An Ode to Saturday/Thoroughly Depressing Pac-12 Preview Spectacular!!!

Dear Saturdays, 

First, an apology. My behavior the past eight months has been simply unacceptable. "Walks", "hikes", and other overhyped forms of upright outdoor mobility. High-fiving my girlfriend after spotting an organic casaba sale at the local farmer's market.  Degrading shopping trips to Target, Kohl's, and other places without "Wings", "Hut", or "$1.99 Chinese Food Don't Ask How That's Possible" in the title.

I know these trespasses are all but indefensible. But, Saturday, if we're truly being honest with each other, you're not completely blameless yourself. Cubs-Astros as the Fox Saturday Game of the Week? I much rather spend three hours comparing thread counts at Bed Bath and Beyond than spend three hours watching Carlos Pena attempt to hit a baseball. Even if Carlos Pena also came in my mailbox with a strangely effective, oversized 30% off coupon (someone should check if this is why the Cubs signed him). 

Saturday, let us forgive and forget, for September is finally upon us, and with it we can resume our relationship as it was originally intended. I wake up at 10, stumble drowsily to the living room, and flip on whatever utterly inconsequential Big-10 games ESPN and ESPN2 are playing. After double checking that the flatscreen is working properly and that Big 10 secondaries are indeed just that slow, I settle into the position on the sofa I will occupy for the next 12 hours (save for the half minute exchanging awkward pleasantries with the Vietnamese delivery guy and the ensuing forty minute dump/email check). At mid-afternoon, just after an SEC team has cemented the conference's status as the greatest in the history of intermural sport with a 17 point victory over UTEP, I'll check the weather on my laptop simply to affirm that the best way to spend a 73 degree day in West Los Angeles is inside a two-bedroom apartment with no direct sunlight. Midway through the USC nightcap, I'll be overcome with a severe bout of Kiffinitis--a unique form of nausea caused partly by a full day of human inertia and partly by the natural physiological reaction to Lane Kiffin.

Before I get to the team-by-team predictions, a note about what is currently being referred to as the Pac-12 but what very well may be the Pac-28 by the time you read this (assuming the University of British Columbia can break from its revenue sharing deal with the London School of Economics). I'm a sports traditionalist at heart, having come from a long line of sports reactionaries. My father still won't recognize either of the two Marlins World Series championships because, as he puts it, "The Weimar Republic was around longer than those fuckers." When the designated hitter was introduced in the late 1970's, my grandfather self-immolated. Even my great great great great grandfather objected to the integration of Jews into 18th century Russian hockey leagues, partly because it threatened the integrity of past scoring records and partly because Jews weren't allowed to wear skates.

But despite the Edmund Burke sports pedigree, I must confess my excitement for the Pac-12. Although I'll mourn the smug sense of moral superiority round-robin play conferred on Pac-10 teams, there are two highly compelling reasons I'm elated with the new format: 1) the spectacle of Utah Mormons venturing to Berkeley on a semi-regular basis, which may very well represent the largest culture clash of any two schools in the same conference with the exception of annual Howard-Brandeis squash game; and 2) Cal is guaranteed to play Wazzu each year, every year, until the end of time.

I originally planned to post these predictions last week, well ahead of opening weekend. You'll simply have to trust that my prognostications were in no way affected by Week 1's outcomes, and that I always had Sacramento State over Stanford in the Pac-12 title game. Without further ado...

Pac-12 North: Final Standings 


1. Stanford (10-3, 8-2): The Furd charges into the Big Game ranked second in the country (trailing only a 3-loss SEC team), buoyed by Luck's Heisman candidacy and a daunting non-conference schedule featuring wins over BCS-powerhouses Duke and San Jose State. Cal fans are treated to an endless stream of ESPN segments on Luck's architecture degree, including a halftime report in which he tells Kirk Herbstreit, "Everybody knows I'm the idea guy. I let the Asians do the computer stuff. They call themselves the AutoCADDIES, but I don't know what that means." The Farm hosts a record turnout of just over 60% capacity, with half of those in attendance from Berkeley. On the first play from scrimmage, Cal safety Sean Cattouse soars over three Stanford offensive lineman and pile drives Luck, the force of the hit blinding him permanently. Stanford goes on to lose the game 35-3, and then follow it up with losses to both Notre Dame and Utah in the Pac-12 title game. After his etch-a sketches fail to attract any interest from architecture firms, Luck applies for an admin job with Facebook.

2. Oregon (8-4, 6-3): After Les Miles' strategy of letting Oregon catch the ball on punt returns pays surprising dividends, Oregon bounces back with seven consecutive victories. Chip Kelley's interactions with the media become even more dickishly terse, with Chip responding to several on-field Erin Andrews questions exclusively with "Ducks go fast" and "I coach football". Unfortunately, the Ducks' slip down the stretch with consecutive losses to UDUB, the Furd and USC. Adding insult to injury, the NCAA releases the results of its investigation into Oregon's recruiting violations, declaring LeMichael James, Darron Thomas, Cliff Harris, Joey Harrington, Akili Smith, and Steve PreFontaine ineligible and revoking the Ducks' 2010 Pac-10 title. Phil Knight assumes coaching duties for the bowl game.

3. Washington (7-5, 5-4): The Sarkesians post another respectable season, featuring a victory over Oregon and a second consecutive bowl game appearance. However, a malaise settles over Seattle late in the year when defensive coordinator Nick Holt is suspended for HGH and, in a panic, the Huskies tap Tyrone Willimgham to replace him. Seattle sports fans pretend the Sounders matter for another three years.

4. Cal (7-5, 4-5): Maynard throws for 3,000 and runs for 1,000, Isi keeps our streak of 1,000 yard rushers alive for another year, and our highly touted defensive freshmen actually live up to the hype. Sweater Vest West cools some of the criticism, and Marv Jones and Keenan Allen get guest spots on a Ginuwine record that goes triple platinum. But we still lose to SC.

5. Oregon State (4-8, 4-5): A disappointing year for the Beavers that could only be redeemed with yet another victory over USC. Unfortunately they don't play the Trojans until 2012.

6. Wazzu (4-8, 2-7): A four win season is hailed as significant progress by players, coaches, and the single remaining member of the Cougars fan base. Unfortunately, the euphoria in Pullman is cut short when Pac-12 Commissioner Larry Scott announces that the conference will cut ties with Washington State and replace the team with Mater Dei's Junior Varsity squad.

I'm too tired for the Pac-12 South. Too many teams. Expansion ruins everything.

Drinking Games for Meaningless Dodger Baseball

The truth hurts. Other than Pablo Sandoval's diabetic relapse or Zach Wheeler's imminent Cy Young candidacy, there's not much to root for as a Dodger fan these days. Fifty-four games to go, and you're secretly not sure you can handle one more viewing of that Kafka novella posing as a Carl's Jr commercial, let alone the sight of Aaron Miles batting fifth for a professional baseball team.

You pretend your rationalizations don't sound as absurd as they really are ("I know it's a Friday night and it's Houston and we're already down 7 runs, but I want to see how Ruby responds to walking 17 consecutive batters"). You insist to friends and family that yes, they may be 11.5 back, but the games are still enjoyable, especially when Kershaw is pitching and...well, when Kershaw is pitching they're enjoyable. You affirm with fellow fans that you were there for Dre and James and Kid K and the alien that now inhabits Matt Kemp's body when they were competing for division titles, and goddammit you'll be there for them now when they're competing to be an extra in a Brian Wilson Old Spice commercial.

But deep down, in the hellspawned recesses of your sports subconscious alongside memories of Jack Clark and Matt Stairs and Delino Deshields, lay the truth: these remaining Dodger games are absolutely brutal to watch. Borderline unbearable. If the Dodgers were a racehorse, they'd have been diagnosed with rickets and shot repeatedly in the head by June (no, we can't do that with Uribe, even if he's on the DL. I checked). If the Dodgers were a movie, they'd be Revolutionary Road. If the Dodgers were a book, they'd also be Revolutionary Road...or, if Ted Lilly is starting, some combination of Revolutionary Road and Night.

Luckily, I've developed a reliable method for coping with one of the most abjectly depressing second halves in Dodger history: a drinking game. As anyone's undergraduate experience readily attests, a drinking game serve as an effective antidote for just about any form of disappointing entertainment. A Friday night with you, your Mandarin-speaking roommate and a Super Nintendo that only works when you play Paperboy? Drinking game. A Felicity marathon you have no idea how you got coerced into watching? Drinking game. Batting cleanup for the Tigers and bored with how easy it is to slug .600 ever year? Drinking game.

What You'll Need:

• A fifth of your favorite shot beverage. I would recommend making something with "Swerveballs", James Loney's personal line of Courvoisier. You can get it for $9.99, behind the alley behind the parking garage behind the Inglewood Target. Ask for Snot Boogie.
• A forty of Steel Reserve.
• As much SumPoosie Energy Drink as you can purchase legally, which I believe the FDA limits to 10 ounces every four years.
• A Rihanna CD.
• A jar of pennies, a Dodger hat and an utter lack of self-respect.

How to Play: As the most agonizing part of this season has been watching anyone but Kemp attempt to hit a baseball, the game revolves around obeying certain drinking rules during Dodger player at-bats. Although on paper the rules may appear to require a dangerous amount of drinking, luckily our offense is so anemic that it's very unlikely we'll get through the order more than three times over the course of nine innings. As such, I wouldn't recommend this drinking game for fans of other teams. Except the Mariners.

Batting First, Dee Gordon: Take a shot for every ten-pound difference between your body weight and Dee's. Now take a shot for every ten-pound difference between your body weight and the combined body weights of Dee and Eugelio Velez. If you haven't taken at least six shots, you're grossly overestimating Eugelio Velez's BMI. If you haven't been emotionally capable of eBaying your Raffy jersey yet, bring it out and open up the 40 of Steely. If Gordon hits the ball on the ground--which he always, always should do--see how much of the 40 you can pour over the jersey before Gordon reaches first base. Then chug the rest.

Batting Second, Casey Blake: As Casey would bat no higher than seventh for any team with a semi-decent offense, take five shots. Take a shot if you have a beard. Take a shot if you have an adorably pointy chin. Take a shot if you were traded for Carlos Santana. If you have a beard and an adorably pointy chin and you were traded for Carlos Santana, drink as much as you want as you're probably on the disabled list anyway. Although if Loney catches you drinking something besides Swerveballs, he'll shit in your locker. Again.

Batting Third, Andre Ethier: Take a shot with your right hand holding the shot glass. Easy enough. Now place the shot glass in your left hand and repeatedly heave alcohol in the direction of your mouth but never let it make solid contact. Also, if you've somehow dragged your girlfriend into watching the game, take a shot every time she asks if he's single or applauds wildly when he singles meekly to left-center.

Batting Fourth, Matt Kemp: Sober up! Willie Fucking Mays is hitting! Don't let thoughts of when they're finally going to realize Juan Rivera hits fifth distract you from...holy shit another gapper! Go for three, go for three! Yes!!!!!

(If you're playing correctly, your bladder should be about to explode at this point. Take out the Rihanna CD and relieve yourself appropriately. If you're an expert player, you may want to take a shot for every million in Kemp's arbitration we're not going to able to afford, but this can get incredibly depressing very quickly.)

Batting Fifth, Juan Rivera: An adaption from King's Cup. Everyone in the room has to name a Dodgers left-fielder in the post-Manny era. Whoever blanks first has to drink. This will likely carry you through several innings.

Batting Sixth, James Loney: Take a shot every time Loney checks his beeper or tosses a burner in between pitches. Take a shot every time you wonder whether they just should have left his swing alone and let him develop into a poor man's John Olerud. And yes, take a shot every time you think back to that grand slam in the Chicago divisional series and ask, what the fuck happened?

Batting Seventh, Aaron Miles/Jamie Carroll: At this point, both Miles and Carroll will likely be indistinguishable from each other, so I've adapted this rule for both. Take out the jar of pennies and pour as much as you can into your Dodger hat. Firmly wrap the pennies in your cap and clutch it like a small, makeshift club. Wait for the camera to pan to Juan Uribe eating a Milky Way in the dugout while Vinny talks about his recovery timetable. Then smash your TV set. Although this isn't part of the drinking game per se, it is nevertheless highly therapeutic.

Batting Eight, Dioner Navarro: Vomit profusely. As most Dodger fans know already, this will likely occur even if you haven't been drinking.

Batting Ninth, Clayton Kershaw: Sober up! Our second best offensive threat is hitting!