the desired extent. That's the way feel about this situation.

Running backs in the NFL burn out at a younger age than other athletes, except for boxers (maybe). Most running backs hit 30 and fall off a cliff. Thomas Jones might be one of the rare exceptions, but then again he might not. It makes more sense to go with the younger back with fewer miles on him than it does to give Jones a long term extension. With no long term deal, Jones would be leaving town as soon as his deal ends. It makes sense to get what you can for him before he's gone.

And then there's the fact that I know several of the other owners in my fantasy league read this blog. And they know I know this. And I know they know I know this. So there's a chance that I could be talking Benson up so that they fall all over themselves to draft him early, thus allowing me to swoop in and draft some other player they should be looking at.

I must admit that there is something very unpleasant about having to eat my words. I don't enjoy the taste. The Bears let me down and the Colts were better than I thought. And I had to do it, why I don't know, but I ripped Bob Sanders to shreds the other day, and damned if the Bears didn't make him look like he was the evolutionary hybrid of the great defensive backs of the past that I sarcastically made him out to be. Good thing I didn't throw Night Train Lane in the mix, otherwise Sanders would likely have scored three TDs on his own.

But I promised my own version of the Paper Lace song The Night Chicago Died. I know I've promised them for a while now, but now I guess it's finally time to deliver. I must warn you, it's not very good and certainly uninspired. But you have to bear with me. Like Marvin the Paranoid Android, I'm feeling very depressed right now. So here goes:

Lovie was a coach on the north side of Chicago,
Went down to FLA, had a bad, bad day
In the rain on a Sunday night, in the southeast's crown jewel
The team from Chicago choked, and I looked like a fool
The night Chicago died.
When a man named Peyton Manning tried to make the trophy his own
And he called his fake audibles and some coverages were blown

I heard my neighbor curse and storm and swear the night Chicago died
Brother what a game it really wasn't, in fact it really sucked.
I heard my neighbor curse and storm and swear the night Chicago died
Brother what a game it really wasn't, in fact it really sucked.
God help us.

The crowd of Colts fans did roar as Rex kept falling down
And the Bears came very close to competing for the crown
Until the went 25 minutes of 3 and outs
All in all, not one of their better bouts

I heard my neighbor curse and storm and swear the night Chicago died
Brother what a game it really wasn't, in fact it really sucked.
I heard my neighbor curse and storm and swear the night Chicago died
Brother what a game it really wasn't, in fact it really sucked.
God help us.

Then there was no sound at all, since I shot my TV set
So I didn't have to see the accolades Peyton'd get
Now Junior Simple heads to Disney World, and how it does reek
And I'm not going to watch ESPN for at least a week.

The night Chicago died.

I know it's not great. Meter isn't exactly my strong suit as a poet. In point of fact, poetry isn't my strong suit as a poet. But I said I do it, and now it's done. If it kills my readership before it even gets off the ground, so be it. But the depressing end to an otherwise good season has me wondering what to do about next year.

Just so you know, I didn't shoot my television. How could I, when it gives so much and asks so little? I just threw it in there because Elvis, according to legend, used to shoot his TVs when Robert Goulet came on screen. Seeing Goulet in the Emerald Nuts commercial and loathing Peyton Manning as much as I do, the connection fell into place.

In the process of contributing to the construction of the Bears bandwagon and rebuilding it after the near disaster in Arizona and honest to goodness disasters at home against Miami and Green Bay and on the road in New England, I have become emotionally invested in the Bears. But the loser of the Super Bowl had not made the playoffs since the Titans in 2000 until Seattle did this season. And even the Seahawks submitted a lackluster performance in a very weak division this season.

Questions remain for the Bears; actually they hang over the team like the sword of Damocles. Among the big ones: Will Rex Grossman actually develop any measure of consistency? Are his health concerns behind him? How badly hurt is Cedric Benson? If he comes back healthy, how long can he coexist with Thomas Jones? How long can the team afford two high-priced tailbacks without losing players like Desmond Clark or Bernard Berrian? Will Charles Tillman be a Bear next season? Will the defense stay as healthy, or will there be another Tommy Harris injury and some other key player as well? Will Devin Hester play more defense and less special teams? Will they lose coaches in the offseason?

Based on the defensive performance, or lack thereof, tonight, I am more hopeful of Ron Rivera staying on for at least one more year. If he's not going to be a head coach, I think one more year of a great defense in Chicago will be better for him than a lateral move to Dallas or another team. I don't see Lovie leaving, either. That would be too dumb for words on the part of Bears' management. I like him as a coach. He has a quiet strength and consistency about him, his persona radiates confidence. I don't want to see him go.

I'm not sure what effect the talk about Smith and Rivera as candidates in Dallas had on the team's preparation. But I don't think it helped. And that's part of the larger problem that is the Super Bowl now. It's not just a game anymore, it's a cultural event. It's a monstrosity. And it's too bad. It's hard now, just to watch the game. Now you need to see the ads so you can talk about them, blog about them and rate them until someone like me who just wants to watch the game for its own sake loses his temper and smashes a chair over your head. For the record, I abhor violence if I can get caught in the act or it happens to me.

And then, every channel but the network carrying the game has to glom onto the game's popularity and try to come up with an alternative lineup to catch the non-fan. For instance, TBS ran a My Boys marathon, and no one called for an investigation into that crime against humanity (or at least good taste). Animal Planet ran a Puppy Bowl, which was footage of a set built to look kind of like a football field while puppies frolicked about. It was heartwarming, or it would have been if I had been lobotomized recently or if I didn't believe WC Fields was right on the money when he said anyone who hates kids and dogs can't be all bad.

But today wasn't all bad. A friend told me about Michael Vick's alter ego "Ron Mexico." I know I'm late to the party on this one, Deadspin and the Smoking Gun reported it a long time ago. I guess I live under a rock, but I figured I'd throw it out there because I laughed like hell when I read the story. If you haven't seen it yet, check it out. It's a must read.

I guess I'm not really surprised that Michael Vick has VD. It happens. Sometimes people think they're bulletproof. What really surprises me is his almighty poor choice of an alter ego. Ron Mexico? Why not Ron Smith? Ron Mexico is a really half-assed choice. There is no subtlety there. Ron Mexico sticks out like a sore thumb. An alter ego should help you blend. It's not as though any reasonable person would look at Ron Mexico and ask "Are you related to Dave Mexico from Memphis?" Might as well print out business cards that say Michael Vick, I have herpes.

But there is this site that delights in the Michael Vick/Ron Mexico saga. It's a riot. I wasted a few minutes on the name generator. The Cincinnati Kid's Ron Mexico name is Franc Ecuador. It's a nice touch, Franc with a C instead of a K. Makes it sound more exotic.