Always Crashing in the Same Teal Car

One of the best hockey games ever happened to be one of the longest hockey games ever. Which also happened to be one of the sharpest daggers to the balls that a Sharks fan has taken, ever.

Like grass dampening in the rain, or us bolting to the computer after a provocative late-night infomercial, another promising San Jose season has come to a disappointing end.

So as we bid adieu to yet one more underachieving playoff campaign, we honor the fifth-longest game in NHL history -- (Robert) Frost on ice, if you will -- with a poem of the shortest variety.

Red 42... Blue 68... set, hut, hut, Haiku!

Nab. Turc. Magic show.
Big hits rammed. Seven frames spanned.
Gulp whistle, (you fucking) zebra.

Things To Do In Denver When Driving Krunk

Since we're feeling a little frisky tonight, we thought we'd pull some NBA playoff predictions out of the bottom of this wild turkey. Literally, these picks were retrieved from the gullet of a bucking bird, scribed on tiny, fortune-cookie sized slips. Here are the first couple matchups:

1. LA Lakers vs. 8. Denver Nuggets
If I'm George Karl, I'm replacing my dancers with 12 young women who look like this. And then I'm ordering my opponent son to helm the wheel of Melo's Mercedes. Then I'm going to masturbate furiously in the locker room before each and every game, project my essense on the team whiteboard, and hope the jizm resembles a new, creative, gameplan with which to not get swept.

Denver is spunky and they've got the talent to win a few games in this series. However if Karl doesn't follow those above-mentioned steps to the tee, they don't make it to next weekend (game two). Lakers in five.

2. New Orleans Hornets vs. 7. Dallas Mavericks
Earlier this year we wagered a friend $1,000 that 49ers behemoth Patrick Willis was headed for Canton. We'd be willing to place a bet of the same stakes that Chris "Basket" Paul is on his way to Springfield, or wherever the NBA hall happens to be. He's phenomenal. He could take four WNBA players and they'd give any five the Special Olympic squad throws on the court a run for their money.

Can't pick against Dallas here though. Just can't. Want to. Can't. Don't want to see Cuban's manzere strap jostling loose of his shirt-jersey from a DDR-esque celebration after a Hornets missed crunch-time free throw. But that was too easy to picture. Mavs in seven.

More predictions coming before the playoffs begin, we would assume.

Andre Kristacovitchlalinski, Jr. Kicking for You Seattle

Aww, how cute. Seattle kicker Josh Brown will wear heated warm-up pants to help defrost his genitals at Lambeau when the 'Hawks take on the Packers this Saturday in an NFC Divisional playoff.

JB is clearly concerned of shrinkage in the snowy conditions and would like his unit to still be able to fit into his blow-up doll's inflatable vagina for a lockerroom quickie.

Lose the electric hiphuggers and grab some pine, kicker. That way you may at least have a shot at getting your pine grabbed by one of the Green Bay cheerleader alternates in the stadium tunnel after the game.

Beautiful, Sweet, Bloody, Playoff Foosball Witch Yo Friends

Jacksonville at Pittsburgh duking it out in the ketchup swamp this Saturday is the only playoff game of the weekend that is both: a) up for grabs, and b) not featuring little Elijah. Hence, it is obviously the most compelling game of the quadratic wildcard round, the deep-fried calamari of appetizers, if you will.

The Jags, both with their victory at Heinz a few weeks back, and the constant shaft stroking of their toughness by the sports media, have been sexed up to 2.5 point favorites on the road (of course a plethora of Pitt injuries equate in here as well).

Our gut reaction was that K-Ville J-Ville should win this game by outmuscling the body builder, outhaymaking the Butterbean, outmasturbating the teenager... in essence, outPittsburghing Pittsburgh with "smash mouth" football.

But maybe we're so quick to pick the Jags because we believe they have a better shot at defeating New England. We've already seen the Steelers try their slingshots against Goliath; they got goatreemed, nearly tripled-up, in week 14. Or maybe we like the Jags because they don't have an ass-chinned, flaming yellow-flanneled mascot that was hired out of a Village People cover band.

As good of a season as Garrard has had, and don't get us wrong, it was damn good and underrated, he's never done anything in the playoffs. Aww actually, shit, Big Ben hadn't when the Steelers won the Super Bowl two years ago (but if Garrard plays as poorly as Roethlisberger did at Ford Field he won't be getting bailed out by the refs, he will be back to his offseason gig).

Neither team lacks big-play capability, although Pittsburgh has the vastly superior receiving corps. Neither team lacks a ground game, although Jacksonville has both a bowling ball and a whiffle ball in their backfield. The sans-Willie Steelers will miss that motherfucker's shiftiness.

Hell, at this point we feel like a fruity feline chasing its tail, only without the catnip high. We can't drum up a strong enough argument for either side. And believe us, we're not putting our money where our mouth is (it's the sole game on which we aren't wagering).

The hitting will be the hardest. The turf will be the sloppiest. The occurence of devastating knee injuries the most bountiful of all of this year's playoff games. Whichever team has the purest "mudder" geneology will win it. That's all we know. That's what makes this game so exciting.

Pigskin crotch meter for Saturday evening: a rigid, 45-degree SCHA-WIIIING!*

*We're pretty sure even registered NFL hater Locomotive's junk will be rigor mortis for this one's duration.

Making Cadillac Margaritas Out of Lemons

Bad news for Kige and the Titans nation headed into Saturday's AFC Wild Card game against the Chargers: First, they found out tight end Bo Scaife will not be playing due to excessive absinthe intake on NYE (lacerated liver). And now, leading "receiver" Roydell Williams is out for the season after getting his foot stuck in the team's cafeteria conveyer belt (broken ankle).

Assuming Vince Young avoids a falling anvil or piano from above, he should at least be good to go this weekend.

But now, rather than being able to throw to moving scarecrows with stone mittens, VY will have to do his best completing passes to moving, KY jellied-up, vertical slip-n-slides.

At least VY to KY has an aurally pleasing ring to it. And hey, we're pretty sure neither Peyton nor Eli has advertised for vaginal moisturizer yet!

So Vince, don't worry about losing to that little bitch Rivers this weekend. We see you having a long, lubed, pleasurable, and profitable offseason.

Todd Helton shouldn't have a batting avg, he should have a batting outstanding

Watching a guy impersonate Dane Cook is like swallowing a double edged sword. You'll not only have to digest the faux-enthusiastic voice, but the obnoxious tone as well. If you think you're man enough, be our guests. Nice work from SNL here, and from The Big Lead for big leading us to the clip.

THERE'S ONLY ONE OF ALL TWELVE MONTHS!

Pete Rose's Guide to the Championship Series

Nary a baseball fan around will dispute that the four teams remaining are the cream of their respective leagues. The Rockies are the only team without a dominant ace on staff, but they make up for the void with their wet blanket defense and relentless wood.

The NLCS should require constant movement of chess pieces (or at least mancala beans), and in turn stroke the fancy of the hardball purists. As for the high-school analogists, it will finally settle the age-old dispute of determing your favorite faculty member: the drunken shop instructor or the reserved, yet welcoming geometry teacher.

Over in the bloated offense league, we have the two best teams in the game rammin' it out. Fausto Carmona's heater bulks to the weight of a medicine ball 6 feet from the plate. In fact his sinker is so squalid that J.D. Drew already grounded into three inning-ending double plays. Tarantula Hair Ramirez has been a constant gardener, raking anything and everything projected toward him. One of the many mouthwatering matchups in this emerald of a series.

However, if for whatever reason you need that little extra juice to make it through the rest of the playoffs (or, if you are Pete Rose), grab your wallet and another gambler and have at it. We present the '07 Championship Series Betting Lines, straight from a seedy dive bar's backroom bookie in Reno (think of it as Fourth Meal, to the actual gameplay's supper, if you will):

NLCS
Over/Under length of time (in seconds) Chip Carey gazes goofily at Tony Gwynn during on-cam pre game segment in TBS booth: 9.5

O/U estimated age guess of Jeff Francis by non-baseball fan in close proximity: 16.5

Odds that same non-baseball fan thinks McLovin is pitching for the Rox: 15-1

O/U number of purple/lavender/lilac/mulberry/perrywinkle articles of clothing Craig Sager wears to game 3 at Coors Field: 5.5

O/U number of times mentioned (per game) that the D-Backs were outscored in the regular season: 1.5

O/U amount of time (in seconds) lapsed between when Jose Valverde comes set, and when he begins delivery: 18.5

Odds Chip Carey will have an on-air orgasm after a successful sacrifice bunt: 4.5-1

Odds camera will catch Daunte Bichette in stands eating an extra large burrito: 2-1

ALCS
Odds Tim McCarver will refer to Hideki Okajima as Dice-K: Even

Odds McCarver will refer to Dice-K as Ichiro: 3-1

Odds Joe Borowski will resort to donning black, bandaged eye glasses and begin sprinting out from the bullpen to a certain cover of a Chip Taylor tune after blowing saves for both Sabathia and Carmona: 4-1

O/U times J.D. Drew pops out/whiffs/GIDP (per game) to end inning: 2.5

O/U times McCarver giggles at joke made by Joe Buck about Boston CF Crisp and a chocolatey kids cereal: 1.5

O/U total time (in minutes, throughout series) of on-air discussion about Yankees: 35.5

Series Note: Although the Cleveland SS plays the same position, wears the same number, and has the exact same batting stance as Derek Jeter, he is not Jeter. His name is Jhonny Peralta. He's just like Jeter except he can actually hit for power. And he doesn't squat when he takes pitches at the knees away.

You'll Take His Life But He'll Take Yours Too...

We now have a favorite Diamondback player - the man, the myth, the Trooper: Mark Reynolds.

The Arizona third baseman clearly embodies the vim and the vigor of the Union Jack-toting, bayonet-lunging badass that hurdles the bodies of Russian/Chicago Cub soldiers as he plunges into certain death.

Reynolds fired his musket a little hot in the fifth inning of Game 1, airmailing the ball a couple floors over 6'7" Tony Clark. But as a true warrior he did not shed a tear nor draw a parting groan.

He returned to the battle square (read: batter's box), smelled the acrid smoke and horse's breath of a Carlos Marmol fastball and cannon-blasted it 400+ feet over the left field wall.

Is it too late to change our pick to the D-Backs over the Cubbies? We were not aware that the desert-dwelling 3bagger had fucking Maiden as his walk-up music! What a rapturous change-of-pace from the usual Metallica/AC-DC/Link in Park that most white ballplayers walk out of the on-deck circle to.

At least Reynolds understands that playoff baseball in Phoenix isn't just entertainment for cactus-touching yuppies, it is WAR! Now, if Bob Melvin could somehow notify the D-Backs "fans" that Chase Field isn't a movie theatre...

Game 2 of the NLDS tonight at 7 on TBS. UP THE IRONS!