Seriously, enough funny business.

I was waiting for the most opportune moment to come back on the BTeam, which is not dissimilar than Adam Dunn's waiting for the most opportune moment to start earning a paycheck. YAA! GOT HEEEEEMMMM! (ehem, Allow Brian Wilson to explain for me. ... It\'s gonna be a thing)

Never in all my absence from the blogosphere had I imagined having to so desperately contribute to the BTeam than when I saw Wild Bill's open letter to a Senator (Greg Ball, R - NY, for those of you keeping score at home) about inviting the GLBT community to the marriage party (Sidebar: Folks of all sexual preferences can now marry in the not-as-great-as-Illinois-state of New York. You're in for a rude awakening GLBT folks... I hear marriage isn't that rockin' of a party) followed by Hef's wildly passionate, insanely heartfelt, very public (kind of... a few randoms have to read this stuff, right?), and altogether sugary sweet ode to wifey a year to the day of the rockin'est version of marriage ever! ... EWWWW! COOTIES!

Way Gross. I feel like Bradley Cooper in Hangover 2. Next Stop: Bachelor Brunch at an IHOP! ... Oh, you're one of *those people* who didn't like Hangover 2 because "it was the exact same movie except it was in Bangkok instead of Vegas"? What could you possibly have been expecting?! Well since you're looking for the Coen brothers to also direct your brainless comedies, then I suggest you watch your The Royal Tennenbaums dvd on repeat until you blow your brains out. It's not funny. It's terrible. There. I said it.

More to the point, this is the best time to get back to business. Evidently, we need a reminder about what exactly our business is here at BTeamBombers: bullshitting about a topic, which holds no impact on our lives aside from pure immediate (dis)satisfaction, that piques our interest more than our self-selected career paths. Sports. With a Chicago Bias. I'm all for variety, but let's get back to the core for a bit here, gents. That's what we all signed up for, right?

That said, (I hate that kickstart phrase. "That said". It's so empty. Why did I use it? Because there was no better transition or segue. That's why.) there's not all that much good news out there on the sporting landscape these days. We're all over our euphoria that LeBron James will certainly never touch Michael Jordan. (Hey, did anybody let LBJ know how our real life problems are holding up? I've been meaning to get that letter out.) Being happy for Dallas ended as soon as we realized that Tyson Chandler is an integral energy piece to the Dallas Mavericks and is now fitted for an NBA Championship Ring. (Are You KIDDING ME!?!? He's an ENERGY Guy Now?! The most energy output in a Bulls uniform for Tyson was expended during nightly pouting sessions. GOD!) The NFL is in a lockout for another two weeks. (No good "Millionaires vs Billionaires" quips original enough for a parenthetical sentence. Meh.) Deadspin's most newsworthy pieces are various bartabs in the $200K neighborhood. (OH! Today's bartab was in English Pound currency. Intriguing!) Bill Simmons' Grantland.com project IS WHAT WE THOUGHT IT WAS. (I totally stole his stealing Dennis Green's 2005 press conference line about Da Bears. Tee Hee. He doesn't think too much of us little people writers, you know. Even though he himself is a former little people writer. It hasn't been since Randy Johnson rebuffed an entire clan of lepers for an autograph that one group felt so betrayed by its most successful peer.) Oh, and both Chicago baseball teams are complete and abject hot garbage. (True story. Be it side North or South, neither team is better than its Triple-A affiliate. Both teams are so bad that I'll even bet you watched The Voice on NBC last night. EWWW! CHRISTINA AGUILEIRA COOTIES!)

HOWEVAH! Not all is lost with Chicago's boys in Cubby Blue or Good Guy Black. We still have 3 should-be All-Stars! One of whom should be starting in the All Star Game in Phoenix come July 12. Who are they? Glad you asked. North Sider First!!

Starlin Castro

HO-LEE COW, can this kid play or what? (See what I did there? Big ups, Harry.) I watched every game of the Yankees-Cubs series over Father's Day Weekend and Castro is a fan's wet dream to watch. He's like Omar Vizquel in the field and Hanley Ramirez at the plate (minus the 20-25 HRs). And he's young enough to get in trouble for selling his game-used jersey were he in college. Lots and lots of upside up the middle for the Cubbies. It's just the rest of the infield, outfield, and pitching staff that blows. He could be like Kelly Leak in The Bad News Bears (the 1976 Walter Matthau, not that Two-Buck-Chuck Billy Bob Thornton garbage) just taking every ball hit in-play whether it be to his left, right, or right field. Then, at bat, he would lace pitches meant for ball three of an intentional walk to the opposite field wall for a triple. That'd be sweet. I'd watch that highlight.

The only thing this guy doesn't do is walk. If Moneyball is a worthy source, Billy Beane can't stand Latin players because they never, ever see a pitch bad enough to look at. In the book, Michael Lewis wrote, "They (Latin players) didn't walk their way off the island. They swung." Fair enough. For a frame of reference think Juan Uribe. ::All Fantasy Baseball Owners now say, "OOOOOHHHHHHH, Okay. Yup"::

I think Castro gets into the All-Star Game as a reserve infielder based on his performance in his last 30 days (.322 AVG / 38 hits / 6 steals) and his national exposure against the Yankees. No chance he starts over Jose Reyes, the leader in the clubhouse for NL MVP.

Honorable Mention for being fun to watch in 2011: Darwin Barney. Notice I did not exclude him in "Everybody on the Cubs Except Starlin Castro Seriously Sucks" bucket. That's because he's most certainly not the second coming of Ryno. He's not even the second coming of Eric Young. Fact of the matter is, he's got a long way to go and a lot to prove. But, knowing the franchise, Darwin Barney's just another fun rookie with a fun name passing through the roster (re: Julio Zuleta).

Now for the Good Guys! ::35% cheers, 45% boos, 20% empty, apathetic seats of silence::

Phil Humber

The man tips his cap to our allowing his pitching in his first All-Star Game

This prodigal son of promise and potential has emerged as the South Siders' staff ace, not to mention pitching coach Don Cooper's latest feather in his cap. Hard to believe that Humber "The Reclamation Project" started as Humber "The Mets #1 Pick in 2004".

Humber's made the most out of the least compared to any AL pitcher as he's taken multiple no-hit bids deep into games with 1 run or less of support from his should-be potent offense. One of those no-hit bids, by the by, was against the Yankees in The New Yankee Stadium. No small feat to keep a formidable lineup hitless in its own stadium until an A-Rod single up the middle in the 7th inning.

At 8-3, Humber's won-loss record puts him in the neighborhood of CC Sabathia's, another Yankee and the AL's second best pitcher this year, 10 wins.

He's certainly not starting the All-Star Game, but he should be in attendance to throw an inning. He's earned it.

Paul Konerko

YOU CAN PUT IT ON THE BOOOOAAAARRRRDDDDD!!!!! YYYEEESSSSSSS!!!

After a quick check on MLB.com for the All-Star Game voting, The Captain ranks fifth behind Adrian Gonzalez, Mark Teixeira, Miguel Cabrera, and Mitch Moreland. Wait... Mitch Freaking Moreland? Since when did the Texas Rangers have a surge in fans sufficient enough to keep Paulie in 5th place here? Konerko needs to start at first base for the American League.

You're about to call me a homer, aren't you? Well, yes. Yes, I am. Unabashedly so. But please refer to the numbers. As of 6/28, Konerko ranks in the top 5 in all three triple crown categories (HR / AVG / RBI). And he's done all this being the only hitter with a consistent bat all year on a team climbing the standings. He has absolutely no protection and he's still notched 21 bombs under his belt. If you're pitching against the White Sox, you're telling yourself, "No way am I pitching to Konerko. He's the only guy 1-9 with the stones to swing the bat right now."

The only first baseman I would have to think about taking over Konerko is Adrian Gonzalez, whose average is an awesome .357 with 70 RBI, but Gonzalez only has 16 HRs. I'm sorry, but when you're hitting clean-up in that BoSox lineup, there's no excuse to be trailing anybody except Jose Bautista in homers. There's just not.

I understand why Konerko doesn't have as many votes as a Teixeira or a Gonzalez. The fanbases for both teams are bigger by a large margin. And said fanbases will vote for all nine position players on their team as All-Stars. Remember when Jason Giambi in pinstripes or Mo Vaughn in red stockings would start the All-Star Game at 1B? Awful. I even saw flyers in the men's room the other day for Russel Martin's entry into the starting line-up for the All-Star Game. I don't think the Frenchman's so much as fouled off a pitch since May. How can he make the All-Star Game's starting line-up?

If forced to pick, very easily the AL MVP goes to Paul Konerko. Who else are you going to give it to? Curtis Granderson? Another south side kid and a UIC product, but no. Adrian Gonzalez? No. He hasn't had the pressure of carrying a team. He's only had the pressure of acclimating to a new team in a bigger market with higher expectations, although he's done it with slightly more grace than Adam Dunn. The only argument I can see is Justin Verlander. That man's good enough to throw a no-hitter every time out. He's successfully passed Roy Halladay as the best pitcher in the majors. Thank God for managers like Jim Leyland. He'll make a decision not by looking at a scorebook or a sabermetric trend sheet but rather by thinking for five minutes over a Marlboro Red and chocolate milk. It's not scientific, but I like it!

And there you have it. My "welcome back" entry. Not a single utterance of politics or lovelife milestones met. Maybe someday, but not today. For now, I'll just take my cuts, maybe hit a few on the screws, but mostly just keep it between the lines.

Blake

Senator Ball,

I think it is both commendable and forward-thinking of you to take your decision making process on the issue of gay marriage to the public. I hope you consider each and every response to your tweet but more importantly, I hope and pray that you do the right thing. In this case, despite the debate that has engulfed our nation for the past few years, the right thing is plainly obvious. The constitution guarantees equality to all Americans, not only those who live and think the same way as those in the majority. That single fact, more than anything else is what separates The United States of America from the rest of the world and makes us great. The great American tradition of treating all of our citizens equally is what makes the rest of the world look to us for guidance and it is the greatest principle upon which this country was founded. According to these simple, yet important American values, the only thing to do is vote in favor of gay marriage.

I recently moved back east from California, where I lived during the 2008 election when prop 8 was voted in and gay marriage was banned. As a straight male, gay marriage had never been something to which I had given much thought, but in the months leading up to the election, as the debate raged on, I couldn't help but think of my gay friends, neighbors and co-workers and what it meant to them. I started to put myself in their shoes and think about how I would feel if the government dictated to me who I was allowed to love or marry. It is not the place of this or any other government to strip its citizens of any rights because of who they are or how they were born. When the results of the prop 8 decision were announced, it made me ashamed to be a Californian. Nobody was effected positively by the decision. Those who supported the bill gained nothing. Their lives, families and marriages didn't change, but those who opposed it were devastated. Many had their lives disastrously altered because the state stepped in and told them they couldn't carry out their plans of starting a family in the legal and traditional sense. There is enough division in this country. We need to start taking steps toward unity. Allowing all Americans the right to marry is a positive step in that direction.

More importantly, by denying gay Americans this or any other right, it implies that being gay is a choice and this implication opens the door to many other forms of discrimination from housing to employment to education. You wouldn't deny an American such a fundamental right if he or she was born left handed or with blond hair or if he or she were black or Catholic. Homosexuality is no different than any of these distinguishing features. People don't choose who they are attracted to or who they love. Gay Americans have no more control or choice in the matter than straight Americans and treating them as if they do only encourages their marginalization in society.

As a representative of the GOP, you profess to believe in freedom, small government, the absence of the government meddling in or interfering with your personal affairs. Banning gay marriage flies in the face of these values. It flies in the face of everything not just the GOP but The United States of America stands for. Please don't listen to those who are naive enough to hide behind the veil of so called "family values" or defense of the "sanctity of marriage". This is bigotry dressed up to sound noble. The best way to promote family values in this country is to allow all Americans, gay or straight to have families and the best way to defend the honor and sanctity of marriage is to give everyone the chance to experience it. It seems the issue that's keeping you on the fence is that of religious protections. This would be well and good if it were the job of the state senate to govern from a religious standpoint which the Constitution makes clear it is not. This is not a religious issue, it's a legal one. If religious organizations choose not to recognize same sex marriage, the same way certain religions don't recognize interfaith marriages, that's for them to decide. But insisting upon language in the bill guaranteeing them this right is unrealistic and I think you know it. This comes across as a device by which you can vote down the bill without directly or publicly opposing gay marriage. Take a stand Senator. You either believe that all Americans are equal or you don't. If you believe they are, you should vote in favor of the bill. The simple fact is that religion shouldn't even play a roll in your decision making process. Religion and government are to remain separate in this country. This is for the good of both religion and government and going against this principle weakens both.

In closing Senator, let me appeal to you to think about your legacy as a lawmaker in this country. You have the opportunity to create sweeping change simply by allowing gay Americans to exercise a right already afforded to every other group in this nation. It is my firm belief that 50 years from now, this period in American history will be remembered in a similar light to the civil rights movement and it is up to you to decide which side of this great struggle you want to be associated with. I have no doubt that those who stand up and defend the rights of all Americans to marry and pursue happiness will be remembered like Dwight Eisenhower and Bobby Kennedy as leaders and agents of change while those who opposed it will forever be cast to the same category in history as George Wallace and Bull Connor as bigots, anti-progressives and hate-mongers. I believe you know in your heart that the best thing for your state, this nation and for your constituents, many of whom are gay, is to fight for the rights of all Americans and vote in favor of gay marriage. Throughout our nation's history New York has been a leader on a national scale. Your great state is once again presented with the opportunity to lead by example by passing groundbreaking legislation and upholding the fundamental American value of equality. Take the lead. Do what's right. Thank you again, Senator for encouraging public discussion on this issue and soliciting the opinions of the people. It is a great sign that you are carefully considering both sides of the issue and I will continue to pray that you vote on the side of equality and freedom.

Respectfully,

Bill Malinowski

Resident College Football Expert Jimmy "The Greek" March Gives Us His Prediction For A Key Big 10 Matchup

The Michigan State Spartans are ranked 5th in the BCS poll yet they’re a touchdown underdog when they visit the #18 Iowa Hawkeyes this weekend.  This year’s cardiac kids don’t have a superstar on offense; they don’t always look flashy in getting the job done.  In fact, they’ve looked down right ugly at times (see most of the Illinois and Northwestern games).

However, at 8-0, the Spartans are decidedly in the driver’s seat in the Big Ten at this point in the season.  With Kirk Cousins at the helm, the Michigan State offense is averaging just under 450 yards and 34.5 points per game.  The Spartan defense, for its part, has only given up 17.9 points per game, good for 18th in the country.  With kicker Dan Conroy hitting 13 of 14 field goals on the season, Mark D’Antonio’s squad sure looks the part of a well-rounded, high-powered Big Ten Champion.

Why then, are the Spartans an underdog to a two-loss Iowa team?

State is on the road, sure, but home-field advantage typically gives three points.

That still leaves MSU a three-and-a-half point ‘dog.

With three potentially game-breaking running backs (Baker, Bell, Caper), four legitimate wideouts (Dell, Cunningham, Martin, Nichol), and two tight ends that are a mismatch waiting to happen (Gantt, Linthicum) all at the disposal of a quarterback completing two-thirds of his passes on the season, why are the Spartans the upset-special pick of the week for columnists and analysts all over the country?

First, the Michigan State Spartans have most definitely been this year’s version of the cardiac kids.  The headline-grabbing overtime fake field goal to beat the struggling Fighting Irish; the same one that sent Coach D’Antonio to the hospital with a heart attack was only the beginning.

While that win propelled the Spartans into the top-25, there have been a couple other close calls along the way that have allowed them to keep climbing.  The score in Michigan State’s 26-6 win against Illinois two weeks ago belies the fact that Sparty struggled, and for about three quarters, this looked like a Big Ten bottom feeder fight.

Last weekend in Evanston, Michigan State was trailing Northwestern 17-0 late in the second quarter.  Sparty clawed back again and put in the game winner on a 9-yard B.J. Cunningham touchdown catch with 2:00 remaining.

Second, despite the fact that the Iowa Hawkeyes have two-losses, Ricky Stanzi has seemingly put it together as a third year starter at quarterback.  With 16 touchdowns to only 2 interceptions on the season, Stanzi, who’s sometimes questionable decision-making was often Iowa’s Achilles’ heel in the ’08 and ’09 campaigns, has made the Iowa Hawkeyes multi-dimensional on offense.  With receivers Derrell Johnson-Koulianos and Marvin McNutt both averaging over 16 yards per catch, and running back Adam Robinson stacking up 737 yards and 9 touchdowns through seven games, this years Hawkeye offense is no joke.

On the other side of the ball, the Hawkeyes have put together another stout defensive unit, allowing only 15.7 points per game on the season.

Above all, the Hawkeyes have a bad taste leftover from last week’s last minute, 31-30 loss to Wisconsin.  Wanting to take it out on someone, anyone, Michigan State is definitely walking into a trap game.

Despite the oddsmakers, the experts, and Michigan State’s own inconsistent play, the Spartans have what it takes to run the table in the Big Ten this season.  With an impressive showing against Wisconsin, beating the Badgers by 10, and putting together the blueprint for shutting down Michigan’s Denard Robinson in a 34-17 beat down in Ann Arbor, this year’s Michigan State squad has shown that they know how to get the job done.

Prediction: Michigan State 31, Iowa 27

-Jim March

Jozy Altidore is one of the most exciting athletes I’ve ever seen play. It was like watching Jordan or Gretzky or every Brazilian player ever.  He just fucks motherfuckers up. Fakes bitches out of their jock straps and appears as if from nowhere to break up passes. Although HefNasty’s man-crush Landon Donovan didn’t play. Altidore’s sheer athleticism, skill and speed, along with the stellar play of both goaltenders provided one hell of a lot of excitement.

Soccer is perhaps the greatest test of human endurance outside of the Ironman. A soccer pitch is huge. Just massive. Around 15 yards longer and about 10 yards wider than an American football field, there’s barely enough grass in most football stadiums to contain a pitch. More importantly, these guys run. And run. And run. Then run some more – for ninety goddamn minutes. No turnovers. No huddles. No stopping the clock when the ball goes out of bounds. Just straight running. To give you some idea of how impressive this is, an NBA game is 48 minutes long – a little longer than ONE HALF of a soccer match when you factor in stoppage time. And there’s no hanging on your shorts and sucking wind during free-throws, no substitutions, no 20 second timeouts. Just fucking running – oh and trying to push a 6 foot 200 pound guy off the ball all goddamn night. Holy shit. These guys are athletes. Too bad no one in this country notices.

But it’s not so much about what happens on the pitch. The experience of going to a FIFA game is out of this world. You get this awesome sense of absolute fanaticism (The good kind. Not the creepy, “Cameron Crazies” kind), lawlessness, and pure joy of the game with a dash of anarchy and a heaping dose of national pride thrown in.

The best way to describe the anarchy in the arena would be the following: “Dear NFL, You are a bunch of fucking pussies. – Always, FIFA”. “Alcohol free section”? Fuck you! “No smoking in the concourse/bathrooms”? Blow me! “No fighting”? What? Nobody died right? Oh, and you know at NFL games, how they pour the beer out of the can into a cup and if you get a bottle of water, they keep the cap so you can’t use it as a projectile? Not FIFA, baby! “Here’s a full, unopened, 16 oz Budweiser. We trust you to drink it and not hurl it at someone as a result of the previous 6 you just drank. Thanks!” Oh, and even if the hooligan in the row above you mercifully opens and begins to drink his beer, just wait until his team scores a goal, because you’re most likely getting a shower. Security guards in every aisle? Not bloody likely. Those poor bastards had their hands full containing the fights up in the concourse. George Steinbrenner would shit a brick if he saw such lawlessness at a sporting event. Perhaps my favorite dangerous/illegal activity of the night took place during the Polish National Anthem. As the song reached its crescendo, fans lit off 2 Roman Candles (!) one releasing white smoke, the other, red, creating a perfect amateur pyrotechnic Polish flag. This made the arena smell like gunpowder for the majority of the first half. Fun stuff.

This is how sports were meant to be watched! Stupid American legal system. Beyond the delightfully unapologetic hooliganism**, what truly completes the fan experience is the competitive cheering. From the time the lineups were announced, the (woefully outnumbered) American fans attempted to drown out chants of “POLSKA! (Clap, clap clap) POLSKA! (clap, clap, clap)” with the old standby “USA! USA!” And when the US scored its two goals (each time to take the lead), Soldier Field was rocked with “USA!” Chants that could be rivaled only by a Christine O’Donnell rally or a Toby Keith concert. My sense of national pride was at an all-time high***. But the Poles (who had draped most of the surfaces in Soldier Field with various red and white banners, representing various regions and cities of Poland) struck back loudly with a cheer I won’t even attempt to spell or pronounce that we were told translates to “Never give up!” (I wanted to amend it to “Never give up, unless Germany invades, then give up and call America,” but it’s kind of a long-winded translation). These people DO NOT FUCK AROUND about soccer. As the masses chanted “Never Give Up!” in their native tongue, the looks on their faces were more impassioned than any Cheesehead, Masshole, RaiderNation member or booing Philly fan has ever looked or will ever look. It’s more than just a game to these people. I turned around to see looks that can only be described as sheer desperation combined with an intense sense of pride on the faces of the women sitting behind us. It brought to mind the scene in Casablanca in which Victor Laslo orders the band at Rick’s to play La Marseillaise, culminating in a tearful Madeleine LeBeau crying out “Viva La France!” The desperation and national pride of a young refugee hearing her home country’s anthem after nearly sleeping with the enemy almost equaled the passion on the faces of Poland's fans as they implored their beloved footballers to “Never give up!” and it gave me chills.

A few things to keep in mind when attending your first FIFA match:

Don’t expect to sit for anything resembling an extended period of time. We stood for the majority of the first half, finally grabbing some bench around the 13:00 mark – for about 15 seconds until Altidore scored off a pass from midfielder Jermaine Jones – who was making his international debut. The goal would kick off another intense cheer battle – and sitting would be kept to a minimum. It was as if the fiercely competitive fans were sending a message to each other “We’re not tired and neither is our squad!” Every other opportunity to ride the pine that came along would be interrupted almost as quickly as the first by a steal, a corner, a free kick, a hard slide tackle (incidentally, the stereotypes are true. Footballers flop. More than a few times, a guy would lie in a fetal position until the ref came over and administered the appropriate punishment, at which point, he’s spring to his feet and get back in position.) or an odd-man rush. There’s no “down in front” or “wait for the whistle” etiquette. There’s only leaving it all out there for your squad. Showing loyalty to one’s country, one’s squad is all that matters.

Just go with it. Things like “personal space” aren’t really at the top of anyone’s list. There’s this mentality that we’re all in this together and if we can see a good match and make it out alive, it’s all good. Seating isn’t really enforced. There are massive crowds in the aisles and concourses. You’ll probably have beer spilled on you, you’ll probably have to contend with the smell of some guy’s unfiltered Camel and another’s sleeveless, unshowered, deodorant-free pits. It’s not like a normal American pro sporting event. It’s not about “ensuring everyone has a fun and safe experience” or whatever the Christ they announce at MLB games. It’s not about “respecting each fan’s rights to blah blah blah…”. The experience is the insanity, the lawlessness, the anarchy. Take the jostles, jolts, spilled beer and occasional slight to you or your country in stride and don’t start shit unless you’re prepared to go the distance. And truth be told, if you don’t fuck with anyone, you’ll probably be ok. Just sit back and take it all in.

Participate. Have a few beers, loosen up and cheer your balls off. Unlike most American sports, vocally supporting your team throughout the game isn’t considered poor sportsmanship. Fans of opposing teams practically dare each other to cheer louder and most fans successfully walk the perilous line between good-natured fanaticism and violent over-aggression. This is aided in part by the group mentality. At an American sporting event, a boisterous, drunken fan is noticeable due the relative subdued nature of others in the arena. Additionally, this dynamic causes one on one, usually threatening shit-talking ie: “hey you fuck! I don’t like your stupid hat! [the star player from your team] is a faggot! Go back to [the town the opposing team hails from]!” These scenarios inevitably end badly. I only saw one instance of this type of singled out, verbal hostility at the soccer match. It was a drunken American sporting a Poland jersey in line for the men’s room. This dude would literally talk shit to anyone who walked by (including some poor bastard in Chelsea Blue who he blindsided with “Fuck you and fuck Chelsea”). Pretty sure this dude got the shit beat out of him. Hopefully, right? For some reason, this guy’s actions and words seemed more disturbing than even the few physical fights I witnessed. But the great thing about the group mentality of a soccer crowd is that it allows fans to sidestep the potentially awkward one on one confrontation. It’s all of us versus all of you. As I stood shoulder to shoulder with Americans chanting USA! USA! And Poles chanting POLSAK! POLSKA! I noticed half smirks as I made eye contact with opposing fans as if we were saying to each other “I get it. Bring it on!”

*side note on the tie: at the end of the game, the Americans, who came to see a US win, were understandably bummed. The Poland fans however, seemed ecstatic to have avoided an L.

**side note on hooliganism: if you want to fully understand the term “ugly American” look no further than international soccer. While fans in other countries have a far worse reputation when it comes to over the top cheering and violence, it stems from a different place. Most of the fights I saw were clearly started by mouthy Americans (it was a friendly for chrissakes) and the event was clearly just an excuse for most of these guys to get drunk and start a fight, later chalking it up to “hey, it’s soccer.” The Polish fans, while no less rowdy or violent, were motivated by more than knocking a few back and having a good time. It was clear they truly lived and died with this team to a degree that even the most die hard American fans would have difficulty comprehending.

***HefNasty and my dad had both joked during the weeks leading up to the game that I should sport the Polska Reds as a tribute to my heritage. I considered it until I had to watch a week of smug European journalist hurling asinine queries at America’s golf heroes during the Ryder Cup. Following the heartbreaking American defeat, I decided there was no fucking way I could support anything but the Red, White and Blue and thanks to HefNasty’s ever-growing wardrobe of US Soccer gear, I got to cheer my ass off in style.

-Wild

There are no words...

You know what’s awesome? Music. And boobs, of course. But I’m gonna go ahead and talk about music in this post. Pop music, folk music, even classical (as long as it’s got some feeling) is, without a doubt, the fucking shit.  I don’t know how I’d get through the day without it. Most of my days involve less than three hours of meetings, conference calls and actual human interaction. The rest is filled with research and writing – awesome, but at times boring. The answer? Pandora, iTunes, last.fm and the plethora of other places you can go in this glorious digital age to access literally any piece of music ever made.

Music, more than any other art form or form of expression is universal. You show me someone who says they’ve never been moved by a piece of music, I’ll show you a fucking liar. Everyone can relate to the songs we hear, it’s why we sing along in the car, it’s why no matter where we go, one of the three or four things we pretty much always have on us is a music player of some kind.

About a week ago I was having a shitty day – just broke, bored, whatever you have to be for a few days to really get bummed – I was there. So I’m leaving work late and I get in my shitty car, ready to sit in a bunch of LA(suckmycock)traffic on my way home to my shitty apartment. Sounds awesome right? Then all of a sudden – bam: THREE LITTLE BIRDS comes on the radio. Instant fucking smile baby! You know why? Because Bob’s right. Every little thing is gonna be alright.

Nothing about my situation had changed. I was still sitting there, late at night, broke, bored, in my shitty car, stuck in traffic on my way back to my shitty apartment and that was fucking great. Why? Because if Bob Marley could be so damn positive about everything, why couldn’t I? As the Nappy Roots told us: “Another day above ground and that’s a reason to pray.” See? More answers in music!

Music can sympathize (or empathize?) with us (don’t lie, you have a mixtape that includes FAIRYTALE OF NEW YORK, FRIENDS IN LOW PLACES,  and the entire first side of 808s AND HEARTBREAK). It can rationalize the way we’re feeling. Head pounding with that hangover? Uncle Johnny’ll take care of that with a portrait of SUNDAY MORNING COMING DOWN. Music gives us a glimpse of what’s possible. Whether we’re envisioning a vacation in PARADISE CITY or a roadtrip featuring ME AND BOBBY McGEE, anything can happen as long as you’ve got some good tunes. Perhaps most importantly, while music accomplishes all these (and a number of other) things, it makes us feel great. We connect with strangers because of a shared experience or feeling evoked by a piece of music. We see the world differently through music and as long as music is played, reinvented and shared, it’s something we’ll all have in common.

I watched a replay of last year’s Hall of Fame Show on HBO last night and as acts like Metallica and Lou Reed took to the same stage as Paul Simon, Sam Cooke and Buddy Guy, it occurred to me that we get too wrapped up in what kinds of fans we are. Whether you get down to death metal, pop, classic rock, hip hop, bluegrass, Motown, or anything in between, it all stems from the same melting pot of ideas, sounds and influences. The show closes with what I consider to be one of the greatest rock and roll songs ever written: Jackie Wilson’s HIGHER AND HIGHER. I defy anyone to listen to that song and not smile from ear to fucking ear. The same can be said for Stevie Wonder’s FOR ONCE IN MY LIFE and just about anything Darlene Love belts out. The moral of the 4 hour epic is that you can’t put labels or restraints on music – it’s rock and roll. Deal with it.

Music enhances everything we do, without us even noticing. It affects our moods, helps us celebrate, helps us forget. One minute, you’re running around stressed out by this or that – and the next, you’re William Miller, being put at ease by a groupie singing Elton John on a tour bus somewhere in Kansas. Think about it – is Forrest Gump as compelling without its 3 decade spanning soundtrack? Are Hawks games as intense without the blaring of GNR and The Dropkick Murphys between the whistles? No. And your life would be dull and bland without the constant bombardment of sound, sex, love and emotion that is rock and roll. So whether your iPod is sporting The Boss, The Pogues, The Beatles or The Killers this month, don’t forget to take the time to celebrate and appreciate the great gift that is rock and roll.

I could go on for days about my favorite acts and bands that changed my life, but that could take years, and cost thousands of lives. I’m so musically schizophrenic that any attempt to break down why I like the music I like would be an exercise in futility. What I do know, without a doubt is how music makes me feel. Rock and Roll kicks us in the dick and reminds us we’re alive. It reminds us we’re not alone and it reminds us that life is short so we might as well rock while we can. In lieu of trying to break down my musical tastes, below is a list of my top 5 moments in live rock. Not top 5 shows or favorite bands, or even songs, but moments in time when rock and roll slapped me in the face and went “Life is good!”

5. Summer, 2000, The New World Music Theater, Tinley Park, IL: The Who, including John Entwistle (who would pass away just two years later) played BABA O'REILLEY. It trumped even my wildest expectations. Pure energy. Pure rock and roll. Pure magic.

4: Spring, 2004, Eagles Ballroom @ The Rave, Milwaukee, WI: OAR, joined by Robert Randolph and the Family Band (who by the way, stole the show from the headlining Maryland band with a set that included I DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU CAME TO DO, I NEED MORE LOVE, BILLIE JEAN and PURPLE HAZE) performed their now famous rendition of Led Zeppelin’s FOOL IN THE RAIN. This rock classic lends itself perfectly to the jam band sound and Randolph’s absolute shredding of the slide guitar was showcased beautifully. This has become commonplace at OAR shows, but I’d never heard anything like it at the time.  In fact, I'd never heard Robert Randolph except through the tiny computer speakers in Sean_Hef's room.  Hearing him play that laptop for the first time I felt the way people must've felt when Hendrix took the stage at Woodstock and Altamont.

3: June 12th, 2004, Bonnaroo, Manchester, TN: The Dead played THE WEIGHT. Most of this weekend is “hazy” but hearing Weir and Lesh rock out such an iconic song with Warren Haynes filling in for Jerry stands out as the most memorable part of a weekend filled with great music and great moments.

2: September 25th, 2002, United Center, Chicago, IL: Sean_Hef and I went to see Bruce Springsteen and the E. Street Band and The Boss closed the show with BORN TO RUN and LAND OF HOPE AND DREAMS. Life doesn’t get much better when you’re 17.

1: November 30th, 2001, Chicago Theater, Chicago, IL: Coldplay closes the show with a cover of HERE COMES THE SUN in tribute to George Harrison, who had passed away the day before. I don’t think I fully understood the significance of this until later. It was pretty clear at the time that the band was on the rise, but nobody knew they’d be another U2 and I don’t think I could yet comprehend George’s importance as both a member of the Beatles and as a solo artist (although he was always my favorite Beatle). But I knew it was special and important and I knew it would be an experience I’d never forget.

Reading through this list, it occurs to me that all of these moments (along with countless others) took place before my 20th birthday. Mick said he’d rather be dead than sing SATISFACTION at 50. He’s 66. He’s still singing it. You’re never too old for rock and roll because ROCK AND ROLL NEVER FORGETS.

Hef – If you’re reading this, DO YOUR BEST JAGGER!

RIP Malcolm MacLaren

Got a killer rock story?  Sound off in the comments.

-Wild

As pitchers and catchers report and I buy tickets for my annual pilgrimage to Mesa, AZ, it’s hard to escape the feeling that this year could be ours. With the young, revitalized Hawks on top of the division, one has to wonder if it’s time for Chicago to end another drought. As the trade deadline looms in the NBA, we are offered a glimmer of hope towards a Bulls playoff run. Throughout all the trials and tribulations, ups and downs, living and dying with our teams, expecting nothing less than perfection, coping with disappointment and finally rejoicing when a team does it, rooting for Chicago teams is a truly unique experience…

“I hear that Cali never rains and New York’s all the Way”. I’ll let Pac keep cali and Hov can stay in that Empire State of Mind. Give me an Old Style, a hot dog with everything and 10 great songs from one great year. Give me 75 MPH on lakeshore drive…speeding towards The Drake and the Hancock with the water to your left, taking an “s” curve to reveal Navy Pier in all its shimmering glory. Give me wide open express lanes on the Kennedy barreling towards the greatest skyline on earth, emerging from Hubbard’s Cave in the middle of a glass and steel canopy that is the West Loop.

You can have your Coliseum, your Garden, your palatial new Stadium. Give me bricks and ivy, the Madhouse on Madison and a stadium that’s a living monument. Give me the Irish an hour away on I-80 and the Golden Eagles and hour north on 94.

Keep your models, actresses and PoweR Girls. Give me a chick who can drink me under the table, wake up in time Sunday NFL Countdown and really get what I mean when I say “I hate the fucking Packers”.(Holy shit! You’re wearing an Urlacher jersey and you made chili? What’s your name, soul-mate?)

Skip the ultra-lounges, nightclubs, bars with lines and doormen. I’ll take a Lakeview pub, a Jeff Park dive or a backyard. Give me a grill, a pong table (yes, it’s called “beer pong”) and a game of bags*.

I’ve seen most of the “coast” and a lot of the Atlantic Seaboard. I’d rather cruise the bizarre corridor of the Illinois Tollroad from Chicago to Milwaukee featuring such gems as a gold plated pyramid, that “study natural law house”, Apple Holler, The Brat Stop, Mars Cheese Castle and culminates in our neighbor to the north – which is only good for eating yourself into a coma or drinking yourself to death (also not a bad place to catch a ballgame).

When it comes to sports, don’t even fuck with us. This is a city with a sports following so rabid that fights break out between fans of baseball teams that play in the same town. If pitchers and catchers haven’t reported yet, we don’t even waste time on our divisional rivals (but since we’re on the subject, FUCK the Cardinals.) Sports figures and fans can be made or broken in Chicago. Won the Superbowl in ’85? Take my first born! Snatched up 6 rings in the 90’s? You should run for Mayor! Try to catch a foul ball? Pay attention asshole! Bam! Death threats! Beat the Packers this week? You’re a future Hall of Famer! Lose to the Vikes next week? Bench that asshole! Being a Chicago sports fan goes beyond loving our teams, idolizing our heroes and vilifying the failures, it’s about hating (with a vengeance) our rivals. “Get the fuck out of here with that Donald Driver jersey! And look at this asshole! A Favre Vikings jersey!?!?! Do I really have to explain to you all the things wrong with that!?!”

Chicago sports is all encompassing. It covers every major sport, starting on the high school level and reaching all the way up through college to the pros and for every team we love, there’s even more teams we hate. It starts with where you went to high school. If you were blessed enough to come up in the Chicago Catholic League, then all suburban leagues are a joke and the Chicago Public League is a glorified basketball conference. Rivalries run deep in the CCL/GCAC and loyalties are not split. From basketball and baseball to hockey, wrestling, football even volleyball and soccer you won’t find too many fans of the Loyola Ramblers and the Mount Carmel Caravan or The Providence Celtics and Joliet Catholic Hilltoppers. Nobody in the history of Chicago has ever rooted for Regina and Resurrection or Loyola and Mother MacAuley. Whether it’s football, basketball or girls’ soccer, communities live and die with their high school teams.

When it comes to collegiate athletics, the Chicagoland area is a hotbed of competition. To the South, you’ve got The Chief, to the east, The Irish, to the north, The Golden Eagles and to the west, The Wolfpack. You’ve got the Wildcats on the North Shore and the Ramblers and Blue Demons on the North Side with the Flames representing the South Side. Everyone in Chicago has their own allegiances and they stick by their team through good and bad. In Chicago it’s not who you root for or how you root, but that you root.

Chicago’s five major professional sports teams are the proud owners of a combined 23 titles as well as some of the longest title droughts in sports. Luckily, they also have some of the world’s most dedicated, bloodthirsty and absolutely insane fans. Fans who singlehandedly demolished disco in the 70’s, Superbowl Shuffled in the 80’s, rioted in the 90’s and who every year, without fail believe that this could be the year – for all of our teams, whether they last won it all in 2005, 1998, 1985, 1961 or 1908. It’s not about what happened last year, last month, last week, last game or last inning. In Chicago, we live in the now, we expect the miraculous, even the impossible. We know greatness, we know winning and we expect nothing less from our athletes.

Chicago has no casual fans. There’s no room for divided loyalties. We raise our sons and daughters not just to love the Bears, but to hate the Packers and the Vikings (more especially, any quarterback who’s played for both). It’s not enough just to love the Cubs. You must loathe the Sox and the Cards. The Knicks haven’t been relevant in 15 years? Yeah, well Ewing was still an asshole! And don’t even get me started in the mother fucking Pistons. Speaking of Detroit, Hawks fans of all ages will tell you that the most important fact you can know about hockey (more important than the Hawks all-time leading scorer, more important than any stat) is that DETROIT SUCKS!

So let me root, root, root for the home team – and only the home team. Let me down an a Hamms (or a Goose Island if we’re being fancy). Turn up “Saturday in the Park” and break me off a slice of Lou’s deep dish, toss me a fresh Cubbie Blue New Era cap, because there’s no city on Earth I’d rather put on for than Sweet Home Chicago.

*Ever try to describe a game of “bags” to someone not from the Midwest? “So, what’s the point?” “What? You try to get the bags in the hole and the first team to 21 wins.” “Yeah, but when do you drink?” “The whole time.”

-Wild

Sean as Gelnn Beck:

(Tearing up) "Do you remember a simpler game America? A game from your youth? A game where we all got oranges at halftime and Capri Sun when it was over? A game where it didn’t matter if you won or lost, because all the parents were still going to form that gay little tunnel for you to run through? You know in your heart that this is the right game for our country. Don’t let the naysayers and pigskin lovers at ESPN, FOX, NBC, CBS and the rest of corporate America lead you astray any more.

This is a game that flourishes throughout Latin America, the Middle East, Europe, even Africa. Why? Because people in those countries can’t afford equipment to play a real sport. And you know what America? If we keep frivoulously spending on footballs, shoulder pads, helmets and goal posts, we’ll be just like them. And THAT, that is how the terrorists win. It’s time to take some personal accountability America. We need to stop asking congress and the fat cats in Washington for bail outs in the form of cheerleaders, awesome violence and a sport that’s actually exciting to watch. It’s time to make our own soccer balls out of milk jugs and cow bladders and find a dirty alley, a patch of dirt or some other surface that is in no way fit for sport and say NO! No, I will not devote my entire Saturday, Sunday, Monday Night and many Thursday Nights to this abomination of a game you call football. Who is the genius that named it football? You can use your hands!!!!!  You know what else you use your hands for?  Hand jobs!  So go ahead if you must, keep giving the National Football Machine and big old Handjy!"

(Composes himself, walks over to blackboard) “It’s all there in black and white! Look at the word soccer. If you rearrange the letters and take a few out, you get SCORE. And that’s what it’s time to do now America. It’s time to look our fears in the eye and say “I’m going to score!” I’m not going to be afraid anymore. I won’t let myself be creeped out by boomer’s looks, personality and that “Whoop!” thing he does. Let’s Score America!”

(Flips blackboard over) “And while we’re at it, let’s look at ‘football’. What happens when you drop the ‘foot’ and add an ’s’? That’s right, you get ‘balls’! You know why? Because the liberal media and the socialist, fascist, anarchist, communist federal government want you to suck their balls.They want you to be distracted by Faith Hill’s ass and Tony Siragusa’s gut, so they can tea bag you without you even noticing.  And that is some bullshit!  Teabagging parties are supposed to be my thing! I used to be a terrible person. But then I discovered soccer, a game that didn’t suck. And now I am the epitome of what it means to be an American. I’m better than everyone in the world.”

(Makes his way back to desk as tears well up, looks directly into camera) “And you can be too. Isn’t it about time we went back to a simpler America? You know what I’m talking about. It’s the America we grew up in, where sports didn’t suck- where we had options other than The NFL or Nascar on Sunday afternoons. Yeah. I want that America back too. And it starts here. And it starts now. Drive your ass out to that shitty little stadium in the south burbs and cheer on a team with a bunch of guys you’ve never heard of playing a game you don’t understand for a team only loosely affiliated with your city. You know who likes football? Obama. And Al-Queada. Need I say more? The time for a soccer revolution is upon us. The ball is in your court, er, field – no, no – pitch! The ball is in your, on your pitch, America. don’t let me down. Let’s take this country back. Goodnight.”

Glenn Beck you suck.  Soccer is boring.  Hef, you know I love you.

-Wild

by Sean Heffernan

The Windy City is one of greatest places in the world to be a guy. A sports fan can find a professional sporting event almost every night of the year to attend. There are more sports bars and Irish pubs than any single drunk’s liver could handle in a lifetime. And the city is world famous for two of the greatest guy foods in history: pizzza and hot dogs. What else could you want in a city? Here’s my list of five things for a guy to do in Chicago, IL...

1. Enjoy the Best Baseball Town in America

The dislike between Chicago Cubs and White Sox fans is legendary and as fierce as any intercity rivalry in the country. I have a friend that will in the middle of any conversation burst into a “Cubs Suck” tirade without any apparent warning.

The Cubs’ Wrigley Field is one of the most hallowed sports venues in America. There’s truly nothing like watching the Cubs stumble all over the diamond and run face first into the ivy while sitting in the bleachers drinking a cold Old Style. Outside of the stadium awaiting you is block after block of bars and restaurants. Whether you’re looking for a sports bar, dance club, hole-in-the-wall, or reggae joint - you’ll have a good, dirty time in Wrigleyville.

On the Southside of town the White Sox have bragging rights after bringing home the World Series in 2005 (a feat the more popular Cubs haven’t done in over a century…seriously). The neighborhood might not be as trendy around the Sox’s U.S. Cellular Field as Wrigleyville, but the food inside the stadium puts The Friendly Confine's cuisine to shame. “The Cell” as its nicknamed has all the modern amenities Wrigley lacks as it was built in 1991 and since U.S. Cellular bought the rights in 2003 the stadium has been renovated regularly. After the game I suggest you hit up Schaller’s Pump for the bar’s legendary butt steak. It’ll kick your ass.

No matter if you’re a pompous yuppie of a Cubs fan, a classless degenerate of a Sox fan, or just a guy looking for a good time at the ballpark you’ll fit right in Chicago.

2. Viva Football/Futbol

It should tell you something that the most famous person in Chicago is none other than Mike Ditka - the mustached and pompadoured coach that led the 1985 Chicago Bears to the organization’s one and only Super Bowl victory. “Da Coach” eventually fell out of favor and was fired, but no one remembers that. In the fall, the city stops brawling over baseball and comes together to support the Monsters of the Midway. As it gets cold later on in the season, tailgaters’ polish sausage and Italian beef will keep you warm outside Solider Field. The Bears are on the front page of the Tribune and the Sun Times daily during the season, regardless if they are winning or losing. The team's home stadium may look like a weird spaceship from the outside, but inside it is a great place to watch a sporting event.

Bears tickets will, however, put a nice dent in your wallet. If you’re looking for a good time at a discount price, I suggest you opt for the type of football played just south of the city in Bridgeview, IL. Toyota Park is home to the MLS’s Chicago Fire as well as summer concerts, and the occasional national team game. I recently attended a Chicago Fire playoff game and sat in the Miller Lite deck. For the price of admission you get four beers and all you can eat concessions until the 20^th minute of the game. Needless to say I was a happy guy before half time with my pockets full of hot dogs and condiments. A Fire game is definitely one of the best bangs for your buck in the city. If you're into buck banging.

3. Go Watch the Ponies Run at Arlington

Your fortunes await you in the Northwest Suburbs at Arlington Park. Spend the entire day eating crab cakes, drinking cheap bear, listening to live music, and blowing as much or as little cash as you want at the over 80-year-old race track. You’re welcome at Arlington whether you’re a high roller or just a guy willing to part with a few bucks. You can dine on shrimp cocktail and filet mignon while wearing a monocle in the Million Room or slup it with the Regular Joes eating cheeseburgers and corn on the cob outdoors. People look forward to the track's trademark race, The Arlington Million, all year long when a million clams is awarded some midget on a horse. It’s a good time.

4. Eat Something Bad For You

Chicago isn’t famous for its salads. However if you’re looking for great guy food and willing take a few years off your life, you can’t find a better place than the Windy City. Chicago’s deep dish pizza is world famous with the likes of Gino’s East, Art of Pizza, Giordano’s, and Lou Malnati’s battling it out to be the best deep dish pie in Chicago. When I'm not in the mood for the city's trademark style of pizza making, I prefer to grab a jumbo NYC style slice and a free pop at Bacci Pizza for five dollars. Best deal ever.

When it comes to hot dogs you’d be hard pressed to walk down the street in most parts of Chicago and not run into a place that serves Vienna Beef wieners on a poppy seed bun with relish, mustard, tomato slices, dill pickle, sport peppers, celery salt, onion, and cucumber (can be smothered with cheese of course upon your request).

The Chicago style dog came about in the Great Depression when hot dog had to be your entire meal. Just don’t let any mustached Chicagoan catch you putting ketchup on your dog or you’ll get an earful. The general rule is for Chicago hot dog eating is that the dirtier looking the place the better the dog, but a few of the more popular places include Portillo’s, Superdawg, Gold Coast Dog’s, and Hot Doug’s.

Italian beef is another Chicago delicacy that no man should pass up in their lifetime. Hot beef on a warm bun dipped in Au Jus has probably killed more Chicago males than cancer in the last century. Al’s Beef and Buona Beef have taken the tradition into the mainstream, but they’re plenty of original places for a beef lover to sample all over the city.

If you want to avoid a heart attack or you’re a bit more of a classier individual, the city has some of the best restaurants in the country in every category imaginable, but personally I believe the city’s true soul is in its working class guy grub. Here’s to antacids! I think I just gained four pounds writing this article.

5. Laugh Until You Puke

For 50 years, The Second City has been at the forefront of improvised comedy. Since the theater opened in Chicago’s Old Town neighborhood in 1959, the company has expanded to Toronto and Hollywood. The theater’s famous alumni include John Belushi, Bill Murray, Chris Farley, Steve Carell, and Tina Fey. I went to see a show for my brother’s bachelor party and it was hysterical. A few months later I saw one of the actors on T.V.

Feature shows are always playing at Second City and training classes are available if you think you got what it takes to make people giggle. In the spirit of Second City a number of other improv troupes perform all over the city including the Improv Olympic and ComedySportz.

Chicago continues to be the leading city in American comedy so when you see a show you never know if you are watching the next SNL cast member or comic legend. So after you catch a game and eat entire deep dish pizza, go see a show and laugh until you puke.

Do you have any thoughts about what's a guy's good time in Chicago? Please comment below!