Turns out you can take it with you...

...assuming "it" is a crappy writing style, and the place you're taking it to is ESPN. Hell, judging by the current state of the DotCom branch of the World Wide Leader, that appears to be pretty much required. Rick Reilly?

Rooting for Tiger Woods is like rooting for Justin Timberlake to get lucky, Exxon to hit a gusher, Bill Gates to find a twenty on the sidewalk. It takes no imagination.

It takes a certain amount of imagination to come up with rooting for Bill Gates to find a twenty. That's a pretty out-there example.

It takes no courage. What's the point? It's 1-to-5 he's going to win anyway, whether you cheer or not. Makes no difference to him. It's like rooting for erosion.

Little-known fact - erosion actually has terrible self-esteem and would probably do a lot better if we cheered him on every once in awhile (my first family vacation was a trip to yell encouragement at Lake Michigan). I mean, erosion has been working for, what, billions of years? And the Earth is still 1,083,207,300,000 cubic kilometers in volume. All the oxbow lakes in the world aren't going to make up for that sort of failure.

Huh. Oxbow lake reference. Looks like someone just justified their eighth grade science class.

Rooting for Phil Mickelson, on the other hand, is like rooting for the salmon to eat the bear.

Nah, rooting for Phil Mickelson is like rooting for a smaller bear to beat another bear. Admittedly, this bear is also fatter and pretty out-of-shape, but it's still very much in the family Ursidae. Point is, as freakishly brilliant and in his own class as Tiger may well be (he is), his closest competitor (which is Phil) is still a bear. Maybe a bear with a limp and a touch of hernia or something, but still a bear.

You'd have to root for somebody like, I don't know, Zach Johnson, if you really wanted to root for the salmon. I mean, the dude was only ranked 56th when he won the Masters in 2007. 56th is pretty salmon-esque. Admittedly, we're talking about a very Christian salmon here, which pretty much completely evens out the playing field against a bear, which as we all know is a godless killing machine.

It takes faith. It takes forgiveness. It takes Tums. Mickelson is a roller coaster in an earthquake. One shot will be so inspired you'll cover your mouth in astonishment. The next will be so Spam-brained you'll slap your forehead in disbelief. It's like watching a blind guy jaywalk across Hollywood and Vine. Your fist is in your mouth the whole way.

A blind guy...jaywalking...across Hollywood and Vine? That's so bizarre on so many levels I'm not even going to bother breaking it down.

Also, Reilly's fist is in his mouth the whole way? Did this dude have a career before sportswriting that he's kept under wraps? And by "career", I do of course mean gay porn.

(I know, I know...I assume everyone does gay porn. Well, prove me wrong folks. Prove me wrong. As a great sage once said, you can't send me photos of something you don't do.)

I bring all this up because Woods and Mickelson will play side-by-side Thursday and Friday at the U.S. Open. You must choose. You cannot root for both. It's un-American.

Can we root for neither? Is that an option?

Also, rooting for both may be un-American, but it's very Moroccan. I say that because Morocco was for some reason the country that came up when I googled "most bisexual country", and I wanted to make an immature and somewhat offensive joke. I think I succeeded.

Here's how to tell them apart: Woods has the Joe Weider body, the Iron Byron swing, the Green Beret mind. Mickelson's body leans toward Sara Lee. He's carried two drivers—one for hooks and one for slices—but none for straights. He can get it up and down out of an ice cream cart, which is a good thing, because he's there a lot. He might be the only athlete whose catch phrase is, "I'm such an idiot!"

Who exactly needs a field guide to tell the difference between Tiger Woods and Phil Mickelson? Well, other than that blind jaywalker, but I'm pretty sure he's still in intensive care.

I mean, those dudes wouldn't look anything alike even if their skin pigmentation happened to be the same (OK, that's not true - both Tiger and black Phil would be dead ringers for Martin Lawrence, as any Deadspin commenter would be glad to point out). Hell, one's a righty and the other's a lefty, which I deduced from Phil's nickname being "Lefty" and Tiger's nickname being "Tiger." Tiger means "Righty" in some language, right? I'm guessing Swedish, what with the whole Elin Nordegren thing.

By the way, as much as Djmmm has promised me he won't edit my posts anymore (my posts are like my deformed children, and I won't have him coming in here and plastic surgeoning them into something presentable), I'm pretty sure he'd just delete the entire post and replace it with three dozen Elin Nordegren photos if I didn't make with the sexy snaps.







It's the law of the sports blogs - you mention a sexy woman, you provide pictorial evidence. Sim-fucking-ple. This is why With Leather is pretty much the best blog around. Well, that and Matt Ufford's sexy, sexy rage.

I believe I've gotten slightly off point. Still good though.

For Woods, there's almost nothing at stake this week. It will be just another hunt for just another major, his third U.S. Open and his 14th major overall. It's Year 13 of his Scorched Earth Tour, which we all know will end up with The Coolest Guy in the World owning every golf record known to man, to say nothing of every T-bill. He'll finish with 25 majors, making Jack Nicklaus look like a guy with a rental set.

Yeah, probably, but you're telling me him getting dangerously close to Jack's total isn't interesting? Sure, the 18th and 19th Majors are going to be the really exciting chases, but it's not like he can skip right to those. I mean, there's nothing interesting about Hank Aaron's 715th home run if he doesn't hit the 714 before that necessary to get there. (I would've have gone with Bonds there, but he carries too much baggage at the moment for even an innocuous analogy). So yeah, in a long-term sense, there's definitely something at stake.

At stake for Mickelson? Just about everything. This is arguably the most important major of his life, the one in his hometown, on his home course of Torrey Pines, in front of all his family and friends, against the man who has caused him more heartburn than any other.

Come on, give a little credit to the guy who invented "lobster ravioli with tarragon cream sauce and garlic bread." That shit's got way too much stuff in it not to need an Alka-Seltzer afterward.

He's got hopes of finally winning his first U.S. Open after four catastrophic chokes, near misses, and should-have-been second-place finishes in this baby. I ask you, couldn't you switch to Phil just this once?

Wait, so you can't root for both, but you can randomly switch your allegiances from one very popular golfer to another very popular golfer? This is a little like, "I know you've been on the Lakers bandwagon since the threepeat, but don't you think, just this once, you can root for KG and his upstart 66-win team?" Well, not quite, because Phil probably won't win the US Open, but still.

Also, I don't know if there are really much by way of popularity rankings in golf, but I always thought Phil was the popular fan favorite, and most people more respected Tiger than actually liked him. Or have I underestimated the American penchant for front-running?

Besides, rooting for Phil is so much more interesting. Tiger's in the fairway. Phil's in a lady's Prada!

A joke as lame as that requires a comeback equal as lame. *AHEM*

LAME...

Tiger's on the green. Phil is banking it off a pine, a boulder and a San-o-let! Tiger makes a 2-footer for a what-else-is-new 4. Phil makes a seagoing 30-footer for a did-you-see-that 4! It's the difference between watching Dow Jones and Indiana Jones.

That doesn't even begin to make sense. I mean, I'd try to parse it, but I wouldn't even know where to start. Fine, I'll give it a go...

1. Who actually watches the Dow Jones? You can monitor it, sure, and people work in its vicinity, and I'm sure some of the business channels sort of cover it, but it's a stock market index. That's basically an abstract concept.

2. Even if you grant that first thing, how the hell is Tiger like a leading stock market index? Especially when you consider our current economic situation, which makes Reilly's use of it in the simile as something steady and successful even more puzzling. Hmm. You know, between that and the random reference to Hollywood and Vine, I think Rick might be a little out-of-touch. Privileged even.

3. Phil Mickelson has, to the best of my knowledge, never made par by hiding in a fridge during a nuclear explosion.

And that's just off the top of my head. Equally off the top of my head (as is, well, everything else I write on this blog), here are some comparisons that would have made more sense. I'll even keep up the weird Jones-and-Jones scheme!

It's the difference between watching James Earl Jones and Catherine Zeta-Jones.

It's the difference between watching Chipper Jones and Andruw Jones.

It's the difference between watching Welsh crooner Tom Jones and crazy preacher Bob Jones.

It's the difference between watching Terry Jones the Monty Python member and Terry Jones the Christian rocker.

It's the difference between watching John Paul Jones the admiral and John Paul Jones the Zeppelin drummer.

It's the difference between listening to Billy Paul's "Me and Mrs. Jones" and "Mr. Jones" by Counting Crows.

It's the difference between watching British computer scientist Clifford "Cliff" Jones and Adam "Pac-Man" Jones.

Oh, and in terms of what I prefer, it's all the first stuff. I guess that makes me a Tiger fan, or maybe I just thought it made more sense to list that stuff first for joke purposes. Anyway, I'll take the former in all those examples. Except for Catherine Zeta-Jones and the other John Paul Jones; they too can live. Oh, and Pac-Man as well, but that's only because I believe it's impossible to kill him with conventional weaponry. If only my werewolf boomerang would hurry up and get here!

Look, Tiger needs this major like Yao needs stilts. There'll be a dozen more after this. He doesn't need to prove he's better than Phil. We know. Not counting Stableford or match-play tournaments, these two have entered 157 pro tournaments together. Tiger is 104-50-3 against him. That's not a rivalry. That's avalanche versus twig. That's more one-sided than a Venezuelan election.

Someone get Ed McMahon over here, because that zinger demanded a hearty "Hey-OH!!!"

You know, I know, Phil knows that Tiger is a god and Phil is but a serf. There's no argument. Yes, Mickelson is No. 2, but it's about as far as a 2 can get from a 1. Put it this way: Let's say Tiger's knee really bothers him this week—say it bothers him for the rest of the year—and he doesn't play the next three majors. And let's say Mickelson wins all three of these majors. That would still only get Mickelson even with Woods in the world golf ranking.

Man, that's insane. I now sort of get what Phil's up against.

Do you sort of get what Mickelson's up against?

Dude, I just said I did. We're never going to get anywhere if you don't learn to listen. Also learn to love, but there's time enough for that. That's what our trip to the lake house is for!

So you could do worse than rooting for him. After all, he has a few qualities Tiger doesn't have. He signs more autographs, smiles more, tips way better. He skis better. Flies a plane better. Bets better, despite all those Vegas rumors that never were true.

Yes, but does he bang Swedish supermodels better? Oh, he doesn't? Going with Tiger.

I have nothing against Tiger, of course. He's the most accomplished athlete I've ever covered.

Reilly's willing to reassess that if Sammy Sosa ever accomplishes the simple task of peeing in a cup. He's a reasonable man.

He's taken us to places in golf we never dreamed. When he said the Grand Slam this year was "easily within reason," we all agreed, because it was. But it's like watching a thresher go through wheat. All that blinding brilliance, all that chewing up and spitting out, can make you a little numb.

Lot of wheat threshers on Hollywood & Vine, I guess. C'mon, Reilly, don't try to pander to middle America. They're smarter than that!

(Well, I hope they're smarter than that. But not smart enough that they can challenge my northeastern elitism.)

So, while everybody feeds the big dog, couldn't you throw the little dog this one bone?

You know, I always remembered Rick Reilly as saccharine, emotionally manipulative, and boring, but I think I forgot his true defining characteristic: the weirdest motherfucking metaphors I've ever come across. This whole ESPN thing should be fun.

52 52 52 Week #15: West Virginia

In which I examine crappy local sports journalism on a state-by-state basis, progressing through the states in terms of an alphabetical ordering of the heights of their tallest points. Because I can.

Going to have to be honest here, folks - West Virginia is not my favorite state right now. Much as my favorite college (that I don't actually, you know, attend) keeps raiding the place for coaches, I'm a little ticked at the Mountain State...

(Wait a damn minute...that's really West Virginia's nickname? Really? Because, you know, there are other states with proper mountains and everything. Out West, mostly. I mean, I know their team is the Mountaineers, so I guess I shouldn't be surprised, exactly, but seriously? Well, OK, moving on then.)

...and the big reason why I'm pissed is this probably at least a little out-of-context clip I saw on The Daily Show. Look, I'm a freedom-loving guy; I don't care who you vote for (except those LaRouche assholes, of course) but for the love of all that's good and true about humanity come up with a better reason than this:



Hopefully West Virginia can rehabilitate itself with a cool highpoint and some good local journalism. We'll start with Spruce Knob, which stands at the I-guess-that's-sort-of-a-mountain height of 4861 feet. Hit me with your best shot, Spruce Knob...

1. Wikipedia claims "its summit has a definite alpine feel", explaining: "The upper few hundred feet of the mountain are covered in a dense spruce forest, a relict boreal forest environment similar to forests found in northern New England and Canada." Like New England and Canada, eh? I think we just found out who voted for Obama in the West Virginia primary.

2. It's called "Spruce Knob" because of that dense spruce forest Wikipedia won't shut up about, and "knob" is just the term used in the southern Appalachians for the highest point on a ridge. So apparently it wasn't called "knob" as part of some elaborate dick joke. Wait, Wikipedia says a synonym for "knob" is "dome." Dome? Oh you southern Appalachian folks and your infantile sex humor. You'll win me back yet!

3. It was apparently the first place designated as a National Recreation Area, established back in 1965. Recreation in 1965, you say? More like procreation in 1969!!! Heh, heh...I'm so immature.

My thanks to Spruce Knob for really stepping up on the dick joke front - it's appreciated more than it can ever know (because it's, you know, inanimate and all).

Hey, you remember at the beginning of the post when I said this...

Much as my favorite college (that I don't actually, you know, attend) keeps raiding the place for coaches

Yeah, you remember that? I mean, it was only about fifteen sentences ago. Of course, I'm also trying to play to that whole Leonard Shelby from Memento crowd, so I try not to assume anything memory-wise. Anyway, the reason why I dredge that back up is I had no idea when I made passing reference to the whole Rich Rodriguez (and, to a much, much, much lesser extent, John Beilein) thing that that is still apparently the only thing West Virginian sports columnists have any interest in. Seriously...

From The Times West Virginian: "Rodriguez’s agent all about selling dreams"
From The Charleston Daily Mail: "Rodriguez's battle with WVU headed for mediation" (Technically from the AP, but they're running with it, so I'm counting it)
From The Charleston Gazette: "Deposition transcript? Now that is just Rich" (It's a pun! Get it?)

And those are just the ones I didn't need to work hard to find. Put it this way - big lawsuit going on or not, West Virginia is maybe just a little too interested in the trials and tribulations of the new general of the maize and blue. Or however you want to quasi-poetically describe the man. And Dave Poe (rather charmingly spelled "dave poe" in the byline) of the Parkersburg News and Sentinel has had enough...

Rich Rodriguez.

That would be his name, yes. That'd be the opening paragraph, by the way. An impressive start, I'd say.

He’s been gone from the Mountain State sports scene for nearly six months, but his name still evokes more emotion with West Virginia University sports fans than any other.

The rest of the nation doesn’t understand that. Their view is the Mountaineer football coach left for a better job at Michigan and that WVU fans should get over it.

Not exactly. Maybe I'm just trying to be an ultra-sensitive and understanding Michigan fan, but I'd say that Rodriguez left for a better job, the way he left stunk to high heaven, and it's fair that WVU fans were upset. Note the emphasis on "were" there. Yeah, it's probably time to get over it, considering they won the bowl game and Bill Stewart's a hero and everything is perfect and beautiful blah blah blah...

Life isn’t that simple, especially when millions of lives and dollars are involved.

I won't dispute millions of dollars, but if I may be a total ass (I may? Yay!)...

Population of West Virginia: 1,808,344

Even assuming everyone in West Virginia is a Mountaineers fan (and you know some of them are West Virginia State Marshall fans), I'm not sure a little under two million really justifies the use of "millions of lives." Particularly when you use something as melodramatic as "lives", which suggests this is a matter of life and death or something. I'll be honest - that was pretty nitpicky. But it gave me an excuse to do two things...

1) Look up the population of West Virginia
2) Find out about West Virginia State University and its nickname. Go Yellow Jackets!

What could be more fun? OK, lots of things, but I am a blogger. If I could even conceptualize sexual intercourse, I'd imagine I'd liken it to that.

Rodriguez had every right to pursue the job at Michigan or any other school. No rational human being will blame another for exploring other job opportunities.

And yet...that's pretty much what tons of WVU fans did. Oh, right, you said rational human beings. My mistake.

That isn’t the issue here.

Seriously, could have fooled me. Or am I thinking of Bobby Petrino?

The issue is that Rodriguez’s seven-year contract with WVU —to which the parties agreed last August just before the 2007 football season — called for a $4 million buyout should either party terminate the deal before it expired.

So it's just a money matter? Fine, I can see how things could get pretty ugly over four million, but don't you think it'd be a better use of everyone's time to just move on?

Rodriguez did that when he left for Michigan. But he didn’t pay WVU the $4 million it and every Mountaineer fan believes it is owed. Rather, he has taken the matter to court, where both sides are represented by high-powered attorneys.

By the way, this is a pretty big rehash, isn't it? I mean, I haven't been following Rodriguez at all (except of course on the all-important issue of whether he actually plans to have a quarterback on next year's Wolverine squad, or whether he'll be using the ol' high school direct snap to the running back routine), but I pretty much already know all these details. I figured from the headline "Rodriguez still front page news" that Mr. Poe (sorry...that should read mr. poe) might be tired of all this. But it sounds like he's just regurgitating all the old, worn out information just to fill up column space. Mr. Poe, I'm disappointed. Also, The Fall of the House of Usher is overrated. Somebody had to say it.

Those attorneys have been busy collecting evidence in the form of depositions. Every time there is a deposition taken from a party on either side, it is released to the public and immediately becomes big news in the Mountain State.

Again, Mountain State? Sorry to get hung up on this, but...really? Couldn't Colorado buy that nickname or something? Maybe work out a trade? I mean, they're the Centennial State, and that only makes sense because they became a state in 1876. Pshaw! West Virginia has just as much a claim to that nickname. Think of all the great things its 1863 statehood was the centennial of...

1) The end of the French and Indian War!
2) The end of the Seven Years' War! Wait, I'm being told those are the same war. Well, OK, how about...
3) The publication of Bayes' Theorem! That'll learn those northeastern liberazis that West Virginia's plenty learned! Just take a look at this beautiful theorem:

Doesn't that even sort of look like West Virginia? I mean, you've got to squint, of course.

In a week in which the state high school baseball tournament is being conducted, Ken Griffey Jr. is approaching 600 home runs and both Big Brown and Texas Rangers outfielder Josh Hamilton are pursuing elusive Triple Crowns, the name Rodriguez continues to dominate the sports page headlines.

Could we please, please have a column comparing Big Brown and Josh Hamilton? I nominate Plaschke. The sheer tension of comparisons that forced might make the Internet itself explode from the strain.

Big Brown was born to Boundary and Mien.

Josh Hamilton was born on the boundary of the Carolinas, which is probably near a mine.

Big Brown has ruled in his first five starts.

Josh Hamilton was selected by the Cubs in the rule five draft.

I'm pretty sure that, yes, I could do these all day. But all right, all right, I'll stop. Well, one more...

Big Brown has a crack on his foot.

Josh Hamilton did crack.

You bet your ass I'm proud of that one.

Why? It’s not that Rodriguez left. Basketball coach John Beilein left, also for Michigan, and he still has a good name in the Mountain State because he left honorably.

So it's the way in which he left? Well, OK, I guess, but I thought you said it was mostly about the money. Let me check...

The issue is that Rodriguez’s seven-year contract with WVU —to which the parties agreed last August just before the 2007 football season — called for a $4 million buyout should either party terminate the deal before it expired.

You did say it was about the money! Dave Poe, how will I ever be able to trust you ever again? You better start saving a whole lot of puppies from fires, I guess.

Because he didn’t tell potential recruits he was leaving before telling the members of his team. Because he didn’t try to get those recruits to follow him to Michigan. Because he met with the West Virginia press corps and explained why he was leaving.

Yes, Beilein left, but he left with class. Rodriguez didn’t.

How the hell is this still news? Also, for a paper this local, it seems really weird that this is pitched as a "the rest of the country just doesn't understand", considering this is pretty much only going to be read by WVU fans. OK, maybe that isn't really all that weird.

Rodriguez never will get back his good name with WVU fans, but he can end all the headlines and rancor simply by paying up. By honoring his contract.

Ah, I see what you did there. You conflated the whole "he left like an asshole" issue with the whole "he didn't pay up" thing. By the way, I love that this is basically phrased like a hostage demand - they will release the rancor when he gives them the money. Way to assert your power there. Speaking of the rancor...



If it seems like I'm leaning on a lot of random tangents to paper over the fact that this is sort of a weak post about a weak column...well, you would in no way not be not incorrect. Hey, who else loves quadruple negatives? And pizza!?

Pretty much right after all this, the column weirdly spins into this bizarre bit of formatting that makes the rest of it sort of look like a poem. I'll try to faithfully recapture this rather beautiful effect...

This case

appears as one-sided as a West Virginia-Marshall football

game. It is - to steal a basketball term - a slam dunk for

West Virginia.

Seriously, read that slowly in your most sage-like voice. Guarantee you that it'll sound like a haiku or some such. Because nothing says poetic like two homerish sports metaphors.

The news this week is that the presiding judge sent the

parties to a mediator to see if they can work out a deal.

Although WVU worked a deal with Beilein, reducing his

buyout, don’t look for that to happen here.

That's more of an iambic pentameter thing-a-ma-jig. Can I get a spell-check on that last one? Not sure I like where I put my hyphens.

Why? Public pressure. WVU’s supporters want $4 million and

not one penny less. If it were announced today that

Rodriguez had agreed to pay $3,995,000, many WVU fans would

be upset about the other $5,000.

Wow. Sounds like West Virginia fans are really hung up on Rich Rodriguez.

Yet, those same fans really have gotten over Rodriguez. Why?

OK, I'll bite. Why have they, in fact, totally and utterly gotten over the dude?

Because WVU has a new leader who already is more popular

than Rodriguez ever was. West Virginians love Bill Stewart

in a way they never loved Rodriguez.

There are a whole bunch of cheap shots I could make here - I mean it, the incorrigible asshole in me is never going to forgive me - but I'm just going to call bullshit and move on. That's about a big a memory rewrite as I've ever heard. But fine, West Virginia, you're welcome to your delusions if you want them.

The same can be said

for WVU’s players, who have embraced their new head coach

and his staff, which appears stronger than any staff

Rodriguez assembled in Morgantown.

Rodriguez can’t make all the ill will go away, but he can

get his name out of the news simply by paying WVU the money

it is owed.

Somehow - and call me crazy if you must - I'm not sure I believe you.

Around the Horn punching bags are the best kind of punching bags...

Since I've already done Bill Plaschke, I might as well keep things moving and have some fun with Woody Paige. As much as I probably should, I don't exactly hate Woody Paige. Sure, he's an incompetent boob who gets paid plenty by ESPN to make an ass out of himself and gets paid what is probably quite a bit less by the Denver Post to write utter drivel, but...BUT...he doesn't seem to actually hate sports. Which is something I suspect of both Plaschke and Jay Mariotti, and which is something far more deserving of my undying scorn. I'm not saying I like the guy or anything - I'd turn in my sports journalism deconstruction blogging card right now if that were the case - but hey - I've only got so much scorn, and I'm not going to waste it on the sports equivalent of that crazy uncle babbling in the corner.

Anyway, Paige has written this piece about the Denver Broncos in the draft.

If I'm in charge of the Broncos, I offer the Cincinnati Bengals Travis Henry, Javon Walker and my first-round draft choice for Chad Johnson.

My first instinct here is that that trade doesn't work, if only because it NEVER seems like trades in the NFL work. I'm not just saying they're usually disastrous; I'm also saying I can't think of any legitimate trades other than Champ Bailey for Clinton Portis, and that was years ago. Oh yeah, and Moss to Oakland a few years ago. Oh, and Charlie Frye, but that really shouldn't be the third that I think of. Sorry, I have absolutely no idea where I'm going with this. I think I'm trying to get into the Woody Paige mindset of babbling inanity. I'm a method blogger, you see.

If I'm in charge of the Bengals, I tell that fool in charge of the Broncos to seek psychiatric counseling.

Oh. OK then. Thanks for wasting roughly three seconds of my time. (I'm a very fast reader, although I've got nothing on Jimmy Carter - dude can read 2000 words a minute! That's like one post by me about Bill Plaschke! President's Day fever - it don't end until I go to sleep!)

You know, if I was a certain local New England sportswriter for some reason on retainer from ESPN as a national columnist, I'd probably reference some crazy trades I once proposed in Madden right about now and how my wacky friends were dumb enough to accept some of them. But since I'm not, and since I don't really give a shit about Madden, I won't. (Of course, if I was Curt Schilling, I'd be waxing lyrical about Everquest. If only we all had that sort of gaming wisdom at our disposal, the world would be a better place. I think that's been scientifically proven as a fact.)

OK, so that idea doesn't work. I've got a million more, some somewhat compos mentis.

Admittedly, I'm a sucker for self-referential humor. (Oh? You'd noticed? This is getting so meta my keyboard might explode.) But I should probably remind myself that just because you admit to being a terrible writer doesn't excuse the fact that you're a terrible writer. For the record, my excuse is that I don't get paid. I'm not sure what Woody's is, although maybe it has something to do with that time he ate dog food on national TV.

In regard to the NFL draft, I possess the 12th and 42nd picks for the Broncos. I trade down in the first round and up in the second round.

I use my late first-round selection for 280-pound Clemson defensive end Phillip Merling and my early second-round selection for athletic Oklahoma inside linebacker Curtis Lofton. Each is an early junior opt-out. Both will play in their first season and become serious players by their second season.

I'm utterly perplexed here. Is this supposed to be hard-hitting analysis or a creative writing exercise in speculative fiction? Is this his appraisal of Merling and Lofton's pro prospects or just authorial omnipotence? I mean, I have a suspicion since it's Woody Paige we're talking about, but seriously...I feel like I'm looking at the sportswriting equivalent of one of those optical illusions where it's a general one way and a bunch of people under an arch the other way.

Now I have kids Jarvis Moss, Tim Crowder, Marcus Thomas and Merling on my defensive line with third-year Pro Bowl type Elvis Dumervil and assorted veterans, and my linebacking corps has D.J. Williams and Nate Webster (Ian Gold will be gone), bolstered by Lofton. And I've already got in my secondary all-world Champ Bailey, Dre Bly, Domonique Foxworth, Karl Paymah, Hamza Abdullah and (most likely) John Lynch.

Most likely John Lynch, Woody? I would have thought you wouldn't have left a single detail to chance in this little novella of yours. All I know is, if it turns out the mysterious jewel thief was John Lynch all along, I'm going to feel cheated. I'd like to think you're above such cheap twists, Woody, but this forced ambiguity is a red flag. Also, I'm apparently a tenth grade creative writing teacher.

I feel like Ron Popeil, the infomercial king. I'm not finished.

Quick analogy: if Woody Paige is Ron Popeil, does that make Skip Bayless the "Ding King" guy? You know, Billy Mays?

Judge for yourself:





I think you've got to agree - the evidence is piling up.

I draft in the fourth round Colorado linebacker Jordon Dizon. I'll never regret the decision.

The fact that he'll never regret the decision is the only reason Woody gives for why, you know, he'll never regret the decision. He's either the world's worst sportswriter or just a fairly hacky novelist. I mean, at least "I'll never regret the decision" is sort of like foreshadowing, I guess, so maybe that's supposed to sow the seeds for how Jordan Dizon teaches Woody how to live again or something a la Finding Forrester. I'm not sure which of those is preferable, although I think I'd be up for Woody Paige shouting "You're the man now, dawg!" Actually, I'm willing to bet anything he did that on Around the Horn at one point or another. Or at least he wrote it on that stupid chalkboard. The fact that I know even this much about Around the Horn is making me seriously consider giving up my current life and joining some form of non-religious monastery. They have those, right?

I've got myself and the Broncos a defense — young enough, mean enough, talented enough, with enough leaders. They'll deny you; I defy you.

Woody Paige sure loves parallelism, but he also apparently doesn't have the slightest clue how it works. As much as "with enough leaders" is probably preferable to the horribly forced and clumsy alternative "with leaders enough" - and if Woody Paige didn't seriously consider that possibility, then I'm founding that non-religious monastery right here and now - the sentence only really sounds even remotely clever if all the words are arranged the same way.

Also, as much as "They'll deny you" and "I defy you" rhyme and complement each other and everything...well, I defy anyone to explain what the hell those mean in this context. Is he addressing opposing offenses in the sense that the Denver defense will deny them points? And is he talking to me personally with that second part, telling me he defies my attempts to understand what he's saying? Is he talking to me? Dear lord, I'm hallucinating. I think Woody Paige articles might be a hallucinogenic substance, so that raises the question...should they be banned? This concerned citizen says yes.

First, I bring in Henry and tell him he owes me big time for everything that happened in the past season. He already has admitted such publicly.

Woody Paige: armchair GM, armchair psychologist. And by psychologist, I mean "dude who desperately wants to give Travis Henry shit with or without mentioning the words 'paternity suit.'" Also, would a team with Paige as general manager be the first in sports history to suffer an actual, Bounty-style mutiny? I'm not sure, but I'm nominating Jay Cutler for the part of Fletcher Christian, if only because they both seem a bit overhyped.

Second, I bring in Walker and tell him I know he wants out of here, but he's going nowhere until 2009, so he should just embrace the situation as the No. 2 receiver (behind Brandon Marshall and ahead of Brandon Stokley) and catch as catch can.

[The scene: the office of Woody Paige, general manager of the Denver Broncos.]

Javon Walker: You wanted to see me, Mr. Paige?

Woody Paige: Yes, son. Now, I know you want out of here.

Walker: I just don't think this is the right fit for me.

Paige: I understand. Well, we both know what happened last time you were unhappy.

Walker: Believe me, I certainly don't want a repeat of the whole Packers situation.

Paige: Of course. For now, we can't really move you, so I'd just advise you to make the best of this situation and hopefully you'll be where you want to be in 2009.

Walker: I'm a professional, Mr. Paige, and you can expect nothing less.

Paige: Thank you Javon, that means a lot. And remember: catch as catch can!

Walker: Wait, what did you just say?

Paige: Catch as catch can!

Walker: I'm sorry, I'm just not processing the words coming out of your mouth.

Paige: Catch as catch can!

Walker: Seriously, what the fuck does that even mean?

[Scene.]

I'm with that fictional representation of Javon Walker I just created: "catch as catch can" is utter gibberish.

Third, I draft an offensive lineman third.

I'm past the point of asking do people edit these articles. Seriously, is there even a point where a first-day intern so much as glances at what Woody has written? I mean, I suppose there's nothing absolutely wrong about that last sentence...but hell, how can someone paid to write for a living ever construct a sentence like that?

Fourth, I sign free-agent wide receiver Justin Gage of the Titans, who had an impressive game (six receptions, 66 yards) in Denver on "Monday Night Football," or Bryant Johnson, who hasn't gotten his due, time or cash with the Cardinals.

The secret of Woody Paige's new player evaluation:

1. Did potential acquisition ever play against Denver?
2. Did potential acquisition actually play in Denver?
3. Did it happen when that strange Kornheiser fella was talking to Christian Slater?

If so, there's at least a thirty percent chance Woody Paige has seen you play. Also, call me hard to impress, but six receptions for sixty-six yards? That's apparently your entire basis for wanting this dude? I mean, it's better than just saying the reason you want Justin Gage is because you want Justin Gage (which would actually be pretty creepy if you wrote that), but it's really frightening just how low I have had to set the bar for you, Woody. I'm pretty sure a cockroach couldn't limbo under that. Of course, cockroaches are infamously poor at limboing, but I digress.

Fifth, and most important on offense, I put the hard rush on Steelers free-agent linemen Alan Faneca and Max Starks. Faneca is a seven-time Pro Bowler (think Hall of Famer Gary Zimmerman as a guard), and Starks is a — get this — 6-foot-8, 337-pound tackle. He's coming off a knee injury, but Starks is only 26, and he would be the future replacement for the retiring Matt Lepsis. Try to get past The Great Wall of Starks.

Does "Great Wall of Starks" really count as a play on the Great Wall of China? Shouldn't the replacement word have to sound at least slightly like the word "China"? Maybe? Although this does make me thing of some sort of Great Wall of Sharks, and although I haven't worked out all the logistics it is almost certainly unbelievably awesome.

If I'm in charge of the Broncos and I can do all that, I'm feeling pretty good on Feb. 18, 2008, even without a trade with Cincinnati for Johnson.

Call me crazy.

Sorry Woody - I'm not giving you the satisfaction. Although the nice men in the white coats should be arriving shortly to take you on a little trip. You'll probably want to go quietly; they tell me it's so much easier if you do.