Mister Faded Glory | misterfadedglory.com

All day I’ve been battling some form of depressed, self-pitying malaise, and I’ve totally wondered why. Could it be my bracket’s regression into a mediocre NCAA tournament? (Lousy talking heads picking all four no. 1s and being right.) Nah, who cares? Could it be another week’s worth of corporate seminars staring me in the face? Nah, that’s status quo at this point. Wait, it’s late March – I’ve figured it out.

Tomorrow, all the narcissism, the whining, self-loathing, unease and anxiety accompanying any and all baseball seasons commences. And summarily, as you know, we’ll be gritting our teeth and informing you this isn’t a Cubs blog with each and every frustrated, whining post for the next six months. But that’s baseball – it’s cruel, it’s twisted, and aside from stupid colloquial poetry, it’s fucking perfect.

So far, we’ve done yeoman’s work keeping our mouths shut this offseason, even deigning not to wrap ourselves too far into the good developments (The Strap – gone; Jon Lieber - back; Reed Johnson – employed; K-Fuk – what a nickname, etc.) and the bad (Felix Pie‘s balls, Brian Roberts‘ watch, Mark Prior‘s exodus, and the impending departure – GRRR! – of Matt Murton). We’ve even resisted the temptation to throttle any stat geeks howling that Tim Raines belongs in the Hall of Fame.

But anyway, with tomorrow arrives all the angst, all the moping, all the sky-high celebrations, the legions of dipshit Cubs fans counterintuitively celebrating futility (dopes), all the exhalation after a night’s win; the pain gurgling after a daytime loss. 162 such separate occurrences, and hopefully more to follow. We’re somewhat positive about the Cubs, and we’ve narrowly avoided following all other baseball developments. Not to worry, however, our quick-hit Cub thoughts follow after the jump.

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As promised, baseball is starting tonight or last week or something. Here’s what we think:

AL EAST

1. The Sox. Because a Masshole fan base deserves more success.
2. The Yanks. Because this division is always, always, always terrible.
3. The Jaze. Nice new uniforms, same spot in the division.
4. The Raze. Bad new uniforms. And who cares.
5. The Orioles. First The Wire departs, now Baltimore is subjected to this?

AL CENTRAL

1. Detroit Rock City. Best team in the AL, maybe – their pitching front three is fearsome, depending on which Dontrelle Willis shows up.
2. Cleveland. Great hitting, thin pitching, but enough to win the wild card.
3. Minnesota. Totally irrelevant.
4. Kansas City. Notable simply for finishing ahead of the White Sox.
5. Chicago. That world series really happened in 2005? Really?

AL WEST

1. Angels. Not sold on any of these teams, like the deep lineup out here.
2. Rangers. I think they’ll surprise – says more about the M’s and A’s than the Rangers.
3. Mariners. Looks like a .500 team to me. I know Erik Bedard is Tom Seaver, but, you know.
4. A’s. Not the worst last-place team, at least.

NL EAST

1. Mets. Johan and Maine and pray for rain. (Oh, I’m sorry, I thought that was gangbusters. NEVER been used before.)
2. Phils. Oh, I don’t know. I’d laud Chase Utley, but that’s just what you expect.
3. Braves. Snore.
4. Nationals. Just to change it up.
5. Marlins. That’s right, we lost the NLCS in 2003 to this franchise. Fantastic.

NL CENTRAL

1. Us. I guess; I really have less faith in the Brewers than more faith in our Cubs. If that makes sense.
2. Crew. Great offense, but did their pitching actually regress in the offseason? Who thought that was possible?
3. Reds-Cards-Stros-Bucs: Feast your eyes, Cubs fans. These are the dregs of the NL Central, the teams Chicago will inexplicably fall to, repeatedly, at crucial times throughout the season.

NL WEST

1. Diamondbacks. Might be the class of the NL, should their young hitters continue to improve.
2. Dodgers. Who knows?
3. Rockies. Just don’t see them as anything more than a flash in the pan. In other news, Rockpile tickets have increased from $4 per game to $78. Progress! (Note: Not actually true.)
4. Padres. No offense to speak of on this team, which will come in handy when Mark Prior no-hits us in August. Well, it will only be 1-0 instead of a really painful shellacking.
5. Giants. Just horrific. Memo to Aaron Rowand – get familiar with the bricks and ivy around the trade deadline. Just sayin’.

I try not to get worked up about things like this anymore, but since I lauded the Worldwide Leader for its nearly-cogent ranking of all-time shooting guards, it pains me to point out their 758th sort-of annual wideout rankings. Of course you know Jerry Rice is No. 1, but where would MFG-favorite Marvin Harrison land?

No. 2, no – that’s, uh, Randy Moss. Er…

Not 3 or 4, oh, there’s Michael Irvin, of course, he wasn’t outlandish and outspoken and overrated.

Hmmm…still no Harrison.

Here we are at 7, hmmm … not here, either, did they forget him?

No. 9 of course is T.O., all right, that’s ridiculous. Where the heck is Keyshawn, while we’re at it?

There’s Marvin! No. 10! Perfect. The single-season record-holder for catches, second all-time in catches and yards, with an outside shot to supplant Rice at the top of some record boards. Granted, I’m biased, but seriously – tenth? Quite the joke, WWL. Quite the joke.

Mr. Faded Glory is waxed – thoroughly exhausted, after nearly three weeks of constant business day trips to the nether regions of midwest Americana, and a few overnight stays smattered within.

However, we’d be remiss if we didn’t comment on our frustrated Friday morning post – in a stunning twist, Thursday’s NCAA results were less-than-admirable, yet Friday and Saturday we rebounded into actual, well, credibility. You’re welcome for those San Diego and Siena upset selections – no problem (Apologies, however, if you chose only Oral Roberts and George Mason. Although I was rightfully skeptical of Notre Dame and Pitt).

Still, we missed on Kansas State – a schizo team which showed up for the first time in two months against a moribund USC group. We talked ourselves out of Davidson for two rounds, simply to deflect the status quo. (Still kicking myself for that). MFG-adopted favorite Drake bowed out against a Western Kentucky squad way better than a 12-seed. And we failed to foresee Villanova playing Clemson exactly as it did Syracuse.

So we’re doing OK, thank you very much, with 12 teams left in play. No revision of picks here, you’re not going to read about North Carolina turning into the Harlem Globetrotters just ’cause they scored 100 twice. The real tournament starts now, and anything really can happen. We’re wavering on UCLA, just like last Wednesday. The Hilltoppers, in fact, could give the Bruins a real run for the money.

Louisville and Tennessee might be the game of the third-round; the Vols really have to run and ugly it up to defeat the slick waves of Cardinals. Kansas should roll into the Final Four (although Wisconsin is sadly better than I thought), and Texas and Xavier face stiff tests in Stanford and West Virginia, respectively. It appears, additionally, Michigan State did actually decide to show up in 2008.

So those are our thoughts. What, you expected a diatribe after another stunning Syracuse meltdown, this time in the NIT quarters (How many times can a team flush a one-point lead by throwing the inbounds pass away?)? Actually disappointing, but all we can say, confidently, is that they’ll learn. And no, we didn’t have them advancing in our NIT pool, anyway. Sigh.

So, remember anything I said? Anything? I am not good at this anymore. K-State, Notre Dame, Pitt, and Purdue are your final four. Who knows.

All right, someone stop me. I’m waffling. I did what was right – stuck to my picks, claimed Drake as my own, yet here we are, the night before the tourney. I’m watching Just Friends for the hundredth time (Seriously good. My man-love for Ryan Reynolds knows no bounds. I’ll shut up now) and I’m doubting nearly all my picks. I’ve overdosed on coverage, brackets, analysis, cogent thought, sheer stupidity, and bandwagoneering. Is UConn toast or rested? Pitt hot or spent? Purdue solid or lucky? Blake Griffin and Drew Lavender – healthy or not? Is Kentucky as bad or good as Syracuse? Augh!

I’m on overload here. I know I picked Gonzaga, but Davidson is begging me to endorse a second-round victory over Georgetown. I’m confident that Pitt is overrated – two weeks before Sunday, Oral Roberts was everyone’s Cinderella choice no matter the first-round opponent. Now the Panthers are unbeatable. I know this doesn’t compute, right?

And honestly, the only thing I’m certain of, is within all talking-head media, no one is funny when they say, “Love the Drake,” and chortle at the pop-culture Seinfeld reference from fourteen years ago. Thirtysomething males tend to think they’re gangbusters with any Seinfeld reference, and each time, I cringe. Spongeworthy (shudder.). Not that there’s anything wrong with that. (Ulp.). Master of your domain. Sigh. And now, love the Drake. My God, those days are done.

Maybe I’m the pot castigating the kettle, because I generally beat any and all terrible jokes into the ground. However, I have no TV forum. And a normal guideline: Movie quotes (I.e. Fletch, Ghostbusters) – timeless. TV quotes – not so much. Anyway, besides suffering a blinding rage each time another media member uses “Love the Drake” to highlight their latest Sweet Sixteen pick, I keep thinking, maybe Drake’s getting too much pub. Too much dap. Maybe the Hilltoppers are destined to knock them off, much to our Seinfeld-quoting chagrin. And maybe, like these doubts that follow, just maybe I’ve made a huge mistake.

• UCLA is everyone’s pick. But honestly, everyone also is picking the aforementioned Bulldogs to advance past UConn as UCLA’s sacrificial lamb. Is it possible that UCLA could fall to someone like BYU? Or that UConn has the juice to roll past them? I can’t abandon the Toreros, but part of me wants to play the contrarian and ship them out early.
• Maybe the A-10 is way strong, but not strong enough to top Duke. Can St. Joseph’s top slumping Louisville in Round Two? Is Xavier, in a stunning homage to the Musketeers’ former standing as yearly upset kings, going to fall to freaking Georgia?
• Augh! Maybe Memphis is going to roll to the title. Maybe Butler’s shellacking of Tennessee nearly two years ago really is going to play into the Vols’ ouster! How can I think Tennessee is capable of the Final Four in the North Carolina regional! No way can this ragtag outfit escape anyone.
• I’m so certain of Vandy’s falter that I can’t conceivably see them landing in the Sweet Sixteen. Thusly, they can begin planning for the regionals. Same with Stanford. Even more certainly with Wisconsin.
• And cripes, three of my upset picks are 13-seeds. No way all the fours are that weak? Right? Maybe Michael Beasley WILL beat Southern Cal in Omaha all by himself!

Anyway, I’m not going to waver. You can find symmetry, quirks, and asymmetry anywhere you look, reframing and reformatting your picks. The important thing is, uh, confidence. Right now my bracket is as I see it, but the only thing I’m confident about is that you don’t care. Unyielding, I move on, undaunted. Well, until the first Elite Eight team drops. Check with me at 8 p.m. tomorrow night.

In keeping with our theme of (mostly) positive energy surrounding our NCAA tournament prognostications, we’re not going to mention ESPN’s insipid selection Sunday coverage – apparently all analysts are required to shamelessly kiss up to Bobby Knight profusely, even amid The General’s stunning lack of analysis. We’re also not going to excoriate Clark Kellogg, Jay Bilas, and Digger Phelps for selecting all four No. 1 seeds as their Final Four picks. Fantastic. You can’t get that kind of insightful analysis anywhere.

Instead, we’re simply about to go on record with this year’s picks. It wasn’t exactly an easy year – and even though I claimed earlier that parity was rampant throughout this tourney, it was still difficult to avoid the chalk in deeper rounds. I scrunched up bracket sheet after bracket sheet, twisting myself in knots, until finally deciding not to quibble with myself, and stick to my guns, espoused in yesterday’s pre-tourney blog post. (Last year I lamented my Final Four matching Seth Davis’; this year I heard Davis on the Tony Kornheiser show forecasting verbatim some of my initial gut-reaction upsets. I like Seth, but seriously, he’s poison. Redo!). Maybe, in effect, I know more than I think I do. Or something.

Therefore, within the next 63 games, you’ll see:

• My selection of all four upset-alert teams announced yesterday will stand. No second thoughts. Even though I know everyone’s on guard for George Mason, I still believe. (Stow your sermon about falling in love with losers. I don’t care.)
• My pick against all teams I decried or warned against picking, whether early or late.
• My attempt to remove all emotion from my selections. Ergo, I’m not picking against Pitt or UConn because I despise them. (Actually, I simply will justify it better. See point No. 1.)
• And quite simply, my selections based upon yesterday’s column first, rather than falling deep into overanalysis based on matchups. Probably not apropos to call this rationality, but, well, maybe logic is finally entering our sports prognostication. Or at least consistency. Onto the picks:

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Mister Faded Glory is taking a break from TV shows featuring the inimitable Joe Lunardi securely defending Arizona’s selection to the NCAA tournament field and Arizona State’s omission. Listen, stat guys, we get it – to compare midmajors with high majors and vice versa, it’s necessary to compute strength of schedule and RPIs and all that other jazz.

But when both schools are high majors, have played the exact same round-robin conference schedule, and have faced off against each other twice (ASU winning both), then, unless the committee is saying conference schedule is actually less important than November preseason games – Arizona State is clearly better. It’s incumbent upon the committee to put the Sun Devils in, and the forgettable Wildcats out. It doesn’t matter that Arizona has the No. 2 Strength-of-schedule in the country – they didn’t beat ANY of those teams, let alone a conference mate whose at-large bid they’re stealing.

See, there we go. That was too negative. Regardless of any bubble quibbles, we’re trying a different tactic this season. Normally, when we unfurl our lengthy preview we typically nit-pick, scoff, and highlight massive faults among tourney powers, winding up completely dubious about nearly every qualifier. This year, however, instead of picking out each team’s negatives, we’ll describe why our expected contenders could win the NCAA title. Not necessarily why they can’t. (Or at least, not just why they can’t). Even our red-flaggers, we’ll include some positive words for them. See, we told you this was a warm, fuzzy, happy blog.

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First things first – Oh, thanks, I really didn’t care to concern myself with that pesky tournament this year.

Secondly, it’s apparently too much to ask for the Orange to avoid the bubble year after year, but I would actually settle for an opening-round Big East game NOT in the middle of my workday. Although, maybe I’m horrendously mistaken – during tonight’s slate of Big East games, ESPN’s Len Elmore called the ACC the greatest conference in basketball. Yes, the same ACC with a scant three tournament-quality squads. Best conference? Sigh. How, ESPN, how is Bill Raftery not ready for PrimeTime at the Garden?!

Thirdly, I know you’re pounding your desk breathlessly awaiting Mister Faded Glory’s evaluation of college basketball teams entering the tourney, and we’re still pondering it. Could be a good year – during two of the last three seasons, the NCAA field has been extremely top-heavy, with few chances for early and second round upsets. That’s not so this year. Who’s the best team? Carolina? Memphis? Sure, both are good, but even they could even fall to a craptacular squad like Marquette or Baylor on an unlucky night. So we’re working on it, and giddy with anticipation. Be patient – we suddenly have more time on our hands to watch other teams. AHEM, see above.

And finally, I failed to recognize this as it happened, but Monday’s post on The Wire was somewhat monumental – that’s right, it’s the blackened anniversary of Mister Faded Glory – Post No. 6-6-6!

In younger, contemptuous days (uh, well, even more so) we would have urged readers to raise a chalice of goatsblood in toast, or painted our site black, or written at length about Mercyful Fate. However, we’re now more than 30 years old, and it’s well past time to stop assuming we’re best when a little scary. (Like rock and roll, you know?) In fact, we’ve come full circle – now turning and walking away from the convenience store if our total is $6.66. So instead of celebrating this meaningless anniversary by twirling Led Zeppelin IV backward on our turntable, we’ll ram tongue firmly into cheek, and sign off. Besides, 47 is way more mystical, anyway.

Perhaps it’s pathetic, but each spring when the weather first thaws and it’s actually somewhat balmy and pleasant outside, I revert to complete immaturity, and find myself cruising around town with my windows fully down and my stereo cranked, like I’m a junior in high school or something.

Driving home from work, running to the local Food King, or returning from my workout – yes, that’s right, when the weather is somewhat warm, I regress into a total badass. By the way, I’m thirty years old. Hope no one I work with saw me tooling around listening to COC‘s Clean My Wounds or A Perfect Circle‘s Pet. Actually, check that – I hope they totally saw me. Fuck and yes.

Anyway, another favorite pastime of mine as a high school junior, obsessed with basketball, was hating Michael Jordan (slaps self five for enormous reach of a segue).

Yes, that’s right, as you’ve read before, I’m one of the ten or so people who didn’t fall under Mr. Jordan‘s spell. Though I concede he’s good, I’ve never passively referred to him as the greatest player ever – as nearly every middle-aged sportswriter with googly-eyes tends to do – and I was quick to offer an impassioned defense of Oscar Robertson, Wilt Chamberlain or Magic Johnson as the greatest players of all time, not the presumptive people’s champ, Michael Jordan.

Anyway, my hatred of Jordan has numbed with time, and I concede he’s an all-time great. His ascension is partially due to the bourgeosie identification of shooting guards as the presumptive greatest-players-ever. Which makes sense, because they aren’t giants, like Chamberlain or O‘Neal, and usually resemble the position most of us attempt to play as we descend into lame pickup games, worse by the year. So I get it – 2-guards and small forwards always get the admirer’s benefit of the doubt, whereas O’Neal, Wilt, Hakeem, and Russell do not.

Also helping the numb is Kobe Bryant‘s career trajectory – enigmatic as it may be. I’m no Bryant fan, but I tend to think he is superior to Jordan. An equal scorer, similarly ruthless competitor, and much better on the defensive end (Though both are a tad overrated.). Almost inexplicably, Bryant mimics Jordan‘s behavior, demeanor, style of play, and hubris to a T – yet Bryant is reviled (at least somewhat) while Jordan is lauded. Perhaps sportswriters feel jilted by any player threatening their assumed autotext maxims of Jordan as the GPE; perhaps round-the-clock web, new media, and paparazzi coverage would have painted a much more sinister picture of Jordan had he been subject to the same gluttony of scrutiny foisted upon Bryant. Who knows?

I bring all this up because ESPN, today (Sensing, perhaps, that there’s nothing going on in the sporting world. What? Championship Week? Oh.) launched an extra-special front-page feature polling its cadre of NBA writers on the greatest shooting guard ever. Of course Jordan won. Wouldn’t want to think too hard.

Yet still, it’s a nice change of pace – rather than the same old boilerplate Brett Favresque list-making of the greatest NBA Players Ever, at least the WWL chooses to compare by position, much more appropriate and sensible when discussing all-time greatness. Sure, Jordan‘s on the short list of greatest ever, but no player eclipses Olajuwon, Russell, Wilt, Erving, O’Neal, Magic, Bird or Bryant enough to merit a GPE rubber-stamp. With players like West, Maravich, and Robertson even further into the rearview, it’s even tougher yet.

So, good job, ESPN. Instead of inflaming with just a slap-happy generalized list, there’s an additional modicum of thought into this one. At best, they got the top-two correct; I would put the underappreciated Clyde Drexler third (he was actually Jordan‘s superior in several facets of the game, not scoring, but several) but I don’t have a problem with West outranking Clyde. Maravich also is too low, and I’m also flabbergasted to see the correct classification of Iverson as a shooting guard. Mitch Richmond is criminally absent (People forget him because of a steep decline and toil for the bad-era Kings) and other than that, I have no real qualms. My list.

1. Kobe
2. Jordan
3. Clyde
4. West
5. Maravich
6. Iverson
7. Richmond
8. Gervin
9. David Thompson
10. Earl Monroe.

That’s my list. (ESPN’s wondrous minds also included votes for such luminaries as Manu Ginobili, Ray Allen, and Vince Carter. Er, don’t think so.) But, again, it’s a meaningless talking point, I’m just thrilled to see it a little bit differently than the standard list-making Jordan slobberfest. In bigger news, what am I doing talking about the NBA when the NCAA tournament is so painfully close? What is this, my junior year of high school? Scratch that – it’s still light out, and I’ve got Danzig on my iPod. Off to scoop whatever loop, and I’ll be back tomorrow.