In order of awesomeness, I present the SportDork Nation with the following three Gator-related videos (and no, this is not an April Fools' joke.  I am, in fact, presenting you with a medley of Gator videos in the middle of March Madness.  I have no idea why.):


#1:  Urban Meyer demonstrating how effective his three week leave of absence was in reducing his stress level:





I like the subtitles.  Classes it up.  Makes me feel like I'm watching a French film.


#2:  Erin Andrews scantily clad on the dance floor.  Not sure this one requires any additional explanation.





She has to bust out that gear on the sideline next year.  Only one complaint - it should've been orange and blue.  Ok - two complaints.  She should've finished off the performance with a Gator chomp.


#3:  This is so disturbing it achieves unparalleled levels of awesomeness.  And by 'disturbing', I mean I can't believe I didn't think of it first.





Who wouldn't want to share one of the most important, intimate moments of their life with a Heisman trophy winner?  That marriage has 'success' written all over it - unless he followed this up by asking Tebow to help out with the honeymoon . . . .


#4:  Ok, so maybe there's a fourth.   Actually, let's call it #3A.  That way this week's blog title still works.





Soooo disturbing.  Go Gators.


I was going to completely ignore March Madness, for no other reason than because it was such an obvious topic for this week's entry.  But as The SportDork, I can't bring myself to do it.  How could I let down the legions of readers who are waiting with bated breath to find out who I will pick to win it all so they can run out and bet on the opposing team?  It wouldn't be right to deprive you.  That's why I'm going to go one step further.  I will not only tell you who will win it all on Monday, but I will give you my 'locks' for Saturday's Final Four matchups.  You might as well go ahead and book that two-week vacation in Barbados right now, because after this weekend, you'll have that - and the private jet there and back - paid for. 


Let's start with Duke and West Virginia.  This is seriously like taking candy from a baby.  You don't even need to know anything about basketball to get this game right.  All you need to know is a little about the two programs and the two coaches, and you've got your winner.  It's really as simple as that.  Duke is a storied program that has high academic standards (at least high relative to other programs in the world of NCAA Division I basketball) and a legendary coach who has never allowed his program to be the subject of NCAA violations.  West Virginia hasn't seen the Final Four since 1959, and now finds itself back after more than 50 years courtesy of Bob Huggins, a man who has a gift for turning around troubled programs through his brilliant recruiting.  Huggie Bear is best known for wearing a sweat suit on the sideline during games, getting a DUI in 2004 that was filmed and shown on ESPN ad nauseam, and breaking out in laughter when he hears the term 'admission standards.'  When you take all of these factors into consideration, the pick is fairly obvious:  West Virginia by double digits.  Those Duke guys can run around studying and doing things the 'right' way all they want, but that's not gonna put the ball in the basket.  Only talent will, and Huggie Bear knows how to put talent on the floor.  Sorry Dukies - sports, like life, aren't fair.


The Michigan State-Butler matchup is even easier to pick than the Duke-West Virginia game.  Ignoring the fact that Michigan State has Tom Izzo (which I will address in a moment), you only need to know one thing to pick this game's winner.  Butler is basically playing this game in its back yard, since its campus is only miles from the Final Four site in Indianapolis.  Huge home court advantage, right?  Wrong.  Those kids from that tiny school of four thousand students are going to run out on that floor against Michigan State on Saturday, look at all those people in the stands going crazy over them, and promptly crap themselves.  When they get a load of that scene, their testicles are going to recede so far into their stomach that a licensed physician won't be able to find them.  The game will be into the second half before they get a hold of themselves, and by then it will be way too late.  Michigan State by double digits.


So what about the West Virginia-Michigan State final?  Again, a no brainer.  I know I just got finished espousing the importance of talent in the Final Four, and West Virginia has plenty thanks to Huggie Bear, but there is one thing that can neutralize, and even overcome, great talent, and that's legendary coaching.  I don't mean great coaching - I mean legendary coaching.  With that in mind, how can you possibly bet against Tom Izzo and Michigan State?  The man has Six Final Four appearances in twelve years!!  Sure he's only got one title, but that was against the Gators, which we all know is the equivalent of ten titles!  (You like how I brought it back to the Gators?)  Go ahead and name a few of the guys on those six Final Four teams.  What's that?  You can't?  I know you can't!  That's because Tom Izzo does more with less than any coach in college basketball.  This guy is Houdini!  Tom Izzo could take me, my dad, and my three brother-in-laws to the Final Four.   I don't know if he could get us past Huggie Bear in the Finals, but fortunately for him, he doesn't have to.  He has five guys who are slightly more talented to take care of that.  The SportDork will take Michigan State in a tight one. 



Did I mention I'm a huge fan of Tom Izzo?

March Madness has gripped SportDork Headquarters, but not in the way you might imagine.  In fact, we've experienced an entirely different kind of March Madness.  There's no doubt that the action on the court has been riveting, but it pales in comparison to the excitement that took place only days before the tourney began. 

Energized by the excitement of Selection Sunday, including the news that the Gators would not only be in the tournament, but would be an unlikely ten seed, Mrs. SportDork and I immediately ran out and made an offer on a new house.  Some people pop open a bottle of champagne to celebrate significant Gator milestones, such as their first trip back to the big dance in three years.  Not us.  We didn't think that would make enough of a statement, so we put an offer on a house down the street.  Not a contingency offer that's based on our ability to sell our current place.  Just a plain old offer, leaving us in the position of potentially owning two homes on the same street in one of the worst real estate markets in history.  But hey - we did it for the Gators.  It's been a tough couple years for Billy D and the boys, and we thought this was the kind of gesture that would accurately demonstrate our level of gratitude.  Plus, if we can't sell our current place for a while, the street will have two Gator flags.  That can't be bad.

I'm not sure that all of our family members were fully on board with our impromptu real estate decision, since shortly before the Winthrop Eagles and the Arkansas Pine-Bluff Golden Lions tipped off in the play-in game on Tuesday night to see who would be the sixty-fourth team in the tourney, my dad (a.k.a. The Senior SportDork) was admitted to the hospital with chest pains.  This is the same man who is responsible for me knowing where almost every NFL player went to college and is the reason why I can tell you that cornerback Kenny Easley wore number forty-five when he played for the Seattle Seahawks in the early 80's, so I'm still not convinced that his issues weren't related to anxiety over either a) his bracket, b) the Gators' opening round matchup against BYU, or c) both, since his bracket's success was dependent on the Gators' success.  It's entirely possible.  This is a man who can no longer watch the Gators play a meaningful football game.  Physically can't do it.  Causes him too much agony.  He spends the Gator football games watching the Golf channel and flipping over to the game periodically to see if the Gators are winning.  If they are, he watches until they make a boneheaded play, and then he switches back to the Golf channel, because he can no longer stomach any negative plays.  It's not that he can't bear to watch the Gators lose; it's that he can't even bear the prospect of the Gators losing.  Anyway, I think I've made my point.  Chest pains only days before the start of March Madness and the Gator's opener against BYU?   I don't need a regression analysis to figure that one out.

Of course, as soon as we got word that The Senior SportDork was in need of medical attention, Mrs. SportDork and I, as well as my sister, Sibling SportDork, flew down to Del Boca Vista to be with The Senior SportDork and Mrs. Senior SportDork.  (Wow.  That's a lot of SportDorks.)  First thing Wednesday morning, The Senior SportDork was in for his procedure, and incredibly, by late Thursday morning he was out of the hospital and we had him back home.  (I know saying this officially makes me old, but it's really amazing how far medicine has come.  It wouldn't surprise me if ten years from now, brain surgery is an out-patient procedure.)

You know what's not good for you immediately after returning home from a heart procedure?  Watching the 2009-2010 Florida Gators play basketball.  The Gators tipped off only moments after we walked in the door from the hospital.  How about that for timing?  (You gotta give it to The Senior SportDork.  He's wily.  Not many Gator fans could manage a major hospital visit around the Gators' tournament schedule.)  I was tempted to turn it off for fear that just a couple minutes of watching Erving Walker hoist up ill-advised three pointers and Dan Werner - well, be Dan Werner - would send him right back to the hospital, but The Senior SportDork astutely pointed out that watching all those jokers run up and down the court would provide an excellent indicator of how his ticker was faring.  I couldn't argue with that logic (and I'm a masochist when it comes to Gators basketball), so we decided we would suffer through the ordeal together.

The most impressive aspect of the Gators' 2009-2010 basketball team was how difficult they were to watch.  Just when you thought they were going to blow a team out, they could go ten minutes down the stretch without scoring a basket, and voila! - they had a nail biter on their hands.  Similarly, they could go down by double digits and give you the impression that they were going to be blown out, and then suddenly go on a tear and turn it into a game.  In their opener against BYU, clearly recognizing the national stage, they put on an impressive display that showcased why so many long-time Gator fans have facial tics.  When they went down by more than ten points in the second half, we thought it was over.  We were about to turn the channel to avoid having to watch multiple replays of a guy named Jimmer from BYU single handedly take down the Gators, but then they went on a run, and we were forced to keep watching.  That's how these 2009-2010 Gators got you.  They toyed with your emotions.  They'd push you right to the brink, seconds away from hitting the channel button and moving on, and then suck you back in. 

They really put a masterpiece together against BYU.  After going down by double digits in the second half, they came storming back, and suddenly they were in position to win the game.  It was only right that after that kind of comeback, Chandler Parsons, the same kid who won two games at the buzzer this year, would get the final shot in the opening game of the tourney and send the Gators to the second round.  It would be the perfect ending, right?  Not for this team.  For this team, you get the final shot in regulation, you get it in the hands of the guy you want taking the shot, and you get him an open look, but he doesn't make it.  It's no criticism of Chandler Parsons - without that kid, the Gators aren't even in the tourney.  No, it's just the way this team rolls.  This team must inflict pain on its fans.  Parsons making that shot would be too easy!!  Why have that shot go in to cap a great second half rally when you can go to overtime and extend the pain??? 

As expected, the overtime period looked eerily similar to the end of regulation.  The Gators with the ball to win the game, and another last second shot misses.  Two shots to win the game, two shots missed, and it's on to double overtime.  It's one of the few times I can remember being disappointed that I was going to get to watch more basketball, because I could see how this one was going to end before they even tipped off for the second overtime.  They pushed us away, then sucked us back in, and then toyed with us as they flirted with victory twice, only to come up short.  It's like they knew The Senior SportDork was just back from the hospital and could really use a nice, relaxing game as part of his recovery, but decided they'd have some fun with him. 

After coming so close to victory twice, the third time, or in this case the second overtime period, was not a charm.  The Gators fell apart, exhausted from exhausting us, and BYU, led by a guy named Jimmer, ran away to victory.  So, not only did the Gators miss two separate opportunities to win the game, but they also got taken out of the tournament by Jimmer Fredette in two overtimes.  It doesn't get an better than that.

There were a few positives to take from the Gators' loss, however.  First, The Senior SportDork made it through the entire game in great shape, demonstrating that all systems are once again a go.  And second, when I get to spend a couple days with The Senior SportDorks, this blog pretty much writes itself.  Case in point:  later that day, as Villanova battled Robert Morris in overtime of its first round game, Mrs. Senior SportDork looked at the score at the bottom of the screen and asked, "Who is OT?"  That was immediately followed by her asking, "And who is 'Rob Morr'?"  I told her I thought it was short for Rob Morrow, the guy who played 'Dr. Joel Fleischman' on the show 'Northern Exposure."  (He's also been rockin' it on 'Numb3rs' on CBS.)

He's got a sweet jump shot.

I could have spent this week's entry focused on this guy:

    


Meet Antonio Cromartie, NFL player, and former FSU Seminole (that last part makes this one so much better).  Antonio, a cornerback who has played the last five years for the San Diego chargers, became a free agent at the end of the season and recently agreed to join the New York Jets.  Everything about Antonio's transition from the Chargers to the Jets seemed to be going swimmingly until he requested that the Jets pay him part of his salary as a $500,000 cash bonus upon signing.  Why would a guy who just signed a $12 million contract with the Chargers only 5 years ago need to get $500,000 of his new contract in the form of a signing bonus?  Well, apparently when you have 7 kids by 6 different women in 5 different states and have had to address at least 5 paternity suits in the last year, it's a real drain on your cash flow.  There are probably women lined up outside the Jets' practice facility right now waiting for the chance to meet Antonio "Condomless" Cromartie.  Hey - it's better odds than a lottery ticket.

I also could have spent a lot of time on this guy:

Ah, the Steelers' Big Ben Roethlisberger.  This guy must really love the limelight.  Ben can figure out a way to get himself into a jam in any city in the United States.  In 2006 he practically kills himself by riding a motorcycle through the streets of Pittsburgh with no helmet on.  In 2009 he is accused of sexually assaulting a woman in Vegas in 2008.  And in 2010?  Ben descends upon the sleepy little town of Milledgeville, Georgia, where he further enhances his sterling reputation by allegedly fondling a young co-ed against her will.  I live in Atlanta, and I don't even know where Milledgeville is.  I've really got to hand it to Ben.  When you're accused of sexual assault in both Las Vegas and Milledgeville, Georgia, you've demonstrated a universal ability to act inappropriately toward women that few men possess. 

If I were Roger Goodell, I think I'd unveil a proposal at this year's owner's meeting to expand the season to 48 games just so these morons wouldn't have an off-season.  As far as I can tell, most of them use it to explore new and exciting ways to employ defense attorneys.

No, no in-depth discussion of the exploits of NFL players during the off-season, no breakdown of Tebow's new throwing motion (or his Wonderlic score), no March Madness preview (that's next week), no ruminations over Tiger's return date, and no NFL draft preview in this week's entry.  I don't have time for any of that.  You see, I've got bigger fish to fry, and it's all because I have a weakness.

I love an auction.

Silent, live - it doesn't matter.  If an event has an auction, I'm buying something.  Four years ago, Mrs. SportDork and I attended a charity event with a live auction, and a few months later, we were standing on the Great Wall in China.  Quite frankly, I should not be allowed to hold one of those paddles.  A few months ago, we attended a local neighborhood fundraiser that featured an auction, and if it hadn't been for Mrs. SportDork physically restraining me, I would have been following her home on our brand new baby blue motor scooter.  I really can't control myself.  I've never seen a silent auction item I didn't like.  I've bid on weekends at cabins in the woods, weekends in hotels, even weekends in privately-owned condos.  If a college kid put a weekend at his dorm room up for bid at a silent auction, I'd probably bid on it. 

So when Mrs. SportDork and I attended a lovely charity event last weekend, and I knew there would be a silent auction, I promised myself that this time would be different.  I would demonstrate an unprecedented level of restraint.  As we were getting ready for the event, I even announced my plan:

Me (making my 'this is a serious proclamation' face):  "Just so you know, I'm not bidding on anything tonight."
Mrs. SportDork (trying to contain her laughter):  "Sure, honey.  That sounds like a great plan."
Me (giving my 'this is a serious proclamation' face another try, but this time with hand gestures):  "No - I'm serious.  I'm not getting sucked in this time.  No bidding for me."
Mrs. SportDork (with a look of both pity and amusement):  "Right.  And I won't be doing any online shopping this weekend either."

When we arrived, I felt good about my plan.  I wouldn't even look.  I would simply avoid the silent auction area all together.  If I didn't get near any of those tables lined with clipboards - didn't even make eye contact with any of the sheets that contain all of that juicy information like a description of the item and the retail value and minimum bid - nothing bad could happen.  I recognized something that Antonio Cromartie has not - complete and total abstinence was the only answer.  It was the only way to avoid history repeating itself.  But when we made our way into the facility, I immediately realized that it wouldn't be that easy.  The folks who set up this silent auction were pros.  The only way to get into the main ballroom was to walk through a room that was set up for - you guessed it - the silent auction.  I planned to put my head down and fly right by all those tables, but the room was narrow and filled with guests surveying the auction items, leaving me to stand patiently and wait for the crowd to slowly make its way through the room. 

I made it halfway through before I inadvertently glanced down and saw it.  I tried to turn away and forget what I had seen, but it was too late.  Powerless to resist, I reached down, took the pen in my right hand, and entered my first bid of the evening.  I told myself that would be it - my one and only bid for the night.  If I won, great.  And if not, so be it.  But five hours later, as I handed over my credit card to pay for my silent auction item, it was clear that I have a long road to recovery: 

 


Maybe it's something I can talk to Charles Barkley about while Mrs. SportDork and I are having dinner with him. . . . . . .

 

Well, that was an unexpected three week hiatus.  I wish I had a good reason for my extended absence, but the truth is that about three weeks ago I looked up the rules of curling, thinking I could provide a primer right here on the pages of SportDork.com before the Olympics kicked off.  The Olympics are now over, I haven't posted an entry in three weeks, and I still have no idea how the scoring works.  Not one of my better ideas.

I plan to make it up to you this week, though.  I have given careful consideration to the Olympic events of the past two weeks, and I am now prepared to present you with The SportDork's "Observations From The 2010 Winter Olympics."  (I know that title sucks, but hang in there - it'll get better.  I think.)

1.  Fat guys should not be allowed to wear those bobsled uniforms.

1a.  All male bobsledders, regardless of weight, should be required to wear cups with those uniforms.  I don't know about you, but I don't care to know which members of the German bobsled team are circumcised.  This knowledge did NOT enhance my enjoyment of the Olympics.  It was also during this event that I was reminded that not all televised events are better in HD.

 2.  Apolo Ohno has freakishly white teeth.

2a.  In spite of his freakishly white teeth, USA headband, and the small woods animal growing on his chin, which, when combined, should inspire an intense dislike (it's a simple formula, really.  Unusual facial hair (i.e., "soul patch") + male headdress + big, neon Chiclet teeth = annoying tool), but I can't help but like the guy.  If that doesn't speak to the power of charisma, I don't know what does.  According to Mrs. SportDork, his butt also doesn't hurt his cause.



 
3.  When that luge guy died, and the next day I'm watching video of some guys hammering plywood to raise the height of the wall on the course, I couldn't help but think of that ADT Security commercial where the woman is standing in her front of her house saying, "We were robbed, and the very next day, we called ADT."  Really?  Because I think you might have the order of operation a little off on that one.  I'm sure his family was thrilled to see the rapid response of the IOC immediately after he crashed.  That'll do wonders for him.

4.  How did four guys who I'm pretty sure I just saw at the bowling alley last weekend end up in the Olympics?  I think the reason curling was such a hit is because it's the first time millions of American men have sat on their couch during the Olympics, watched an event, and thought, "Dude, I could do that."  Downhill skiing?  I don't think so.  Ice Dancing?  Not a chance.  Ski Jumping?  Once - followed by extensive surgery.  But curling?  Bring it on!  I've always been pretty good at darts and shuffleboard, so why not curling?  I know this much - whether I take up curling or not, I'm getting a pair of those shoes.  Combine those shoes with a pair of those metal tipped gloves the speed skaters wear, and you've got something going.  I'm beginning to see the makings of an awesome Halloween costume . . .  ..

5.  How did the Biathlon become an Olympic sport?  Did someone decide that cross-country skiing was too boring on its own, so why throw in a little rifle shooting to spice it up?  Don't get me wrong - I'm all for adding firearms to other Olympic events.  Can you imagine ski jumping with rifles?  I'd love to see them work in a little skeet shooting as they're flying through the air.  And don't tell me that figure skating wouldn't be a lot more tolerable if contestants pulled out a 9mm from inside their costumes and fired a few rounds at a target in between triple lindys?  What's the expression - everything's better with butter?  How about with a firearm?

6.  Apparently it's one thing to be great at your sport, but it's entirely another to be attractive and great at your sport.  The Lindsey Vonn phenomenon was truly something to behold.  I thought at some point the other U.S. women's downhill skier might impale Vonn with one of her ski poles, since that seemed like the only way to get the media to acknowledge that she existed.  It's so sad when we place such a premium on beauty, and it's completely irrelevant to the entire competition.  I mean, what does this woman's physical appearance have to do with her downhill skiing ability?

 




Dude.  That's one smokin' hot downhill skier.

 

Boy, was I wrong.  I haven't been that wrong since I put Mrs. SportDork's jeans in the dryer.  (Jeans, I have learned, are a very delicate article of clothing and are subject to a complex set of laundering rules that are dependent on their age, size, style, brand and the position of the moon.)  I thought this Super Bowl was going to be a real snoozer.  A perfect '10' on the suckitude scale.  I thoroughly expected the highlight to be me getting so drunk that I couldn't remember it.  As I made abundantly clear last week (http://sportdork.com/2010/02/02/air-it-out.aspx), I couldn't find a single thing about the game to get me fired up going into it.  I was so tired of being bombarded by a collection of over-done plot lines (a city's hopes and dreams for recovery rest on the shoulders of its football team, Peyton Manning is so great that he should be declared Master of the Universe, etc.) that by kick off, I had completely tuned out.  I had lost all interest in the Super Bowl. 

Of course, that didn't mean I wasn't going to watch it.

When the first quarter ended with the Colts up 10 - 0, my primary concern was making sure I had enough Crown Royal left to execute my inebriation plan, since it was pretty obvious that the Robotron-led Colts were going to dispense with the Saints in their typical business-like fashion and suck any remaining joy from the Super Bowl experience.  Instead, just when I had let loose with my third "This one's over!" as the second quarter began, this Super Bowl magically transformed, reaching levels of awesomeness that were matched only by the lobster tails (hey - it's the Super Bowl.  Gotta step up.) and baby back ribs that were cooked up at SportDork Headquarters on Sunday.

I still can't believe how wrong I was.  This Super Bowl had everything.  I should have recognized that this Super Bowl was destined for greatness when Carrie Underwood came out for the National Anthem. 

You go, Carrie.  (Much like Kelly Clarkson, Carrie is one of my guilty pleasures.  Admit it.  You love them both too.) 

So just when I was ready to completely write off the NFL and pick a favorite team for the Six Nations Rugby Championship, we get a game that completely restores my faith in the NFL.  Unbelievable.

New Orleans' coach Sean Payton demonstrated that defense and a running game aren't the only things that win championships.  Great coaching helps too.  It was obvious from the outset that the Saints prevailing philosophy was that if Manning and the Colts' offense weren't on the field, it would be difficult for them to score.  Well played, Sean.  The Saints offense couldn't get out of its own way in the first quarter, making the plan difficult to execute, but in the second quarter, when the offense found its rhythm, we were reminded that sometimes the best defense is a ball-control offense.  Twenty-six offensive plays for the Saints, and six for the Colts?  Every time they flashed a shot of Manning on the bench with his arms folded, you could see his frustration level rising. 

(I don't know why, but it was during that second quarter, and during those repeated shots of Manning, that I came to grips with something.  I don't like Peyton Manning.  I've been trying to suppress my anti-Manning feelings for years, because when I break it down, I can't identify any rational basis for my position.  By all accounts, he's a good guy.  Good husband, good father.  Doesn't cheat, steal, lie, or commit any morally depraved or character-less acts.  He even makes funny commercials.  He works his a*s off and his game preparation is unparalleled - legendary, even.  He's a great athlete and a stand up guy, and yet when I see him on the field, I want him to lose.  I immediately run through all the reasons why I shouldn't feel that way, but it does nothing to change the fact that when I watch Peyton Manning, I want to see him fail with every fiber of my being.  I've suppressed my feelings for years because I couldn't reconcile them with all the positive Manning characteristics - couldn't support them with objective Manning data, but during the second quarter of the Super Bowl, I think I finally came to peace with my struggles.  As I looked at him sitting on the bench with his arms crossed, I realized something:  I don't like Peyton Manning, and I don't need a reason.  He just rubs me the wrong way.  Maybe it’s the face he makes (http://www.manningface.com/ and also well chronicled by Bill Simmons of ESPN.com (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bill_Simmons#Manning_face)).  Maybe it's because he looks like a big dork.  Maybe it's that each of us has at least one extremely successful, hard-working famous person that we love to watch fail, for no reason other than it makes us feel better about ourselves.  I don't know.  All I know is that I can't hide my feelings any more.  I'm not rooting for Peyton Manning, even though I have no good reason, and there's nothing you can do about it.)

So I am now free to admit that watching Manning stewing on the sideline during the second quarter as the Saints offense kept him off the field brought me great joy.  (It feels so good to say that!  I can't believe I've been suppressing these feelings for so long.)   I was reminded of Bill Parcells' plan when the Giants played the explosive Bills in the Super Bowl as I watched the Saints eat up valuable minutes in the second quarter.  The way Sean Payton managed the end of the second quarter was a thing of beauty.  I almost cried.  The unsuccessful fourth down attempt at the Colts' goal line, the Saints' timeout usage on the Colts ensuing possession from deep in their own territory, the play calling to put the Saints in position for a second field goal to end the first half - all of it was part of a brilliant, calculated plan to make it as difficult as possible for the Colts to put points on the board by keeping them off the field.  Sean Payton had the Saints playing defense even when his offense was on the field.  Even the on-sides kick to start the second half was a defensive play intended to keep the Colts' offense on the sideline.  From the minute the Colts went up 10 - 0, Sean Payton knew that he had to take all available measures to keep the deficit from growing any bigger, or the game would be over.  His no-fear approach (coupled with what are clearly gigantic testicles) worked, turning a 10 - 0 deficit into a 13-10 lead early in the third quarter.  Yes, his gambles easily could have been unsuccessful and the game would have been over, but that doesn't mean they were foolish.  He knew that if he sat by and did nothing - played the percentages - the game was guaranteed to be over.  His calculated gambles were what gave the Saints the chance they needed to win the game.

Before moving on, I have to take a minute to address what happened in between the second and third quarters, or what we like to call halftime.   Actually, it's not so much what happened during halftime as much as it is how everyone is reacting to what happened during halftime.  Did I miss something, or were The Who not awesome?  All I keep reading about is how awful the halftime show was, and more specifically how old and decrepit Roger Daltrey and Pete Townshend looked.  You know why they looked old?  Because they are!!  Is that some kind of crime?  Who cares!  They sounded incredible!!  Even Mrs. SportDork, who is straight out of the Timberlake camp, commented on how great The Who were - without me even asking!  I probably shouldn't be, but I guess I'm a little shocked at the ageism/shallowness of the American public on this one.  What you heard Sunday during halftime was great classic rock performed by extremely talented musicians.  Not to pull a Kanye, but those guys have more musical talent in their little fingers than Taylor Swift will ever have.  When did we completely lose the ability to appreciate great musicians?  Is it because we're more interested in watching entertainers than musicians?  If you want entertainment at the Super Bowl, bring in Cirque Du Soleil.  But if you're looking for live music (and I mean live music, not lip syncing), you're not going to get any better than what you saw Sunday.  Are Pete and Roger old, and did they look like caricatures of their younger selves?  Sure, but is that what's important?  God forbid there isn't a hard-bodied twenty-something gyrating on the fifty-yard line during halftime who can't even write their own music (or sing, for that matter).  That was real, live music, performed very well, and I'm not just saying that because I was drunk. 

(Wow.  I just read the preceding paragraph, and I sound exactly like my Dad about twenty years ago.  Frightening.)

Here are a couple videos of The Who's halftime performance.  You be the judge!

Rock on, Roger and Pete.

Back to the game.  After the Colts answered the Saints' touchdown to start the third quarter with one of their own, it just kept getting better.  A two-point conversion after a Saints touchdown that was reversed after replay review?  A Peyton Manning pass intercepted and returned for a touchdown by the same guy who intercepted Favre to end the Vikings' season?  Manning getting run over by a huge Saints defensive lineman during the interception return? (And it looked like a block in the back, which made it even better!)  Maybe it's because I had such low expectations for this game, or maybe it's because I finally came to grips with the fact that I don't like Peyton Manning so I was able to put all my mojo firmly behind the Saints, but all I know is that this was the most satisfying Super Bowl I have watched in a long time.  The referees were great (I didn't even notice them, which is the ultimate indication of a great officiating crew), the commercials were great (Betty White getting clobbered in the Snickers commercial was top notch), and as cynical as I am, I couldn't help but get caught up in the Saints' emotion and become a huge Drew Brees fan.  (As an aside - it must have been a blast for the Dolphins' management team to watch the guy they could have signed as a free agent four years ago lead his team to a Super Bowl victory and capture the MVP in their team's stadium.  Mrs. SportDork is so right - Karma really is a b*tch.)

So, I would like to retract everything I said last week about the NFL losing me.  After what I saw on Sunday, I'm back. 

I'm sorry - what?  Goodell wants to consider banning the three point stance? 
http://sports.yahoo.com/nfl/news?slug=ap-superbowl-goodell&prov=ap&type=lgns



Where's Ashton Kutcher?

I have a confession.  It's Super Bowl week, and unbelievably, I could care less.  I know that's not the kind of inspired lead-in you were looking for in this week's entry, but I have to come clean and let you know where I stand.  Don't get me wrong - I'll still cook up some big hunk of meat on the Big Green Egg, mix up a few Bloody Marys and make a day of it, because it's the Super Bowl.  It has to be done.  But I can't bring myself to launch into a detailed analysis of this year's matchup, because I just don't care who wins.  I know there are an abundance of intriguing plot lines, and they should be providing me with plenty of material, but no matter how hard I try, I can't seem to muster up much enthusiasm for any of them.  

The fact that the son (Peyton Manning) of the most popular and successful player in Saints history (Archie Manning) stands between the Saints and their first Super Bowl victory is certainly noteworthy.  Who would have thought that it would take the Saints roughly forty-three years to make it to their first Super Bowl, and when they did, they'd be facing the son of their most famous quarterback?  Archie's either in a can't lose or a can't win situation.  I haven't figured out which, although I'm leaning toward can't win.  How is he supposed to react when Peyton throws a seventy-three yard touchdown to Reggie Wayne against his hometown team that he led for twelve years?  Does he stand up and high five his wife?  I'm sure that would be a big hit with the hoards of Saints fans watching on tv.  You know who else would love it?  CBS.  You know they're going to have one camera dedicated solely to Archie just so they can capture his reactions during the game, and they'll be praying they catch him celebrating a touchdown on either side of the ball so they can cast him as either a traitor to his family or a traitor to his home town.  It's the ultimate in reality television. That poor guy is screwed either way.  If I were Archie, I'd pop a couple valium before kickoff and ask Olivia to chain me to my seat.  That's the only way he's coming out of this thing unscathed.

I will also admit that I'm enjoying all the Dwight Freeney ankle coverage.  Not because I have any particular interest in Dwight Freeney's ankles (although I'm sure they're lovely), but because every time I think ESPN has reached new levels of absurdity with its coverage, they outdo themselves.  I'm fairly confident that by the end of the week they'll have a ten person panel assembled to spend two hours during prime time discussing third degree ankle sprains.  I mean, do they always come with a torn ligament or not?  I must know!!

But once you get past Archie's dilemma and Freeney's ankle, what's left?  Two teams that fly up and down the field and score at will?  Great.  In fact, maybe that's why I can't get very excited about this game.  At the risk of sounding a lot like a cantankerous grandpa, I'm not sure I recognize the NFL anymore.  When did the Super Bowl turn into the NBA Finals?  Throughout my lifetime, I have known one thing to be true about the NFL - championships are won with a running game and great defense.  That has always been an absolute truth - until now.  Over the last decade, the NFL has worked tirelessly to tweak the rules and tip the scales in favor of offenses to allow for more scoring, under the assumption that more scoring equals more excitement, more excitement equals more viewers, and more viewers equals . . . . . . more money!! 

You could see it beginning to take hold a few years ago when the refs started getting crazy with the illegal contact and defensive holding calls.  If I remember correctly, it was right around the time that the Patriots and Colts were having some epic battles, and it completely changed the dynamic of the rivalry, because suddenly if a Patriots cornerback breathed on Colts receiver, a yellow flag was flying through the air.  That was the beginning, and it's only gotten worse since then.  Any team today would be crazy not to look to pass first, because the league has done everything in its power to make passing easier than running.  Ready for some stats?  The Colts and Saints ranked second and fourth, respectively, in passing yards per game this year.  Meanwhile, the Colts finished dead last in rushing at 89 yards per game.  Yes, the team representing the AFC in the Super Bowl finished last in the league in rushing.  Eighty-nine yards per game!!  So much for needing a running game to win.  (The Saints, to their credit, ranked sixth with 131.6 yards per game.) 

And how about those defenses!!!  The Colts and Saints ranked 18th and 25th, respectively, in total yards allowed on defense.  That's right - neither of the Super Bowl participants had a defense that was better than at least half of the other teams in the league!  The Washington Redskins, Houston Texans and San Francisco 49ers, all teams that didn't even make the playoffs, had better defenses than the Colts and the Saints.  Any way you slice it, you come to the same conclusion:  these two teams have sh*tty defenses.

But sh*tty defense and mediocre running games apparently don't stop you from winning in today's NFL.  Who cares about defense and running the ball when you've got an awesome aerial attack?  You've got to give the people what they want, and the NFL has determined that's what the people want.  Is it, though?  The SportDork, for one, can't get on board.  And I have to believe there are plenty of other fans who are getting turned off by watching footballs fly through the air on Sundays as defenses stand by helplessly, handcuffed by ridiculous passing rules that are turning the NFL into the NBA.  From the time I was old enough to understand what was happening on the television screen in front of me, I learned that you win with great defense and a rushing attack.  Those are the fundamental principles that the NFL was founded upon and have guided it to great success, but they are being tossed aside in the never-ending quest for more and more scoring, and it's turning the sport into something I no longer recognize. 

Interestingly, what I now realize is that it's not the teams in the Super Bowl that are the source of my disinterest.  It's the game they're playing.

Sorry, NFL.  Wake me up when the air show is over. 

 

P.S.  - Tiger didn't make it out to Torrey Pines for the PGA's Farmers Insurance Open last weekend, but that didn't mean the fans weren't thinking of him . . . . .   .

As the ball sat on the New Orleans Saints' thirty-five yard line with less than a minute to go and the score knotted at twenty-eight a piece, I sat down on my couch and breathed a sigh of relief.  The Vikings had the ball, and the offense was returning to the huddle after being stopped for no gain on second down.  With the ball positioned for a fifty-two yard field goal for Ryan Longwell, the Vikings' reliable kicker, another handoff on third down was imminent.  It would likely be one intended to leave the ball squarely in between the hash marks, leaving Longwell with a straight shot at the uprights for the game winning field goal.  But it wasn't the prospect of a running play on third down that had brought about my sigh of relief.  No, my long exhale was acknowledgment that I had witnessed something I wasn't sure was possible.  Brett Favre had successfully managed to make it through the entire game without committing a catastrophic error that would crush the Vikings' Super Bowl aspirations.  I had wondered aloud all week whether Favre could keep it together for an entire game (see my last tweet in the sidebar on the left, as well as the closing sentence of last week's entry), and he had.  One more running play, a fifty-two yard (or less) field goal in the weather-controlled environment of the Super Dome, and the Vikings were on their way to Miami for the Super Bowl. 

But then something strange happened.  I watched as the Vikings inexplicably put twelve men in the huddle while preparing for third and ten.  The penalty sent them back five yards and left the ball at the forty yard line.  Suddenly, assuming no gain on third down, Ryan Longwell would be staring at a fifty-seven yard field goal.  Fifty-two yards was one thing, but fifty-seven?  The announcers were quick to point out that it was at the outer limit of his range.  In a matter of moments, a third down play that had been nothing more than an inconvenience on the way to a game winning field goal attempt had morphed into a play of serious significance! 

What was lost on me at the time, but what I now fully appreciate, is that the bizarre penalty didn't just change the way the Vikings would have to approach third down.  It also re-opened the door for Favre, giving him one more opportunity to demonstrate that he could make it through a big game without imploding.

I would be lying if I said I saw it coming.  It now seems foolish, particularly given his track record over the last few years, but I didn't think an interception was even a possibility.  With a timeout in hand, I half expected Minnesota to run the ball, maybe going with a delayed handoff/draw to get them a few yards closer for a field goal.  But even if they did decide to pass, it would definitely be a low risk play that would give Favre the opportunity to throw it away if he didn't have anyone wide open.  An interception just wasn't a possibility.

Unfortunately, I forgot who I was dealing with.

As I watched Favre roll to his right and look for a receiver, I still didn't see it coming.  No one looked to be open, but with the field opening up in front of him, either a quick scamper for a couple yards before heading out of bounds or - worst case - a throw away toss out of bounds were the only options, and both would put Longwell in no worse position than before the play started.

Of course, I had made one very critical miscalculation.  I assumed that Brett Favre, when faced with the afore-mentioned options, would do what just about any other forty-year old veteran NFL quarterback would do on third down with a game-winning field goal attempt looming: play it safe.  But as I watched him throw across his body, sending the ball back across the field  and into the waiting arms of a Saints defender, ending the Vikings' shot at a game-winning field goal, I was reminded that I wasn't watching any other forty-year old veteran NFL quarterback. 

This was Brett Favre. 

I realize now, with the benefit of hindsight, that it had to end this way.  There was really no other possible outcome.  The result was basically pre-ordained.  This had to happen, because at the end of the day, it was Brett Favre. 

Before there's any confusion, I need to make something clear.  I'm not disputing the talents of Brett Favre, or in any way suggesting that he isn't one of the greatest quarterbacks to play in the NFL.  Instead, I'm simply pointing out that a leopard can't change it spots.  Brett Favre will go down as one of the greatest quarterbacks of all time because of his leadership, his competitive spirit, and his absurd athletic ability that has allowed him to make plays over the course of his career that will be the subject of highlight reels for generations to come.  His physical ability and go-for-broke approach to the game have resulted in some of the most brilliant throws and unlikely receptions we've ever seen, and we are lucky to have witnessed them.

Those same attributes, however, have resulted in some of the most ill-conceived, baffling throws we've ever seen, which have also occurred at extremely inopportune times.  And that is Brett Favre.  That's who he is, and who he has always been.  If you want the flashes of brilliance, you've got to accept the fact that occasionally he's going to try and do too much and make devastating errors in judgment.  Sure, with age and maturity he's shown the ability to suppress the tendency to make high-risk decisions at moments that called for prudence.  He did it successfully for almost the entire season this year.  But what we saw at the end of regulation against the Saints was that when it comes down to crunch time, and the adrenaline is flowing, Brett Favre is going to revert to who he is at his core.  He's not a game-managing quarterback.  He's a risk-taking 'gunslinger' (I know, I hate the term too, but you have to admit - it fits), and as Packers, Jets, and now Vikings fans have learned, if you want to revel in the good, you've also got to endure the bad.  He's going to do what he does, for better or worse. 

It's a tragic - and ironic - sports tale, really, because Favre is the one, through his tremendous ability, who got the Vikings over the hump and guided them into the NFC Championship Game.  Without him, it's fair to say that the Vikings wouldn't have been playing the Saints last weekend.  They would have already been enjoying their offseason.  And more importantly, without Favre, the Vikings wouldn't have been tied with the Saints with less than a minute left in regulation and in position to kick the game-winning field goal.  Favre's play throughout the game was the primary reason that the Vikings were poised to head to the Super Bowl!  I can't help but be struck by the irony that the man who made such an astoundingly bad decision in the waning moments of the game was the same person responsible for creating that moment through his incredible play throughout the rest of the game.  He was the one responsible for setting the stage upon which he failed. 

But that's who Brett Favre is, and has always been.  As a friend of mine recently said, "You can't help but be sucked in by his Favreness."  And that's what he does - he draws us in with one magical play after another, even at forty, until you forget about all the land mines that are waiting for a risk-taking quarterback with each additional snap of the football.  Favre is like crack.  You can't help but feel good watching him consistently pull rabbits out of a hat.  You can't believe what you're seeing.  The highs are unbelievable, and you forget that danger is lurking around the corner.  You forget that things could go wrong at any moment.  But as soon as you do forget, you can bet that you'll get a jarring reminder of how quickly he can rip your heart out and cause you great pain and misery - usually in the form of one the opposing team's defensive backs streaking down the field with an interception.  He doesn't want to do it, but he just can't help it.  It's who he is.

The NFC Championship game was really a microcosm of Favre's career, and there would seem to be a certain symmetry if it happens to be his last.  He took us on a great ride last Sunday, as he has done throughout his career.  He played with great heart and passion, endured multiple injuries, came from behind repeatedly, and led his team to the brink of victory with one unlikely completion after another, only to come up short because he tried one too many times to do what he has always done best - and what has captivated us for so many years - make a play when it doesn’t look like one exists.

So, Vikings fans, all I can say is that I feel for you.  I'm sure mine wasn't the only sigh of relief that came one snap too early on Sunday night. 

 

Tiger Woods is a genius.  An absolute genius.  I never thought his biggest victory would come off the golf course, but with him taking up residence in a sex-addiction facility, he has both proved me wrong and pulled off one of the greatest hoaxes on the public in recent history.   

The addiction card.  How could I not have seen this coming? 

Only the most calculating, disciplined golfer in the world could come up with such a calculated ploy to restore his image and pave the way for a smooth re-entry to the world of professional golf. 

Sex-addiction.

When I first read it on Tuesday, I couldn't stop laughing.  A guy with more money than God and no apparent moral compass (a dangerous combination) runs around porking everything in sight, and when he finally gets caught he claims sex-addiction?  What a joke.  In fact, that's why it has taken me so long to put together this week's entry.  I've been laughing since Tuesday - and letting this latest turn of events in Tiger-Gate sink in. 

Once I stopped laughing and started seriously considering the implications of Tiger's latest move, I was struck by just how brilliant and calculated it is.  Sure, to The SportDork and to The SportDork Nation, Tiger's sex-addiction clinic stay is as transparent as a sheet of plastic wrap, but what I realized over the last forty-eight hours is that I had forgotten a fundamental tenet that Tiger has not:

Never underestimate the stupidity of the American public.

By playing the addiction card, Tiger has completely changed the dynamic of the story in the public's eyes.  We take pity on addicts.  A guy who cheats on his wife with fifteen different women is a dirt-bag.  That's not a tough one.  But if that same guy simply can't control himself because a group of 'medical professionals' has diagnosed him as a sex-addict?  Maybe he's not such a dirt-bag.  Maybe he's actually a sympathetic figure with a problem that he just can't control.  In fact, maybe he's a victim!  A victim of his addiction, and rather than cast aspersions upon him, we have to sympathize with him - root for him, even, to overcome his 'addiction' and get well.

Yes, Tiger Woods has actually figured out the one way to turn the tables on this entire situation and turn himself, rather than his wife and kids, into the victim.  He's also figured out the only way to insulate himself from ridicule and criticism - by 'medicalizing' his behavior and claiming he's the victim of a terrible disorder.  You just don't make fun of someone who has a medically diagnosed condition, even if the medical condition is one that won't allow him to keep his pants on when surrounded by women other than his wife. 

The addiction card is so great because it immediately allows you to absolve yourself of all responsibility for your actions and turn yourself into a victim instead of the bad guy.  And the best part is that it sells!!  The American public loves the drama of an addiction story.  A man fighting his demons to try and turn his life around in the face of his haunting addiction?  There's nothing better.  And in Tiger's case, there are actually millions and millions of people out there who have been convinced that a man's inability to control himself and stay faithful to his wife is the result of an addiction!  How we ever got to the point in this country where we can take a behavior that is nothing more than a fundamental character and moral issue and turn it into a medical condition is beyond me, but here we are.  Tiger Woods doesn't have a sex-addiction.  He has an infidelity addiction, and there's a fairly simple cure.  It's called divorce. 

You know, now that I think about it, Tiger's probably thanking his lucky stars that he had sex with so many women.  If it had only been one or two, he wouldn't have been able to use the sex-addict card, and he'd just be a culpable loser who cheated on his wife.  He'd have to take responsibility for his actions, own up to the fact that he made bad decisions and showed no character or morals.  That would suck.  But by sleeping with thirteen or fifteen or whatever the real number is, he gets to use the addiction card!  If that doesn't point out the absurdity, I don't know what does.  But I'm sure Tiger Woods is grateful for it.  He's probably sitting up in bed each night at Shady Acres, or whatever it's called, thanking the medical community for inventing sex-addiction, because it's going to save his career.

 

P.S.  I like the Jets + 7.5 (I think the Colts will win but I love that half point) and the Vikings + 4.5 (I'm convinced the Saints are a fraud and that Favre can keep it together for another week) this weekend.  I'm undefeated on Sundays during the playoffs this year, so these are pretty much locks.  You're welcome. 
 

I was ready.  I really was.  After last week's SportDork.com coverage of the final college football game of the season, I was entirely ready to leave the world of college football behind and move on to the NFL playoffs, which are now in full bloom.  I even thought that a few quotes from Pete Carroll's introductory Seattle Seahawks press conference would be a catchy way to start off the entry - you know, his move from college to the NFL mirroring mine - it was pure genius.  In fact, I watched most of his press conference on Tuesday just so I could be sure to record the best sound bites.  It was tough, but not because there weren't enough.  There were too many.  Here's a brief sample, and please keep in mind that this man is 58 years old, not 17.

1. "I'm so fired up to be here today."
2. "I think you guys are gonna be jacked about the coaches that are going to be coming in here."
3. "College football is awesome."
4. "I couldn't be more pumped about this opportunity."

And his parting words?

"It's a blast to be a Seahawk.  See ya."

I particularly enjoyed the use of the terms 'fired up', 'jacked', 'pumped', 'blast,' and of course, 'awesome'.  I'm not even sure a 17 year old could get all those into one press conference, and this guy is 58!!  He is so rad.  At one point, I started counting 'awesome's, but I quickly realized that at the rate they were coming, it would be impossible to keep an accurate tally.  I did record the whole press conference, however, because I'm convinced it could provide the foundation for an 'awesome' drinking game. 

As you can imagine, after compiling my quotes from the Carroll press conference on Tuesday afternoon, I was exhausted.  I decided that given my weakened state, it would be best to continue to craft this week's entry in my head rather than risk injury by prematurely putting pen to paper.  When I woke up from my nap, I was fully prepared to launch into a detailed analysis of this weekend's Vikings-Cowboys game, as well as the other three divisional playoff games.  But then the American Idol season premiere came on, and I decided this week's entry, much like a delicious flank steak, could use another day to marinate.  Besides, who wants to write when you can watch a bunch of freaks embarrass themselves on national television?

When Idol finished up at ten and Mrs. SportDork and I had finished debating whether guest judge Victoria Beckham looked more like a heroin or a meth addict (heroin won), I started feeling some remorse over my impending failure to post this week's entry on time.  Don't get me wrong - not a lot of guilt - it's not like anybody's paying me to do this - but maybe a little pang of guilt, particularly in light of the fact that I had my material together well in advance of my self-imposed Tuesday deadline.  This wasn't a material-driven delay, this was a plain old "I don't feel like getting off my a*s and writing this thing yet" delay (which, Mrs. SportDork will tell you, is the most common type of SportDork delay). 

Anyway, as I reeled with guilt over missing another deadline (but not enough guilt to cause me to actually start writing in order to meet the deadline), I decided to flip over to ESPN to confirm that the Gator basketball team was, in fact, getting pummeled by Kentucky in its first SEC home game of the season.  Strangely, my eyes were not met with any of the visions I had anticipated.  No Billy Donovan, no O'Connell Center, no John Calipari.  No orange and blue or blue and white anywhere on the screen.  Instead, I was staring at Lane Kiffin, standing in front of a bunch of microphones in a poorly lit room.  My anxiety level increased exponentially.  This could not be good.  There was only one reason why Lane Kiffin would be holding a press conference during the middle of the Florida-Kentucky basketball game two weeks before national signing day: he had stolen yet another, if not multiple, recruits right out from under the Gators, and now he was going to gloat about it on national television and add insult to injury by doing it during one of our games.  I tried to control my breathing, but the sight of that little weasel makes it tough.  Remember the look on that Boise State player's face right before he got knocked out by Oregon's LeGarrette Blount?  That's the kind of look Kiffin has on his face all the time.  Don't believe me?  Take a look at the following two pictures, and tell me you don't feel the same desire to punch each of these guys:

         


I rest my case.

But instead of hearing which five-star recruit(s) Kiffin had hijacked from the Gators, I heard something very different.  My late posting remorse disappeared, and I was reminded that good things come to those who procrastinate. 

Lane Kiffin, gone to USC. 

So much for divisional playoff analysis!  It just doesn't get any better than this.  The same idiot who came in talking trash about singing Rocky Top in Ben Hill Griffin Stadium and falsely accusing Urban Meyer of recruiting violations while racking up a half dozen legitimate ones of his own can't even stick around for more than a year?  Classic.  I am so happy right now, but not for the reasons you might think.  As an unabashed Gator fan, you might think my joy stems from the Vols' misery - from the fact that their program is now basically in ruins, the Gators likely stand to pick up some of their recruits, and the SEC East has one less contender for the immediate future.  But you would be wrong. 

No, my joy lies in the fact that Lane Kiffin just definitively showed himself to be the d-bag so many people, including myself, always suspected he was.  (We should have paid more attention to Al Davis when he fired up the overhead projector a couple years ago at that press conference and spent a few hours detailing what an a*s Kiffin is.  Apparently even crazy people say some insightful things every once in a while.)  I'm actually happy not for the Gators, but for Tennessee, their fans, and for the entire SEC, because we all woke up with one less giant a-hole in our midst.  Check out Urban Meyer's reaction when he got the news during the Gators' basketball game:






That look only says one thing:   what a tool.


The truth is, Lane Kiffin couldn't handle the SEC, and deep down, he knew it.  He is a classless, arrogant d-bag who is also a man of very little character, but he is reasonably intelligent, and it is this strange, but powerful combination of character traits that explain why he did what he did.  Why spend the next ten years beating your brains in against Florida, Alabama and the rest of the SEC to try and win the SEC Championship for a possible shot at the national title when you can bypass all that nonsense and go straight to the title game after beating up the rest of the PAC-10?  Conference championship games are for losers!  Everybody knows that!  Why try and recruit at a school where you may have to go out of state to get the top prospects when you can sit on the beach and reel in all the top talent from your own state?  Hello???

You may be saying things like, "But SportDork, what about the challenge and inherent satisfaction of turning a program around in the nation's toughest conference?  What about the challenge of becoming a winner against the best coaches in America?  What about the commitment to the young men you brought to Tennessee only a year ago on the strength of your word?"  But asking those questions would be a mistake, because those types of questions - the ones that define a man's character and matter dearly to many of us - don't matter to Lane Kiffin.  The path that he takes to winning and the impact he has on others is irrelevant to Lane Kiffin.  There's only one thing that matters to Lane Kiffin (besides Lane Kiffin), and that is winning.  As soon as you understand that, his actions make perfect sense.

If you think about it, there was really no other choice for the USC job than Lane Kiffin.  I can picture USC Athletic Director Mike Garrett now.  "Let's see - our coach of nine years just left us high and dry for the NFL only weeks before national signing day and, coincidentally, right before the NCAA brings the hammer down on us for all of the shenanigans that have been going on in our program for the last nine years.  Who should we get to replace him?  I've got an idea - let's bring in the guy who was his protégé here while all these infractions were going down!  With six recruiting violations in one year, he's already shown he knows how take the teachings of his mentor and apply them!  What do you mean you don't think he'd leave Tennessee after one year?  Are you kidding me?  His mentor just left us out of the blue because the 'perfect opportunity' came up!  He'll be here in a heartbeat!  Carroll taught him everything he knows!"

I'm telling you, Volunteer fans - you should have been dancing in the streets, not rioting in them.  Which, by the way -to quote Pete Carroll - was awesome.  You didn’t have to look any further than the streets of Knoxville last night to understand why the SEC is the best conference in the country.  The head football coach at Tennessee resigned after one year, and people rioted.  They not only rioted, they surrounded the stadium to try and get a piece of Kiffin before he left (or tried to leave).  Just for a minute, try to imagine a riot ensuing at any non-SEC school after their coach resigns.  In fact, don’t imagine.  You don't need to.  Boy, those Cincinnati fans were pissed when Brian Kelly left for Notre Dame last month, weren't they?  But no riots.  And how about those USC fans when Carroll left for the NFL?  Sure, but again - no riots.  Only in the SEC will you ever see fans riot and an angry mob surround the stadium after their coach announces his resignation because they want to cause him bodily harm.  I couldn't figure out why Kiffin looked so antsy and disheveled at his one-minute press conference last night.  After I saw video of the mobs around the stadium complex, it all became much clearer.  The guy probably went through three pairs of boxers before he made it home. 

I'm not here to engage in a discussion of whether the Tennessee fans went too far or have their priorities out of whack.  That's social commentary that we can save for another day.  I'm just pointing out that there was no better illustration of the passion for football in the SEC than what happened in Knoxville Tuesday night, and anyone who can't understand why the SEC plays the best football in America only needs to spend twenty-five seconds watching the following video:

 

I am convinced that Tennessee fans will look back on this someday and reflect on how lucky they are that they managed to purge themselves of Lane Kiffin before he could do irreversible damage to their program.  Don't worry, Vol fans - he will fail at USC, in spite of his best efforts to mask his incompetence with a stable of impressive assistant coaches.  He will fail because he is a weak man of little character, and those attributes are destined to ultimately bring about his demise.

In the meantime, I urge all Gator and Vols fans to come together and celebrate the one thing we all have in common now - our mutual hatred for Lane Kiffin!

It's the first official entry of 2010, and it's time to deliver coverage of the BCS National Championship Game as only The SportDork can!

7:30 - Pre-game meal.  Pork chop, salad, bourbon and Aleve.  The Aleve is for tomorrow morning.

 

Yes, that's one pork chop.  I need a lot of protein before a big game.  Plus, it's good for you.  It's the other white meat.

7:59 - Last bite of pork chop.

8:01 - I just heard Brent Cheeseburger's voice for the first time.  I think I may throw up my pork chop.  This guy is the new Keith Jackson.  I was so happy when Keith Jackson rode off into the sunset, but I would have cried if I had known that Cheeseburger was going to replace him. 

8:02 - Kirk Herbstreit is so dreamy, isn't he?   He just mentioned the Gators for the first time.  Even though it was in reference to Alabama beating their a*s,  . . . . . Go Gators!!!!

8:03 - Mack Brown interviewed live on the field.  Nick Saban not interviewed - just a guy conveying Saban's comments.  Great illustration of the differences in the two coaches.

8:05 - Pete Carroll on the ESPN set?  I didn't think it could get worse than having Cheeseburger call the game.  Be right back.  Now I'm definitely going to hurl.

8:07 - Lee Corso.  ESPN's Dick Clark.

8:09 - No idea what just happened.  I was busy putting the pork away.  That's right, even in the shadow of the National Championship Game, I couldn't shake leftover duty. 

8:13 - Lou Holtz!!! I think he has extra marbles in his mouth tonight.  Why is Mark May wearing sunglasses?  Who is he, Jay Z? 

8:15 - Pete Carroll just kind of picked Texas to win.  You know what's so sad is that if Urban wasn't on his leave of absence, he'd be in that seat instead of Carroll.  Although he might have hurled when he saw Alabama run out on the field.

8:16 - Texas is totally screwed.  Corso just picked them to win.

8:24 - Cheeseburger embarks on about five minutes of what Mrs. Sportdork likes to refer to as "Lifetime Television for Men," regaling us with tales of Alabama and Texas' storied past. 

8:25 - 'God Bless America.'  Who is Audra McDonald?  I just found out.  Why is an actress from "Private Practice singing God Bless America?  The cats just ran and hid. 

8:27 - Herbstreit is so dreamy, isn't he?

8:28 - Sorry, Mrs. SportDork grabbed the laptop while I was getting another beverage. 

8:29 - Alabama comes out of the tunnel.  Saban looks like he's having a blast, doesn't he?  I've never seen a guy look that miserable going into a National Championship Game.

8:32 - Josh Grobin is singing the national anthem.  Seriously?  Were the Jonas Brothers busy?  And what the hell is Flea from the Chili Peppers doing on stage with him?  I am so confused.  Where are those drums coming from?  Mrs. Sportdork just summed it up.  "It's a circus!"  You know what?  I'm glad the Gators lost to Alabama.  That National Anthem was a travesty. 

8:36 - Keith Jackson is tossing the coin!!! Whoa Nellie!  I swear I had no idea when I wrote that earlier.  Dude - this guy refuses to go away.  You better watch your back, Cheeseburger.  There's no telling when Jackson is going to come back and take your job doing PAC-10 and Big Ten games.  Alright, Jackson - toss the freakin' coin already.  What a blowhard this guy is.  Give him a microphone, and it's all over. 

8:38 - Bama wins the toss and elects to receive.  What's up with that?  Saban really is the new Evil Genius.  Sorry, Steve.

8:40 - Offensive lineup sponsored by Taco Bell.  I could go for a Gordita.  Isn't that the one with the soft tortilla wrapped around the crispy shell?  If it is, then I'm in.

8:42 - Texas doing something Florida couldn't - pressuring McElroy.

8:43 - I'm sorry, I think there were some hallucinogens in the pork.  I could have sworn I just saw Alabama try a fake punt on their first drive from their own twenty yard line.  Where were those play calls in the SEC Championship?

8:46 - Colt McCoy bent over on the sideline.  Beautiful.  That'll make for a good game.

8:47 - During a commercial, Mrs. Sportdork just pointed out an outfit in the latest J. Crew catalogue and said, "See, Honey?  Military is in!" in reference to my new winter coat.  She has such a passion for the game.

8:50 - Colt McCoy is out of the game.  Some freshman named Gilbert (I have no idea what his first name is) is in.  I think he just crapped himself.

8:53 - Texas field goal after having the ball at the 1.  Texas up, 3 - 0.   They'll pay for failing to convert that turnover into a touchdown. 

8:58 - Are you serious?  Another Bama turnover?  On the kickoff?  Where were these guys during the SEC Championship?  We would have loved to have started a couple drives inside their thirty.

8:59 - I've just been shown living room furniture from the latest CB2 catalogue.  I'm not sure what it has to do with Alabama's two turnovers, but I'm confident I'll make the connection.

9:00 - Three Texas plays and another field goal with their backup quarterback still in the game.  They could be up 14 - 0 right now instead of 6 - 0.  Not good for the Longhorns.

9:04 - Ingram rips off an eighteen yard run on second down.  Can't let him get going.

9:07 - Bama forced to punt.  A text comes through to SportDork Headquarters.  "What was the spread?  And don't tell me u are rooting for the SEC."  I have to admit I have no idea on the spread, but the second question brings up an interesting conundrum.  I have spent much time convincing myself that when the game started, I would root for Bama out of my allegiance to the SEC, and I have to say that I started off with a strong commitment to that position.  However, I can't help but notice that every time something bad happens to Alabama, I am overwhelmed with joy, so maybe my commitment to the SEC isn't rock solid.

9:12 - Texas goes three and out (shocking) and punts. 

9:14 - A heavy dose of Ingram.  That's a surprise.

9:21 - Ingram Touchdown.  Bama 7, Texas 6.  Just found out his dad is in jail for bank fraud and money laundering.  I think the take away is supposed to be that he overcame great adversity and I should like him even more now.  Unfortunately, unless his dad was wrongly accused, a felony doesn't really tug at my heart strings.

9:23 - Replays of Ingram winning the Heisman and crying like a baby.  But Tebow's the crier.  I love it.

9:27 - Now Gilbert is on the sideline with what looks to be a shoulder injury.  Welcome to the SEC, Longhorns.  That's how we do it.  Tough to beat us when you're sitting on the bench holding your shoulder because you just got pummeled.

9:41 - Sorry, I lost interest there for a minute when Texas failed to make a first down for the 10th time since McCoy left the game.  Bama just scored with - wait for it - a run up the middle!!  They are so unpredictable.  I don't know if anyone could have seen that one coming.  Bama 14, Texas 6.

9:46 - Boy, if the Texas wideouts could catch the ball, this could turn into a ball game.

9:47 - Too late.  Bama interception. 

9:57 - Texas was pinned deep in its own territory after stopping Bama.  Another three and out, and now Bama has the ball inside the Texas thirty with a couple minutes left in the half.  Anybody ready for the dagger?

10:02 - Bama field goal.  Bama 17, Texas 6. 

10:06 - Fifteen seconds left in the half, and Mack Brown is calling a shovel pass from his own twenty?  What an idiot.  Beautiful call, Texas.  Hand Alabama an extra touchdown right before the half when you could have just run out the clock.  Like you needed more adversity.  That's almost as stupid as running your Heisman-caliber quarterback up the middle on the first series of the game. Oh wait - you already did that.  Bama 24, Texas 6

Halftime

They keep showing replays of the play where McCoy was injured, and I really can't tell what happened other than he got hit by a 300 pound man running very fast.  That kind of thing happens all the time in the SEC.  It's a good thing Colt decided to play in the Big 12, or he would spent his whole career on the sideline.

McSteamy on the halftime promo!!  Mrs. SportDork has regained her focus.

10:38 - I just woke up after dozing off at halftime.  Texas - into Bama territory and showing some life!!

10:41 - Guy runs on field.  ABC refuses to show it from anything closer than a blimp level, but at least something exciting happened.

10:42 - Mrs. SportDork announces she is going to bed.  I guess the guy running on the field was too much for her.

10:53 - I have lost all interest in this game.  Fernando agrees:

11:00 - Bama's QB McElroy is 3 of 5 for 35 yards midway through the THIRD quarter, and Bama is up 24 - 6.  That has to be a record.

11:07 - Dude.  What a stinker of a game.  One team without its quarterback and the other could substitute its quarterback with a machine that hands off. 

11:11 - Ok, so now I have to stay up a little longer because Gilbert found Shipley streaking over the middle for a touchdown.  Bama 24, Texas 13.

11:12 - A Texas on-side kick?  Somebody needs to check on the betting patterns of the Bama guy who stuck his hand out and batted the ball back toward the oncoming Texas players.  Nobody does something like that unless there's big dollars in it for them.  Especially when they have to face the Evil Genius on the sideline afterwards.

11:13 - I like how Jordan Shipley just completely dropped a first down pass, and Herbstreit faulted the Texas QB for a bad pass.  Nice work, Herbie.  You may want to actually look at the replay before you render your verdict.  I've never seen a group of wide receivers do less to help out a guy who needs his teammates to step up.  Catch the ball!!!!!

11:14 - Texas' Malcolm Williams just dropped another pass.  If I made one catch, I would be having a better night than Malcolm Williams.

11:19 - Ingram is out with calf cramps?  Maybe the teams shouldn't have a month off before the championship game.

11:22 - Alabama was 0 for 8 on third down until Cheeseburger just pointed it out, and then they proceeded to convert their first third down.  Thanks, Cheeseburger.

11:23 - Now I'm angry.  McElroy heaves the ball down the field, it's 20 yards short of the receiver, and a zebra calls pass interference on Texas.  What a joke.  That's one of the worst calls I've ever seen.

11:24 - Somebody in the NCAA office obviously has big money on Bama and is giving the refs a cut.  They immediately followed up the worst pass interference call I've seen in years with a 'hands to the face' call on Texas to give Bama another first down.

11:26 - Cheeseburger just pointed out that there is a big discrepancy between penalty yards between Bama and Texas for the year.  No sh*t, Bret!  That's because they're apparently afraid to call a penalty on Bama because Saban might attack them.

11:28 - In spite of the refs' best efforts, Texas manages to stop Bama, and they miss a 52-yard field goal.  I'm surprised the officials didn't rule that the upright was crooked and award Bama the field goal.

11:40 - Is that Colt McCoy back on the field?  If I didn't know any better, I'd think it was.  Apparently it doesn't matter who's throwing it, as long as Jordan Shipley is catching it.  Texas touchdown.  Bama 24, Texas 21.

11:42 - Time to open it up, Nick!  Bama has played the entire second half in shutdown mode, counting on their defense to shut out a Texas team with a freshman quarterback at the helm, but it doesn't look like that’s going to get it done for them.

11:44 - Ingram is back in the game for Bama.  I guess that's the difference between the SEC and the Big 12.  The SEC guys have to be taken off in a stretcher before they're out of the game.

11:45 - Two Ingram runs, and two first downs.

11:48 - The Gators needed Will Muschamp, Texas' Defensive Coordinator, on their sideline for the SEC Championship Game.  Another Texas stop.

11:52 - Texas with the ball on their own fifteen and a chance to tie it up or take the lead if they can take it down the field again.

11:53 - Uh oh.  Someone missed a Bama blitz, and now Bama has the ball on the Texas three.  The only hope for Texas is to hold Bama to a field goal.

11:58 - Third and goal, and who do they give it to?  Yup, Ingram for a touchdown.  Bama 31, Texas 21.  Game over.

12:05 - Another Bama touchdown after an interception.  Two guys who clearly aren't interested in having their scholarships renewed just decided to give Saban a Gatorade shower, and Saban looks like he's ready to kill someone.  The Gatorade shower was followed up by Bama's kicker missing the extra point, and I think Saban's head exploded.  Again, I've never seen someone look so miserable on their way to winning a national championship.  I don't even think he's happy.  He's probably thinking about what they need to do to prepare for their opener next year.  What a miserable existence.

12:11 - Game officially over.

12:13 - Saban is interviewed, and he still doesn't look happy. 

12:19 - Saban is on the trophy platform, and he's still not smiling.  Oh wait - I think I saw him crack a smile when he held up the trophy.  He may be human!!

I'll say this much.  He may be a miserable SOB, but if there was any question about how good a coach Saban is, this should answer it:  he just won the BCS Championship with Greg McElroy at quarterback.  I know there's no way Bama wins this game if McCoy plays, but that doesn't change the fact that Bama managed to go undefeated with Greg McElroy at quarterback - a guy who went 6 of 11 for 58 yards tonight.

Frightening.