The Barrister

I've been reluctant to dive into the fray on Liverpool since the FA Cup Final. That result, as I predicted, basically ruined the campaign for Reds, leaving the club with only a paltry Carling Cup victory upon which to hang its hat. Sure, that was the same Carling Cup that I reveled in a couple months ago. The same Cup that I wanted to believe meant something substantial enough to make up for a poor as fuck league record, especially when combined with the prospect of an FA Cup victory on the horizon. While I would have punched someone squarely in the face for calling me on it at the time, it's pretty obvious that my optimism surrounding the Carling Cup was little else than face-saving by a fan desperate for something to cheer for. Pathetic as it may be, this is how I roll.  It's called a coping mechanism, asshole.  

In any event, it's all behind us now, and I'm certainly done with taking on a positive outlook through which I might salvage a little bit of pride and optimism. None of this is made any easier, of course, by the absolutely inexplicable events at Anfield that have transpired since that FA Cup loss to Chelsea and since the Reds closed out their season with a wimper against Swansea.
 
Even considerably attentive soccer fans may have paid little notice to the firing of LFC's manager Kenny Dalglish last week. After the incredible end to the Premier League season (Man City taking the crown by way of two late, desperation goals in stoppage time) and the even more incredible end to the Champions League (Chelea victorious at the "neutral" site in Munich, defeating the de facto home side in penalty kicks after a 120 minute 1-1 draw), King Kenny being let go by Fenway Sports Group is of little moment to most fans of the game. On paper, it was nothing more than a middling club firing its manager who, while achieving some recent success, could not get it done on the pitch from week to week. 

Fans of Liverpool, however, know that the firing was much more significant than that. They know that there is a reason we all feel like a not insignifcant part of our collective soul has been ripped out. Kenny wasn't just a manager, he is an institution. As a player, he appeared in 355 league matches for LFC, scoring 118 goals along the way. This is the same guy who played striker for the club at the time of it's most consistent dominance that the numbers involved sound like they must be wrong - league champions 7 out of his 14 seasons as a player, for starters, as well as multiple Cups along the way. Not to mention his two Manager of the Year honors after he took on the role of Player-Manager in 1986 - a five year reign that saw the Club get three League Championships (finishing second in the other two years) and two FA Cups.
 
This is a guy who, as a player and manager and, in essence, the best example of the greatness that can be Liverpool football, deserves the utmost respect from LFC fans and, more importantly, LFC ownership.  A week removed, with the Club reeling and having apprently lost its bearings, his firing is nothing short of a slap in the face.

To put it in perspective - as Scizz often requests when I'm going on and on about the Beautiful Game - imagine if Gilbert Perreault (you know, a player who was actually good... *cough* *Lindy sucks* *cough*) was the coach of the Buffalo Sabres, or if Jim Kelly were coaching the Bills. Also, imagine that either of them had, as a player, actually brought a championship or two (or SEVEN!!) to Buffalo, as opposed to just years of hard work and marginal success. And, finally, imagine that they were fired after only one season as coach, with absolutely no plan for a successor in place.

I know, right? FUCKED UP BULLSHIT. We would go goddammned berzerk. Which, as it happens, is exaclty what has happened with Liverpool fans this past week.  And if the reports are to be believed - that the Club is reaching out to any and all viable candidates for interviews and that many top talents have already bowed out with a "thanks but no thanks" refusal - this mess is not getting better any time soon.

I'll be the first to admit that, when news of the firing broke last week, I was sitting on the "I don't love it, but can accept this" side of the fence. I love Kenny, and would have loved more than anything to see him at the helm for a continued revival of the club - his infectious smile beaming from the sidelines, celebrating with players and fans whom he clearly adores, bringing the club into an era of dominance to rival those magical years in the 80's. But, I can also accept that the team did not perfom well at crucial moments this year, when three points were needed and expected - a fact I noted in CrapTastiCast 29 last week - and that there was a clear need for some change to be made if there was going to be a realistic hope of Champions League play in the next few years. After all, as Yachter noted during the cast, Kenny brought a ton of expensive and apparent dead weight to the roster with his summer signings last year, so - even if we all love the guy - you can't say that he's been the model of success in this second stint as manager.

That said, as a fan of this Club - a club that we're told is an example of the rich tradition of English football and that has far-reaching influence globally - the situation post-Dalglish is simply untenable. No successor in place? Not even a clear vision of what kind of manager is being sought? So, instead of Dalglish - a manager who, at the very least, can still instill a sense of pride in the "Liverpool Way" and who motivated his squad to two Cup finals - Liverpool's American ownership has left the club in the lurch, lacking in any clear sense of direction, leadership and, sadly, prospects for the future.

As of now, the only leadership at the Club comes in the form of Ian Ayre, who was hand picked by former American owners Gillett and Hicks. Forgive me if references from some of the worst sports owners in recent history don't make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Going up the ladder, the situation doesn't get much better. Sure, FSG brought championships to Boston fans who had been pining for them since 1918, but they're also the same guys who let Theo Epstein go and who have allowed the storied Red Sox franchise to devolve into the tire fire it most certainly is.

(Which begs the question, as an aside -- WHY DOES THE FA ALLOW AMERICANS TO BUY EPL TEAMS?? Maybe they just like watching us fuck it all up as some sort of cathartic exercise in Britain's post-imperialist age. I think I may be on to something there.)

It wouldn't be hard to draw not-so-subtle comparisons between Fenway and Anfield to bolster my fears of the future of LFC, but that's a depressing task for another depressing day when I actually care to research the inner workings of a baseball team I utterly despise. It's probably enough to say that the greater universe of Liverpool fans are, with very good reason, feeling a dreadful sense that the Club is spiraling out of control and that we may yet be in for another half decade of depressing underachievement.

In a week's time, or so we're told, there should be a short list of managerial candidates, and maybe then I'll hop back on here to talk about how good or bad or wretched each of them makes me feel. Until then, I'll just sit with the realization that Liverpool, the supposed bright spot in my sports world, may be sinking to the shitshow status of my Bills and Sabres, and that it may be a while until I start to be optimistic about them again.

The Deeg

Cause we're eeeeeeeeeeesaaaaaaaaay....

Wednesday evening in the hipster hole known as Williamsburg, Brooklyn, the Deeg gathered in the Yachstman's new apartment to record Ep. 29 of the infamous CrapTastiCast. Good times were had by all.....except Yachter's dog Scout, who was obviously pissed we took her bone away because of the awful sound feedback it causes. (This will be audible several times during the recording)

While in the home of the Beastie Boys, we kept the MCA tribute going with more music from our favorite group and had some wonderful discussions. Segment one is dedicated to Vince Young and the Buffalo Bills, jizz residue, stories of Yachtsman's uselessness as a young adult, and dog & baby stains. Powerful stuff.

Segment two is almost all soccer talk, as the guys converse about Liverpool and Kenny Dalglish, the Scizz cracks terrible jokes and needs other sports analogies to help understand what the hell they are talking about. We also sneak in some quick NBA playoff chatter at the end. Fuck you, Lebron.

Finally, we unveil a new segment featuring a yet unnamed sports trivia game (leave suggestions in the comments) that was inspired by Doug Benson's podcast "Doug Loves Movies". It actually went much better than expected, except for that part where all the listeners will be furiously frustrated with how little we actually know about sports when put under pressure. Download through podhoster or iTunes. And as always you can stream away if need be.

The Outlander

I wasn’t going to write this post today for two main reasons. One, I lost the notebook with my outline. I didn’t used to outline my posts, but I can be very forgetful (see: missing notebook) and there’s nothing more frustrating than staring at a blank page knowing you had ideas, or staring at a finished product and knowing it could have been much better than the pile of shit you slapped together. (Ed. Note: this is NOT a pile of shit. Keep reading!). The second reason was when getting ready for work I pulled something in my back, collapsed in a pile of screaming agony and am still in pretty intense pain as I type. But then I told myself that unlike Josh Beckett, I can play through it and not be an overweight insufferable jackass…

Whenever I tell people that I’m a Red Sox fan I immediately see the condemnation in their face. Not the condemnation that says that person is a Yankees fan, or a Rays fan (the latter is a joke, Rays fans are a myth like Noah’s Ark or Brad Boyes’ 40 goal season), but the condemnation that says I must be a bandwagon fan, one of those post-2004 assholes who claimed the Red Sox as their own simply because winning is more fun than losing and it’s easy to make fun of A-rod. I loathe bandwagon fans more than I loathe terrorists (some terrorists; bandwagoners would go ahead of Al-Qaeda but below the 1980’s IRA in my power rankings) and if I were the decider over such issues I would move all bandwagoners to Florida - the Mecca of such wretched souls - and give them a TV package that only gets Royals, Blue Jackets, Bobcats and University of Indiana football for all of eternity. 

Bandwagon fans are the Mississippians of sports fans.

Anyway, as a tot in the early '90s I found myself able to choose who would be my baseball team, an option that had not been afforded to me in football and hockey. With a similar opportunity my friends chose teams like the Indians, Blue Jays, Pirates, teams that were merely hours away from home, in many cases televised locally, and more importantly played some of the best baseball in the league. I cheered for these teams myself until I watched Ken Burns’ “Baseball” on PBS. Now in hindsight, “Baseball” is nothing but propaganda designed to push the viewer towards the Red Sox - or Yankees - corner, but that, coupled with my grandfather being a Boston fan, did the trick and I became one of those “tortured Red Sox fans.”

That term means something entirely different than it used to. For my grandfather, it meant watch Dent’s home run or Wilson’s dribbler down first. For me, it meant a watching Boone’s home run in a room full of Yankee fans, heading out to get shitfaced on Crystal Palace, Keystone Light and rage, coming back to my dorm the next morning to see my AIM away message was still “5 OUTS…”. But now, it means reconciling your love for the Red Sox through childhood, your teens, college, and today with the fact you share that love with a bunch of meatheads who believe Tedy Bruschi could kill Seal Team 6 and that Sam Adams counts as a microbrew, and who have diligently worshiped the Bruins ... since April 2011. The last decade has made Boston fans insufferable and it sucks to have your team loyalty and you as a fan tainted by such douchebaggery, and to share your rooting interest with the guy that rained homosexual slurs at you for two hours in TD Garden just because you paired your Sox hat with a Mogilny jersey.    

That may be why I’ve greeted this season - this incomprehensible flaming garbage heap of a season - with what could only be termed as a morbid eagerness. I imagine this must be how one watches the running of the bulls from a second floor balcony in Pamplona, with a beer cracked, ready to get on with the carnage. It didn’t help having an offseason full of discussion of the most mundane, incomprehensible crap, arguments about beer and chicken, or having your superstar blame the worst October collapse in two generations on God and night games. Believe me, Red Sox haters, I empathize with you. I hate that ESPN spent the entire winter talking more about Theo Epstein than anything going on in the NHL, and I hate that the Boston media inexplicably made the eating habits of pitchers who weren’t starting the story over the pitchers actually starting who were taking a massive dump on the mound every day in September. I hate the pink hats, the wave and I hate that “Sweet Caroline” still gets sung when my team is losing by six runs. What I will do is tell you that many Sox fans, this one included, will be- or should be- entertained by the farce of the 2012 just like you.

I’d like to think any true Red Sox fan saw this coming a mile away. Did anyone who either watched John Lackey or owned him in fantasy really think he was the answer when Schilling and Pedro moved on? 2007 may have reaffirmed to the front office that they had the formula to success but that title may have been a little more luck than being head and shoulders above the rest of the league. The idea that CC Sabathia and Roberto Hernandez (Fausto Carmona) would bring their “C” games a win away from the World Series seems laughable today (maybe not so much w/ Hernandez/Carmona), but it happened in back-to-back games of the ALCS. The Rockies got the wild card in a one-game playoff thanks to a very questionable call in extra innings, were rightfully swept in the World Series by Boston, and wouldn’t have fared any better against the Indians.

All-Star teams don’t work, and when you comprise that All-Star team of washed up pitchers, mercurial injury prone former all-stars and superstars that are used to playing in front of 2,500 fans a game, you have the potential for a disaster. Sometimes you can get by on talent alone, like the Red Sox did from May-August last year. But eventually the chips are down, your 160 million dollar asshole is half-assing to a shallow line drive against the fucking Orioles and the Yankees are keeping Rivera glued to the bench because he threw all of four pitches the night before. Suddenly you’re watching the worst fan base in baseball pretending they were pounding those cowbells in their Longoria jerseys all season and the media is blaming it on KFC and the manager, not the fact that your GM gave 160 million dollars an outfielder you didn’t need who was perfectly happy playing to crowds smaller than those seen by the Elmira Jackals. (I may still be bitter about Game 162.)

The point is that the real ills are still there and we’re seeing them continue. Gonzalez may ultimately not be a major market player - someone better suited in San Diego where he can be blissfully removed from national television for his career. Youk might not be a leader - someone better suited to lead a “25 guys, 25 cabs” Sox team from the 60's than some lovable idiot reincarnation of 2004. Valentine may be better off cracking jokes about Japanese culture from the press box than trying to handle a pitching staff already held together with two hands and duct tape. Marlon Byrd has a problem with being good at hitting a baseball. Josh Beckett is an asshole. If you’re relying on Vicente Padilla and Aaron Cook to do anything other than actually set themselves on fire while on the mound, your expectations, not their play, is the problem.

Sure there are positives - Will Middlebrooks, the ageless David Ortiz, the four game winning streak among them - but I’m just not buying it. Through long stretches of this season the Sox haven’t looked any better than the worst team in the league, like some real-life montage from a sports movie where the team is chucking the ball into the dugout, the pitcher’s getting shelled and their superstar is mired in an unfathomable slump. At least those teams are usually filled with lovable characters.

Seasons like this are the natural progression of sports, when a team is holding onto its past, attempting to repackage it in a substandard wrapper, caught between what they once were and what they will be. We saw it in the final years of the Kelly-Thomas-Reed Bills teams, or in the '02-'04 (and to a lesser extent '08-'09) Sabres teams, or this season's Mavericks, having won a title at the back end of their window. And now we’re seeing it with the Red Sox, who have chosen to sign players they don’t need, scapegoat those who are not at fault, and give the press and the ignorant fan base red herrings through which to channel their anger and frustration. 

My advice to other Red Sox fans: enjoy it! The team has a fundamental flaw (lack of unity) that isn’t going to be fixed this season, barring a Rachel Phelps style “win the whole fucking thing” plotline, and other major flaws (pitching, hitting) that are unlikely to be corrected to the extent needed for them to make the playoffs. So, laugh when Beckett lets in seven through three innings, or when Gonzalez strikes out swing at a fall at his feet with the bases loaded, or when Bobby V looks like he wants to murder anyone who told him this was a solid career decision. Talk about how terrible of a signing Carl Crawford was, or how the Bailey trade isn’t going to work out, or how Youkilis needs to hang it up. If anything, do it to pre-empt the Yankee fans and the rest of the Red Sox haters who group us in with the pricks who inundated twitter with racial slurs after Joel Ward won game 7 for the Caps. Do it because you laugh when people trip over the sidewalk, or even because from September-January the entire Boston region roots for fucking Tom Brady. Justify it however you can but, please, enjoy the ineptitude and the hilarity of unencumbered failure, because folks…

It’s not getting any better.

Follow the Outlander @MattyRenn on twitter

The Scizz

Earlier this week, I was about to post my second installment of the in-depth profiles of the Buffalo Bills un-drafted free agents, when I received a text from the Bills saying they released the subject of the post, Richmond QB Aaron Corp. I was going to scrap the whole thing and put up a detailed look into another player, but since we have no real accountability on this god-forsaken blog, I decided to put up the Corp one anyways. Besides, undrafted FA's are known to be brought back periodically to the practice squad if injuries erupt on the team. And, with Vince Young and his crazy ass ways on the roster, the Bills need access to all the back-up QB's possible. So here is the second entry in "Long Road to the Practice Squad", QB Aaron Corp! Kudos to @Boner_Shorts for the new title idea.

(Note: 98% of this profile is completely fabricated and in no way accurate. If you didn't pick up on that, then Tommy will come back there and hit you on the head with a tack hammer.)

Position: Quarterback

College: Richmond

High School: Academy for the Mediocre (Kansas City, Mo)

Strengths: Big arm, pocket presence, not afraid of failure, great knowledge of Richmond restaurant scene, played at USC

Weaknesses: Playing Quarterback, easily startled, terrified of success, Played at Richmond

Reason for Transfer from USC to Richmond: Refused to take money, hookers, and blow from boosters. Also, an overwhelming desire to be average.

Goals: "To make it the NFL and abruptly leave to play 3rd string QB for the Hamilton Tiger-Cats."

On-field accomplishments: Playing at USC

Off-field accomplishment: None

Favorite musical artists: Pete Best and Stuart Sutcliffe

Favorite movies: Spider-Man 3, Beverly Hills Cop 3, The Godfather: Part 3, & John Carter

Off-field activities/hobbies: Playing his Sega Saturn, collecting football cards of career back-ups, turning down 10's in order to date 3's.

Romantic Crush: Ann Veal

Favorite Buffalo Bills moment: The entire 2001 season

Favorite Sports Teams: The Hartford Whalers, Los Angeles Rams, & Flint Tropics

Favorite Players: Tood Collins, David Carr, Raghib Ismail

Most embarrassing moment: Five touchdown, 400 yard game against Louisiana Tech. All those questions in the presser afterwards made him uncomfortable.

Most looking forward to....: Getting begged for retweets from members of the Bills Mafia

"Long Road to the Practice Squad" number two is in the books! What book that is, I have no idea and should probably be burned, immediately. Check back next week for another. LEARNING!

Follow me @TheScizz and DM me pics of your left forearm. HOT.

The Barrister

If I'm being honest about my sports allegiances, I'm not sure if I'm a baseball guy. Mets fan, sure, but not an entrenched fan of the sport itself. Not in the way that some people are - people who grew up playing or going to games on a weekly basis, or who grew up with strong allegiances to the team their parents cheered for.

For those that know me, my confession of less-than-complete interest in baseball isn't terribly revelatory. At times, late in seasons, I can tend towards vocal cynicism with the sport. There are certainly times when I scoff at the idea of "America's Game" - a sport that can put me to sleep sometimes, a sport sullied by substance abuse and cheating, a sport largely ignored worldwide. But, there's also the beauty of it. Those perfect moments where the team you're pulling for comes through in the clutch, where a matter of centimeters makes all the difference. Like any sport that captures our attention and passion (and, there are many), baseball can bring us to the highest of places. 

What I forget, sometimes, is that I'm still pretty new to the game - an odd thought considering how ever-present baseball is in American culture. I never played as a kid (soccer was my summer and fall sport), and left with AAA ball in Buffalo - albeit very decent AAA ball - I never really went all in. Sure, my parents were both Red Sox fans, but Boston was 400 miles away from Buffalo and, frankly, I didn't need baseball. I had my underachieving hockey team. I had my crumbling NFL franchise. I was all set.

Living in New York City changed this, though, at least to the extent that I can't ignore the game here. NYC is a great sports town, but more than that it is a big baseball town. When its teams are playing well, or poorly, they rule the airwaves and the water coolers, if only to encourage fans of opposing teams to jump into the verbal fray. Listen to enough radio during the season, as I did during my first full summer in New York, and it starts to sink in that one of the things that New Yorkers do is follow baseball. Making the choice to follow and adore the Mets, therefore, is - at least in part - a choice to go all in with New York as well. To decide to adopt a substantial aspect of New York City culture so that, in the bustle of city living, I don't feel quite so out of place.

As fate would have it, for the first time in years I'm in a position where I may need to leave New York City in the not-too-distant future. And, as fate would have it, I find myself watching a lovable Mets team and feeling, at least incrementally, more and more like an entrenched New Yorker with every come-from-behind win that these supposed scrubs put together. 

After watching the Mets go to the brink of success soon after I moved to Queens in '05, only to sink faster than Liam Neeson's credibility, the first six or seven weeks of this season have been incredibly heartening. My only Mets thoughts before the April rolled around revolved pretty closely to those I had last May, when I mused on the frustration of a fan base stuck supporting team with an economic ball-and-chain in the face of Fred Wilpon. Even when the team began with a hot start, I was quick to shift back to a protectionist, pessimistic stance. Indeed, in that early April piece, I predicted a certain slide to 4-5 when the Mets faced the Phillies that week. The Mets went on to easily win that series, only missing out on the sweep by way of a dominating Cole Hamels performance in the third game. And while there have been hiccups along the way - getting swept by the Astros, for starters - this team has been consistently good through the first 35 games.

The surprising play has been a theme of this season, whether it be about the team itself or the individual players that are getting them there. David Wright, left for dead by me and many fans, has rejuvenated his career and is batting better than we've seen since '07, really. Hitting .398 through tonight's 3-1 win over the Brewers, Wright looks like he's found the swing he had lost somewhere around the time Carlos Delgado stopped protecting him in the lineup, and suddenly his hits are actually appearing in clutch situations (rather than during blowout wins or losses, as seemed to be the case in the past few years). RISP? .364. RISP with 2 outs? A stupid .462. This is a David Wright I simply did not expect to be back in Flushing. I guess dropping that fence line was a great idea. Go figure.

While Wright is a great story of the season, the play of the recent call-ups has been utterly bananas and is redefining what Mets baseball can be this year. Kirk Nieuwenhuis, who came into the starting lineup when Torres went down and opened up a spot in centerfield, is batting over .300 with 12 RBIs. His field play displays his youth at times, though he's really no worse than Jason Bay (and a hell of a lot cheaper) and brings a bat that Bay has been unable to locate since being signed by the Mets last year. Daniel Murphy and Ike Davis have started to find their stride in the last few weeks as well (Murph more than Ike, though), and suddenly the Mets batting order may actually start to make opponents worry and wonder where three outs are coming from. 

On the other side of the ball, the optimism keeps on coming. Johan Santana, back from injury, is pitching some insane starts, though sadly his win-loss column makes us all feel like the team could be doing more to help him get the results he rightfully deserves. His 1-2 record and 2.92 ERA are reminiscent of his first season in Flushing, when the team consistently failed to give him decent run support. Yet, with the whole team pitching well, and the bats finding success late in games (leading the league in comeback wins), Santana's poor record may just be the nature of the beast. (To that point, Dickey is the only starter with a winning record at 5-1; lots of no decisions for everyone). 

Which isn't to say that this Mets team is without faults - we need another starting pitcher with Big Pelf out for the year, and we may still be in need of a closer, and there isn't a legit starting catcher in the bunch. But, these kids keep winning, inexplicably. They sit at 20-15, are nearing the quarter way mark of the season, and are very much in the mix of the NL East. 

At any rate, so long as they keep playing well, I'll keep latching on to this team, living and dying with every game, and continuing to feel more and more like a New Yorker who can't bring himself to leave this City that has become his home.

The Barrister

"Epic facepalm" - Yachtsman, via text, two minutes ago

This news was a couple weeks in the making. Having opted against taking a serviceable QB in the draft, and having the likes of Tyler "Heads Up!" Thigpen as the presumptive #2 QB on the depth chart, I guess we shouldn't be all that surprised that Vince Young got signed today.

On paper, there is plenty to offset the absurdity of this signing and to, at least arguably, keep Bills fans satisfied that Buddy Nix hasn't gone completely crazy. People I respect on Twitter (there are at least five of you) say that there's nothing to dislike about this deal, which I suppose is true from the "Thigpen is a weenie, Young is at worst an upgrade and we're probably only going to win if Fitz stays healthy anyway" perspective.

But, if you want to argue that Vince "adds a new dynamic to this offense" or that "this team can win with Young under center," then please, shut the fuck right up. This is the same guy that got benched in favor of Rusty Smith in 2010 despite a decent record and good passer rating of 98.6. And he's the same guy that, when called upon to fill in for renowned puppy killer Mike Vick last year, was as inconsistent as ever - beating the Giants on Sunday night football with a 2 TD, 3 INT day, torching the Pats for over 400 yards (in a loss) the next week, throwing four picks the next against the Seahawks. Oh, and if he ever does start for the Bills, he'd be the guy taking over a pretty complicated, fast-thinking offense while also being the guy who scored sixteen out a possible fifty points on the Wonderlic test. Athletic prowess aside, I'm guessing he won't be an easy transition from Fitz.

Forgive me if I don't expect the team to rally around him should he be given an opportunity to play.

Maybe I'm wrong on this. And if Fitz does go down with a mid-season injury, God I hope I am. In the end, to think that there's any way to predict Young's impact on the field is a fool's errand. The guy has tremendous upside and tremendous downside at the same time, and there's simply been no way to know which version of Vince Young you're going to get week to week.

And that doesn't even take into account the X-Factor psychological issues that appear to make him a moment or two away from Crazy Town.

"The City of Buffalo needs more chronically depressed athletes with large hand gun collections. Monday mornings should be exciting!" - Scizz, via text, three minutes ago.

Not that I think it's neceaarily appropriate to be overly flippant about an athlete's fragile emotional state. Funny, sure, but not appropriate.

Where does this leave the Bills? Again, fuck if I know. I'll take a shred of solace in the fact that, until now, none of Buddy's offseason moves have left me scratching my head for too long, so I won't sweat this one too much. Ultimately, though, this is a move that could put some strain on a locker room full of "high character guys" that may not mesh so well with the baggage that VY brings with him.

The Barrister

This week, the CrapTastiCast pays tribute to Adam Yauch as The Scizz and I, along with friend of the Deeg Joe Pinzone, record the first virtual CrapTastiCast via Skype. We obviously miss having Apologist and Yachtsman along for the ride on the SS Disaster, but that won't stop us from bringing you another set of poorly thought-out analysis and ill-timed humor. Consistency.

We spend a lot of time discussing Fred Jackson and the future of the Bills backfield following his contract extension on Monday afternoon, as we all feel pretty good about the way One Bills Drive has been doing business this offseason. In segment three, we have a typically belated discussion of the Bills draft choices, including the intellectual superiority of Twitter and Tank Carder's wake surfing dog. And finally, in segment four, we talk playoffs - both NHL and NBA - and pick the teams we want to win and the teams we think will win the respective championships this spring.

As always, we lack focus and love tangents - even if Scizz isn't drinking this month (Weird, right??) - but do our best to keep on topic. All musical interludes are courtesy of the Beastie Boys, of course. Stream and download the MP3 with the trusty links below. (Or directly from our podhoster site right here.)

Cheers.

The Wire

Round 1 (10):  CB Stephon Gilmore, South Carolina (6'0 190)
With Kuechly and Barron off the board, this pick came down to Michael Floyd or Gilmore.  While Floyd may have more upside, Gilmore was a safe selection and filled a need for the Bills' defense.  Gilmore has a good combination of size, speed, instincts, and leadership ability, and, based on his Scouting Combine performance, became a fast riser during the months preceding the draft.  He should pair with Aaron Williams next season to give the Bills a starting duo of big, young, aggressive cover corners.  With the recent release of Drayton Florence, Terrence McGee should assume nickel duty and can hopefully stay healthy with reduced reps. Grade:  B+


Round 2 (41):  OT Cordy Glenn, Georgia (6'5 345)
Many prognosticators had the Bills choosing between Jonathan Martin and Glenn with their first selection.  Conveniently enough for the Bills, they were faced with the same decision in the second round.  Glenn played OG, RT, and most recently LT during his college career.  Buddy Nix has been adamant that Glenn has the feet for LT and will compete with incumbent starter Chris Hairston to protect Ryan Fitzpatrick's blind side.  Glenn has great size and versatility and was graded as a top 5 offensive lineman in the draft.  This pick was great value for the Bills.
Grade:  A

Round 3 (69 from Redskins):  WR T.J. Graham, N.C. State (5'11 188) 
While more polished WRs may have remained on the board, the Bills moved up in the draft to select a relatively raw and inexperienced T.J. Graham in the third round.  (It is noted that dumping a 7th round pick in the deal may have been an attempt to consolidate picks more than anything else.)  The Bills opted for upside here as Graham, a former track star, clocked a better 40-yard dash time than Lee Evans (4.41).  Graham, who was graded as a 7th round prospect, can contribute immediately as a returner.  If he can improve his hands and route-running ability and add mass, Graham has the long-term potential to develop into a #2 deep threat to complement Stevie Johnson.  That being said, this pick was unquestionably the Bills' biggest reach in the draft. Grade:  C+ 

Round 4 (105):  OLB Nigel Bradham, Florida St. (6'2 241)
The Bills continued the trend of addressing need in the fourth round with the selection of Nigel Bradham. Bradham is powerful and tenacious, and was one of few prospects in the draft who projected to the position of 4-3 strong-side linebacker. He lead FSU in tackles for the past three seasons and can also run in coverage. Bradham is relatively raw as far as awareness, instincts and technique are concerned, but with advanced coaching, he has the natural talent and physicality to compete for starting time with incumbent starter Kirk Morrison.  As he develops, Bradham will have immediate impact on coverage units (Editor note in Borat voice: "I liiiike"). Grade: B+

Round 4 (124 from Ravens):  CB Ron Brooks, LSU (5'10 190) 
Brooks was an obscure prospect as his abilities at LSU were overshadowed by high profile players such as Patrick Peterson, Morris Claiborne, and Tyrann Mathieu.  He spent most of his college career as a special teams ace yet possesses the bulk, athleticism and natural instincts to develop as a cover corner as well as the speed to be an effective blitzer from the slot.  Brooks should contribute as a special teams gunner for the Bills during his rookie year. In fact, Bills coaches have commented that he may see time on all four special teams units.  This is a good value, diamond in the rough-type pick for the Bills. Grade:  A-
   

Round 5 (144):  OT Zebrie Sanders, Florida St. (6'5 320)
Another great value/need combo here.  While Sanders was inconsistent at Florida St. and struggled against speed rushers at the Senior Bowl, he has good technique and tremendous wingspan to develop into an NFL-caliber left tackle.  Bills coaches described Sanders as a developmental project, citing his strength and hand technique as areas for improvement.  Graded as a third round value, Sanders is not an elite prospect, but he offers natural size and ability which can be molded and refined with time.  As a rookie, Sanders will provide swing depth for the Bills at both right and left tackle. Grade:  B      

Round 5 (147 from Seahawks):  LB Tank Carder, TCU (6'2 236) 
Carder has been widely considered one of the top value picks in the draft.  He has good tackling ability, fluidity and short area burst and elite competitiveness, as well as instincts and awareness which are able to mask his relative lack of speed.  At 10 years old, Carder was a World BMX Champion. (Editor note: At 10 years old, the Scizz was still collecting G.I. Joes, Barrister was writing love letters to his teacher, Apologist was boring his friends with talk of existentialism in DC comics, and Yachtsman was learning what whiskey was)  At 13 years old, he suffered a punctured diaphragm, a collapsed lung, broken back, and needed two chest tubes after he was flung from a moving vehicle which ultimately rolled on top of him after striking a tree.  With an intriguing backstory in place, Carder excelled at TCU earning Defensive Player of the Game honors in the 2011 Rose Bowl.  Bills coaches project him as a weak-side linebacker, initially in a backup role to Nick Barnett.  As he adds bulk and strength at the point of attack, however, Carder projects long-term to the strong-side.  Grade:  A

Round 6 (178):  OG Mark Asper, Oregon (6'6 319) 
Asper is best known for performing the Heimlich maneuver on a man who was choking on a piece of meat at the 2012 Lawry's Beef Bowl (an annual event that precedes the Rose Bowl game).  (Editor note: I think the analysis should just end here, but that's my opinion) He is a high effort, blue collar player with average size, strength and speed. Despite his wide frame, he has very short arms which project him to OG.  Asper will compete with 2011 rookie Michael Jasper for a roster spot along the Bills' interior line. Grade:  C-

Round 7 (251 compensatory):  K John Potter, Western Michigan (6'1 219) Many fans including myself would prefer that the Bills opt for a sexier prospect, such as Vontaze Burfict or Kellen Moore (Editor note: Both are VERY sexy), with their compensatory selection.  No matter, this pick has sound logic. Potter was chosen simply because he has the ability to consistently send kickoffs out of the back of end zones.  If the Bills decide to keep two kickers, there is a niche to be had here. Grade:  C

The Barrister

Well. There's that.

Liverpool came up woefully short today. I'd like to say that I felt good about their ability to fight back and make it a match, but Carroll's goal (and his near equalizer a short time later) only suggest that he should have been on the pitch the entire match and that LFC managed themselves right out of that game.

On top of that Henderson was predictably dog shit, the defense was predictably inconsistent, and Chelsea are predictable winners of the Football Association Cup.

The season now a verified failure, with the sole bright spot of the Carling Cup win, perhaps we can take solace in the fact that the failure will certainly motivate FSG to make big changes and bring the club back up to the higher eschelon of English football. That's all we got for now.

YNWA.



Note: I wrote this on Weebly's new iPhone app, so if there are formatting issues quit yer bitching and marvel that iPhones even exist.

The Barrister

I've hesitated to take this one on. Like the match is too big, with too much of my fan self wrapped up into the outcome which, the more I allow myself to dwell on it, seems inevitably tragic.

This has not been a good season of Liverpool football. Rarely do I afford myself the luxury of speaking such obvious truths here at the Deeg (actually, I do it all the time, I'm sure), but it bears mentioning at the outset since I always tend towards hyperbolic love poems when I talk about LFC and its players who I still love too much. Sports boners aside, the season has shown us that the club really does need another striker, that Steven Gerrard might be on his last legs, that there is absolutely no quality depth in the midfield or within the center of the defense, and that half of last summer's signings may have been little more than a complete and utter waste.

Fun stuff.

On top of that, and this is a real kick in the balls, the team is at real risk of finishing below their Merseyside counterparts at Goodison Park despite having thoroughly trounced Everton in the two league fixtures this year (not to mention the FA Cup semifinal win). Not that I can be bothered to find out, but I'm pretty sure it's been a while since the Blues were atop the Reds in the table at season's end. And even if that doesn't really matter in the end - Everton's place in the table arguably says more about them than it does about Liverpool, after all - any fan of LFC knows that the team's league failures (including a fucking loss to Roy Hodgson's team AT ANFIELD.... fuck me...) this season tell a troubling story of a club that was supposed to be on its way up and was supposed to compete for, at the very least, a Top 4 finish.

None of that is happening anymore, that much is clear.

What is unclear, though, is which Liverpool side will show up this Saturday at Wembley and, perhaps more crucially, whether Liverpool's best play can realistically match up with a Chelsea team that has found its best form following the departure of fired manager Andre Villas-Boas. Last weekend's stellar defeat of Norwich City suggests that Liverpool might have found a recipe for success, while this Tuesday's loss to Fulham, even with many starters being rested, suggests that the Reds are still searching for that deep and pervasive desire for goal.  Based on the season-long comparisons between Liverpool's play in Cup matches, where they've succeeded and appeared to be a top side, and League matches, where they've looked ready for relegation some weeks, it's not crazy to assume that Liverpool will find another gear and play their best football against Chelsea.

Though - and here is where I tend towards freaking out - will it be enough to prevail over a team that has reached the Champions League final (beating the world's best player along the way) and who sport some of the better striker talent in the EPL?

I've never been one for making predictions, though the cynic in me is looking towards tomorrow with a palpable sense of dread. To be fair, of course, this is pretty much par for the course when it comes to big games and any team that has the misfortune of counting me as a supporter. Either way, despite the frustrations of this season, both on and off the pitch, if Liverpool do manage to pull out a victory, this season will suddenly be transformed into a successful one - two Cup victories overshadowing the League failures and the allegations of racism and the sacked Director of Football and the lingering doubts (ridiculous ones, I think) about whether Kenny Dalglish is suited for his position as manager. In a sport where - by virtue of the lack of playoff format in the league - so much depends on cumulative success of a club over several months, the story of Liverpool's 2011-12 campaign will be largely decided by tomorrow's outcome, leaving fans in the lurch between excitement and fear over what will be go down in London.

Which leaves me with little else to say as I count the hours between now and tomorrow's kickoff. If the good Liverpool shows up, we could all be in for a match of a lifetime. If the bad one hits the pitch, it could be over before it even starts. In the meantime, if you need me, I'll be gnawing at my fingernails and praying to the footy gods for just a bit more magic before this season's end.

Cheers.