Senator Kerry, Senator Kerry

I turned to the mid-terms with my own brand of sixth-year weariness. I had promised myself to immerse myself in the minutiae of the mid-terms once the Yankee season ended, but, yee Gods. Things looked bleak for the GOP--not reason enough to turn away, but enough reason when combined with polls that seemed to point nowhere in about a half-dozen Senate races (never mind the unfathomable House races), and, most important, a profound unseriousness in too many races. This mess was, in the aggregate, enough to make me turn the dial for succor.

Put it this way: I hadn't counted so desperately on "Monday Night Football" for escape so much since George Clooney asked "Are you ready for some football?" by way of promoting Three Kings. But, this fall? Heavens, if it became a choice between watching the Maryland Senate debate rebroadcasted on C-SPAN or the Patriots-Vikings game, well, come on, man, it was time to grab that beer and cheer on Brady and the guys.

There is such a profound unseriousness in this year's elections one wants to scream I don't care! Gay marriage? Fine, let 'em. Stem cell research? Let the science go where it goes; by all accounts, adult stem cell research holds the most promise, but I was a C science student in college and am hardly an authority. Fund all of it. Global warming? When I read that a Maine TV producer had ordered a cease-and-desist on all global warming pieces "until Bar Harbor is under water," I wanted to cheer out loud. Presumably for the last four billion years the world has, at all times, been either warming or cooling; there were once icebergs in what is now Texas and, later on, farmlands in Greenland, and the notion that human behavior can either accelerate or retard either warming or cooling is romanticism on a scale that Emerson would have laughed at.

But these issues were monumental when compared to the utter triviality of the George Allen-James Webb Senate race, a race I've come to think of as emblematic of the entire year.

Tell me. Exactly when was George Allen thought of as a GOP presidential contender, a worthy opponent to McCain and Rudy? And does anyone remember when James Webb's resignation as Secretary of the Navy in 1987 was seen as a principled move over a 600-ship Navy? After months of "Macaca," and who said the n-word to whom, and deer heads in mailboxes, and "the Cambodian twist" in somebody's novel, one could not agree more with NRODT, whose words could speak for the entire election. To paraphrase: Grow up, both of you. We have more important things to deal with, chief among them a world war.

I went through all my favorite blogs the past week, and thought of some opinion to have, and simply gave up, because hardly anyone (aside from Hewitt, Malkin, littlgreenfootballs, and the sainted Mark Steyn) seemed anywhere in tune with the world as is everywhere plain.

And the elections? The GOP would lose big. And for the most trivial reasons.

And then John Kerry spoke.

“You know, education, if you make the most of it, you study hard, you do your homework and you make an effort to be smart, you can do well. If you don’t, you get stuck in Iraq.”

John Kerry: the gift that keeps on giving hope to the GOP. And the man who, as much as anyone, embodies the difference between the two parties.

Now, consider:

Did Kerry mean to imply that servicemen and -women are undereducated people?

No.

Did Kerry reveal the utter condescension so present in his party?

Yes.

Either way, those are the words that came out of his mouth. And now he’s stuck with them. And the folks that have been stuck defending a certain President’s sentences are lined up around the block to take their shot. As they should. After a day of gleefully running foam-at-the-mouth e-mails from veterans with PhDs, veterans with MDs, veterans who were valedictorians in their college graduating class, veterans who left their law practice to enlist, current soldiers and sailors who fit the above categories, and parents of soldiers and sailors who fit the above categories–after a day of this, NRO’s The Corner has at least energized the base. Kerry has no one to blame but himself.

What was revealed here was another instance of something far worse than malevolent convictions. What came out was of Kerry’s mouth was the robotic repeating of the loony left’s meme regarding military service. It is not enough for the Dem underground/Moveon/Rangel crowd to criticize the war in Iraq; it must (by way of raising the spectre of the draft) spout the “only poor/minority/undereducated kids are serving” line. And Kerry–who of all people knows this is not true, but further knows his only chance his pathetic (read: nonexistent) chances for the nomination reside in running to Hillary’s left and getting in bed with this bunch–repeats the meme in the most cynical manner. But being Kerry, the words come out in the clumsiest, most anti-Bill Clinton, most “My favorite player is Manny Ortiz” fashion. And when he’s held to his own words, his first instinct is to say, “It’s everyone’s fault but mine.”

So human. So Kerry.

John Podhoretz put it best: Who needs the Swiftboats when Kerry swiftboats himself?

The GOP may still lose.

But suddenly it's not so sullen.

Happy Halloween

And check out someone cosutmed as a Pac-10 ref.

Yes, the 20-dollar bill reads "USC," but still.

Brady is the new Larry Bird

A

1) Monday night game,

2) Against a strong defense,

3) Looking ahead to a big rival . . .

These are the games, for the first thirty years of their existence, the New England Patriots would tank on a regular basis.

Then came Tom Brady.

Red

All weekend I thought of Red Auerbach.

I never knew Auerbach as a coach, only as a general manager attempting to configer coach after coach, player after player, into one team after another worthy of his legacy. As a coach--before I reached the age of reason--he won nine championships. As a general manager--after much of the league had caught up to his style of play, his emphasis on team defense, and his indifference to race--his Celtics won seven more.

Funny to watch the arc of a career.

The Celtics dynasty began with Auerbach's drafting of Bill Russell, who won 11 champioships in 13 years. It ended with his drafting of Len Bias, by all accounts the second-most talented player in the history of the ACC (behind Michael Jordan), a swingman who could shoot anywhere off the dribble and jump out of the gym, a talent who could run with the guards and block out with the forwards. Bias was talent who put a Hall-of-Fame career and maybe four NBA championships straight up his nose and into his heart, and was dead sixty hours after the draft.

People have their memories of Auerbach's career. Mine was at home, two days after Len Bias was drafted by the reigning NBA champs, all set to fit in right behind the Celtics' power forward, Kevin McHale, and their everything forward, Larry Bird. My brother Rob heard the news at a pool he was lifeguarding; he ran to a phone and called me and I heard the news and I got in one of my parents' car and just drove and drove.

I had lived through Thurman Munson's death and would one day deal with Corey Lidle's, but this--this was the worst, a death that impacted the history of an entire league. Without Bias, Bill Walton threw himself into Herculean efforts to get in shape to be the sixth man, and broke his ankle. Almost in sympathy, Scott Wedman ripped up his foot. Jerry Sichting, who had relied on his anonymity to throw up his uncontested jumpers, suddenly found himself guarded off the bench, and receded into nothingness. The Celtics' Fab Five (Bird, McHale, Parish, DJ, Ainge), pushed into extra duty, paid the price: McHale playd the season throw with a broken foot, Parish limped through the final two rounds, DJ suffered from four different injuries, Ainge had a bad knee. Larry Bird--"The Overrated Bird," as Isiah Thomas would have it--simply screamed for the ball at every opportunity, playing all 48 minutes of a Game 7 against Detroit in the conference finals, but pushed against his limits, in the end, playing one-against-five against the Lakers.

My point? Without Bias, without Walton, without Wedman, essentially without Sichting, with McHale and Parish on one good foot, Larry Bird and the walking wounded pushed the Lakers to six games.

And these were a great Lakers teams, never forget.

Lots of memories about Auerbach;s teams. That's mine.

Oh, shut up

On Monday Night Football it was trotted out (for the millionth time) that Tom Brady was a sixth-round draft choice. Also trotted out: how many late-round draft picks quarterbacked a team to a Super Bowl win. Bart Starr. Kurt Warner. Blah blah blah.

With his customary air of officiousness, Joe Theismann said, "What I'd like to know is . . . how many first-round picks have ever won the Super Bowl."

Hmm, Joe. Let's see. Joe Namath. Len Dawson. Bob Griese. Terry Bradshaw. Jim Plunkett. Phil Simms. Doug Williams. Troy Aikman. Brett Favre. John Elway. Trent Dilfer. Ben Rothslisberger.

That was top of my head. Did I miss Jim McMahon and Steve Young?

Heh

A Maine TV news producer has ordered his station to stop running global warming stories "until Bar Harbor is under water."

Story here.

Anyone catch the World Series last week?

Vince Young's revenge?

Vince Young, playing against the team that essentially went with David Carr over him, is rolling the Texans: one thirty-yard rushing TD from a busted play to go with his passing TD.

Meanwhile, Carr has turned the ball over three times and been yanked from the game. 21-3 Titans.

Young’s rushing TD was a burnt orange thing of beauty: a streak to the sideline, and then to the corner.

Update: Sage Rosenfels, in for Carr, throws a TD to Andre Johnson. 21-10. Next series: Vince Young takes it on the keeper, and is one ankle-tackle away from breaking it. One announcer calls it, "Shades of the Orange Bowl." Yeah, the Orange Bowl, whatever.

400th post

Woo-hoo.

Arizona State 26, Washington 23 (OT)

Signs of life in Tempe!

5-3, with Oregon, Cal and USC in the rear-view mirror.

Of the four Big Six conferences structured more around football than basketball (sorry, Big East and ACC), the Pac-10 has consistently run fourth, behind the SEC, Big 12 and Big 10. This is part because late West Coast games don't start until 10 pm in the East, in part because USC has been so dominant, in part because of the second-tier (eg non-USC teams) have played so horribly in the second-tier bowls (come on down, Cal; take a bow, Oregon).

This is not to refute those who would put the SEC (featuring Vanderbilt, Kentucky, and Mississippi State) or Big-12 (Colorado, Iowa State) about the Pac-10. Well, yes it is. Consider: USC beat, and beat quite handily, two teams (Nebraska and Arkansas) that may well play in their conference championship games (Big 12 and SEC respectively). In conference play, USC is 4-1, and none of their four victories were decided until the final few minutes--two on the last play. And now a loss to Oregon State.

So you do the math. USC beats Nebraska and Arkansas. Oregon (heh heh) beats Oklahoma. UCLA, for 59 minutes, outplays Notre Dame. The only high-profile stigma was Cal, who seemingly views non-conference games as extended Spring Training, being spanked by Tennessee. Aside from that game, what do we have in the Pac-10? Eight teams who could play with anyone, perhaps Ohio State and Michigan excepted.

Oregon State 33, USC 31

Saw the bulk of the game coming back from Galveston. I don't know if USC was looking past the Beavers to the Mount Rushmore of its season--Cal, Oregon, Notre Dame and UCLA--but I know I was. Perhaps I hurt the team. A few points:

*A major upset in college football usually involves a) home field for the underdog, and b) either turnovers, lousy officiating, or a crummy kicking game by the favorite--usually at least two of the three. The officiating wasn't bad by Pac-10 standards (though I would like a ruling on the play whereby the OSU defender caught Dwayne Jarrett in midair as Jarrett caught the ball, then literally carried him out of bounds: incompletion). For the Trojans, turnovers were enough to sink them, especially the gut-punch interception in the end zone and Chauncey Washington's two fumbles, one of which occurred for no particular reason (he wasn't hit or jostled, the ball simply spurted from his grasp).

*Such has been USC's dominance over the conference (even in the face of mounting evidence the past few weeks) that, right up until the instant Booty's final pass was batted away, I more or less assumed the Trojans would win. Yes, even when they were down 23 points. Even on fourth down on the final drive.

My gosh, this was the team that drove the length of the field in the shadow of Touchdown Jesus.

Except, of course, it isn't.

*As The Irish Trojan points out (among monay other odds and ends) USC is due to take a major hit in the polls. My prediction? 11.

*Employing a wide-angled lens, so ends an era that began three seasons ago: USC's hegemony over the Pac-10. I was there when it started, in the upper deck of Sun Devil Stadium, when an little-known sophomore named Matt Leinart took the field, facing a third-quarter 17-10 deficit and the ASU faithful in full meltdown mode. Leinart had thrown three interceptions in the loss to Cal and was hardly the successor to the sainted Carson Palmer; didn't Cassell deserve a look? But that game became the template for the next 2 1/2 seasons: dominance, and failing that, every crucial bounce, every close call, every fourth-and-close going the Trojans' way. This was true across the nation, right up until Lendale White took the ball at fourth and two . . . but we could reconcile ourselves that the Rose Bowl loss was Vince, Vince, Vince, and, oh yeah, Vince.

Today was something different. This was a loss at least a month in the making, a loss to an ordinary team, a loss that throws USC back into the conference pile with Oregon and Cal to begin with, and the Washington schools. This current cast of Trojans has been living off The Motorcycle Boy's rep for too long; this loss had a sense of clarification to it, of bringing the Trojans back to market value. USC is a very good team in an improving conference, but draw a line here and now.

An era ends. So let's go get Stanford.

More Hewitt

On Sullivan.

Hewitt points out something I didn't consider: most interviewers of authors haven't read the book. Hewitt had. This, more than anything, seemed to burn Sullivan's ass.

Hewitt v. Sullivan

My two original blogging heroes square off. Hewitt's take here.

1. Sullivan came loaded with his two talking points, which seemed to boil down to:
*Hewitt was asking questions to which he knew the answer; and
*Hewitt supports torture, the suspension of habeas corpus, etc., so how dare Hewitt call himself a Christian.

To which one would respond:
*So what; and
*No, he doesn't, so never mind the second half of that.

Two months ago, when President Bush was, in Sullivan's words, attempting to "legalize torture," Senators McCain and Graham, with their objections, were held up by Sullivan and others as the conscience of the party, if not all of human history. A few days later, when the White House McCain worked out the language with McCain and sent forward the detention/interrogation legislation (just as the Supreme Court decision urged Bush to, just as the New York Times practically ordered Bush to, when such an eventuality was seen to help Democrats), McCain and Graham were sell-outs. Suddenly McCain, whose experience in the Hanoi Hilton had made him the supposed indisputable arbiter of all things torture was now Bush's water carrier.

The legislation polls at about 65% (with some dissenters thinking the CIA and military doesn't have enough leeway). The issue is dead, Sullivan can't stand it, and so he's going to drag "torture" and "habeas corpus" in at every opportunity like some drunk in the corner bar raving about "coloreds."

2. It was Andrew Sullivan who made me want to blog, if only for myself. His instincts were spot-on in the weeks after 9/11, when his postings became a kind of observance. And--give him this--he was first and loudest about the troubles in Iraq, when many of us (mea culpa!) took false hope from some signposts that, in retrospect, seem more cosmetic than cosmic (the taking of Fallujah, and to a certain extent the second and third round of elections). Beyond that, Sullivan has displayed a kind of petulant unseriousness. In the middle of a world war, he declared his opposition to Bush solely on the basis of Bush's opposition to gay marriage. His pre-occupation with "torture" approaches--sorry--a fetish, and overlooks the simple fact that Americans aren't stupid, and can distinguish between soul-killing nihilism for its own sake and the kind of interrogation that is one step removed from Andy Sipowicz in the station house.

3. It stands to reason, I think, that when you know a show's format, and agree to come on, it becomes your obligation to take part. Either that or don't come on. Sullivan appears to have borrowed a play from the Clinton playbook: take a perfectly reasonable question ("Are you a Christian?") as an excuse to fulminate. One cannot characterize Sullivan as a Democrat--he is the most unclassifiable pundit in America--but his Hewitt appearance is part and parcel with the Dem strategy in the home state:

*Stigmatize any right-leaning media person or body (Fox, Hewitt, Rush on Michael J. Fox);

*Scream about any GOP ad that scores a body blow (the "racist" Ford ad);

*Parade forth the most ghoulish victims possible, those supposedly immune to criticism (Yup, Michael J. Fox, come on down).

The sad thing is it may work. When, in 1995, Clinton ran rings around Newt Gingrich during the government shut-down, and effectively ended the conservative revolution before it started (all but what helped Clinton politically: welfare reform, free trade, defense of marriage, budget restraint), the GOP kept hoping and hoping that Clinton's shabby little scandals would lay him low. To which Rush Limbaugh responded: You can't beat nothing with nothing.

Now, with the nothing on the other foot, this election may prove him wrong.

What's with Kenny Rogers' hand?

See for yourself.

Ten years ago this autumn, in Game 4 of the World Series, the Yankees came back from 6-0 to defeat the Braves 8-6 in 10 innings. What is best remembered about that game is Jim "King" Leyritz's three-run homer in the eighth off of Mark Wohlers to tie the game 6-6, and, essentially, end Wohlers' career. (I have a framed photo of King's swing in my den.) What is less remembered about the game is how the Yankees found themselves down 6-0 in the first place. The main reason was Kenny Rogers, whose pathetic start was all but called gutless, point blank, by Joe Torre in Torre's ghostwritten book on the 1996 season.

Speaking for myself, I don't think I've ever seen a more exasperating start by a World Series pitcher. Facing the likes of Andruw Jones, Fred McGriff, and Brian Jordan, Rogers would attempt perfect pitch after perfect, even after it was clear that his control was subpar. Between innings, Torre all but begged Rogers to challenge the hitters more, and Rogers refused, shaking Joe Girardi off again and again until the bases filled. Then the Braves, knowing he now had to throw his fastball, would simply sit back and clobber him. After Rogers departed, the Yankees (these were the bad-ass Yankees of Paul O'Neill, Tino Martinez, and Tim Raines, in addition to rookie Derek Jeter) cut the lead in half. King tied the game, and then, in the tenth, Torre's pinch-hitter (Wade Boggs--the last man off the bench; it was either him or re-activate Zimmer) coaxed a bases-loaded walk from Steve Avery to take the lead for good.

There is a lot I remember from that magical 1996 season: the Yankees' unsinkable bullpen (Mariano Rivera as set-up man!), the emergence of Derek Jeter, Doc Gooden's no-hitter, Paul O'Neill playing through a wave of injuries, and David Cone visibly pleading, "Skip, I'll get him," to manager Torre on the mound during Game 3 of the World Series, the winning of which was the first of fourteen consecutive World Series victories by the Yankees through 2000. But what I also remember was the Yankees, again and again, rushing the breach to Rogers' rescue.

The Yankees won all three of Kenny Rogers' postseason starts in 1996. Rogers' post-season record that season? 0-0. Think about that. I certainly did last night, watching Rogers mow through a Cardinals team of Albert Pujols, Scott Rolen, Jim Edmonds, and David Eckstein.

It was one thing to watch Rogers go through the Yankees during the divisional playoffs (the Yankee team of Derek Jeter, Jason Giambi, blah blah blah), then repeat his performance against an A's team (of Frank Thomas, blah, blah). But this is no mere comeback. This is no hot streak. This is a performance of historic proportions, a performance to place Rogers with the post-season giants of the game: Christy Mathewson, Lou Burdette, Whitey Ford, Mariano Rivera. And it is absolutely without precedent. Not only in Kenny Rogers' career but in the whole of baseball history. It is one thing for an aging slop-thrower like Howard Ehmke to set a World Series single-game strikeout record, or for a journeyman like Don Larsen to throw a perfect game (against Jackie Robinson, Roy Campanella, blah blah). These are one-game phenomenons. It is quite another for a 41 year-old journeyman with a post-season 8.85 ERA to throw three near-perfect games in a row against three of the best eight teams in baseball.

With no more than one start--and maybe no starts--remaining in 2006, Rogers' ERA stands at 0.00. Zero point zero zero.

I spent all yesterday thinking that the almost arbitrary, who's-hot-who's-not nature of baseball these days had cut into the enjoyment of the game. In the absence of a superteam (the 1998 Yankees, the 1976 Cincinnati Reds), can we even say there's such thing as a post-season favorite? When a single hot arm (Josh Beckett in 2003; Jose Rijo in 1990; Orel Hershiser in 1988) can be the margin of victory over overwhelming favorites, what is the point of speculation? If a career post-season flop like Kenny Rogers can suddenly resemble the man he claims is his idol, Sandy Koufaz, why have any expectations at all? Why not simply sit back and see who gets hot, who gets lucky?

And then I saw the gunk on Kenny Rogers' hand.

I say "gunk" because I don't know what it is, and I'm guessing nobody but Kenny Rogers quite knows, either. It's not dirt because dirt doesn't adhere to the skin that way. It's not rosin because it's too thick. It's not--I'm told--pine tar, because pine tar gives off a distinctive smell.

But it sure as hell is something. And--as Woody Paige, in his twice-a-month perceptive moment--pointed out, no way is it there, and staying there, by accident, not the way pitchers obsess over every square inch of their million-dollar throwing arms and hands.

There is something eerie about Tony LaRussa's passivity, both during the game and after. Is his friendship with Jim Leyland sot deep that he wouldn't even request to have Rogers' hand inspected? Billy Martin would have obtained a search warrant for Rogers' glove, cap, and pockets. Earl Weaver, up against Mr. Zero Zero Zero, would have fulminated for a half-dozen minutes, trying to freeze Rogers, and I mean literally. Even nice-guy Joe Torre would have asked for an inspection. For LaRussa, nothing. In the post-game press conference it was LaRussa, not Leyland, who seemed embarrassed.

Odder still were the umpires. Time was that suspicion in a late-August game between a fifth- and sixth-place team would warrant everything short of a cavity search. I can remember twenty years ago, watching Joe Niekro being ordered to empty his pockets while four umpires surrounded him at arm's length. (He had an emory board, and attempted unsuccessfully to flip it away when he drew his left arm out of his back pocket. Ten-game suspension.) In in a playoff game in 1988, Dodger reliever Jay Howell place pine tar in his glove, and probably would have gotten away with it, except the umpires forced him to pitch in a drizzle and the stuff ran off his fingers and onto the bill of his cap, discoloring it. Tommy John and Rick Rhoden weere searched so many times they started leaving notes on slips of paper for the umpires and then sticking them in their pockets and between the fingers of their gloves: "Warmer." "Right church, wrong pew." Last night, the umpires said nothing more than "Go wash your hands," as if they were calling Rogers to the dinner table.

Has Major League Baseball suddenly turned inward? Has eight years of a steroid cloud made cover-our-asses the default position of everyone involved?

I don't know. But now I want to. And I'm not alone.

And if Kenny Rogers thought he was under a spotlight last night, just wait until Game 6--if necessary.

Kenny Rogers v. Jeff Weaver--what?

If, in 2003, Jeff Weaver had pitched how he's pitching now, the New York Yankees would have won the World Series.

If, in 1997, Kenny Rogers had pitched the way he's pitching now, the New York Yankees would have won the World Series. (Of course, he then would not have been traded for Yankee October hero Scottie Brosius, so who knows how history would have played out.)

Still. Tonight Weaver and Rogers hooked up in a pitchers' duel in Game 2 of the World Series. Incredible.

One more thing. Rogers listed Sandy Koufax as his idol. Rogers was born in November, 1964. Koufax retired following the 1966 World Series, when Rogers was 23 months old. Idol?

Pelosi: "Impeachment is off the table"

Via The Irish Trojan.

I'll believe it when I don't see it.

Some thoughts:

A few thoughts.

*Calls for W’s impeachment are about nothing less than removing the stigma of President Clinton’s impeachment. I thought impeachment of Clinton was a bad idea, not because I didn’t think the legal case was there (perjury has to count for something), but because the whole exercise seemed so pointless. It was as if Otter had somehow been elected House Majority Leader, and announced it was time “a really futile and stupid gesture be done on somebody’s part.”

(To which Henry Hyde would respond, “And we’re just the guys to do it.”)

I hate their organization, but at the time I thought, Yeah, if Clinton won’t do the honorable thing and resign, censure his ass and move on. Impeachment won’t help anyone.

But the House went ahead and impeached, the Senate did not convict, and now Clinton has his two-comma problem (”Bill Clinton, one of only two US Presidents ever impeached, died in his daughter’s best friend’s arms this morning”).

Thing is, Clinton’s impeachment will never go away. The only Dem response is to make it more commonplace.

*Timing is everything. Remember the rumble about Clinton’s impeachment first stretched across September and October, 1998–before the midterms–and by November the GOP had overreached so badly it was slapped down in the form of 6 lost seats. Should the Dems take over, with John Conyers (absolutely unbeholden to Pelosi) chairing the Judiciary Committee, they would have an entire year to run wild before it became part of any election year debate, and two whole years before an election. Anything that happened would be long over before Hillary or Kerry or Gore would be asked their opinion on the matter. So, (as seems likely) should the Dems take the House, they can adopt the mantra of their forbears: “If it feels good, do it.”

(Yeah, I’m aware of the Foley comeback here.)

So: Dem House. Hearings. Nothing brought to the floor. But (the Dems think) Oh what fun. We’ll see.

What we think we know

In college football, heading into the last week of October:

Ohio State all by itself.

Michigan is number two.

USC's undefeated record looks a heck of a lot more impressive in light of Oregon's loss to Washington State and Cal's near-miss with Washington. After both of USC's win with Washington schools came down to the final play, USC's record was seen as tainted, as both UDub and Wazzu were seen as part of the Pac-10's second tier. Now we know better. As we sit here, USC is still ahead of the pac: not by a mile. This is not the 2005 team, with 11 All-Americans; this is not the 2004 team, for which (to bring up two small footnotes) it their third-string quarterback was drafted by the Patriots (and stayed with the team); and, in Norm Chow's basic I formation, Reggie Bush, fifth place finisher for the Heisman Trophy, listed as second string. No: USC is, as we speak, just a bit better than the glop of Cal, Oregon, and the two Washington schools rounding out the top half.

West Virginia. Here is the BCS nightmare. Suppose West Viriginia, out of the Big East, finishes undefeated and (say) Texas, USC, Notre Dame, and Michigan all end up with one loss apiece? And UT's and Michigan's losses are both to number one Ohio State? The Big East was conceived primarily as a basketball conference. In its bastardized state (thank you, Donna Shalala) it remains one today. We may be moving toward a recognition of tiers between the Big Six conferences, with teh SEC, Big 10, Big 12, and Pac-10 up top and the basketball conferences (ACC, Big East) in BCS limbo?

I watched much of Texas's game with Nebraska, a game Nebraska had won with two minutes to go, and then fumbled away. Usually, a big upset in college football involves a road game and one of the following: the weather, turnovers, lousy officiating, and/or a lousy kicking game. In this case, the snow and swirling winds helped disrupt Texas's kicking game so much that the winning field goal was booted by a walk-on attempting the first kick of his college career.

So how good is Texas? How good is USC? That is a question that, at this moment, is impossible to answer.

It is astonishing that college football is the only sport in the world in which the pre-season polls play a role in the actual standings. More than any other sport, college football is a week-by-week unveiling of the truth. Nebraska nearly beats Texas, meaning USC's defeat of Nebraska is all that more impressive, only USC is overrated because it nearly lost to the Washington schools . . . only the Washington schools are better than we thought, because they played Oregon and Cal tough . . . so USC's narrow wins against the Washington schools become more impressive, and we know Oregon and Cal are good because of how they played against Arizona State . . . only, wait a minute, ASU is in a down year so how impressive do Cal and Oregon look?. . . but wait a minute, ASU very nearly beat USC!

You see what I mean.

The Senate, today

By all accounts, the Senate has come down to eight races.

Six Republican, incumbent or retiring: Montana, Ohio, Pennsylvania, Rhode Island, Tennesee, and Missouri.

Three Democrat: Minnesota, Maryland, New Jersey.

These are the stakes. The Dems must win all six GOP seats and hold their own.

As Rocco Lampone said to Michael Corleone: difficult, not impossible.

The day-to-day business can be found in Slate. Looking over that and others, there is this:

The GOP may have lost Ohio and Pennsylvania--sad, because Santorum and DeWine have been good, effective Senators, and also because that strip of states between New Jersey and the Great Plains figure to be crucial in McCain vs. Hillary.

Losing Chafee in Rhode Island--as seems likely--won't be the worst of all possible worlds.

Ford (D), in Tennessee, seems vulnerable all at once. Corker has a fighting chance.

Right now, I have to think Talent will hang on in Missouri. I sincerely underestimated the man; of the freshman Senate class of 2002, Talent and Norm Coleman are the ones who continue to impress.

Which brings us to Conrad Burns in Montana. Good Christ. A Republican Senator in a state that George W. Bush (or McCain, or Romney, or Rudy, or even pathetic Frist) couldn't lose in a Presidential election if he tried. Hillary will not set foot in Montana in 2008. So what the f---? Yes, the ties to Abramoff, yes, the war. But, c'mon. This defies explanation.

As for the Dems.

New Jersey. Let's just assume another shoe will drop re Menendez. New Jersey and corruption: perfect together. GOP gain.

Maryland. Close call. Let's err on the side of caution and say the Dems hold.

So?

52-48 GOP. Wildly optomistic now, it seems. Let's see.

Cardinals take Game Seven over Mets, 3-1

Right here.

And, how fitting that Cardinal-killer Carlos Beltran strikes out looking with the bases loaded.

What have we learned?

What the Houston Astros have known for three years. Division championships mean nothing. Home field advantage means nothing. The most important thing about the playoffs is getting in, and then hoping the ball drops your way.

The second most important thing is hot starting pitching, and--failing that--lots of good starting pitching. In 2004 and 2005, the Astros clinched the Wild Card on the last day of the season, went into the postseason, and let Oswalt, Clemens, Backe, and (last year) Pettitte take over. Over two seasons, with an anemic offense, the Astros played five postseason series and won three of them, losing one in Game 7.

And? Momentum means nothing--heading into the playoffs and during, both. Two teams surged into the playoffs: Minnesota and the Yankees. They went a combined 1-6 and were out by the Friday of the first round. Two teams limped in: St. Louis (which lost 10 of its last 12 and verged on becoming the disgrace of the sport) and Detroit (which was swept by Kansas City on the last weekend of the season, dropped to the Wild Card, and had to play its first two playoff games in front of 55,000 screaming freaks in the Bronx).

Gee, St. Louis and Detroit. Know anything those two teams have in common?

As for momentum in the playoffs, consider: Last year, the Astros came to within one strike of the World Series. Leading three games to one, with two outs in the ninth inning, with that year's new hot stopper, Brad Lidge, faced Albert Pujols. Lidge tried to end the series with a fastball. Pujols sent the ball flying over the train tracks at the top of the facade behind the left field Crawford Boxes. The Cardinals win, 7-5. And this was the moment when the momentum had shifted completely . . .

. . . except that it hadn't. When the teams repaired to St. Louis for Game 6, Roy Oswalt blew the Cardinals away, enroute to a NLCS MVP.

(Pause here for a moment. This is a strange time for pitching, something I haven't seen in thirty years, right when I began watching baseball. Right now, there is a sizable cluster of pitchers who are no-doubt Hall-of-Famers. Clemens, Redro, Unit, Maddux, Glavine, Mo, Smoltz, Hoffman, probably Mussina, possibly Schilling. This is the biggest cluster I can remember since the late seventies, with Palmer, Catfish, Sutter, Carlton, Seaver, Perry, Knucksie, Ryan . . . my God, maybe it's bigger. There is also a good group of maybe-we-can-start-counting-four-years-from-now types: Oswalt, Mulder, Carpenter, Willis, Papelbon, Zito, Sheets, Zambrano, Santana. What's missing are the tweeners, the official Hall-of-Fame watch types, the pitching equivalent to what Biggio and Bagwell have been subjected to the past half-decade. Two more good years, three more good years . . . who fits that category? Once again, maybe Mosse and Schiil. And? Pettitte? No. Pettitte is eighty wins from anything close to serious consideration. Won't get there. Beckett, Woods, Prior: undone by injuries. Just a thought.)

The best words on the above topic belong to Earl Weaver: "You take momentum. I'll take Jim Palmer."

Finally--and this has come from long inspection--baseball, though the greatest sport ever invented, proves nothing in the end. Only rarely--as in 1998-99, when the Yankees went 22-2, complete with two World Series sweeps--is post-season baseball any proof of real superiority. In 2000, the Yankees won 87 games (four managers who won 85 or more games that year were fired), nearly choked away the division championship by losing five games of softball mercy-rule proportions (13-2, etc.), and were extended to five games by the A's and six by the Mariners, but got hot, drew the brain-dead Mets and took four out of five.

For all that, the Cardinals. As Astorgirl said tonight: "I never loved Detroit so much as now."

Thoughts past midnight

James Lileks: "Will civilization be the death of civilization?"

Truly, I say yes.

I do not worry about nuclear bombs in the hands of North Korea or Iran. As Lenny Briscoe said on "Law & Order," "Crazy don't mean stupid. Look at my ex-wife."

I do not worry about North Korea or Iran setting off nuclear weapons. What I worry about is the sale of said weapons to other entities.

How to respond?

Napalm. Times a million.

With no response--with forceful civilization--the likelihood of a bomb in a major city, an event that would kill hundreds of thousands and reduce 9/11 to a mere forerunner, goes above fifty percent in my lifetime.

So what to do?

Civilization is what the UN gives you.

Survival is this.

President Bush: "Good evening. From this moment, any evidence that North Korea or Iran have a nuclear weapon, or are even close, will be considered an attack by said countries on the United States, and will be met with the full force of a military response. Yes, we were essentially wrong about WMDs in Iraq--not that Saddam Hussein did not deserve to be driven from office. Yes, if we erred, we erred on the side of safety. We will err on that side again, if pull comes to tug. But make no mistake. If we are wrong, let us be wrong on the side of safety. Thank you, and God bless America."

More Cardinal fallout

Rome just came on.

Dennis Green's post-game tirade is not to be believed.

And--as Rome pointed out--one only needed to look at Leinart's face last night to know what he was thinking: "Oh my God. How long am I stuck here?"