Greatest Game?

Tuesday's (and partly Wednesday's) Game 3 of the World Series between the Houston Astros and the Chicago White Sox was -- and pay attention, because this is where it gets crazy -- not a classic.
History will probably try to prove me wrong, or at the very least, sportswriters nationwide will attempt to do so this morning and well into the autumn.
And frankly, they've all got the numbers on their side.After all, there:
-- Was more than 5 hours of October baseball this night.-- Were some 400-plus pitches thrown.
-- Were thousands of finger nails bitten in just one section of the Juice Box (I think Fox provided us with close-ups of nearly each offense, and at least one nostril digging by a face-painted fan).
-- Were countless promos for "The Simpsons," "House," "Lost" and even the fast-approaching JANUARY season premiere of "American Idol," of which Simon Cowell called America's other favorite pasttime. Funny.
-- Were two stunning comebacks -- one on a top-of-the-fifth-inning meltdown by Roy Oswalt, the other in crunch time in the bottom of the eighth.
-- Was one Tim McCarver providing us with the bright wisdom that was, "In the time it took to play this game, you could have flown from Baltimore to Iceland." Really.
But none of that -- nor even the "home run" or double by Jason Lane, who Houston manager Phil Garner correctly pointed out was the only guy in the ballpark with a star on his hat who hit the ball harder than anything you might expect from the ninth hitter in Williamsport -- can convice me this was great baseball.
In fact, it was anything but.
Sure, it had classic moments.
Geoff Blum's homer down the line in right with two out in the 14th inning was a gem and will be remembered for decades to come (though, c'mon, it was hardly Gibson-eque). Just moments earlier, Morgan Ensberg's ridiculously dazzling double play was just as sweet.
But just about everything else -- from opening pitch to the final pop out -- hovered around mediocrity.
Houston had chance after chance to win this game and get back into this intriguing Fall Classic. Runners at the corners with one out in the bottom of the ninth immediately comes to mind. And there were others, though after 330 minutes you tend to struggle in recalling every last one.Yet the Astros -- as they likely will do again tonight -- walked away with nothing.
More zeros for five more innings.
In fact, the White Sox bullpen darned near through a no-hitter in the second half of this battle, surely an homage to Nolan Ryan, who took in every last pitch before asking his number be unretired.Astro after Astro looked lost at the plate from the eighth inning on, as if this game was a split-squader in Tampa rather than the first World Series game played deep in the broken heart of Texas.
Biggio, the face of this franchise for every 18-year-old Houston High School senior's entire life, whiffed late. Twice. Same with Ensberg, who led off the bottom of the 14th with a let's-get-the-heck-out-of-here at bat.
For decades, the White Sox and Red Sox have proven that World Series aren't -- contrary to popular Yankees' belief -- dealt out with any hint of fairness. It's not a right to play a baseball game before a nation that's about to turn the TV set to Monday Night Football.
Chicago will wake the ghosts of 1917 tonight.
Boston paid homage to 1918 just 12 months ago.
Two of the proudest franchises in this game's history had to wait generations, defying logic, to get their next crack. Heck, even the 1984 Detroit Tigers, who many thought started a dynasty, haven't tasted World Series bubbly since the Bless You Boys soaked it up that fall.
And now, we have the Astros, known more for poorly designed rags of the 1980s than success, who have waited 40-plus to reach their first Grand Daddy of Them All. And as Garner -- who by the looks of that mighty chair toss in the 14th was next in line to hit the mound should Houston have extended the game -- correctly pointed out, these Astros, complete with their Momentum-Killer B's, have shown the mojo of a slinky.
In giving credit where it's most certianly due, these aren't your grandfather's White Sox. (Not that grandpas where white anyway -- mine always wore brown). Given the opportunity to win games, they have taken advantage time and again. From Third Strike -- You're Out, No You're Not -- Gate in the ALCS to the Astros' misfires all Tuesday long, they have turned a break into a quick fix.
And now, thanks to clutch hitting and dynamite pitching and the moxy to make Angelina Jolie blush, they are one out away from the World Series title that's eluded then since Shoeless Joe took the money and ran -- all the way around the bases again and again.
A win today by Ozzie & Co. would make this a truly classic Fall Classic.
Because of the team that won it.
Hardly because of what happened Tuesday.

Funny Freep ...

So if you didn't get a chance to check out last Friday's Detroit Free Press, I suggest you get on it. The centerpiece is one of the funniest stories to come out of the Motor City rags in months.

Steve Wilson, the plump and sweaty local TV newsman who has become famous in Michigan for going to the greatest lengths to stalk Mayor Kwame and expose his corrupt ways, has become quite the household name in the Metro area. Freep reporter Shawn Windsor seemingly spent considerable time with Wilson, and the result was solid journalism.

My favorite parts:
-- The main photo on page 1A.
-- Kwame to Wilson: "Fat ass." (Uh, three words KK: Pot. Kettle. Black.)

Anyway, here's the link: http://www.freep.com/backindex/2005/05/20/homepage.htm.

The story really accomplishes two things: A) It might show how weak journalism has become when one man gets so much attention for demanding answers, B) It proves Mr. Mayor is a pure asshole who belongs in elected office as much as Jacko belongs in Toys "R" Us. He's living the high life while a good chunk of his constituency is living in the streets. Be proud, Detroit.

In other interesting journalism news, the Washington Post is getting nasty mail from readers demanding the newspaper stop covering the Baltimore Orioles now that the Nationals have arrived in town. What a freaking joke. The Post, less than hour from Camden Yards, owes it to both fan bases to stay on board and provide comprehensive coverage. And readers need to wake up and realize more news is not a bad thing. Dumb asses. In a related story, I am outraged that we have a McDonald's AND a Burger King in this town.

QUICK HITS: Headed out of town to a wedding this past weekend. The trip from Michigan to Harrisburg, Pa, took eight hours -- 7 1/2 of which was from Pennsylvania's border to the state's capital (or at least it seemed like it). "That's a long goddamn state," Montana, Nebraska and Ohio were heard muttering together. The 54-hour trip -- minus the 17-plus spent in the car -- was a good time. Got to see Gettysburg, which was amazing if you can get past all the tourist shit (I passed on the "Battlefield Fries") and check out the graves and the museum. The wedding, itself, was beautiful, with the exception of a pompous reverend who actually interrupted the service to remind those in the pews that "Flash photography is strictly prohibited." Then he proceeded to bust into Satisfaction. The reception, well, that's always a blast, though my dancing skills have deteriorated over the years. ... The Tigers lost big-time tonight, and tempers flared during a bean-ball war. A-Rod got plunked. Then Jason Smith had not one but two pitches thrown near his head. The Yanks' Quantrill was tossed, as was Torre. Wendesday's game should be interesting. ... Haven't seen American Idol yet, but I remain confident Bo Bice will be come full circle from 50-1 underdog to America's next big thing. Carrie Underwood, meanwhile, will do just fine on the country circuit but she'll have problems in the mainstream. ... The Blue Water Area is home to another millionaire. A $1 million scratch-off ticket was bought at a party store in Fort Gratiot. This comes not long after a couple from Port Huron won more than $200 million in Mega Millions. There must be something in the water up here. For instance, mine and Shannon's Keno winnings last week: $10 (after we spent $20).

And then there were two ....

Vonzell Solomon, sadly, is gone from American Idol, though she still will eventually have her share of success. In fact, I predict she'll be the most successful No. 3 to come from Fox's Tuesday-Wednesday juggernaut (not that I can name -- at this, or any, hour -- more than one other third-best Idol). She's fun, she seems nice, she's got the pipes, she'll do just fine.

Unfortunately, her exit was no surprise. There seems to be some sick obsession with this Carrie chick, who's been on my bad side since day one when Seacrest-Come-Out-Already asked her if she'd seen any stars so far in Hollywood and she responded something to the effect of, "No, it's been too cloudy." It's not that I find her stupid. I don't. In fact, I think she's got in her more than just a fair dose of Jessica Simpson -- you know, declare before millions that you don't know if a certain brand of tuna is tuna, get laughed at for a few days, and then laugh all the way to the bank when Mr. Big Fat Check arrives from Mr. Tuna.

We all love Jessica, and apparently the same holds true for many with Ms. Underwood. That's fine. Whatever. Have the band strike up Independence Day one more time, bust out your southern charm and have yourself a grand ole opry. It won't matter. Bo Bice -- the Jesus look-alike with increasingly obnoxious sunglasses -- is a shoo-in. He's your Idol for 2005. He rocks, he rocks, he rocks. And if he's not working with Mr. Clive Davis come next Thursday, it'll be more upsetting than ALF being canceled without a series finale.

Of course, before we get to the season finale, we get Thursday's special: The World's Worst Auditions. This, as a friend pointed out to me earlier today, might as well be re-runs of Season 4's audition episodes, which were far more trash than class than in previous years.

QUICK HITS: The Tigers' win tonight, a 6-4 decision against TBay, was a biggy. It put Detroit at .500, a benchmark that's been tough to get to for this season's Kitties. Ledezma looked OK on the hill, and Ugie was lights out again in the end. The series concludes tomorrow. A sweep would be huge. ... The AP story on tomorrow's Pistons-Pacers game talks about how a loss would spell the end of Reggie Miller's career before Reggie Miller won a title. To accompany the story, the sports staff came up with a list of athletes who ended their storied careers without a championship. You know, Teddy Ballgame, Karl Malone, Barry Sanders. But no hockey greats stood out. Is that becuase they all won Stanley or because we just don't care about Canada's-national-pastime-if-you-don't-count-curling? You decide. ... Isn't it funny how baseball's fearless leader, Bud Selig, is now being commended by Congress for getting tough on steroids? Give me a Sammy Sosa broken bat with cork stuffed inside. Wendy's daddy got tough only when he had to. Buddy Boy and baseball's owners have known for years that this game was high. But they sat back, smoked their stogies, said nothing and watched the cash registers overflow with dollars from naive Americans thinking we were emersed in the glamarous era of power. Baseball was a lie, and Selig turned the other cheek. Then baseball gets caught with its pants down (not to mention the big needle in the buttocks) and THEN he gets mad. Nobody's buying it.

Idol (not Billy) thoughts ...

It was finally nice to see the American Idol hopefuls singing a trio of songs on the same night. Frankly, it makes this show more relevant. What did one song do for any contestant, anyway, besides spell the end if even one note was off key? Not much. But three? That was fun to watch.

And it was defining. In fact, I believe -- insert egg on face, for this is the same one I thought would be gone early in the cuts in the round of 24 -- Bo Bice cemented himself as the favorite. Even though I didn't get that special feeling from watching him sing a capella, it certainly was effective. And a little Elton John and The Rolling Stones as bookends didn't hurt, either.

If he loses this thing, it will be because the brilliant teeny-bopper public isn't ready to plop $15 a CD for the stylings of a long-haired hippy with the cross tatooed on his chest. But he's easily the most talented and versatile singer remaining, and his showmanship always was second to none. Heck, if you don't believe me, just ask Mr. Clive Davis.

As for the farm girl and daddy's girl, I think it will take a miracle for either of them to be the one celebrating come next Wednesday. Carrie Underwood has never been in the top three, but I wouldn't be surprised at all if she got the boot (at 9, 8 central) tonight. Simon called her "wooden" last night. Myself and some friends have called her "wooden" for weeks. She shows so little emotion on stage, and her country obsessioin isn't going to resonate with enough fans in the end. Especially after one horrific version of an already horrific song, I Feel Like A Woman.

Vonzell Solomon, at least in my opinion, deserves to be going head-to-head with Bo in the final. Easily the most improved contestant in the past 10 weeks, she has showcased great vocals and -- more importantly -- the willingness and desire to have fun. I wasn't happy with her stream of tears last week (I feel it kept her in the competition), but she rebounded last night. I wasn't sure, however, why Mr. Cowell had her signing On The Radio. Still, she did OK.

All that said, is there really much doubt that this year's top three is the strongest in Idol's four-year run? I mean, seriously, there is hardly a Jasmine Trias in this bunch.

QUICK HITS: Now even Ryan Seacrest is screwing up. Did you catch when he read Vonzell's numbers wrong after her second song. At least producers caught it quick enough for Metrosexual-My-Ass to read her correct numbers after the break. ... There was more number snafus at show's end when the digits took forever to pop up on Bice's replay. I doubt, at this stage of the competition, that it will have any effect. America's not that clueless, right? ... So George Huff was in the crowd last night. He always was fun. ... Glad to see Paula Abdul still is acting wild and crazy on the Idol sidelines. ... I can feel a bout of depression coming on after next week's finale. No my TV lineup will be trimmed considerably. Everwood's season finale is next Monday, followed two days later by the final Idol. And then came word yesterday that Jack & Bobby was canceled. That show was brilliant, but hardly strong enough to thrive against the Idol results and West Wing. Not sure the WB bigwigs were thinking clearly with that move.

Kitties roar late ...

The Tigers finally managed to put Piniella's Little Leaguers away last night at The Copa. They crawled to within a game of .500 for the umpteenth time this year. It shouldn't have taken heroics by Pudge and Rondell to do it, though.

I can't deny it any longer. Tram is starting to worry me. I've watched him pull pitchers too early this year (Bondo comes to mind), or leave pitchers in too long (J.J. at least once). In the middle of a winning streak, he'll bench key starters. In the middle of a losing streak, that happens, too.

Here's my complaint with yesterday's series opener:

With runners on in scoring position with less than two outs, TBay brings in a righty to face right-hander Marcus Thames. Tram pinch-hits Carlos Pena, a lefty. Normally, I've got no problem with this. Seems logical. Except that Thames homered only innings earlier.

I understand there's conventional wisdom that goes into this game. I also understand you ride a player who's hot. Or at least a player who might be getting hot. Or a player who just may have be hot for one lousy night. Apparently not. Anyway, Pena whiffs, as does the next batter. Inning over. Tigs fail to score. It takes Pudge's two-out single in the ninth to tie it and Rondell's single in the 11th to put away the pride of Alex Sanchez (three hits ... how ridiculous is that?).

Bright side: Ugie looked great. Dark side: Carlos Guillen left with knee pain. Here's to hoping he doesn't join biggies Percival and Maggs on the shelf.

QUICK HITS: Jack Nicklaus says he's ending his competitive career this summer at St. Andrews. Seems like a fitting place to say good-bye, but I hope the Golden Bear doesn't follow through on his statements this week. He's still got enough game to make the occasional cut, as he did at last year's Memorial. ... Annika won again last week. She'll go down as one of the top five golfers of all time, male or female. I wish she'd make a couple more appearances on the PGA Tour. She could make a cut or two. ... The Pacers aren't smiling anymore. The loss in Game 5 was -- for all intents and purposes -- the end of their season. There's no way they're going to take the next two from the defending champs. ... That's blog entry No. 1. Check back soon for more.