Uh, O.K.

I thought Dan Hinote was supposed to be a "character guy." Dan Hinote's wedding: Featuring Playboy playmates, transvestitism and Jim Carrey dressed as Fidel Castro

It's the transvestite I'm worried about:

Hinote pointed out in his groom's speech: "You must be a bunch of screwed up people to dress up like the '50s, right? I have a teammate dressed as a woman."

That teammate would be St. Louis Blues defenseman Jay McKee. Who showed up to the wedding in "a blond wig, 'Seven Year Itch' white dress and heels." As Marilyn Monroe.

It was reported McKee wrenched his knee on the dance floor and will be out until mid-January.

Where's The Screed?

When I read the following on STLToday,

Political talk show radio host Rush Limbaugh said if the St. Louis Rams came up for sale, he might be interested in buying the team.

I was expecting much wailing and gnashing of teeth from Automaticagainsayer.

I'm kinda disappointed.

The GASL National Anthem

This is preternatural. Go here and listen to "I'm Watching The Game."

It's like they were in my house.

I think I'm having an aneyuresem.

The Start Of Something?

Last evening I did something I had been threatening to do for some time; I went to a Minnesota Thunder game. The Thunder is the Twin Cities representative in the USL First Division (former A-League), so, according to my way of thinking, it is alright to begin to follow them as they represent a different level of soccer compared to DC United and MLS.

And, yikes, what a different level it is! The wife and I were part of the teeming throng of 3176 people who witnessed the clash against the Rochester Raging Rhinos. The Thunder lacked some qualities, it must be said. So did Rochester. Former Wycombe Wanderer/Leicester City (and, briefly, DC United) winger Steve Guppy featured for the Rhinos, while the home side included former DC United hand Steven deRoux, so here is a little cross over to grab my attention at least. The play, however, was pretty lackluster. Minnesota started brightly enough and looked more likely to score in the first 12 minutes or so, but after a freekick from Ricardo Sanchez whistled by the post, the Thunder never really threatened again.

Not that Rochester was peppering the goal either. Still, when Menyonger one timed a cross into the back of the Thunder net in the 19th minute (by far the most stylish play of the match), you never got the feel that this was going to get away from Minnesota. The rest of the match was rather uneventful. The Thunder goalkeeper made two nice saves, and the Thunder cleared two balls off their goal line...which resulted in the loudest cheers of the entire match....never a good sign. The Rhino goalies made one save, according to the stats, but I don't remember it.

This is not to say the Thunder is a complete lost cause. They have some nice pieces. Melvin Tarley can play the center forward back-to-goal role pretty well, but he got zero help up front. Luchi Gonzalez has a great soccer name (and bright red shoes) and if he ever felt like actually playing the wing he was assigned to, he might be able to whip in some useful crosses. He spent most of the game ducking inside to display a variety of useless one-on-one moves that left me groaning. DeRoux is a useful little player, but he was manhandled by a bigger and stronger Rochester right back. Still, he never quit. Ricardo Sanchez obviously has a little bit of class, but he got frustrated early and wasn't nearly as effective after the first half hour. (I think he also got tired of watching Gonzalez run into the middle to get dispossessed.)

No other Thunder player made a noticeable impact upon the game. Kyle Altman made one promising run from the midfield, and would have been through to the keeper but for a wrongly decided offside call. That was it.

Still...the stadium was pretty good, the parking was free, the popcorn and soda were not terribly overpriced...so things could have been worse. However, they didn't have beer on sale because the beer truck "got held up." Unfortunately, they didn't mean by armed men looking for some hoppy refreshment. No, they meant the beer truck was doing too much business elsewhere to be bothered to serve 3000 soccer fans (of whom only about 1000 could legally drink, I must admit.) Bush league!

I'll have to wait and see if the USL soccer thing will catch on with me.

What A Sporting Night

A man waiting for his Jack Ruby.

Occasionally, the stars do align or worlds collide or perfect storms occur...or something... and serendipity hands you a perfect evening. With absolutely no forethought, this evening started with a great workout at the gym, an hour of fun on the tennis courts with friends who have moved back into town and then seared, mustard-marinated lamb chops on the grill washed down with a .750L of Chimay Cinq Cents. Hell, that was perfect without even trying.

But is gets better. At the last minute I recorded the KC/Columbus MLS match and am now watching the second half of a cracking match while tracking the Cards game online. In ten minutes I will switch over to VS. and watch the end of Stage 12 of the Tour de France and an hour later catch the recap of the first round of The Open.

Then The Goat just sent a great e-mail:

It really does baffle me how an All-Star who is leading the team in RBI can be on the bench the first day back after the break and fucking Chris Duncan is in the line-up. Surely Jeff Gillooly could use some work these days.

Oh, did I mention I have another bottle of Chimay Rouge chilled in reserve? And Joe Mather homered just as I was getting ready to hit PUBLISH POST. I am one sexual favor away from Nirvana at the moment.

Well Done, Again

As I was watching the Card's disgraceful melt down against the Pirates, I was also trying to keep an eye on the last 30 minutes of the Chicago/Toronto MLS match. Once again, it looked like a helluva lot of good attacking soccer was on display. It has been very hit and miss for me getting to watch the MLS this year, but what I have seen has been damned exciting and the parity has to put a smile on the face of league officials.

The Worst Thing About The Post-Dispatch

Without a doubt the worst thing about the sports coverage of St. Louis' major daily newspaper is the incessant moralizing of Bryan Burwell, who seems to consider himself some sort of Pope capable of dealing out final judgements at the drop of a hat. There is a "good" example of this in his column about Mark Mulder:

So for all the stupid and irrelevant angst the chat room grumblers and call-in nitpickers claim they are experiencing, none of it measures up to what Mulder has suffered. "I just keep getting let down. I don't know really what to do," Mulder told the Post-Dispatch's Joe Strauss after Wednesday's crash and burn.

I can't tell you how annoying it gets to read the narrow-minded stupidity of "fans" who claim some sort of victimization from Mulder's medical misfortune.

Oh, give me a break. Do some fans get a little too emotionally involved? Sure. Do they take some ill-considered positions about players or managers? Undoubtedly.

But, that is the fucking point of being a fan. (Which reinforces my belief that Burwell has no real connection to the St. Louis teams. Someone like Jeff Gordon keeps his professional detachment, to a point, but you can tell the Blues missing the playoffs bugs the crap out of him.)

These "stupid" and "annoying" fans are not getting paid to follow these teams, in fact it usually costs them money to do so. They are literally "invested" in the team/players in a way Burwell isn't. So Burwell could easily keep his bitching about fans to himself, since he isn't one of them.

Well Done

It wasn't always pretty but tonight's Chivas/Galaxy match was balls-to-the-wall fun. In the past couple of years I've seen countless matches among the top four in the EPL. While they are not technically derbies, they are hyped to the max as the matches that matter, whether they are EPL, FA Cup, League Cup or Champions League. They almost always disappoint as defensive (not in a good way), tentative, shitty soccer. Invariably, the soccer punditry in England bitch about how worthless these matches are, lament that none of the teams are willing to play an open go-for-a-win game and someone points to the lower leagues as the proper example.

Nonetheless, whenever the MLS is mentioned to these same types, it is ridiculed as a lower English league. Yep. And tonight they proved the point by playing some damned enjoyable soccer. And Razov's goal was an absolute gem.

A Lack Of Conviction

I like trying new beers. When I hit the local liquor store I'm more likely to pick up a six of something I've never heard of rather than go with an old favorite. It isn't that I think there is anything wrong with the beers I already like, I'm just always open to having "new" favorites. When I peruse the shelves and see nothing interesting then it is always nice to "fall back" on a trusty old friend.

Well, it's my turn to bring the booze for the weekly wargaming night, so I hit the store this afternoon. In addition to the brew I picked out for this evening (Old Peculiar) I also picked up something new (to me at least.) Colonial Pub Pints come in four packs of draught cans, which I've grown to like immensely thanks to Boddington's and (especially) Belhaven's. I picked up their Brown Ale and headed home for a tasting.

When you open it, the first aroma that hits you is reminiscent of home brew...that's not entirely a good or bad thing...but it pours easily, with just the right amount of carbonation, by American standards at least. The color is just right for a Brown Ale, and after it is in the glass you can detect hints of toasted malt and caramel in the nose.

So far so good. In fact, I really got my hopes up. The packaging has prose playing up the English origins of the ale style and I thought for a brief moment that the brewers (from Minnesota) had actually made an English style Brown Ale.

No such luck. When you drink it you are hit by their very aggressive hopping. I know this isn't uncommon among American Style Brown Ales, but its all wrong for something selling itself as British inspired. It simply is too close in flavor to a Pale Ale for my tastes. If you want to make something that hoppy, why not stick with Pale Ale, so maybe an Extra Special Bitters? The beauty of a nice English Brown Ale is the toasty, nutty quality of the malt, where the hops add only a hint of bite.

Putting my disappointment side for the moment, I have to admit this is a pretty nice beer if you like American Brown. Despite the home brew smell at the outset, there is nothing of that in the finish. The only aftertaste is a slightly bitter hoppiness, that is actually quite pleasant. The ale holds up nicely as it warms as well. It actually mellows a little bit as it warms to a more English like serving temp.

I entitled this "A Lack of Conviction" because I fear the brewers had actually wanted to make an English style beer, but decided they didn't want to go against American expectations. Its a shame because the American habit of hopping every beer to within an inch of its life is getting kinda old. As is, this is a good beer and worth a pour. But it misses being a great beer by a very small margin.

Shitfuck

Fuckshit.

IMW Adds:

I don't know...by this point isn't there a "death & taxes" finality about Mulder? The only thing more certain than an eventual Mulder breakdown is the inevitability of every rag-armed minor league lefthander being treated like Cy Young by Cardinals hitters.

It's A Home Run Or Nothing Here On Home Run Derby

Paging the Nothing Party.

Joe Strauss:

PUJOLS IN DERBY?
Seven-time All-Star Albert Pujols says nobody has asked him, but he's ready, willing and able to participate in next week's Home Run Derby at All-Star Game festivities at Yankee Stadium.

In the Pantheon of Stupid MLB Ideas, the Home Run Derby deserves its own special wall - a long endless one.

Did you hear the one about the guy who died in the Pantheon?

He ran himself to death looking for a corner to shit in.*

*I hope we can all overlook the odd dangling preposition in a poop joke. Somehow, "he ran himself to death while searching for a corner in which to defecate" just didn't have the same ring to it.

Six One, Half Dozen The Other

From the BBC:

New Zealand rugby fans watching a regular sports programme found themselves viewing hardcore pornography instead on Sunday afternoon.

Four minutes of pornography interrupted sports coverage on the Prime Television channel, after what a spokesman described as a distribution mix up.

Good thing it wasn't gay porn, otherwise no one may have noticed the difference.

Fucking Cubs...Again

"Let me just drop trow and perform a little colon blow on all you baseball fans again."

Once again, MLB has fucked me over. I got to see Friday night's Cards/Cubs game on WGN and Sunday's on TBS (their broadcasts are a pleasure to watch compared to pretty much everything else out there). Of course, the lone victory in between was blocked out here on FOX so we could see the Yanks/Red Sox play for the 1,267th time in four years.

It is wonderful to see this Cardinal team playing so hard and winning some exciting games. Still, I'm growing weary of announcers who constantly extol the team's grit and determination for want of much else to praise. All in all, I'd happily return to the days of yore when they were slack-jawed at our offensive production and a staff that was piling up quality start after quality start. I think it is safe to say that one World Series title from a shitty division and post-season overachievers is the quota and we're more likely to get our next pennant and/or championship from teams of the 2000-2005 ilk. I'm afraid I don't see the horses on this team to pull it off. As one friend put it to me this morning: "Playing from behind at home against your arch rivals all Fourth of July weekend is a crime."

Oh well, I promised not to bitch about this club. It's hard to believe we're 10 over .500 and still within 4 games in the loss column a week ahead of the All-Star break. If we can manage to hang around within six or eight games until September when we have two series with the Cubs, this will be one helluva season.

¡Viva España!

Spain wins Euro2008, Alejandro Valverde wins the opening stage of the Tour de France and Raphael Nadal takes the Wimbledon men's title. Not a bad week. Add paella and the fact that the women of Barcelona are among the most gorgeous, stylish creatures in the world and you have an embarrassment of riches.

Since Valverde is one of the favorites (4.5 to 1, I believe), I guess I wouldn't be betting against him standing on the podium in Paris on July 27th. In the meantime, I might also put a few bucks on Sergio García to win his first major at Royal Birkdale next Sunday.