Departing Pittsburgh, green grass, the Murray Bros & the NFL winners

Last week: 1-3

2011 NFL Playoffs: 3-5

New York vs. Pittsburgh

We’re all about fairness here at the Food. In fact, we just might even change the name of this site with some type of derivation of the word fair despite all the hard work and research by the good folks in the marketing department. They really like alliteration.

So with that in mind, folks like me have to take their medicine about disparaging the New York Jets and their kinky/loudmouth coach, Rex Ryan. Sure, the manner in which he trash talked about his team beating the Patriots last weekend just might have set back the fine art of attention-whoring back decades. It’s one thing for Ryan to go on cussin’ and fattin’ around on HBO, because that’s cable and a documentary. I think we all know how people feel about subtitles.

But to mouth off in front of the reserved, thoughtful and compassionate press in New York City is taking things too far.

Oh, but that Rex Ryan is crazy like a fox. He knew exactly what he was doing. He thought if he said some crazy crap about Bill Bellichick and the Patriots before the game, it just might get onto the evening news or the newspapers. You know, because the evening news and newspapers are so ubiquitous with the hip and young demographic.

Needless to say, after the upset in New England, Ryan and the Jets have decided to curb the verbosity this week. That makes sense considering the Pittsburgh Steelers do not have any players easily ridiculed for things like deviant, unlawful behavior. Model citizens every last one of them.

Besides, what good would it do to mouth off about the Steelers or Pittsburgh. Sure, Charles Dickens is often credited with describing Pittsburgh as, “hell with the lid off,” but that was in the 19^th century and with the effects of climate change wreaking havoc across the globe, Pittsburghers will have to wear a sweater or a muffler to the ballgame on Sunday afternoon.

Maybe Pittsburgh is what this AFC Championship game between the Jets and Steelers is all about.

We all know that everyone from Pittsburgh loves their teams and their town. Big Love, actually. L-O-V-E type love. They go crazy from the Penguins and tolerate the Pirates simply because the ballpark is fantastic. But the Steelers... man, they go wacky for the Steelers. In fact, they go so coo-coo crazy for the Steelers that even here in the eastern and central parts of the Commonwealth, they often take over the scene. Sometimes the Pittsburgh football fans even petition the league and the local TV stations to show Steelers games on the tee-vee despite the fact that it is an out-of-market game. Worse, the Steelers fans have redrawn the well-planned and tried-and-true border lines so that teams that are closer (geographically speaking) like Baltimore, Washington, New York or New England, are ignored while the Pittsburghers get the hometown advantage.

And that’s just the thing isn’t it? Pittsburghers love Pittsburgh so much that they live somewhere else.

Sure, they redraw the border lines because they don't live in Pittsburgh anymore. Really, think about it—they love their team and their town so much that they moved away. What does that say? How about they like Pittsburgh because they don't live there.

Say what you will about Philadelphia or Philadelphians... at least they don’t leave. Some might venture over to South Jersey or maybe even the western 'burbs, but for the most part Philly folks just move down the block. Loyalties don't change because, really, what else is there? Where are the folks from Philly supposed to go? We already know Philadelphians don’t mix well with others.

So because of the migration habits of folks from certain sections of Pennsylvania, we easily determined the winner of the AFC Championship…

Pick: New York Jets (plus-4)

Green Bay vs. Chicago

The grass hasn’t been green in these parts for a long time. No, it’s not because there is no fulltime (or even a part-time) lawn steward, it’s just because it’s winter. Sub-freezing air and chlorophyll just don’t mix.

However, with the advances in technology and the herbaceous arts, folks do not have to wait until the spring time for the brown lawns to turn green. Just look at the football fields in cold places like Pittsburgh, New England and Philadelphia where the grass looked as if it was ready for a May Day frolic.

But in Chicago at Soldier Field, the Bears and Packers will have to play the NFC Championship on brown grass like a ragtag bunch of kids in a pickup game. For whatever reason, the grass at Soldier Field looks as if it was broiled by an overworked chef at Harry Caray’s than tended to like Chicago’s favorite son, Bill Murray, and his star turn in Caddy Shack.

The thing about Caddy Shack was that Brian-Doyle Murray, Bill’s big brother, wrote the screenplay with scenes from his youth as the inspiration. See, as kids, Brian, Bill and the rest of their six siblings kept jobs at the local Indian Hill golf club in Wilmette, Ill. That means Ty Webb, Judge Smails and Lacey Underall are real people—or at least based on real people… sort of.

Maybe the Chicago Bears could hire the Murray gang to help them keep the grass green? Certainly they’d know the best way to keep the grass green in Chicago in January is to use a cooler seed like rye or fescue mixed with a Bermuda for when the weather changes.

Aerating the grass with some raking or removal of the brown, dead grass also does wonders for the lawn. Of course the dry, winter weather also causes the ground to freeze which means it’s important to keep the grass saturated. However, at Soldier Field they kept the grass hidden beneath a tarp so the snow and frost would be easier to remove. Then again, the warming coils they probably keep below the surface could take care of that, too.

There are three major league ballparks in Chicago and I’m sure if there were to be a big game at Wrigley Field or Comiskey Park, the grass would be green, lush and as inviting in the dead of winter as if it was June.

Better yet, the grass is green in Green Bay, Wisc. They have Aaron Rodgers as the quarterback, too. Therefore…

Pick: Green Bay Packers (minus-3½) 

Um... your town is cool, too?

Note: Variations of this essay have been posted on this space in the past, but since the hacky, trite, tired “city rip” pieces are en vogue, we reworked it and we present it again like new. Sorry, folks, if it makes you feel good about putting down another civic body, you have other issues… you know, besides being a hack.

THE TOWN FORMERLY KNOWN AS ANGRYVILLE — They handle defeat well in Chicago. After all, the Blackhawks, White Sox and especially the Cubs have taught them well. Just think how good at losing they’d be if Portland would have done the right thing and drafted Michael Jordan.

But in Chicago they don't mope, freak out, or litter the field with D-sized batteries during the action. They really don't even complain, to be perfectly frank. Actually, they're used to it.

They just go home. They leave early and fight traffic. They put the crippling defeats out of their minds by skipping work to play in the sun. They just forget about it as they frolic in those glorious public parks beneath sculptures created by Picasso and Oprah with cool drinks and lots of pretty friends.

Loss? Nah, they don't deal with it at all in Chicago. Who has the time? They actually have a beach in the city in Chicago. Life is good and they pick up the trash off the streets, too. Nice place Chicago… it helps them swallow defeat so well.

In Philadelphia we know loss all too well. It's in our DNA. It's intense... no wait, that's wrong. It's intensity.

At least it was.

Back in the old days we all woke up before the dawn just as the rage had regrouped so we could wipe the bitter-tasting bile that has encrusted the corners of our mouths with the outer black sleeve of our spittle-coated Motorhead t-shirts. Then we dragged our sorry asses off the couch where we collapsed just 45 minutes earlier and instinctively thrust a middle finger at the rest of the world.

The day had begun in Philadelphia. The fury must be unleashed. We lost again.

But there is always a fleeting moment — one that usually occurs in the time it takes to get from one knee to a standing position after unfolding oneself from the couch — when stock is taken. A moment, as fast as a flap of a hummingbird's wing, enters our twisted and angry heads:

World weary. Saddened by my years on the road. Seen a lot. Done a lot. Loss? Yeah, I know loss. I know loss with its friends sorrow, fury and death. Yes, loss and me are like this... we're partners as we walk on the dusty trail of life.

But something happened in October of 2008 when Brad Lidge threw that slider past Eric Hinske. Beneath that tiney, porcupine-like exterior, glimpses into our souls were exposed. There was warmth, fear, insecurity...

Victory?

Yes, victory. The Phillies won the World Series. The Flyers are going to the Stanley Cup (yeah, I said it). Both of these things are happening barely months apart. Kind of like it was 1980-81 all over again.

Is Bruce Springsteen still as popular as he was during the dawn of the Reagan Administration? Oh yeah, here in the dawn of the Obama Administration, an adapted Chicagoan no less, Springsteen is playing halftime at the Super Bowl.

In the old days during the B.C. Era[1], Chicago was a place that made it easy to look down upon with our sad, wretched lives of angry and failed dreams. In Chicago, with their manicured parks, gourmet restaurants, unimpeded gentrification, high-brow universities and gleaming skyscrapers the rest of us calls it the city of big shoulders. It burned down and rose again—bigger, better, cleaner, friendlier.

It gets cold and windy, true, but they take that in stride, too.

Those were the places Philly fans showed up en masse to watch our teams fight for our civic pride. Back in the old, B.C. Era, they saw us coming. We stuck out with that crippled walk of defeat, clenched jaws of stress and disgust, fists balled up and middle fingers erect. When we took the exit ramp off the boulevard of broken dreams to enter these happy, little towns, the local authorities were ready. They had been tipped off ahead of time and were prepared to set up a dragnet at a moment's notice.

But those condescending attitudes and the arrogance in which those people flit through life so carefree and cheery no longer sting. We don't turn them back with our jealousy and resentment. No, instead we take the hackery in stride. The mockery and stereotypes don't hurt any longer.

It's just one of those annoying things that championship cities are used to.

Hey, who knows... maybe there is a bit of respect coming our way? Oh sure, they still trot out the golden oldies:

Boo Santa. Cheer injuries. Snowballs at the Cowboys. Batteries for J.D. Drew. Cheesesteaks. Cracked bells. Anger and passion. Rocky Balboa.

But try this out... sportswriters are afraid of Philadelphians. At least that's (kind of) the contention of one mainstreamer writing for one of those new-fangled web sites.

Really? Uh... nice! So maybe this means that now that the proverbial shoe is on the proverbial other foot, the whole hacky city rip thing is finished? Instead maybe they'll write about the actual ballclubs instead of all the clichés?

Think so?

Of course not.

During the Phillies' run Charlie Manuel was often prophetic, but never more than when he said:

“Winning is hard. Nothing about winning comes easy,” the wizened sage of a baseball manager said. “... believe me, there's a price you pay for winning, too.”

That price can sometimes mean dignity, self-respect and the ability to think clearly.

We're inside the looking glass, people. The Phillies won, the Flyers need two more games...

All things considered, it ain't all that bad to be in Philadelphia. Let them say what they want because we win now. Someday we might even get used to it.

---

[1] B.C. is "Before Championship(s)"

Breakout! The GM Meetings end without incident

From the outside it seemed like a blur of three days. All of the general managers of all of the Major League Baseball teams holed up in a hotel near the airport in Chicago very much like Hunter Thompson on the Vegas strip, only many more lawyers and fewer grapefruits.

There, in the heavily fortified compound off the Interstate with free parking, a pool, wireless, a complimentary breakfast, and a quick route to the busiest airport in the country, it sounds like the GMs just had a gabfest. Oh, there surely was plenty of baseball talk, maybe over hand of Texas Hold ‘Em in Epstein’s room where he filled up the tub with ice and loaded it up with a couple of cases of Pabst pounders. Eddie Wade ordered some pizzas. Ruben? Yeah, Ruben was there, too.

He was the quiet one like Ray Liotta in that breakfast scene in Goodfellas, where Scorsese’s mom says, “Whatsa matter Henry, you don’t talk so much.”

Hey, these are baseball men. They live the good life. The really are the Goodfellas.

But aside from a nice hangout at the Hilton with wireless in every room (standard usage fees apply), the GMs really didn’t do all that much in the annual chin wag. Actually, they may have reflected the state of the economy by following up a week at a resort in sunny Dana Point, Calif. by hanging at the Midwest’s version of Northern Jersey. Otherwise, they might have set the table—you know, a handshake here, a the ol’ business card exchange—for the real work that begins once the free agency period opens in earnest next week.

Then it’s off to Indianapolis for the Winter Meetings.

No doubt all the GMs and their staffs will get together to sing this song:

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uXsYQs1GKIk&hl=en_US&fs=1&]

Song completed they’ll go out and spend the working incomes of 10 middle-class families for a guy to pitch the seventh inning.

Hey, these are baseball men. They live the good life. The really are the Goodfellas.

Oh, but that doesn’t mean they came away from Chicago with nothing to show for it. Nope, not at all. Old Ruben sitting quietly in the corner got to present the team’s wants and needs, which are, in order, third base; relief pitching; and a bench piece or two.

He also got to debunk a few rumors as is his wont at such things. In fact, he’s really good at it. Last year at the Winter Meetings at Las Vegas, I had a player tell me point blank and like I was a six-year-old so I could easily understand what he was saying, that he did, in fact, just exit a meeting with management types from the Phillies and was set up to have another one later. When asked how the meeting with the player went, we were told that he did not meet with that player.

It made me feel dumb (well, dumber than usual) until I quickly realized (in the course of 1.5 seconds) what was going on. Technically, no, Ruben did not meet with the player and the term “Phillies” was ambiguous. It was a smoke screen, because really, who cares who Chuck LaMarr talks to?

I grew up around lawyers and know a few of them quite well and they will tell you Ruben was using one of their old lawyering tricks without a J.D.

As an aside, my lawyer friend’s dad (also a lawyer) told me a joke recently:

“What does a lawyer use for birth control?”

Give up…

“His personality.”

But there was a chance for those li’l newshounds out there to chase down so-called rumors that really weren’t rumors to begin with. It was more like a game of whisper down the lane torn from the pages of Hunter Thompson. It’s the stuff we love because if it sticks even for a millisecond, it really doesn’t matter how long it takes to slither down the wall. People like to talk about baseball. This is one of those givens like taxes, death and leaf raking in November.

People really like to talk about baseball.

Only most GMs would prefer it if you didn’t talk about the baseball as it relates to them. They’re funny that way. Kind of ha-ha funny, too.

Though not for the lack of trying, there was some news that came out of the GM meetings from the United Airlines Terminal. For instance, the Gold Glove Awards were announced, which always stirs a debate and gets people worked up over one the more meaningless awards in a veritable trophy shop filled with meaningless awards. People seemed most hot and bothered that MLB coaches and players gave Gold Gloves to Derek Jeter, but not to Chase Utley. That’s fair, I suppose. After all, the best shortstop in the American League plays third base for the New York Yankees, and people in Philadelphia like that Chase Utley dives to catch balls that smoother fielders can scoop up routinely or he falls down to the grass like a inadvertent slip when he has to make a particularly tough throw.

But no one really seems worked up over the fact that the name TULOWITZKI can’t fit on the little plaque beneath the gold painted glove. Or no one cares that the new trendy stat called UZR, used to reflect defensive prowess, is flawed just like every other baseball stat.

All except for home runs. That one is easy to quantify.

Elsewhere, the GMs decided to table the idea of instant replay because they don’t want to be a sport known for its access reliance on progress, digitalized information or computers.

Hey, just as long as someone closes the retractable roof and shuts down the 10-story HD scoreboard before we leave.

Of cities and slumps

CHICAGO – Lots of people like to say Chicago is a lot like New York only clean. That’s fair, I suppose. Chicago is a sprawling city, but not with the boroughs of NYC. It’s more like Los Angeles in that sense in that the city is self contained and doesn’t rely on other little pockets of towns and hamlets to make it whole. In that regard Chicago is unlike Philadelphia in that there is no inferiority complex with New York to the north and Washington to the south. That kind of makes Philadelphia feel as if it’s just on the way to somewhere else.

Or something like that. Then again I really have no logical insight to offer on Chicago. It’s a good place. Lots of water and tall buildings. They even have a beach within the city confines. More importantly, they have two competitive baseball teams. One plays in the American League in a dumpy stadium on the south side of town (and even won the World Series in 2005), and the other plays in a dumpy ballpark on the north side of town.

Now here’s what I really don’t get about Chicago… why are the Cubs so beloved? It has to be the ballpark, right? People love showing up at Wrigley to do everything but pay attention to baseball. It is, as so deftly described by White Sox manager Ozzie Guillen, a bar. It’s a big, outdoor bar surrounding a baseball diamond.

“But one thing about Wrigley Field, I puke every time I go there,” Guillen said earlier this season. “That’s just to be honest. And if Cub fans don’t like the way I talk about Wrigley Field, it’s just Wrigley Field. I don’t say anything about the fans or anything now. But Wrigley Field, they got to respect my opinion. That’s the way I feel.”

Imagine if the Phillies didn’t win the World Series for more than 100 seasons or didn’t at least get there since 1945… Phillies fans would burn the place down. Quaint old ballpark or not, the Phillies fans wouldn’t be satisfied without a winner.

There’s only so much folks in Philly can tolerate and that gets back to the whole destination city thing. This is the magnet of the Midwest. It’s in the realm of places like LA or NYC in that kids aspire to be successful in Chicago. Hell, think of all the actors, writers and comedians that come from Chicago. It’s doubtful that “Saturday Night Live” would have made it early on if it hadn’t been for the filter system the show seemingly had with Second City.

We’ll get into the essence of the ballpark tomorrow. But in short it’s difficult not to be charmed by Wrigley despite what Ozzie Guillen says. Shoot, maybe it is pretty much just a bar. You know, one of those neighborhood joints they seem to have on every corner in South Philly. Only instead of being a part of the neighborhood, Wrigley IS the neighborhood.

There isn’t much space here, but, you know… whatever.

* Here’s the important stuff… the Phillies are going to be OK. Sure, the lead has been whittled down to just four games after getting swept at home by the Marlins, and neither the hitting nor pitching has been all that good.

But if it was bad enough for Charlie Manuel to spend 20 minutes after Sunday’s game giving his team the business, then everything ought to be sorted out soon. See, Charlie doesn’t get worked up just for the sake of getting fired up. His messages usually have a purpose and that definitely seems to be the case in this instance.

Besides, compare the Phillies stats and records of last August with this month. Go ahead… do it. Know what you’ll find? That they are nearly identical. Last August the Phillies stunk and this August they are scuffling a bit, too.

In eight games this month the Phillies are batting .242 with eight homers, a .283 OBP and just 25 runs scored. That comes to an average of just a little over three runs per game.

Last August the Phillies batted just .235 with 30 homers in 29 games and 115 runs scored. That total comes to a little more than three runs per game (3.965).

Uncanny isn’t it?

So there it is – the Phillies don’t play well in August. It’s a bona fide trend. If they can turn it around in September and October that will be a trend, too.