Dolphins running the Wildcat?

We're taking a break from the Big Ten for this post, and cutting up a much bigger fish (mammal - ed.) whatever. This weekend, as I was flipping around the NFL, I noticed that the Dolphins, pissed about tuna nets and the like, were slaughtering the Patriots. Normally this wouldn't be cause for a post, but it was the way in which they were doing it that was surprising. Why...they were using the Wildcat formation and turning a barely serviceable Ronnie Brown into LT at his most unstoppable!

Conventional wisdom says that the Rich Rodriguez/Urban Meyer/Wildcat Formation/gimmick offense won't work in the NFL. These offenses take advantage of defenses that are out of position and defensive players who are too slow to make adjustments and compensate for it. In the NFL, however, the defenses are too good to be caught out of position regularly, and are fast enough to compensate when they are. And if Pat White couldn't make it a season without getting injured while playing the Big East, think about what happens to a QB playing that way in the NFL.

That is the conventional wisdom. The Miami Dolphins, however, took conventional tossed it to the deep regions of space when they lined Ronnie Brown up at QB not just once or twice, but six times. Four of those went for touchdowns. Exactly how similar was it to the Arkansas Wildcat? Take a peek:



(via: phinphanatic)



Apologies for the poor quality in the Arkansas video - I'm having trouble coming up with a good video that accurately looks at just the wildcat formation. Regardless, it is very interesting to see an offense that is primarily used in college actually work in the NFL.

Could this be the first of a series of teams that look to implement aspects of the spread/zone read/wildcat? Or is this an isolated instance?

Either way, a team that was outmatched on paper used a gimmick offense to neutralize the oppositions superior talent, and it worked. Here's to the college game injecting some fun into the NFL!

For the Love of Distraction

You know how, sometimes, when you're a bit boozed, the NBA can be palatable? Especially when you're at the bar with some old buddies, and you've run out of stories, but not beer? Or how sometimes baseball captures your imagination, and you decide to damn the torpedoes and leave it on in the background? Even hockey - irrelevant since Bettman - can, for the briefest of periods, capture our attention. And football, well, there's always football.

My point is this: even if you don't love every major American sport, they are at least always there, ready to be turned on. It's comforting, in its own way, to have that and to know that there are men and women out in this world exerting huge amounts of energy and pushing the very limits that make us human. In watching this display, there are two equal parts of fascination. One part of me is thrilled that there is somebody out there who was born the same way I was, and can do things with his body that I cannot. The other part is me on my couch actively atrophying my own muscles saying "boy, I'm glad I'm not that guy right now" and stuffing another bit of fried chicken flesh into my mouth. There are better men, at least physically, than I who are at least doing something at that very moment. It's proof, to me, that the world outside my own dingy apartment exists and is turning even if I do nothing to contribute to it. It is why today is the most depressing day of the year.

Oh sure, it's the middle of July and the weather is nice. Ok, a bit humid, but it's the kind of humidity that allows you to work up a good sweat without really doing any work at all. Then you can walk around your house all steamy and sticky and pretend like you've done something worth the lather. The days are long, giving the impression that your 24 hour allotment is grander that it really is, and by God, you're going to go fishing this afternoon, except you never do. Instead, you wake up, go to work, get home and cook dinner. If you're lucky, you can catch a bit of the ballgame before you go to bed and lather, rinse, repeat. Except for today. Today there is no ballgame. There is no little reassurance that the world ok; no packed ballparks; no drunken fans; no diving catches. Today, the day after the All-Star Game, is the only day in America that a major sporting event is not held.

And we'll get through it. Hell, we probably won't even realize it except in passing; that fleeting moment this evening when a distraction from Everyday, America is needed. You see, that's what sports are: a distraction. That's not to say that they aren't meaningful as such - with Typhoons and Cyclones and Wars and McCain and Obama and how America is going to save the world even if it takes its destruction to do it. Add into the mix the fact that the dog needs walked, the baby needs changed, the lawn needs mowed, and you still haven't picked up that wedding present for that niece and it's no wonder sports are so important. But today, and only today, there is no distraction. There is no 5 minutes to sit and watch a game played by young men who never age.

So for those 5 minutes you get before your life beckons again - and you'll heed the call, just like you always do - we'll miss sports, because even if we don't watch them (or really like them) we know they are there. And you know what? Maybe tonight I'll finally go fishing.

Working Late

Please leave your favorite Calvin and Hobbes quote in the comments section. If you don't know any, then go buy this, and get back to me. I'm swamped, and would love to post something relevant, but outside of a half-finished Northwestern preview, I got nothin...

B2

The Cruzin Cooler Runs Afoul the Law

A Whitehall, NY man was arrested this past week for operating a motor vehical while intoxicated. This lead is not sensational, it's an absolute, and it altogether sucks until you add that the vehical he was driving was a cooler.



That's right: a cooler.

The Cruzin Cooler comes in 5 different models, ranging from 300 watt electric to a 33 cc 2 stroke gas engine with a top speed of 15 MPH.

I don't know which is worse - the fact that I didn't know these exist, or that a guy actually got a DWI while riding one. I mean, honestly, what's the worst that could happen? He flips at 15 MPH? He runs into somebody, badly bruising a knee? On the list of ridiculous charges, this ranks right up there.

Can't a man and his cooler just ride in peace?

The Dude is Not In.

Yesterday saw a minor setback - namely an injury to my finger that makes typing a bitch. So there will be nothing from B2 today; maybe something tomorrow depending on how well the sutures hold up.

It is my sincere hope that Champ can fill us in on his weekend, which will probably include an Indy 500 recap. In the meantime, I implore you to watch all 10 minutes of this beauty:



Thank you for your patience.

Going Green for Memorial Day

A quick note: This post has nothing to do with college football, and nothing to do with common sense. Please disregard. If you must read, do so at your own risk; there is no lifeguard on duty.

B2

This is not meant to be a political stand - it is merely a running dialog centered around what seems to be the central issue for those who call themselves "green."

I've watched Al Gore's movie, and I've seen the scientific data backing up the notion that this planet is warming, and soon coastal cities across the United States, and only the U.S. (those other countries don't matter as much), will be underwater. This will force all the flee inland and become Big Ten fans. This is apparently inevitable, and I, for one, have reconciled it and welcome the new fans. Ironically, this seems to be Delany's master plan of gaining fans after his destruction of all things playoffs, including the words "play" and "off." I can see him laughing in his fortress as he delightedly sprays CFC's into his diabolical rose-shaped CFC dispersing machine. I digress.

The central piece of artillery that the green folks have in their arsenal is the fate of the Polar Bear. Why? Polar Bears are cute, damnit, never mind the fact that they will literally rip your face off. And due to ice caps that are turning into city-flooding water, their habitat is being slowly destroyed, and it's YOUR FAULT! In fact, Polar Bears are having to swim for miles and miles just to get to land, and having reached land are hunted by Inuits who are mistaking their appearance for a population explosion. That's a shitty description of what's happening, but read the damn article. Mother bears are being separated from their cubs, and food is becoming scarce. If you care nothing for the fate of humanity, you must care for the Polar Bear!

So I lay in my bed at night, thinking about the Polar Bears, and how genuinely saddening it is that their habitat is being destroyed because I drive more than 30 miles to get to work each day. If only I'd done something different! If only we'd all done something different. Too little, too late. Then I stumble across this picture:

Should be swimming

Aw, fuck - this is what Polar Bears are doing? Shouldn't he be swimming? I mean, really, add in a remote control, a bag of Cheetos, and some orange paws and bam: you've got my posture on any given Saturday morning in the fall (because I eat Cheetos for breakfast...). I mean really - this Polar Bear doesn't even seem too concerned that Corso's talking out of his ass again, and Fowler is nodding along encouragingly while thinking of creative ways to off himself. Ironically, this sort of dazed half-consciousness is the only way to watch College Gameday without suffering serious side effects.

and SHOULDN'T THAT POLAR BEAR BE SWIMMING?

If I'm going to feel shitty about the direction of the planet, I would rather not see the very animal that I feel shitty about lounging like life's a fucking spa. Are those other bears about to get mani's and pedi's too? Is the arctic circle just one huge fucking episode of Sex and the City? And which bear would be Carrie anyways?

Fuck that bear. I'm at work, and he's watching TV.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm about to go light a tire fire.


Have a good weekend everybody. Drink a lot, watch the race, and for God sakes, don't turn on your computer Monday. I expect you to be outside, as I will be.

Pack It In Boys, It's Over!

Beauford's up with the sun and gone with wind. Doing his thing as a travelin' man, headed for those Hollywood nights in those Hollywood hills... maybe not, but it sounds good and if it's good enough for Bob Seger, it's damn sure good enough for us.

Now then, let's get right to it! Champ ain’t much for bragging, after all I hate rude behavior in a man, won’t tolerate it. But methinks we might have found ourselves a bit of an exception here…

With something just north of seven rotations of the second hand around the clock face left in the first half of the Kansas and North Carolina semi-final, the rock chalk jayhawks emphatically pushed their advantage over the Tar heels to a… ahem… “healthy” 28 points, thus prompting Billy Packer to sigh/cry/mumble the following: “this game is over Jim”.

Again, that’s a bit more than 7 to go in the first half, and the analyst has just chimed in with: “this game is over”. I’m sure the CBS van was thrilled.

Now then, never mind that this game still had over 27 minutes remaining in it, and never mind that at times this season North Carolina had gone on 94-3 runs in a span of a little under 5 minutes or that teams have pulled of similar comebacks before (Duke / Maryland and Kentucky / LSU come springing to this writer’s mind)… no sir, that was all ACC spokesman and resident North Carolina cheerleader Packer could take. His team (and let’s not pull punches here, Packer loves him some Tar Heels, and why not, I am no geographer, but Wake Forest isn’t too far on down the line from UNC) was being beaten so badly, that if it hadn’t been for a combination of made free-throws by UNC and Bill Self’s charges inexplicably ceasing to feed the ball down low, I have no doubt that the halftime score would’ve read something in the region of 852-12.

In fact, if the camera had been on the trenchant sob, I’m sure there would’ve been a fling of the hands in the air and a slow movement of forehead toward table. I would pay for that footage with the finest of meats and cheeses in the land, good people. The only truly sad part about this whole exchange was that Jim Nantz didn’t have the wherewithal and the cajoles to rip Packer to shreds… particularly when North Carolina did its best category five tornado impression on the entire state of Kansas and its followers in the early goings of the second half… but hey, that’s CBS and booth chemistry!!! Gotta love it!

Now for the braggadocio, although taking any credit for this is like saying I was right about predicting the sun rising today… that notwithstanding, on with the back-patting! Friday:

“Next? Billy Packer will ruin the TV watching experience of these games for an entire nation of curious observers and die-hard fans alike. There is no bigger wet-blanket in sports than Packer, who hates what basketball has become, hates today’s player, and loathes anyone who doesn’t understand the intricacies of a “box and 1”… oh and did I mention that he is quite possibly the biggest ACC shill of all time? Everyone jumps on Vitale’s case (rightly so), but Packer is even worse. Packer makes me hate basketball, he is as uninspiring and boring of an analyst as I can imagine, and he literally can slow the game down because he brings negative energy to the table.” Packer came through in every regard didn’t he??

You know what the worst part of all of this is? The not so inane fact that Billy is a GOOD analyst at times, he makes good points regarding the actual game of basketball, but his demeanor and the way he lets it affect the way he calls things, ESPECIALLY with an ACC team on the court in front of him, well he just ruins it. If you happened to watch the rest of that basketball game on Saturday, you’ll know that the rest of the evening was spent by Packer talking about UNC 90% of the time, and Kansas for approximately 10%... followed again by him somehow taking credit for knowing that Kansas would win in the end… It was, suffice to say, ghastly. I certainly hope that all the Jayhawk fans were able to get their own radio guys on in some fashion and mute the TV.

And with that, enough basketball pour moi, if you listen closely you can hear the sweet dulcet tones of whistles ringing out over the crack of pads across the country... spring time is here, rejoice!

Head of F-1 Racing to Keep Job Despite Nazi Themed Sex Orgy

Oh, you bloggers are so cute, coming up with post titles that shock and awe, only to find out that the bulk of the post links to something completely different. Very funny. Nazi themed orgy...what will you think of next?

What's that?

That's pretty much a verbatim headline?

Oh.

You can imagine the copious amounts of coffee that was spewed directly into the keyboard when I read this article from the Daily Sun (a British paper). It seems that the head of F-1 racing is going to keep his job after a 5 hour long tape was released of the 67 year old dressed as an SS Nazi barking commands at 5 prostitutes. In a stellar performance, Mosley also played the part of "camp victim having genitals inspected and being flogged on the ass to the point of bleeding."

Holy Hell.

This, of course, led us down the path of equally disturbing kinks involving college coaches.

Les Miles:
Turn ons: Bedazzlers, Chaps, Latex, Damn Strong Bourbon, Press Conferences
Favorite Position: Reverse Cowboy

Pete Carroll:
Turn Ons: Blood, Fountains, Democrats, Facebook
Favorite Position: Lotus Petal (only Pete Carroll and Sting have ever pulled off the lotus petal successfully)

Jim Tressel:
Turn Ons: Small Dogs, Family Values, Church, Car Dealerships
Favorite Position: Missionary. Let's be civil here.

Rich Rodriguez:
Turn Ons: Shredders, Coeds, Pain, The pressure of a hundred thousand people who expect you to beat a vastly more talented Ohio State team this year
Favorite Position: Spread Eagle

Joe Paterno:
Turn Ons: Flappers, Swing, Hooch
Favorite Position: Mike Linebacker. That's what we're talking about right? Where did I put my glasses?