I would have posted sooner, but I have found myself once more in mourning for a tournament bracket sheet that died before its time. It doesn't happen every year (the catastrophic early collapse always happens, just not the reason why this particular year fell apart), but every now and then I talk myself into picking Georgetown to go deep.

I don't know why I do. I hate Georgetown, and odds are, if you know people who went to Georgetown as I do, you probably hate Georgetown too. Georgetown is dick central. Of the 30 or so people I know who've attended Georgetown, I can think of 3 who aren't total dicks. That's certainly not a large enough sample from which to make a reasonable assessment, but then I'm not necessarily a fair guy.

All signs pointed to Georgetown losing early in this tournament. We all know the cliche that March Madness is dominated by great guard play. Georgetown featured the closest thing to an NBA ready big man available to any of the field of 65, but they didn't have an answer for Davidson's quickness and shooting. So now I look like even more of a moron than usual, but I can live with that.

I did want to see what happened when Roy Hibbert got to play against Brian Butch and the Insane Clone Posse that makes up the Wisconsin front line. I know the entire state of Wisconsin is made up of 5 family trees, but these guys look enough alike that I wouldn't be surprised if they came off an assembly line.

On one level, Hibbert should have demolished the Badgers, based on talent alone. However, in the Coach K era in college basketball, sometimes pure talent is more of a liability than an asset. Far more important is the ability to swallow one's pride and sense of morality and hack, slash, hold and flop in the face of superior talent. And that is Bo Ryan's mission statement as a basketball coach. So Wisconsin would likely have won, especially considering they have vastly more experience than Georgetown (Brian Butch alone has been in college for 7 seasons now, after all).

Having my bracket come apart so spectacularly almost took away most of the joy I felt (and (I'm sure shared with all right-thinking Americans) when Duke lost to West Virginia. Almost, but not quite. Seeing Duke bow out this early in a tournament is always good, but it gives me hope that there might be a chance that teams who flop and whine might be losing their advantage with the officials. That said, I am still terrified by the prospect of another San Antonio vs. Detroit matchup in the NBA Finals. But time will tell there...

In other matters, actor Richard Widmark passed away on Monday. And all I have to say about that is who knew he was still alive? I am a big fan of old movies, and I like my fair share of Westerns. But I was never a big fan of Richard Widmark. I suppose I ought to be more sensitive, now that he's dead, but I am an imperfect person.

I also feel compelled to bring this story to your attention, if you haven't seen it yet. A Mississippi man "accidentally" shot his wife while trying to use a .22 pistol to put a hole in his wall during a satellite TV installation. Prosecutors are considering charging him with manslaughter.

Not for a minute is this manslaughter. Granted it's Mississippi and not civilization, but they ought to throw the book at this guy for everything and anything under the sun. I am not a big advocate for gun control, but I do believe in moron control. Only a total jackass would use a gun in a DIY job. So I'm thinking the guy shot his wife deliberately and came up with this ridiculous story under the Sam Spade principle that a sensible story would have gotten him arrested in the first place.

In a sad news item, somebody stole and torched Shawne Merriman's $180,000 Mercedes this week. Isn't that just awful? What's the world coming to when a fine, upstanding young man like that can't trust the rest of the world to respect his possessions? To add insult to injury, the perpetrators stole his wheels (literally) and left it on milk crates before they burned it.

I have to say it couldn't have happened to a nicer guy. I may have mentioned in this space a time or two that Merriman is a fraud. After having read his official bio on his official website, I think it's time we upgraded Shawne Merriman to archfraud status. I guess one can't expect full disclosure from his own website, but it might have been refreshing to see some mention of Merriman's suspension for performance enhancing drugs not too long ago amid the description of how he became one of the NFL's most dominant (excpet in playoff games) defenders.

All too often, when I mention a story, it's to focus on the negative aspects. But today, I have to praise the courageous leaders of the great state of Maine. No longer can merchants in Maine sell novelty cigarette lighters. This is win-win for the people. First, children can no longer be tempted to play with the lighters and start accidental fires. Second, youngsters will no longer be tempted to smoke to look cool.

Shame on all 49 remaining states who rely on parents and other adults to take responsibility for the objects with which their spawn come in contact. Shame on the leaders of the other 49 states for assuming that their citizens might just be mature and responsible enough to handle decisions like this on their own. And shame on the rest of the nation for being slightly more mature and responsible enough not to be led around by the hand like our neighbors, the Mainiacs.

I know you don't need me to connect you with the news, and it is slightly hypocritical for me to provide this service when I try to avoid news on TV, radio and in the newspaper because it's too damn depressing, but I have two more minor items you may not have noticed. One is sad, the other is ultracreepy.

Al Copeland, the founder of Popeye's Chicken, passed away. This is sad, unless you are a total d-bag and you don't eat fried chicken. Popeye's is much better than KFC, and our world is a little poorer today, losing the man who brought Louisiana spiced fried chicken to the rest of the nation.

And the creepy story...LG is manufacturing a cell phone that feels like human skin. I find that to be beat on a number of levels. First, at this point cell phones can do much more than they should, with the capacity to send texts, photos, videos and play MP3s.

Maybe I'm hopelessly old fashioned, but all I need my phone to do is dial. I hate that I have a cell phone, and if it weren't cheaper than a land line and on very rare occasions useful, I'd throw the damn thing in a river or off the back of some tool's head as though I were a Red Sox fan and it were a slice of pizza.

This story also gives me the heebie-jeebies because it seems to send a message that we are so starved for actual human contact that we might want a phone that feels like a person. Either that or we're trying to get in touch with our inner Dr. Frankenstein. It's not good. In fact, it's quite gross.

Against all reason, the NFL has yet to put an end to the charade that is the 2007 regular season. Even after today's action which saw the New England Patriots win the single most impressive football game in recorded human history, the show apparently must go on. When you get right down to it, you know that if you can beat the Jets in the Meadowlands, you can beat any team anywhere at any time.

There are some misguided naysayers who might offer an alternative explanation for today's event. People might dare whisper that the Jets made the playoffs on the strength of a weak schedule and some lucky breaks. They might wonder whether those factors might have had enough of an impact to negate the dreadful play on words that makes up the nickname of the young Jets head coach. But who among them would dare show their face in the wake of that amazing win?

After all, there is no possible alternative but to assume that today's dominance was due solely to the excellence of the New England Patriots. Who could dare think that the Jets inability to rush the passer and even more pathetic secondary play could have been the result of a bad football team as opposed to an outstanding opponent?

I think the one moment that best encapsulates the state of the New York Jets this season came when the crowd cheered after Chad Pennington was hurt. Not only did it show the Jets fans as total dbags, but it showed that this team can't be all that good if Kellen Clemens is the savior waiting in the wings.

In his brief career, Kellen Clemens had thrown two passes prior to this season and managed exactly zero completions. To his credit, he did lead the league in TD passes this preseason. Maybe I'm too optimistic, but that just impresses the hell out of me. Isn't that why we remember Joe Montana all these years after he retired? For leading the league in TD passes in preseason after preseason?

Outside of New York, no one cares who accumulated what meaningless stats in which slate of meaningless games. If Kellen Clemens is the QB of the future and the future is now, then the 2007 season is already over for the New York Jets. If that is the case, then the blowout the Patriots laid on them this afternoon isn't as impressive as people seem to think.

As impressive as Randy Moss' day was, perhaps it might be wise to wait for him to play a team with a serviceable secondary before we pack his bags for Honolulu and the Pro Bowl. For instance, on his long TD catch can we fairly say that he beat triple coverage? Might we instead say that three Jets took up some space but didn't earn their game checks even though they must have enjoyed their front row seat for the play?

Of course, it is somewhat unfair for me to be so critical of the Jets secondary today. After all, the front seven would have been hard pressed to do less to help their defensive backs. They made the Patriots offensive line look like supermen with their lackluster pass rush. They almost got near Brady once. I think I remember that.

In all fairness, I am just a bit bitter because Brady's performance probably cost me the game in fantasy football. Of course the Kansas City Chiefs horrendous offense dragging Larry Johnson down as though they were a 10 man albatross and LJ were the Ancient Mariner had a fair bit to do with it. And Tony Romo (my QB) hurt more than he helped with his treasonous penchant for throwing to Jason Witten (my esteemed opponent's TE) instead of Terrell Owens (my WR) poured salt into the wound.

It hurts losing this game (which isn't technically over, but I need a huge second half out of Romo and TO and a near miraculous effort from Vernon Davis against Anquan Boldin) to have a chance. It hurts doubly because I'm losing to Mr. Bean's stunt double and a guy who played Eddie Kennison. I guess I'm just not as smart as I think I am, or a victim of bad luck.

But before I wrap this post up, I have a couple of other things to say about a couple of things. First, on the Auburn-South Florida game. I have to congratulate Auburn coach Tommy Tubberville for his amazing ability to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory. After South Florida tied the game with about 45 seconds to go, and Auburn holding onto two timeouts, Coach Tubberville elected to play for the tie and overtime rather than risk a turnover playing for the win.

Even if Auburn had turned it over, South Florida was out of timeouts. Their kicker had just tied the game, but he'd also missed four kicks that day. But giving them an equal chance to win the game by eating the ball and going to overtime couldn't have been good for Auburn's confidence. I assume this knowing that South Florida went on to upset Auburn. The moral of the story - only a tool plays for a tie.

The only thing that keeps Tubberville from becoming a tool of note is that he wasn't the biggest tool in the stadium. I saw a guy rooting for South Florida while wearing a wrestling singlet, only this and nothing more. It got me thinking, is there ever an acceptable time to wear a wrestling singlet. And the answer is no.

It is never appropriate to wear a singlet. Not as a costume for Halloween. Not while watching a football game. Not in the privacy of one's own home. Not even while engaged in that least cool and most homoerotic of sports, Greco-Roman wrestling is it appropriate to wear a singlet. A man should never wear scanty, skin-tight garments. It's not a good look.

If you wear a singlet in public you ought to be arrested. Doubly so if you wear it to an event that isn't a wrestling competition. If you aren't arrested, then maybe you ought to do the rest of us a favor and refrain from passing your genes to the next generation. The only thing that keeps him from being the tool of note is that an odd combination of laziness and horror at the choice of attire prevents me from searching for a photo of that tool.

Among the other things that are bothering me from this weekend is the new Nike ad campaign. In particular, the commercial featuring Shawne Merriman and Stephen Jackson is antagonizing me. I don't know if you recognized the song when you heard it, but it is the Promontory Theme from the cinematic triumph, Last of the Mohicans. It's the song playing while Chingachkook, Uncas and Nathaniel chase down Magua and his warriors at the climax of the film.

If I were a better person, I'd admit that I'm just a bitter person who resents Shawne Merriman's new, edgy style of play. But I'm not, so I can say spiteful things. For instance, I'd have less of a problem with this if a needle injecting some illicit concoction of performance enhancing chemicals were photoshopped into the ad somewhere reminding us of Merriman's four game suspension last season. Or maybe it would bother me less if someone could prove that Chingachkook's triumph over Magua had been aided by some sort of banned substance.

But even more than the Patriots winning, the Bears losing and the terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad use of that song from that scene, another event is bothering me. I don't know if you saw it, I didn't. I had to be told by a Patriots fan who wanted to rile me for failing to show the new look Pats the proper respect. Last night, while I was occupied watching real sports, NASCAR and Dale Jr. crossed a line I couldn't believe they would dare cross.

In his seemingly futile chase for the Chase for the Cup, Dale Jr. dared adorn the hood of his car with the image of Elvis Presley. The universe punished him for his insolence, and he didn't win the race. In fact, Little E didn't even finish the race. If winning mattered to him, and I'd bet it doesn't based on the frequency with which he wins, this truly would be a blow.

It is not fair to blame Dale Jr. for this without criticizing the corporate entity that controls Elvis' legacy. Shame on the functionaries at Elvis Presley Enterprises for whoring his image out to be painted on the hood of a race car. Do they not earn enough money profiteering from his life's work? If I thought I had the discipline not to violate it, I would call for a boycott on Elvis just as I did against John Cougar Mellencamp. But I won't be that sort of hypocrite.

Today started off with two unpleasant surprises. First, I opened the Globe to the Sports section and almost choked on my damn cereal. The Boston Celtics are trying to lure Reggie Miller out of retirement. I understand that the youth movement of the last two seasons has left a bad taste in the region's collective mouth. But skewing ancient isn't the right answer.

In Pulp Fiction, Marsellus Wallace reminds Butch the boxer that people who think they age like wine are gravely mistaken. Unless, of course, by that those people mean that they spoil and turn to vinegar. Reggie Miller is looking much more like vinegar than Dom Perignon at this point. And throwing him out in a crunch time lineup with 2 other defensive liabilities (it's kind of hard to be a defensive stopper at that age) and Rajon Rondo doesn't seem like a nice thing to do to Kevin Garnett.

I know the plan is not to have Miller playing 35-40 minutes a night, but something more like 15-20. Nevertheless, it's still like relying on that little donut spare tire to take you out on the interstate. He's 42. He's not playing 20 minutes a night for 82 games, let alone the playoff run we are told to expect from this bunch. That little spare tire will get you to the gas station in one piece, but when you put all your hopes into a two year window and a 42 year old jump shooter is the missing piece... well that's just depressing. Depressing enough to make me mix metaphors as though I were the CHB.

Speaking of every body's favorite newsman who bears an unnatural resemblance to Dr. Who, he made a funny today. That's how bad this panic move to lure Reggie Miller out of retirement is. Even the CHB can crack a joke about it and have said joke be moderately amusing. Shaughnessy asked: "Why not just see if Cooz wants to lace 'em up one more time?" That's not half-bad. Hell, for the CHB that's pure comic gold. And that was the second unpleasant surprise of the morning.

My final unpleasant surprise came this evening watching the first preseason game on FOX. Troy Aikman cautioned fans not to expect DeMarcus Ware to put up numbers reminescent of Shawne Merriman's 17 sacks from last year under new coach (and former Charger defensive coordinator) Wade Phillips. There I was anticipating that exact type of performance. And even if Ware should get 17 sacks, they shouldn't be measured against Merriman's uncanny performance from last year as Ware will (I hope) play all 16 games this year. And before I move on, let's not forget the little problem of Merriman's 4 game suspension for the use of illicit performance enhancing drugs. But good work on the call, Troy.

And before I sign off, as tomorrow is Friday, and I've really been trying not to post after I've had a few, I've been doing some thinking about my proposed candidacy for the Presidency of Red Sox Nation. I think part of my problem in the initial phase of my campaign has been a lack of statements to clarify my positions on issues which must be addressed.

I propose that a more dignified song be found to celebrate (or in my case, grieve) should the Red Sox continue their disgusting habit of winning home games. "Love that Dirty Water" is beat (from an aesthetic standpoint), it glorifies a shameful lack of respect for our regional waterways on the part of our ancestors and it is no longer the case. In fact, Boston Harbor is now so clean that the EPA and state officials have finally gotten around to banning boats from dumping sewage within three miles of the Harbor.

Look at the Red Sox chief rival. The Yankees feature "New York, New York" by Frank Sinatra. Granted Frank Sinatra doesn't enjoy the stellar reputation among music lovers that has made the Standells the darling of the nation these many years, but he's still somewhat recognizable. Good grief. Sinatra has a song book; the Standells have spark notes. Surely there must be some artist with some song that has roots in the community and just a bit more dignity. I'm not looking for Rachmaninoff, here. Just something that isn't a one hit wonder with a lame hook that has somehow dug into the collective psyche of morons in New England like a tick.

I would also do away with the 8th inning tradition of singing along to Sweet Caroline, which is another beat song. If you really want to listen to it, I have it on Coco Crisp's authority that New England's official Sweet Caroline Station is WROR (105.7 for those of you wishing to tune in at home). Singing along to Sweet Caroline, especially with the slight adaptions inserted by Red Sox fans at Fenway is no better than bringing a glove to the game if you're a grown man or doing the damn wave.

I am also not a huge fan of the pink shirts. I realize that a small portion of the proceeds goes to benefit breast cancer research. But let me let you in on a little secret... you can donate money to breast cancer research without buying a Red Sox shirt. I know this. I know people who do it. You could even donate the money you spent on the shirt or the hat or whatever other pink souvenir you purchased directly to the good people doing the cancer research. Granted you wouldn't have the pink souvenir, but maybe the satisfaction of donating all of your money to cancer research and none of your money to the "John Henry's getting divorced, again" fund could keep you warm at night.

This weekend has given us all a lot to think about as the playoffs come to an end. I think the Verve said it best when they sang: "It's a bittersweet symphony, that's life." Unfortunately it turned out to be a very bittersweet symphony for the Verve when it turned out that they had sampled a symphonic version of "You Can't Always Get What You Want" by the Rolling Stones. That's a little bit ironic, when you lose the rights to your breakout song, it gets used in a Nike commercial even though your band was rabidly opposed to corporations. It's just a bittersweet symphony of not getting what you want. But anyway...

First and foremost, I spent today riveted to ESPN News awaiting the firestorm of consequences to catch up with LaDainian Tomlinson for impugning the class of the New England Patriots and their wily supergenius of a head coach. The blogosphere has been burning LT for his "sour grapes" attitude. But the mainstream media has yet to call for his deportation, deactivation or any other punishment that would fit his heinous crime.

The nerve of some people. It's not as if Bill Belichick has been mentioned as a home wrecker in divorce proceedings in New Jersey, after all. Oh wait, I'm sorry. He has. Plus he looks like an unmade bed on the sidelines and has a long track record of being a total douche. Let's not forget that he gave Magini the silent treatment (a gesture so immature that even I, the least mature person my age I know, think it's immature) for bailing out to coach the Jets when he pulled the same move in abandoning the Jets to coach the Pats. And of course there was the shove he gave a photographer, which I didn't really care about because it was kind of funny.

I don't have a problem with what LT said. In part, it's because I don't like the Patriots. Actually, I'm starting to hate the Patriots nearly as much as I hate the Danny Ainge Celtics, but that's a story for another day. Also, I don't think a guy who submitted a first rate offensive performance can be considered a whiner. It's not his fault that Shawmne Merriman has a foolish dance and a strange sense of timing. LaDainian Tomlinson did every thing he could to help his team win, he just needed a bit more help than he got.

I am the guy who got mad at the Michigan State players who got into an altercation with players from Illinois who were celebrating their first win in Spartan Stadium since 1994 at the fifty yard line. I also criticized the New York Giants and their fans when they complained that Mario Williams and David Carr dared imitate the "ballin'" jump shot celebration. Believe it or not, there is a difference as far as I'm concerned.

LaDainian Tomlinson played a great game, he could not have done more to defend his turf and his team's honor. The Giants and Spartans cannot make the same claim. Neither can Shaun Phillips who made the same sort of comment as LT today. Maybe it's hard to have a consistent reaction as a fan because the athletes and situations involved change so much over the course of a season and a career.

I have not been a big LT fan up till now. He's a great talent, he certainly deserves all the praise he has gotten to this point in his career based upon his numbers. He was the best player in the NFL this year, and, unlike some other MVPs in recent memory, he did not submit a disappointing individual effort in his lone playoff game.

More than anything else, I think LaDainian Tomlinson's comments did not bother me because it was his honest emotional reaction to a heartbreaking defeat. As Mike Holmgren said following the loss in Chicago, everything a player or coach has done over the last eight months was building to the one moment when a playoff game can be won or lost. And all of a sudden, it's over. And for the Chargers it was a shockingly abrupt and baffling ending. Every thing that could have gone wrong in the fourth quarter seemd to go wrong. A game that they dominated in the murky recesses of statistics went tragically wrong in the material sphere.

In all of that, frustrated, hurt and confused, LaDainian came right out and said what he felt. He was mad as hell, and he wasn't going to take it any more. Like Faith Hill's reaction after finding out that Carrie Underwood was female artist of the year at this past fall's Country Music Awards, LT's tirade shocked a lot of people who only knew him as the mild mannered back who scored a league record 31 TDs and never even spiked the ball. But the minute he said anything negative about the single most impressive dynasty of the last 5 years and the greatest coach of all time, then he was a selfish crybaby.

In case you care, I didn't have a problem with Faith Hill's negative reaction to the award going to Carrie Underwood. It seems every single person in America is so image conscious that they are terrified of showing any genuine emotional reaction to a disappointment. I am tired of good losers. You show me a good loser, and I'll show you a loser as the saying goes.

That said, I don't want to see more Peyton Mannings, either. Last year it was the protection, earlier this season it was the defense. Who knows who will be responsible this time around should the Colts fall victim to the Patriots? It surely can't be the quarterback. That much is clear. I only wonder if the fans in Indianapolis will be yelling "movers" should the breaks start beating the boys in Indy this weekend.

If you are a somewhat less than gracious loser once in a while, but you don't point the finger at people on your own side (unless you're TO), that's fine. If you keep going there, then you're Peyton Manning. After three or four centuries of going there, then you're French. The real tragedy of the Chargers falling this week is that I now must root for the Patriots this week. And after that, who knows? I guess there's always the NFC Champions. I want the Bears to win, since I held the bandwagon together in spite of some long odds and shoddy play from Rex Grossman. But I can live with the Saints far more easily than I could with the balding metrosexual and his mentor in the hack-a-hoodie. God forbid it be the Colts.

I woke up this morning wondering whether Dan Shaughnessy would tell us what his own words taste like. After all, last week he came out and told us that the two best teams in their respective conferences were the Cowboys and the Patriots. Of course that was a rash statement, made more to anticipate a potential "now the student has become the master" scenario which might be ripped from the script of any one of a thousand martial arts films or Star Wars Episodes II, III and IV in the Super Bowl in the unlikely event that Dallas and New England should advance to the title game. He didn't. Instead he wrote two articles on the same subject, it seemed.

After this weekend's action this much is clear: at this moment Dallas is much worse than New Orleans and Miami is much better than New England. With the way this NFL season has progressed, that could change at any minute. Of course one ought to watch more teams play more games before making pronouncements of any kind. Then again I have been wrong with alarming frequency and in spectacular fashion when I have made predictions this season.

San Diego right now looks 1,000,000 times better than New England. Their offense has been better than any one dreamed it would be in the hands of Philip Rivers. Yes, Tomlinson is an amazing back and will likely win the MVP. Their defense has weathered some strange times. Linebacker Steve Foley was shot by the San Diego police, safety Terrence Keil was arrested on the practice field by federal authorities and the man, the myth, the legend Shawne Merriman sat out four games after a positive test for performance enhancing drugs. They crushed Denver (which looks like a sinking ship, to the point where the boys might want to put Things to Do in Denver When You're Dead on their Netflix list), and right now look like they might not lose again, ever.

It brings me to an interesting question. Can Shawne Merriman really win the Defensive Player of the Year trophy this season? I have a friend who lives in San Diego and happens to have a giant man-crush on Merriman. He is convinced that Merriman is the defensive MVP, but then he tried to convince me that Marcus McNeal (the current Chargers left tackle) should win rookie of the year. Now that is patently absurd on several levels. First, no offensive lineman will ever win that award. Second, Colston and Vince Young have had incredible seasons and Reggie Bush has show flashes of brilliance. Third, my friend was kidding. I could provide a few more reasons, but it's late.

I think Merriman has had an amazing season. It's great to watch him play. Few players have ever had the amazing combination of size, strength and speed that he brings to the table. But there is the fact that he tested positive for a banned substance. He sat out four games, and still managed to put up impressive numbers. But he tested positive. I am not comfortable with awarding the defensive most valuable player trophy to a guy who lost a quarter of the season for a steroid violation. I don't know who else deserves it, outside of maybe Jason Taylor. But I'd rather see Taylor get it, even though the Dolphins won't make the playoffs.

Then there is the issue of Tony Romo. As tonight's Bears-Rams game came to a close, ESPN informed us that Sportscenter would be answering the question: "is Tony Romo regressing?" I've complained about this media trend several times in this space, and I'm sure I will have many more chances to do it again in the future. We live in a world of 24 hours news coverage, and people need to fill the programming lineup with something. So we have instant and incessant breakdown of every single thing that happens in news, politics, sports and entertainment. A little moderation and time for reflection would be nice, from time to time.

Tony Romo finished the game with 250 yards passing, a TD, 2 INTs and 2 sacks. It wasn't a horrible performance, but he wasn't very good either. His throws weren't as crisp as they had been in past games. He wasn't quite as lucky as he had been (although that TO TD was very lucky indeed). But is it regression or simply one bad game?

Joe Montana had at least one bad game in his career. Tom Brady was dreadful against Miami. Young, Elway, Marino, Manning, Unitas, Namath and Bradshaw had a game or two they would like to forget. But Tony Romo is outplayed by Drew Brees (by a vast margin, certainly), and all of a sudden it's all over for him. People need to let him have a couple of bad games before this talk starts. The great game he dropped on Tampa on Thanksgiving didn't make him a Hall of Famer and the egg he laid last night isn't a career ender. Let him build a resume before we carve his status in stone as great or terrible.

Consider this: who should know more about Tony Romo than his former offensive coordinator and quarterback coach? So it seems likely that Sean Payton had an advantage as he drew up a game plan to beat the Cowboys, knowing Romo as well as he did. The Saints outplayed the Cowboys, and outcoached them too. The Cowboys were manipulated by Payton and Brees, hence the massive beating the Saints put on them. Romo may or may not be regressing. Time will tell, provided we don't place too much emphasis on one game.

Take a look at Rex Grossman. After last week, people were demanding the appearance of Brian Griese. Then Grossman played fairly well in St. Louis tonight. So I imagine the heat might be turned down for a time. One thing that I did not see mentioned as folks broke down Grossman's breakdown is the fact that this is essentially his rookie season. It's the first time he's been healthy for a full season. He has played more games this year than at any other time in his life.

Maybe fatigue was a factor. Maybe he had a little less on his deep throws, which led to the interceptions. Maybe he's learning how to deal with that fatigue and protect the football at the same time. Maybe tonight was a brief return to normalcy, and the mistakes and turnovers are coming back with a vengeance in the playoffs. Who can tell? So maybe a bit more time is in order before we condemn or praise Rex too much.

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I know it's been a while since I last updated this blog. I've been more than a little depressed by this World Series. The Cardinals winning is not good for any one. I think we can all agree that no one in St. Louis really deserves to be happy. When your chief landmark is a big freestanding arch with no particular significance (I know the arch represents the gateway to the West, but it's still pathetic), you live in a loser town. No way around it. Given the choice between living in Missouri and death, I'm taking death.

A lot of people wonder why the World Series ratings are so low. Part of it may be the fact that the Tigers and the Cardinals did not get the national TV exposure during the season that the New York teams received. Part of it may be the fact that the Cardinals were dreadful this season. They finished two games over .500, and they went on an amazingly boring run in the playoffs. Part of it might be that baseball is no longer America's pastime. The NFL is the big sport now.

One thing that has not received enough attention is the network itself. FOX does an atrocious job of packaging and presenting baseball as a television sport. It is difficult to make baseball work as a TV sport, there is a lot of dead time in a baseball game. Do we really need to see managers spit and scratch themselves while the pitcher and catcher sort out the sign, the hitter steps in and out of the batter's box and boring announcers try to be amusing and fail miserably? But that is what we get. There are those who maintain that the beauty of baseball is that there is no clock. I disagree. With a clock there might be more consistent urgency, more motion and more action. Is that a bad thing?

Joe Buck and Tim McCarver have no business broadcasting games, together or separately. Think about it. Ask your friends (provided, of course, that you have any). Find some one who is willing to admit that they like these guys calling games. Is there one person in America not related to Buck or McCarver that looks forward to their brand of broadcasting? They have no charisma, they are boring, predictable and dragging the games down. The network attempted to bring some life to the booth for the championship series by including Luis Gonzales. That was a colossal failure.

Then there is Scooter, the annoying (to say the least) animated baseball endeavoring to explain the various pitches to the casual fan. Will any of us who saw it ever recover from Jeff Suppan's ill fated appearance with Scooter, rebroadcast during Game 3? I think not. I know he was trying to be funny, but I can't forgive him for failing so drastically. And if my name were Suppan, and you called me Soup, there would be both consequences and repercussions.

Baseball is really dying before our eyes. Yeah, they set an attendance record this season. That's nice, but when your marquee event's TV ratings decline year after year you have a serious problem. Crowning 7 different champions in 7 years may point to parity and competitive balance, but have teams leveled up or leveled down? I think baseball has leveled down. There are no great teams, and very few great players. There are even fewer compelling stories. When we look back on this postseason, will we remember it for having one of the weaker champions of all time, or for it bringing the demise of Steve "Psycho" Lyons?

As I type this, FOX put a fitting signature on this evening's broadcast. Joe Buck finally revealed the ultimate mystery of baseball. His final thought: "There can be only one champion." No way! Really? I was under the impression that there could be 13 or 14 or an infinite number of champions. And as the credits roll, what does FOX play? A cover of U2's One. And a very bad one at that. Apparently they couldn't get the Kenny G cover of Juicy by the Notorious BIG (I am aware that was also a cover).

This World Series was terrible because the media built up the Tigers until we were sick to death of them. And then the Tigers, whether because of the layoff, the team buying into the media coverage and letting down or a combination thereof, bombed and bombed badly. Now we have the Cardinals as a reigning World Series champion, and who cares? No one likes the Cardinals because they are eminently dislikeable.

Maybe Albert Pujols is the best hitter in the world, but he has no personality. He's not marketable the way Jeter or Ortiz or even Manny can be marketed to the masses. He has all the charisma of the Frankenstein monster in the original cinematic version. Then there is Jim Edmonds, the least likeable centerfielder since Ty Cobb. Duncan, Taguchi, Belliard, Molina, Rolen, Spezio. Those names don't exactly leap off the page, do they? Even with that stupid red beard on Spezio.

David Eckstein, the All American boy (Jim Leyland's words, not mine)? More like that hall monitor that always ratted you out for breaking whichever of the insipid rules elementary schools use to thwart the creativity of the individual (I was less than a model student as a youngster), without, of course, the bear mace and religious fervor that made Cartman such a success in a recent South Park. And if proud NH product (as though that weren't a massive contradiction) Chris Carpenter ever despairs of living free, I won't miss him should he try the other half of New Hampshire's glorious motto.

If you can't tell by now, I wanted to see the Tigers win. Alas, Placido Polanco didn't want to hit. The Tigers pitchers didn't want to field their positions correctly. And Curtis Granderson wanted to play centerfield like a drunken sailor in Game 3. There is more blame to go around, as is always the case with a catastrophe of this magnitude, but there isn't enough time to get into it now. I'll just have to deal with my disappointment.

Before I sign off, I think this point must be addressed. Jim Rome, among others, has discovered a disturbing trend in America today. Shawne Merriman tested positive for steroids, and it isn't as big a deal as the baseball steroid witch hunt. This double standard exists for two reasons. First, we expect more violence from our football players so we are willing to look the other way when they enhance their natural gifts with banned substances. We also focus so much of our energy on our fantasy teams and football gambling that we look the other way in these cases.

There is another way to look at it. Perhaps we reacted to the Merriman suspension the way we did because the NFL has a history of suspending players for steroid use that goes back more than two decades, and not until Congress wasted time and millions of dollars in a farce two years ago. I'm sure I'm wrong though, because my way of thinking would require Jim Rome and his followers to step down from the soap box and spare us the anger of the righteous. I don't think any of us want to live in world like that.