Lickett, Flickett, Stickett: Pickett!

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SPRT
Well, at least two awesome things went down on the Hunter's Point landfill last afternoon. First, the 49ers flipped a lot of numbers on their proverbial ears, dispatching the 5-1 Buccaneers, 15-10. The Niners never folded, never turned the ball over, never allowed a sack, never let the Bucs break a run, never relinquished the lead.

Stories on the week that was focus on Pro Bowler and perennial Len Eshmont Award Winner (for inspiring teammates) Bryant Young having a "meltdown," making impassioned speeches and twice going after rookie tough guy David Baas in practice. Teammates restrained Young -- although, says fireplug impersonator Anthony Adams, it wasn't him:

"Whatever he said, he shouldn't have,'' said Adams, chuckling. "I wanted to see [BY] go.''

The other thing that happened is good news only to this kind of franchise. With their struggling first string quarterback hurt, and their second traded, the Niners were resorting to former athlete Ken Dorsey to inch them closer to the draft pick that brings them USC runner Reggie Bush.

But Dorsey -- one 49er who plays more like a Scottish Claymore, in more ways than one -- let the wrong D-lineman sit on him, and had to limp off. And so it was that Cody Pickett -- long, lean, strong, and speedy, a former rodeo cowboy, and this year's jack-of-all-trades, went literally from tackling a punt returner on one play to calling signals on the next one.

The crowd was chanting Cody's name; even the US Justice Department employee watching alongside me refused ample opportunities to rescind his ringing cheers at Dorsey's misfortune. (That's right, he's a prosecutor.)

Of course, Pickett's 1-for-1 performance and key scramble still amount to little more than handing the ball off ten times, and, as so often happens in life, the real heroes were the ones bending over and sticking their fat asses in the protagonist's boyish mug.

The good news, other than fellow doormat Houston Texans' win, leaving the Bush sweepstakes status quo (a downtrodden team can't play both sides, but a downtrodden fan certainly can) is that Dorsey's ankle, along with Alex Smith's knee, will continue doing funny things well into next week. So Pickett, who's at least kept a headset airborne a year longer than Smith, gets his chance next week against the Whoever, We'll Probably Lose Anyways next week.

Apparently, in the meeting after last week's shellacking by a decidedly average Redskins squad, Coach Nolan murmured a rhetorical question: "Are you guys still with me?" And everyone in the room shouted, "YES, SIR!" I don't know if that's true, but it beats reading about I. Lewis Libby, or G. Gordon Liddy, or whatever they're calling him these days. (Did he misplace his blue Hello My Name Is: Fall Guy nametag? Has anyone seen a headline like, "Lewis Libby Sinky Shippy?")

The last positive in Ninerville -- you've got to write about 'em when you find 'em -- was the crowd. If you thought Niner fans would stay home, or stay quiet, just because we've spent the millenium as the laughingstock of the NFC, you've misunderestimated the San Francisco sports fan.

In addition to fingering Pickett as the bench's best story (and Pickett-fingering is usually a five yard penalty) the 49er Faithful got good and loud, motivating the retro red jerseys -- a look that says "winners" -- drowning out Buc signal callers, and occassionally even the fourteenth-string announcing team they always throw at us.

The betting action on Niner games this year has centered on when this week's pair of bozos break down into biting remarks over college rivalries as play continues unnoticed. Seriously, they can't find two enthusiastic interns to throw in there?

So enjoy the attention for a week, Niner fans; or, if you're a Bay Area sports fan in general -- how can yesterday be the first day in almost two years that both the Niners and Raiders won? -- for a day only, until we get the bad news that the Warriors have either re-signed or failed to re-sign Mike Dunleavy by today's deadline.

'Til then, I bleed Niner red.

And to all you Jews out there: Chappy Challoween.

MR

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"Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication."
-Leonardo DaVinci

Mr. Smith Goes To Washington, Sucks

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SPRT
Okay, I know I've already wasted far too much cyberspace -- there's only so much to go around -- talking about the Forty Niners, a franchise wallowing at such a meager fraction of its heyday that it's often mistaken for the Sixers.

But while my judgments to date have been lukewarm -- or a downright refinery blaze, given the facts in evidence -- I have to admit that yesterday's performance can be read much like a Wes Craven starlet running up the stairs.

The worst is this: Alex Smith finally made a mistake.

I don't mean his seventeen interceptions, or his sixty-four fumbles. Given the state of his O-line, his paltry experience, and so on, Smith's only statistical goal should be to keep his quarterback rating off the richter scale.

Thus far Smith, sheltered by Coach Nolan's downy wing, has done swmmingly in the one area that matters: not fucking up the press conference.

In the meantime, this season, and probably next, will be spent learning the NFL game, which, for a twenty-year-old QB, resembles Nelson Mandela entering a Korean Halo tournament. In the meantime, Smith needs to impress his teammates with his toughness -- plenty of opportunity there -- and his smarts and reliability, which in this case means showing up on time and never misplacing his helmet.

Since D-Day, Smith has done all of these things. But yesterday, after a game in which he fumbled three more times (recovering two) Smith made his first misstep. Asked if the drops were a sign he was bothered by Washington's pass rush, Smith replied lamely, "I don't think I was rattled... Obviously, we don't get to choose the game balls. We're on the road. The air's a little different."

Smith -- who is big, has large hands, and was picked partly for his ability to run away from other big people -- has watched his undermanned team dry hump the mat in at least two games this year (counting Week Two in Philly, a 42-3 beating, in that Week Five's twenty-five point loss at home to the Colts was hailed as a moral victory) and has to wonder when the team will assign him a number, instead of the Target logo.

Okay. We'll give the rook something he's had precious few of: a free-and-clear pass. After all, as our great President once said, "Fool me once... shame on...? Shame on you... If you fool me, you can't get fooled again."

But for the sake of the franchise, let's hope the Niners don't schedule any games where the air's REALLY weird.

Like Mars.

Or Denver.

MR

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"The media is the message."
-Marshall McLuhan

(R) + 49 = Awful

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POL
Question -- do these scandals happen more to Republicans?

Or to Democrats?

Take a moment to think about it. "Scroll down for answer."

Okay, it's the elephants, right?

I'm reading the CNN article on Fitzgerald, and I guess he has to balance his time chasing Rove and all them against chasing a former Republican Governor accused of taking money.

It happens the other way. Cruz Bustamante, to pick a name, looked to me like someone whose ass pocket could use lining.

But let's be real about it.

Cheney's friends are ENRON... Rove looks like Agnew... DeLay is not only a crook, but rumored to be half orc; I suspect he's really Bill Romanowski's father.

I don't know. These guys are just more ruthless. That's why the Democrats are going to win the next Presidential election -- if not the midterms -- because they may be a bunch of sops, but they do believe in their mission, and only now are beginning to understand what's at stake.

You've heard my theories before. (If you haven't, do your duty and check out the archives. What are you, at work? You've got fuck-all else to do.) The politics of the Republican party make it natural that they counter the masses' best interest. This makes for a hateful bunch.

SPRT
As the Niner game begins, a few thoughts:

*Bruce Thornton is going to shut down Santana Moss and, say, go to the Pro Bowl.

*This is NO WAY to play football. Niners set a record for fewest first downs in a season.

*Brandon Lloyd will be around for a long, long time -- and retire with an unbelievable highlight reel.

*That Gatorade ad they just showed -- 'What if great moments had changed by an inch,' with Jordan's shot missing, Jeremy Giambi safe, and so on -- really cool. The editing is great -- Dwight Clark clutches his head; Jordan stomps moodily to a halt.

*If you can help it, or are on medication or feeling at all unwell:

...try not to watch this team.

MR

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"Divide each difficulty into as many parts as is feasible and necessary to resolve it."
-Rene Descartes

I'm Speechless

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POL
No.

Voter fucking fraud in the Iraq elections?

I won't believe it.

Call me naïve.

SPRT
Albert Pujols: were you watching? Those who do not watch Albert Pujols at-bats are condemned to repeat it.

MR

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"Even kids cannot stand life unless they have a drink."
-Advertising slogan for Kidsbeer, a cola, marketed by the Tomamasu Corporation, that looks and foams like beer.

"Love Goes Out the Door... When Money Comes Innuendo"

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BLK
Here's what we're looking at.

"People are making serious money in this hurricane but
not the working and poor people who built and
maintained New Orleans. President Bush lifted the
requirement that jobs re-building the Gulf Coast pay a
living wage."

Now if any of you FUCKING ASSHOLES who actually voted for it, and again in 2004? -- HELLO? -- would like an 'I told you so,' I'll be sitting right over here in hippieville, walking my golden retriever in the park, while a tsunami kills all of your hired help.

PS
The "Bush is drinking again" rumors won't go away. What do you think?

Rumor and innuendo.

That's what we do here.

MR

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"Show me the man who keeps his house in hand,
He's fit for public authority."
-Sophocles

Sox Win; Sox Lose; Honeycutt Explodes

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SPRT
So, somebody heard me -- and this time, all the way from the East Coast.

I call John Smoltz perhaps the best money pitcher of all time. So what happens? Ozzie Guillen sees his White Sox load the bases on D, up only a run, in the playoffs against the dangerous Red Sox. He calls on Orlando "El Duque" Hernandez -- half-brother to one of the biggest CHUMPS of all time, Livan "Fat Ass" Hernandez -- and in a series of epic battles, El Duque calmly gets Out One, Out Two, and Out Three.

Now, Hernandez has been denied the chance to compete with Smoltz, Gibson, Jack Morris, and others for "Biggest Money Pitcher" because the United States doesn't like anyone we can't destroy, rendering Communist Cuba and its many talented citizens verboten. But if he fails to end the discussion, it's not for lack of trying. (Oh, I'd better say STARTING pitchers. Otherwise, as El Duque might point out, I'd have an angry Mariano Rivera to deal with -- and you don't want one of those.)

But let's give credit where it's due. Guillen -- who looks hardly older than his veterans, and loves nothing more than a passionate, confusing quote -- is an inspired manager. He's got his charges playing together as a team, maximizing the sum of their parts -- the hardest thing to do on the South Side, or anywhere else. I mean, everyone keeps saying that speedster Scott Podsednik has been the addition the team is built around, yet the Sox are still described as a three run homer outfit. Podsednik's forgettable second half was revealing -- keep in mind, this is a guy who for ten years couldn't hit enough to stick in the MINORS -- but it's still a remarkable contradiction. (Podsednik also set an unofficial record for most balls cut off in the gap, holding guys to singles, in a short series.)

I don't know how Guillen and company got John Garland to turn into Derrick Lowe -- the guy who won twenty, not the guy you saw before and since -- but for a former shorstop, the man knows pitchers. Ron Gardenhire, I hope you're paying attention.

In this age of specialization -- generally considered to have started when Tony LaRussa invented a robot that could throw up to eleven pitches from the left side eighty times a year, and named it #*Rick $_@Honeycutt∫˜html -- Guillen looks for his best pitcher, waits only for the toughest situation, and pulls the trigger.

In Game One, with Dustin Hermanson warm the whole time, Guillen went to Bobby Jenks -- and his two-plus months of Major League experience -- to start the eighth, then sat on his hands until Jenks had finished Boston and the game. Now, in game three, he doesn't care that it's only the sixth, or that his man wasn't even supposed to make the postseason roster. El Duque was the best man for the job, and the job was to get out of that jam.

Wonder how some guys just seem to get more out of their players? Well, the best managers are the ones who manage situations by demonstrating the greatest faith in their guys. Guillen does just that. And that's what players respond to.

It's amazing how, in Chicago or anywhere else, no one's been saying it: Sox for the Series. The White ones. How fitting would it be if the unconventional Guillen is forced to match wits with the automaton LaRussa for all the chips?

SPRT
A post-script to yesterday: apparently the Niners gave -- GAVE -- Jamie Winborn to Jacksonville for a seventh round pick. They don't even get any cap relief, though they do still get to pay a large chunk of his wages.

This is out-and-out robbery, and even the Niners brass must know that. Nolan has his reasons. But nobody will ever know what the hell they are.

POL
In other news, Republicans stall a five minute vote for over forty minutes, while they urge, cajole, and, I would think, blackmail fellow party members -- after all, Tom DeLay was leading the charge -- until one man's will breaks and a despicable energy bill passes, 212-210. (Why it's despicable, I have no idea. Sometimes it's enough to watch who's voting where. By the way, apropos of nothing, Anne Coulter tells Bill Maher on his show that liberals hate black people, and the whole exchange is entertaining. Okay, it's not entertaining. But it is friendly, which is just as unlikely.)

A nice moment after the vote: Democrats stand up as one and actually chant, "Shame! Shame!"

...And set a new Party record for timeliness: they're only three years too late.

MR

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"Dissent is the highest form of patriotism."
-Thomas Jefferson

Two Heroes of Martin's Late Childhood Crushed Under Boot of Almost Totally Unfair Drug War

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CLTR
I'll try not to let it affect my writing, but I'll tell you... I'm very sad today.

This whole week, in fact. Two of my longtime idols are, it turns out -- brace yourself -- cocaine users.

As much as I'd like to believe their respective busts resulted from plants, conspiracies, parallel universe phenomena -- how can such earthy people have such complex problems? -- both have a history, and I think it's time to face up.

Kate Moss and Boy George, we hardly knew ye.

SPRT
My friend Ellie El has an interesting theory on 49ers Head Coach Mike Nolan, who jeapordized his 100% perfect track record with two questionable moves this week. First, Nolan got speedy linebacker Jamie Winborn all packed up with no place to go, finally unloading him to Jacksonville yesterday for an undisclosed draft pick. Circumstances are murky, so this one's hard to judge. Okay, file it under "Fool Me Once..." and give Nolan the benefit of the doubt.

After all, Nolan easily overcame his rookie status and displayed the perfect poker face throughout the draft pick hype; he drafted offensive linemen early and often to protect new golden boy Alex Smith; he brought on the unassailable Mike Singletary as his Assitant Head Coach, rekindling Niner fan dreams of comic book antihero Ronnie Lott; he showed Smith his confidence in him by annointing him the starter in training camp, then protected him by delicately removing him for the mediocre veteran when it was clear Smith wasn't ready; he swore by the ancient running-and-defense formula, even though it was clear the Niners had neither; and he rallied his players by insisting their goal was to finish in first.

So we'll spot Nolan a Mulligan for whatever it is that happened with Winborn (he insists the move was the result of a numbers game, and not any disciplinary issue.) But after Tim Rattay overcame his gutsy nature to unleash his true genius -- namely, playing a deeply forgettable brand of quarterback reminiscent of Ken Dorsey and an awful lot of other modern-day red jerseys -- Nolan has again named Smith the starter.

What's questionable about this one is: against the Colts? The Colts, for one thing, are 4-0, compared to the Niners' 1-3. The Colts feature a vastly improved defense under Head Coach Tony Dungy, featuring right end Dwight Freeney, the NFL sack leader over the past several years. Oh, and the Niners are badly banged up -- to a comical degree in the defensive secondary, yes, but also at several positions key to the 21-year-old Smith's sucecss: number one wideout Arnaz Battle is likely unavailable with a hamstring pull, and prize free agent aqcuisition Jonas Jennings, their left tackle -- and as such, the guy assigned to protect his quarterback's backside, literally -- not to mention the man matched up directly against Freeney -- is out for at least the time being with a torn labrum. (Of course, I'VE got a torn labrum, and you don't see ME complaining about it. It really hurts when I type, though: a lot. I'm in a lot of pain here, people. Doing my best, here.)

Ellie El's thinking, perhaps rightfully, is this: Smith knows he's a target; the whole world knows it. Against Indy, the key is, in a word: low expectations. With a bye week coming up, Smith can enjoy two weeks of ego-soothing recovery time, rather than two weeks of hype and nerves. For that matter, he'll likely benefit from something that happened last week: being down by enough points in the second half to enjoy low-pressure short pass situations, giving him at least a small cushion from the blitz -- which the Colts don't use much anyway -- and probably a measure of success to buoy his spirits.

One thing, at present unrelated to the Smith story: this defense will soon be very, very good. Look at what they've done so far: Rattay and company can barely manage a first down -- the Niners score more on defense and special teams than when the offense is in charge. Thus the D has spent an insane amount of minutes cracking heads on the field; last week (on national TV) the announcers joked continually that the offense's best contribution was committing enough penalties to give their defense a little extra sideline time.

Anyone remember that horrible playoff game in Atlanta in '98, when Garrison Hearst broke his leg on the first drive, and the defense was so banged up that Bryant Young played end? Yes, the game was a demoralizing loss, but, at least partly freed from the bonds of run-stopping duties and double-teams, Young was a terror. Now, with fire hydrant impressionist Anthony Adams and Isaac Sopoaga, the Samoan Saab, emerging at nose tackle, the Niners' only remaining Super Bowl winner is yet again showing what he means to his team, not to mention leading the league in sacks.

So, despite questions centering mostly on the running game -- and speaking of the O-line, where the heck is 2005 draftee David Baas? -- what the heck, I'll take the Niners and the points.

Lots and lots of points.

POL
So, that's good. We finally have confirmation. We're in Afghanistan and Iraq because God told former and current alcoholic George W. Bush to put us there.

According to Nabil Shaath, who was the Palestinian foreign minister at the time, and Palestinian Authority President Mahmoud Abbas, who backs up Shaath's story, "President Bush said to all of us: 'I'm driven with a mission from God.'

'God would tell me, "George, go and fight those terrorists in Afghanistan." And I did, and then God would tell me, "George, go and end the tyranny in Iraq ..." And I did. And now, again, I feel God's words coming to me...'"

Reports that God has, in fact, told Bush that he "may need a bathroom break??" have not been confirmed.

SPRT
Tell me I'm wrong:

With the possible exception of Bob Gibson, John Smoltz is the best money pitcher of all time.

SPRT
One more comment on the Niners. Remember when Tim Rattay, drafted late, hung around long enough to get kudos for his, uh, steady play, eventually making it all the way to starter? Well, Cody Pickett's done the same thing.

Only Pickett's been praised for more than just consistency, including what's supposed to be a laser arm. And while Rattay pulled his "I'm not dead yet!" act for what seemed like ages, Pickett was drafted just a year ago. Plus, Rattay was never asked to play wide receiver, special teams, and even free safety in practices -- Pickett has done all of these, and seems to enjoy it.

Says here Smith, after the years and years, oh, and years, of development required of NFL QB's, turns into a solid player, high on mobility and respected for his leadership qualities. But I bet Pickett makes it, too, maybe to be a better than average starter somewhere.

Too bad you have to turn 30 (except under the "Manning Exemption") before they give you your key to the Quarterbacks Club.

MR

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"We're on a mission from Gahd."
-Elwood Blues

Bush Sheds A Single Tear

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POL
There's a new joke going around. Have you heard it?

It features a Mister President George W. Bush, sitting in the Oval Office in the evening, being briefed on the day's events.

Secretary Rumsfeld is listing off the day's war dead: "...And of our international coalition, three Brazilians have been killed." As Rummy goes on to describe troop positions and possible upcoming scenarios, a look of horror darkens the President's face.

"Three Brazilians?" he stammers. "Killed?"

Rumsfeld, accustomed to seeing his boss yawn at the deaths of dozens, hesitates. "Well, yes, Mr. President. Three Brazilians are dead today."

"My God," says Bush, crossing himself, "that's terrible. Terrible!"

As Rumsfeld digests this curiously humanitarian reaction, a deep silence falls over the room.

Finally the President takes his head out of his hands and looks up.

"Donald," he begins.

"Yes, Mr. President?"

"One question."

"Yes, Mr. President?"

"...How much is a berzillion?"

MR

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"For men to search their own glory is not glory."
-Proverbs 25:27