I Was Wrong

By Nick McCann

Sorry. Shawn Merriman is as dumb off the field as he is on the field. I feel bad, but I kind of want him to get hurt. But only in the probably unhealthy feeling that people like him should get hurt.



He is a TRUE champion! And he is having a party at On Broadway Sept. 7 for the season opener.

Wolf, Right Here and Now

By Scott O'Malley

Entering last weekend’s three-game series, the San Francisco Giants were five wins “better” than the visiting Padres. Playing on the same field, however, the margin looked to be much greater. While both teams will lose more than ninety games this season, the Padres will do so listlessly. The Giants will cross the threshold with something that, well, on most days resembles enthusiasm.

I’m not naïve. That Giants fans can be placated by a .439 winning-percentage only speaks to the futility of recent campaigns. The recent optimism surrounding such a punchless team is owed to resoundingly low expectations. The Giants will succeed this year, if only for not fulfilling the potential for colossal failure. At long last, homegrown players are being given the opportunity to succeed or fail, and enough are succeeding to generate a measure of excitement. In the off-season, the departure of Barry Bonds was both frightening and promising – the results thus far have held true for both. His absence has left a hole in an already anemic offense, while lifting a piano off the backs of those who remain. In short, his absence has afforded them the privilege to suck quietly.

I made my first visit to AT&T Park last weekend – on a trip where I discovered that my dad, forgetful of security checkpoints, hides Swiss Army knives in potted plants throughout San Diego International Airport. Getting my first look at the eight year-old stadium, the series also gave me a deeper perspective into the state of both franchises. Both find it hard to shake the image of their respective fans – fair or otherwise. Padre fans will never escape the lassiez-faire stigma; Giants fans meanwhile, are forced to confront charges of ill-fitting elitism. That said, the atmospheres of their home ballparks couldn’t be more different. At AT&T, I was pleasantly surprised by the excitement – and rancor – inspired by the home team. Equipped with an appropriate frame of reference, however, one might encounter more noise in the L.A. Public Library than in Petco Park.

Understand that I’m mindful of jinxes. After all, it was me who proclaimed Barry Bonds’ legacy to be untouchable after Sammy Sosa’s corking incident – provided only that he never decapitate his wife and a helpful waiter. So I don’t mean to imply that all is cake and ice cream in Giantland. I’m not mistaking them for a good team (as we speak, they are being hammered again by the cut-rate Rockies), and problems are many. The efforts of young, talented pitchers are being squandered. Dead weight and bad contracts still clog the roster. Because of a depleted, mismanaged farm system, players are considered “kids” at the age of twenty-seven. As of this writing, the next Giant to hit thirty homeruns is likely a twelve year-old Dominican. And if it’s any consolation, Padre fans, the Giant faithful are just as angry and perplexed by Bruce Bochy’s managerial foibles as you were.

What the Giants do have – what the Padres never seem to possess as they perpetually fluctuate between futility and mediocrity – is the semblance of a plan. I’ve made no secret of my disdain for the Padre organization over the years, but I do feel for their few loyal supporters. I no longer accuse them of not caring, rather, I just recognize that they’ve been hammered into detachment. The Padre infrastructure at least owes them a lie - at least the illusion of a plan that isn’t just content with winning a bad division. The Giants, this season, have begun to extend this courtesy.

As Barry Zito meandered towards his eighth win on Saturday, I listened to an eighty year-old season-ticket holder rail against the maligned pitcher and the vacant manager. I shared his criticism, if not his fervor. Why get worked up over the fifth-worst team in baseball?, I wondered. Only then did I realize what a self-absorbed question this was. The sting of 2002 still lingers for San Francisco, as I’m sure 1998 does for San Diego. But I have time, so for me it’s only a matter of patience, a matter of how much frustration I can stomach before the ship rights itself. For others it’s a matter of urgent despair.

I'm Down With OPPCL

By Nick McCann

I shouldn’t care about another person’s Posterior Cruciate Ligament. But the NFL, and the San Diego Chargers force this on me. The Chargers’ best defensive player (arguably), Shawn Merriman, is currently debating whether or not he should play in 2008, or get season ending PCL surgery due to his peculiar injury that has just seemed to pop up.

Everyone who has discussed this topic, including every former player asked about it (which is now about 90% of the sports media), has said that he should not even think about playing. Merriman is on pace to be a hall of fame defensive end and he is only 24 years old. Right now Merriman is running around the country trying to find a doctor that will tell him what he wants to hear. At least this is what he is trying to project to the media and his team.

I don’t think I believe that he wants to play. I don’t think he is as stupid off the field as he is on the field. I think he wants a little of the cred that Rivers got at the end of last season when he played on a bad leg. If he keeps the story going, he can come off as the ultimate teammate, and make himself more marketable than he already is.

Regardless of his “decision”, The Chargers will be a Superbowl contender with or with out him this season. Last season after his steroid suspension, he wasn’t the same player that catapulted him into superstar status, but he still managed to project the same level of borderline disgusting bravado. The guy got busted for juicing and then didn’t really shut up. His freakishly exceptional talent wasn’t real, but he still conducted himself with a confidence that suggested it was.

Shawn Merriman will not play this season. There is no reason for him to risk everything, but the problem will be that he won’t go away. He has a weekly television show lined up to be shot every Thursday in LA, and he was planning on doing this even if he was going to play.

After his drug suspension he should have never spoken, smiled, or done that ridiculous dance ever again. But that would have been an admission of guilt. He said after it all went down that he was going to sue the drug company that sold him the “tainted” pills. This never happened, and nobody really seems to care.

Now, hating on a player who uses steroids in NFL is like hating a hair metal band for doing cocaine in the 80s. If it really bothers you, you should stick your head in the sand and wait for the World Cup. But Merriman makes no attempt to hide his enjoyment of the fame his steroid use has gotten him. He needs to just be a quiet team player for the next decade and turn the lights out on the “Shawn Merriman thing” that would serve everyone better if it just went away.

For Greg

By Nick McCann

I love you. This is how I feel:

64-98

By Nick McCann

"Everybody wins 60 games and Loses 60 games. It’s the other 42 that matter.”- Some manager in baseball who was considered smart (although, no manager in baseball is actually smart. Sure, they might be smart within the world of baseball, but they are at the bottom of the totem pole when it comes to brainpower in sports. Basketball coaches manage chaos; football coaches create and manage controlled instances of chaos; and baseball managers go on hunches, smoke cigarettes, and perform fake outrageous acts of insanity towards umpires to get their teams inspired. Hockey coaches are just basketball coaches with mullets and less money).

Anyways, for the most part that quote is true. Any team that goes out of that norm, is either really great, or horrible at a historic level. The Padres are 48-78. Can we get to a level of just being a bad team, or will we be one of the worst teams in history? Will we lose 100 games this year? The whole season has been bad, but it has pretty much been consistently bad. Do we still have a bad stretch coming within this already bad season?

Every time I watch any part of a Padre game now, my first thought before flipping to the channel is I wonder how much they are losing by. Last night I checked the game only to find out that Jake Peavy was having a bad night. With this team, he is not allowed to have a bad performance and that is just not fair. He has a 2.84 ERA and now, and after last night, a 9-9 record. Watching Jake Peavy this year feels the same way it felt to watch Slash when I saw his band, Slash’s Snakepit, open for ACDC in 1999: it sounds like rock, but I know he isn’t rocking because of forces he cannot control. I think it is fair to say the Padres front office is similar to Axl Rose being an asshole who lives in Sedona, Arizona.

Prediction: The Padres will finish 64-98

PARTY PARTY PARTY

So I think I am going to have a Padres Are Mathematically Eliminated Party at my house. Apparently they are not officially out of it yet, but emotionally, I have been out of it since right around when the NBA Finals started.

So come on over. I figure it will happen sometime in the next month.

We are going to play "Put Your Hand in the Fire and Howl at The Moon", along with a few Faces of Death drinking games.

B.Y.O.R (Bring your own razors in case you need to cut yourself in the bathroom)

But don’t clear your calendar yet, as we still have a shot. I mean Jake Peavy really really wants to win, right?

Life is better with baseball.

Nick

844 Despair Dr.
San Diego, CA
92116

Greg, We Will Always Love You

By Nick McCann

(Warning: I realize this will be a really stupid post if Greg Maddux ends up staying)

This weekend Greg Maddux pitched really well for seven innings, gave up one run, and lost another game because the Padres can’t hit. Now trade rumors with the Dodgers are heating up again, and it seems very appropriate.

Maddux might never pitch after this season, and he deserves to play on a good team one last time. The Dodgers are not going to win the World Series this year, but they are going to finish the season with every game being important.

It is sad that the Padres are a team (wait, I could stop right here and finish probably the most accurate and complete blog of the season. Well, right now I am in a public library computer lab sitting next to a black guy watching an Alicia Keys video on Youtube. He is bobbing his head, rocking back and forth in his chair, and pumping his fist. I look at him and his eyes say Mind your own business motherfucker, so I do. I love female R&B videos that feature hardcore rappers as non-speaking love interests. This guy is watching one with Method Man where he apparently lets Alicia Keys down in what looks like a severe snow storm. She is crying and fed up. It looks like he isn’t scoring enough runs for her, and she is over it) that leaves its fans (or maybe just me) wanting its rent-a-vet players to be happy in other places.

As a fan, I feel like a person in a relationship who dumps the other person because I know how fucked up I am. This is not a place anyone wants to be. The Pads weren’t happy at Qualcomm, so they tried to fix things by moving their location by pulling, what therapists call, “A Geographic”. Essentially, the Padres were in a new place (Petco) when Maddux came into the picture, but they were in no place to be serious. They were trying to figure things out, and they wanted somebody to go places with, like happy people do. Maddux had been through it before, and he tried, he really really tried. It wasn’t about him.

Greg, we will always have 350. We just want you to be happy.

Nastia Nastia Nastia...She is Just So Perfect

By Nick McCann

America needs to stop jerking off over Mike Phelps. He is good at what he does, he has big feet and hands, and he eats 12,000 calories a day…blah blah blah. Olympic Swimming would give a medal to the towel boy if he shaved his back.

More importantly, people need to get over the “purity of sports." The best athletes in the world play for the most money. We all know that Mike Phelps just wasn’t good enough at basketball. And we all know that every track and field guy was too small for football. Deal with it. There is no male athlete in the world that would rather be an Olympic Champion in a sport that gets attention every four years over being at least a forgettable player in the NBA, NFL, MLB, or European Soccer.

That said, Women’s Gymnastics is great.

Last night I drank four Steel Reserves (cans) and watched Nastia Liukin get after it and win the Gold for USA. I think I love that sport because it is basically a beauty contest with a little more spandex and a little more integrity. I assure you it is not because I like to look at little girls, but the simple fact that I know all those little girls (who could probably kick my ass) hate each other. I don’t like calling women bitches as a generalization, but I do believe that every woman possesses a bitch side. Guys know when this side is on display. You can see it in the eyes. If it is not directed at you, it is probably the greatest source of natural entertainment on the planet. All the girls that performed last night in the All Around had said look in their eyes and it was awesome because their feelings were completely surpressed. Essentially, it was like watching a classy and controlled girl fight. Instead of ripping out the other girl's hair, you had to nail your landing off the beam. They hugged and gave each other fake smiles, but we all know that all the losers would have shanked little Nastia with a rusty knife if they got the chance.

I woke up this morning feeling like somebody kicked me in the stomach and then shit down my throat. Don’t drink Steel Reserve by itself (or by yourself). The best way to do it is to drink a 22 of really good beer, then Steel Reserve, and then finish with another 22 of that same good beer. Learn from my mistakes.

Feeling groggy getting into my car to go to work this morning, I saw a jogger wearing an old 1992 Dream Team USA Basketball jersey. My first thought was Chris Mullin was rad and then I started to think about what I would do if I could make the Olympics better.

These Are The Ideas I Came Up With While Sitting In Traffic and Listening to PM Dawn.

Fencing
The problem with Fencing is that, as a sport, they successfully took out everything cool about the activity. A sword fight should be to the death. Now, I am not saying that we need to get Roman with it, but I think it would be cool to protect all the fatal zones (face shield, cover the heart, etc.), while leaving the arms and legs exposed. This way in the middle of the fight, blood could be drawn to add drama. Let's be real, we all want the sword fight between Indigo Montoya and The Man In Black from The Princess Bride. To achieve this, we also would need different levels of platforms, ropes, and a cliff to add danger. Sports are about stakes and fencing would be the greatest sport in the world if it felt like one guy had killed the other guy's father.

Track and Field
Bring back Carl Lewis and let him sing the National Anthem.

Boxing
Ditch the scoring system, and adopt the idea of team boxing. Four on four in the ring, seeing who would win in a bar fight (fencing should have this too). MMA is coming. Be prepared, boxing. Your hair is turning red and your mom is about to start fucking a guy that isn't your dad.

Men's Gymnastics
Uh...what could I....Uh...the rings are cool...man?

Women’s Gymnastics
Keep everything the same, except add to the prize. Along with the gold medal, every country should nominate a heartthrob Teen Magazine cover dude who is forced to become the Individual All-Around winner’s slave for the rest of the games. Example: This year, Nastia Liukin would get her medal and Zac Ephron for a week. She could dress him up, hold his hand, and French kiss him in front of all the other girls. They would hate her even more, and she would love it.

Swimming
Gators!

In closing, I'm tired of people asking me if I saw the opening ceremony. I didn't, but I don't care, because it couldn't have been anywhere near as cool as seeing Janet Jackson’s titty.

John Moores Hates His Wife More Than Padre Fans

At this point, there’s not much left to say about the 2008 Padres. Last night’s humiliation by the Brewers was not in the least bit surprising. Hope is gone. Dreams are shattered. This season at Petco is shot to shit. In a few months, the Padres will (hopefully) let go of $30 million worth of contracts in Brian Giles, Greg Maddux, and Trevor Hoffman. This means that Kevin Towers will have that much money to spend to complement Adrian Gonzalez & Jake Peavy – two players the team can build around.

Wait. No. No, that’s actually not what that means.

Because, last week, it was reported across the interweb that this year’s $73 million payroll will be slashed to $40 million in ’09; partly because John Moores falls into the 50% of Americans who can’t make a marriage work, even after 45 years of being married to the missus. A lower payroll means a lower net worth for the team means a lower amount for his wife. If true, it’s pretty genius on his part. However, Moores failed marriage doesn’t have to be a bad thing.

If they really want to rebuild through cutting payroll and playing a year or two without any veteran contracts… well then they need to actually cut payroll and play a year or two without any veteran contracts.

This means dumping Khalil Greene’s $7 million on any team that will take him. Throw in a prospect if it convinces the team to pay his bloated salary.

This team philosophy would also mean declining Brian Giles’ $9 million option. If he had a competitive bone in his body, he’d be in Boston right now. Instead, he’s missing out on his chance for a ring, so that he doesn’t miss two months of his daughters’ lives. You’re 37, Brian. And you hate baseball.

Jake Peavy’s not getting traded, but if trading Adrian Gonzalez can bring us a package that rivals what the Rangers got for Mark Teixeira last year, than you have to do it. I can imagine the Indians and Mariners offering a truckload of super-prospects for Adrian and what could be his 40 HR/125 RBI 2008 season.

Lastly, this also means selling the team. John Moores has successfully given us a ballpark that floods surrounding construction for his development company. Mission accomplished. Now, please give us an owner willing to dig deep into his pockets. An owner that would have given us Vladimir Guerrero as a side-dish to giving us Petco Park in 2004.

Selling after ’09 would be ideal, but after ’10 would be acceptable, too. Sell the team, John. Wait a little bit if it helps keep money out of your soon-to-be ex-wife’s pockets. But, please, sell this team…

…to Mark Cuban…

…after his bid for the Cubs falls through…

…please…

…that would be awesome.

Most Sincerely,
Josh

Mike Phelps I Am Not

By Nick McCann

Last night, I lost my game against a Game Crazy employee 0-7. He used the Packers, wore Packers flip-flops, a Farve jersey, and he had stupid spiked hair. He was gentle, so I didn’t make fun of the fact that he just lost his hero-one of the most overrated humans to the most overrated city in the world-earlier this month.

The tournament was single elimination, so I was done.

It is strange being in a situation where everyone is sizing each other up as if they are about to engage in an actual athletic competition. Sure, there is obvious skill involved, but it felt awkard to have people looking me up and down before my match as if they were evaluating my physical appearance to see if I was a threat. I guess that is natural. Serious gamers-in sense that they enjoy player strangers-are definitely not “my people”. It was cool to compete with a bunch of people watching over my shoulder, but I spent most of my time trying not to look stupid. The only two sports I have been able to feel completely comfortable playing in my life have been little league in my pre-teen years, and drunken basketball in my 20s. The rest of the time, I just try not to embarrass myself.

Everybody seemed to know the porcupine I was playing, so it was nice to hear his "boys" talk shit to him the entire game for not scoring enough on an unknown like me. I left with enough respect to hold my head high and he got to save face. We shook hands and didn't make eye contact...like you do.

Oh well, at least now I know who I am and who I am not. Thanks Madden…again.

Game Day

By Nick McCann

Today is game day. At 7pm tonight in Kearny mesa, I will check in to get my time for the first round of my first Madden tournament. Waking up this morning, I had one thought in my mind: I have trained for this my entire life (well, since I got pubes or since 1990).

The thing that draws guys to John Madden NFL at this time every year isn’t necessarily a deep love for football. No, it is more than that. It is about a love for something that legitimately improves every year. Sure, some years the game makes bigger leaps in quality than others, but generally as the gaming systems improve, Madden is constantly along for the ride on the upward slope to perfection. Our biggest fear isn't that Madden will go away, it's that it could finally reach a point where it can't go anywhere but down.

Even when we have stopped playing Madden during the year because football as a sport is in the off-season, just knowing that Madden is coming is always a comforting thought.

Tonight I will know where I am at in my Madden journey. Results tomorrow.

Brian Giles Should Want To Win

By Nick McCann

After the Red Sox claimed Giles off waivers on Wednesday, the Pads and the Sox had 2 days to work out a trade. Giles had to agree to the trade because the Red Sox are among the eight teams he had put on his no-trade list when he and the Padres reached terms on a three-year contract.

Brian Giles, showing loyalty to his daughters (lame. His haircut will damage them more than living across the country for a few months), decided against accepting a trade to the Boston Red Sox that would have saved the Padres anywhere from $2.75 million to $6 million.

Besides the fact that the Padres are in their all too familiar “save money because we don’t give a shit about our fans” mode, it is disturbing to think about what San Diego, in the baseball sense, has become: a retirement home for over the hill ball players on their way out, who want to bask in the warm heat of mediocrity (or below. Trevor Hoffman will want another contract this winter, but he won't want to be an 8th inning guy for Mario Rivera next year) before riding off in the sunset.

Giles is 37 years old and he would rather watch his daughters become obnoxious pre-teens than go win a ring. Sure, he would probably be what Dave Roberts was when he left the Pads to go the Sox, but at least he would be in the position to fulfill a slightly disappointing career. Giles was the big fish in a small pond in Pittsburgh. Then he came to San Diego where he was a decent sized fish in his home pond. Now he just wants to die here.

If the Brian Giles era (ha!) ended today, it would just consist of a few early playoff exits, a few hot months, and a worthless reuniting of El Cajon’s favorite douche bags that make up the Giles Brothers. I don’t want the Pads to save money, and I don’t want them to hold on to players who care more about their daughters than me. Sorry, kids of baseball players deserve to not have their Dads around, because they will always get better seats.

I Am Organized Gaming Guy

By Nick McCann

The next five days are very important. Two weeks ago, I found out that because I pre-ordered my John Madden NFL 09 football game at the Game Crazy store by my work, I also attained an admission to their yearly Madden tournament that is held every year on the day leading up to the game’s release. So, on Monday at six o clock, six hours before 09 comes crashing into society, I will be getting “it” on.

If my girlfriend were Carrie Bradshaw, she would bitch to her friends over cosmos that she is now dating “Organized Gaming Guy.” This is not somebody I have ever wanted to be, but I am excited to join that world for one night. The top Madden Players in the world make six figures a year, and I’m sure hardly any of them went to college. This is fascinating to me because it is a sub culture of guys who attain basically the same level of confidence that successful athletes do, with out receiving praise from the general public. Tom Brady can make millions of dollars being the best at what he does, but he can’t walk a block in any major city in the world and not get hounded by everyone walking by. Meanwhile, a top gamer can master a digital version of Tom Brady, be the best at what he does, make 4 times as much as his parents, and never even have to pay an agent. Sure, I would rather be Tom Brady than some shitbag on ESPN’s Madden Challenge, but I wouldn’t mind being on ESPN competing at something either.

John Madden Football is like Harry Potter in the sports gaming world. It is ridiculous that we can’t play the new game just a few hours before they release it, but there are strict rules against allowing anyone play before midnight (the clerk who signed me up for the tourney gave me a terrifyingly scary look when I asked about this. He made it sound like they put a chip in his skull that would explode if he touched one of the boxes containing 09).

In the world of Madden Football, when the clock strikes midnight on August 12th, it will be like bringing in the New Year. If some fat hairy dude with a Jake Delhomme jersey tries to kiss me at midnight, I will probably slap the shit out of him, but I will know where he is coming from, and I won’t take it too far and stomp on his neck.

I’m telling myself that I am only going to do this once (although, I am prone to lying to myself), so I need to have a good showing. Because 08 is the game I need to brush up on, this means I have to train…hard. I think because the Olympics will have started, I will be inspired to play at least 15 games before Monday night (on PS3. The tourney will be on the XBox. This is a source of concern, but I love that I have this concern).

Renting the 08 game will feel odd. I haven’t gone to a store to rent a video game on a Friday night since probably early high school (something I am kind of proud of). This will be different, because it will have a purpose. I’m now an organized gamer. I am 28. I am lame to a degree that I am comfortable with.

On An Awesome Note

By Nick McCann

Sorry. When work gets busy, I look to athletes who write and get more hits than my blog.

Gilbert Arenas is still Gilbert Arenas. And Curt Schilling shouldn't even try.

Originally posted on Gilbert's blog after some pics of his new pool were released without his approval on the internet:

I’m actually disappointed that those pictures are on the net. That’s part of my personal life that got out. I’m disappointed that somebody that doesn’t even work at my house any more took pictures and put them on the Internet. I don’t know if he sold them or if he just put them up there, but I think it’s wrong. But hey, that’s something that comes with the territory I guess. The thing is with somebody like that, you trust them to be on your property and then they take pictures and put them online. It’s not what I expected. I found out because Daren from the Wizards PR told me, “Hey man, I saw your pool.” So I go, “Oh yeah, you stopped by?” “No, they got pictures online.” “Pictures online?” They beat me to the punch. I looked at the pictures and the pictures they got are like four months old, they’re not even recent pictures. So everybody is like, “I’ve seen your pool!” and I just want to be like, “It’s not done.” Of course, if you’re a Web Site you’re going to post the pictures because you think it’s news, but, if I take a picture of the Trump Tower while it’s under construction and say, “This is the new Trump Tower,” people are going to put it up, but it’s not done so that’s the first problem and secondly, how the hell did you get on the property to take a picture anyway? There are going to be real pictures that are going to come out when it’s done. I’ll put the pictures out. But that’s not going to be for another three months. And then you start comments like, “I see he’s having fun with his new contract.” No, actually I started this process a year and a half ago. It’s been being built that whole time. Finally it’s at a point where it’s going to be done soon and yes, from the pictures, it is like the Playboy Mansion’s grotto, only doubled. The guy who actually built the grotto for Hugh Hefner is the same guy who is building mine, so I knew what I had to do to top Hef’s. I had my people call Hugh’s people and got it crack-a-lackin’. It’s actually been coming along great, it’s just been a little slower than I expected. They said it was supposed to be done in April. But they’ve got caught up on landscaping and all of that. I haven’t really done anything with my money on the last contract, so the biggest two purchases I’ve ever had are the pool and that party I threw two years ago. I always wanted a pool and then I also have the shark tanks in there. When I saw that part in the story, I knew who took the picture. I’ve been in love with fish tanks and sharks for a while. (And not just shark jokes.) I actually bough Ken Griffey Jr.’s old tank online and have that in my living room. I knew somebody who was selling it in Orlando. Actually, the company ended up buying it back from me and building me another one for the same price because the old one was too tall. It was like 10 feet tall and there was too much water pressure to have it in my living room, or whatever, so they build me one that was rounder and shorter. I’m going to have exotic fish in there, a couple sharks, some black tips, some bonnet heads … that’s my mild tank. Then I have the tank in the grotto that’s going to have semi-aggressive fish like lemon and leopard and puffer fish and the fish with poisonous spikes that’s in Deuce Bigalow. Then I’ll have my personal shark tank that’s going to be in my basement. My basement used to be my weight room but I’m converting it to a shark tank. I cut a whole wall out down there and replaced it with a 10,000 gallon shark tank. That’s going to be my aggressive tank, only filled with bullhead sharks. If anybody knows what a bullhead shark is, it’s the No. 1 killing shark in America. It can go in salt water and it can go in fresh water. I’m going to have a salt water tank so I can have my eels and my stingrays too. I’m going to have three bullheads in there. I originally wanted six, but the guy who has to clean it once a week said that he’s not going to get in the tank with six of them, he’ll get in with three. Once they get big enough, I’ll have to get rid of them. The guy who cleans the tank actually goes and catches the sharks himself, because you know, these sharks you can’t just go buy, they’re illegal. Ever since Jaws there’s been something about fish and sharks that I’ve always liked. Also when I saw Cribs and Ice T had a shark tank in the back of his place, I was like, “Oh man! That’s what it is!!” I’ve been trying to plan this shark tank for the last seven years of my career I’ve been talked out of it by my mentor, Otis Smith. He first talked me out of it when I was a rookie and I was going to spend my whole paycheck on a fish tank. I was like “Man, I want a fish tank, that’s all I want to leave with, if I don’t get another dime I can know I got a fish tank,” and Otis shut that down. So this has been years in the making.

On A Sad Note

By Nick McCann

Greg Maddux has the only stolen base for the Padres since July 1st. Please check the date of this post.

My Manny Position

By Nick McCann

Before being traded to the Dodgers, Manny Ramirez might have been in the top five of my favorite human beings on the planet. Not only is he one of the greatest hitters of my lifetime, but during his time with the Red Sox, he never seemed to care about the ridiculous nature of the Boston fans.

Having gone to Boston earlier this summer, I got a chance to experience the fanaticism that comes along with Red Sox nation. People from Boston support their teams like crazy people, and in the very recent past, it has translated into winning championships. The fans pressure the teams to put forth a premium team on the field of play, and the players know they can’t half ass it at anytime or they will be crucified (see: the probable drinking problems of Bill Buckner’s kids).

However, Manny Ramirez never bought in to that sensibility and it is clear that it helped him on the field. We have all seen his antics and we have all heard the colorful quotes he dished out over the years. Manny has his own planet and that planet will probably end up with 620 to 640 homeruns.

Manny was a comedian in Boston that was fun to watch from outside of the Boston sports sphere of insanity because he drove diehard Red Sox fans crazy. He literally pissed on the green monster and all that it represents, because he didn’t care about Pudge Fisk’s homerun, Jim Rice’s Hall of Fame induction, or Ted Williams frozen skull. He left that town with two rings and in a fashion that made people hate him.

Bravo!

Now he is a Dodger and he has the entire baseball world believing that LA is guaranteed to win the NL West title. Well, slow down. Since 1988, the Dodgers have managed to screw up pretty much everything they have tried to do. Not that a Padre fan should talk, but it is easier to see the truth when looking up.

The Dodgers have taken baseball’s clown prince and put him in a city that is already full of clowns. Sure, his act is hot now and he is knocking the cover off the ball, but his genius as an entertainer only works when he has an entire city of straight men going nuts over his antics in a negative way.

Manny’s prime in the on the field is probably over and so is his prime as a showman. He will probably hit a lot of homeruns at Petco, and the Dodgers will be better off. But it won’t be the same, because people will love him more in LA, and they won’t know how to balance him out.

I Never What To See Khalil Greene's Confused Stupid Looking Face Ever Again

By Nick McCann

Kevin Brown also broke his hand once because he was frustrated, but that was when he was with the Yankees and after he got us to a World Series.

The San Diego Chicken's performance tonight is the only thing that can make me feel anything. After tonight, it is just Charger Preseason football, baby.

Fin.