Whoops

On Saturday morning I learned the news of Mississippi State beating UConn the night prior. The Huskies were 21 1/2 point favorites and as we all know, hadn't lost a game since about the time I last posted something on GTB. 111 games straight. Last loss sometime in 2014. And the two teams played each other last season with the Huskies coming out on top by a mere 60 points. What were the odds of an upset? Long to very long. On Friday I remember seeing the money line on one of my degenerate gambler Twitter feeds. To win $100 on UConn simply winning the game you'd have to put down $7,000. No joke. Conversely if you had the wherewithal and spare coin to take a flyer on Mississippi State, that same $100 would nab you $2,000. Veddy Nice!!!

I rarely wager outside of college football but I do follow gambling related stories. Here are a couple of lads who wagered on the Friday night game. One found himself on the right side of luck. The other...nope. These are just the two that we know about. One big bet I would place would be on the likelihood that there were many others that wagered on the game and for much bigger dough. It isn't hard to imagine pretty boy Floyd (Mayweather) dropping $100,000 on the upset for the chance to collect a $2M payday. I'm guessing our readers stayed away.

Man Races Dog, is Elf

I was perusing Runner's World the other day, as I occasionally do if I'm in a mood to torture myself with the realization that my fastest race times are behind me. (Though I did finish 2nd in my age group in a 5k two weeks ago. If you think this post is an elaborate and thinly veiled attempt at self-congratulation, well, you might smarter than you look.) In between reading about the soul-breaking training sessions of world class ectomorphs and the best oatmeal and avocado-based diet for distance training, I happened across a heart-warming story about a man and his dog.

Or so I thought.

A guy named Jessey from Ontario, Canada just ran a 15:25 5k while tethered via leash to his dog, Hunter Buxbaum, setting a world record in the process. That's a pretty cool story, and Jessey was justifiably psyched.

But that wasn't half the story. At least it wasn't the amazing half. Turns out the Jessey isn't a man at all. He's an elf.

Born Ben Sayles, the 22 year-old Canadian grew up with a serious affinity for Christmas, and specifically for all things elven. He played an elf in a local holiday play for four consecutive years. And as the story goes,

"He thought it was fun and wanted to make the passion part of his identity. So two years ago, he underwent a five-hour operation to morph the tops of his ears into a point. The procedure cuts out a pie-shaped portion of skin, then sews the ends back together to form the sharpened apex. Elf (then with the last name Sayles) was awake during the surgery. He watched Interstellar, and of course, the Will Ferrell-classic, Elf, to distract himself from the pain." (To the latter, natch.)

And he paid the Canadian government $138 to legally change his name to Jessey the Elf.

Mr. The Elf is a serious triathlete (he finished 18th in last year's Canadian National Championships) and started running 5k races with his dog, a Hungarian Viszla, as part of his training regimen. The rest, as they say, is history.

According to the world's fastest elf, “People ask if, psychologically, I actually think I am an elf. It is not to that level. I just think it is cool having such a different name and pointed ears. It’s really out there.”

That's one way to put it. We celebrate you, Jessey the Elf. May your aerodynamic ears cut through the wind like a hot knife through maple syrup.

NBA Potpourri - Math Nerd Edition

We're approaching the end of the NBA's regular season. This has been a fun one, with the three-pointers, the triple-doubles, the heated MVP race and the meshing of the Bay Area's superstar team. But we're seeing some twists toward the end of the regular season, as injuries have impacted several contenders and tightened races for home-court advantage. Let's dig in, shall we?

1) Russell the Love Muscle's Triple-Double Chase - It's in the Bag
After his latest ridiculous stat-line last night, Russell is averaging 31.8 ppg, 10.6 rpg and 10.4 apg this season. So the triple-double stat line is well within reach. Through 74 games, Russell Westbrook has 769 assists. That's a 10.4 per game clip. To ensure a triple-double, he needs 51 more in his last eight games, or 6.4 per game. So it's possible he clinches this portion of the feat in the next 4-5 games. He has 781 rebounds so far this season. At 10.6 per game, he only needs 39  more in his last eight games, a 4.9 per game clip.

2) The Eastern Conference Race for the #1 Seed is Wide Open
The Cavaliers are first right now, with 26 losses from their 73 games played. The Celtics are second, with 27 losses and 75 games played. The surprising Wizards are in the mix as well, with 28 losses and 74 games played. With the Cavs "reeling" (5-5 in their last ten games), both other teams have a legitimate shot. The real upshot of the #1 seed (other than home-court) is that you theoretically can play Toronto in the second round and avoid one of the other two. Methinks the Cavs pull this out, but will be fun to watch in the next three weeks.

3) The Western Conference Race - Also Wide Open
At press time, it is halftime of the Warriors-Spurs game, and the Spurs are leading by three at home. Going into the game, the Warriors had a 60-14 record and the Spurs had a 57-16 record. A Spurs win tonight would put them 1.5 games back, but only one back in the loss column. I think the Spurs get it done this year. Coach Pop has to be aware of the psychological significance of taking homecourt advantage, especially since the Spurs won the first two head-to-head match-ups this year, and are now leading in the third. I think the crew in San Antone gets it done and takes the #1 seed.

4) Back to the Thunder - is Big Russ the MVP? 
Today, my vote goes to Harden, given the Rockets' strong season (especially relative to the Thunder) and the comparability of his stat line (29/11/8) to Westbrook's (32/10/10). I am not a sucker for the "all in double-digits" pizzazz. But we still have about 10% of the regular season to go, so I have time to change. And the middle of the pack is pretty tight. The 4-6 seeds (Jazz, Clippers, Thunder) are separated by only two games in the loss column. Getting to the #4 seed would mean a team is only one spot behind the Rockets. So if Russ can lift his team higher (the #5 seed seems inevitable, given the Clippers find a way to suck balls at the end of every regular season), the MVP race could get tighter.

Happy viewing, fockers.

Sometimes Hate Wins

There is an official mantra at this blog about not taking things seriously or something like that. I can't be bothered to check in the manual to find out what it really is. And I guess there is some sort of unofficial vibe that this is a place to visit to escape the stress/annoyance/ennui of the real world. So content that is put up here should check these boxes.

But sometimes it can't. Because sometimes the content needs to show that we will stand up for the things we have conviction in. Even if the conviction is a palpable mix of fear and loathing that runs through every vein in your body, a feeling that dates back to November 2016, to a moment that feels like the beginning of the end of everything you ever felt comfortable about in your previous life.

I am speaking, of course, of the worst pop song of all-time. A song that wormholed its way into my head when I first heard it, and occasionally pops up on that gawdawful SiriusXM station The Blend that my 7 year-old occasionally requests.A song that a good friend called "a tsunami of douche". I love that phrase and have no idea what it means.

The song is Play That Song. The band is the tsunami of douche otherwise knows as Train. The first time I heard this song, I thought it might be a sex groove. After all, what would you think if you heard the line "Play that song, the one that makes me go all night long"? But is far from a sex groove. Far, far far from it. Instead, it is a make-your-johnson-shrivel-inward-like-the-head-of-a-frightened-tortoise kinda tune. It takes the classic piano riff Heart and Soul, strips away everything authentic and sincere about it, and adds layers of cheese, synth and sadness to create something terrible.

The video below speaks louder than my alcohol-soaked verbiage can. It is just so goddamn awful that it makes me want to cry and punch something. The addition of the piano rug at the 2:20 mark, a sad, sad, sad call-back to Big, somehow makes this whole thing even worse. I wouldn't bet on the lead singer in a fight against a piece of corn in Robert Loggia's feces, let alone against Josh Baskin. Over 12 million folks have watched this video. That makes me all kinds of sad. This song is not catchy in a good way or a bad way, like the jammer Pen Pineapple Apple Pen. It just...is.



If you did not know this song existed and resent me for bringing it to your attention, just remember that I am showing you a side of this American society that is very real. And very sad.

I am sorry for ruining your week with this post. The only antidote I have is some unadulterated rock and roll. So enjoy the tune below and try to unhear the tune above. Screw you, Train.

The Stouter The Better

Most readers of this blog know that I'm an unrepentant beer snob, a lover of the dank, bitter hop. It's not a big secret. Lately, though, I've been stepping out on my best girl (metaphorically, and beer-wise only) with a sweet, sexy, boozy little number. I'm talking about caramel, and chocolate, and vanilla, and ABV to keep you away from heavy machinery. I'm talking about Imperial Stouts.

It started over Christmas, where a friend had Weyerbacher Sunday Mole Stout on offer. I had two, and I couldn't walk straight. The Easton, PA brewery starts with their renowned Sunday Morning Stout, and adds a traditional mole blend, including ancho, pasilla, mulato, and chipotle peppers. It's got a nice late heat, and an almost sweet chocolate/coffee flavor. And, did I mention that it's 11.3% ABV? Dayum.

My interest in the dark arts piqued, I snagged a 22 oz. Stone Imperial Russian Stout at my local Wegmans. Predictably, one of America's best and most creative craft brewers serves up a righteous tipple. Ratebeer gives it a 100 score. At 10.5% ABV, it'll warm your cockles - it's a smooth yet full-bodied mistress. Stone themselves say that the stout is "intensely aromatic (notes of anise, black currants, coffee, roastiness and alcohol) and heavy on the palate...expect this mysterious brew to pour like used motor oil and taste even heavier! Serve at 55 degrees." This is one Russian investigation I'm not going to want to stop.

We've got a little restaurant here in town owned by a FOKQ&MRKQ, called the Leesburg Public House. The food's creative and consistently excellent, and the beer list is long, ever-changing, and diverse as all hell. It's in a location that's been death to restaurants in our town for years, and it's a testament to the quality of their execution that the Public House is thriving where many others have failed. My wife and I frequently head there for a couple of pops and apps when we're trying to escape our kids. About a month ago, I had a Lickinghole Creek Heir Apparent from LPH's taps. The brewery is based in Goochland, VA, home to at least a few FOGTBs, and Heir Apparent is a revelation from the Man above. In the words of the brewers, "Heir Apparent is an imperial stout with a complex caramel soul tempered by a chocolate and roasty undertone. Sweeter in style than Russian Imperial stouts at only 60 IBUs but balanced by the heat of fresh Mexican peppers, vanilla and cacao nibs. The Heir Apparent is ambitiously biding his time until he comes to power. His time will come." This 11.5% monster is fucking amazing. After trying it a the pub, I grabbed a 25.4 oz. bottle at the store. It was the sweetest ass-kicking I ever had.

And just this week, I found Afton, VA's Blue Mountain Dark Hollow. Just like the others described in this post, it's big, and dark, and boozy as all hell. Drinking it on a weeknight is poor decision-making. But if you want to sip something that'll take the pain away and leave a sweet haze covering everything, Dark Hollow will do just fine. It's an Imperial Stout that's aged in bourbon barrels "still dripping with uncut whiskey". I don't know what that last part means, but I do know that you can taste the brown liquor in the 10% ABV beer.

Like a junkie needing more and more, I appear to be ramping up to stratospheric ABV heights in my personal beer-based Vision Quest. The stuff I've gravitated to lately is closer to wine than to your normal American lager. This is the single best thing about the Trump era, as far as I can tell.

Have Fun, Go Nuts

One for all and all for one/We salute our champions/Hail to the Flying Squirrels/Who stand for you and me

So begins 'Hail to the Flying Squirrels', the brand new anthem for Richmond's AA Eastern League franchise, an affiliate of the San Francisco Giants. As you might imagine, we're predisposed to like all things Flying Squirrel, but minor league baseball ain't exactly renowned for its highbrow cultural institutions. And as a result, we received the news that the Squirrels had released an anthem with appropriate caution.

As it turns out, it's a catchy little ditty. The songwriters from Richmond-based production company Black Iris, obviously listen to their share of the Dropkick Murphys and Flogging Molly, to name just a few.

I can't figure out how to embed an mp3 file into this newfangled blogging interface, so you'll have to go here to listen to the song (and download it, 'cause I know you'll dig it and want to have it at your fingertips).

As the chorus exhorts us all, have fun, go nuts.

Laughing with Tears in My Eyes

For a while there, Steve Bannon, Stephen Miller, and the rest of Team Trump rode a wave of hagiography that cast them as paradigm-destroying, swamp-draining geniuses. The left added 'evil' to that description, but in general, a credulous media gave the new administration a great deal of credit for a systematic approach to dismantling the foundations of the modern American state.

That edifice crumbled pretty quickly, no? From a disastrous ban on foreign travel from Muslim-heavy countries, to a nearly-as-disastrous attempt to resuscitate it, to support of a widely panned healthcare bill, to a budget proposal that would be crippling in its breadth  if it weren't literally illegal to pass, the Trump brain trust seems to resemble nothing so much as the Really Rottens of Laff-a-Lympics fame. Their cruelty and bad intent is routinely scuttled by their incompetence.

It would be laughable, if it weren't so consequential.

It's still laughable, actually. Case in point, last week, the White House either completely failed to understand obvious satire and mockery, or never read past the headline of an article by Washington Post writer Alexandria Petri. That headline, "Trump’s budget makes perfect sense and will fix America, and I will tell you why", was followed by an obvious and over the top (so, really, quite Trumpy) sendup of the folks that are running our country at the moment, including such gems as:

The piece continued on to describe in ridiculous detail some of the specific cuts President* Trump's budget proposal (which, as I may have mentioned, is cruel and incompetent) suggests:

 Petri closes with a flourish, and a literal LOL line to boot:

The article was amusing, an obvious (to most) cathartic salve to the liberal soul. To at least one person who works in the White House (it's Trump, isn't it?), it was something different entirely.

Here's a screenshot of the White House Daily Newsletter from March 16, which includes the President's daily schedule, as well as links to a couple of articles the White House thinks are important for the public to read. One's a Politico piece about Irish Taoiseach Enda Kenny's visit to Washington. The other, Petri's budget-praising snarkfest.

As Petri herself put it in a follow-up article/facepalm explaining how it feels to become part of the story, "This is 2017 in a nutshell: You start with what you think is obviously a joke, and then a few days later it is being sent out from the White House."

The stock market's just started to figure out that maybe Trump is full of shit and genuinely incapable of understanding or keeping his campaign promises. FBI Director Jim Comey (Go Tribe! If we're claiming him. Given the fact that there's a strong argument all of this is his fault, maybe we shouldn't.) confirmed D.C.'s worst-kept secret, telling Congress that the Bureau is investigating the Trump campaign's ties to the Russian government. We're basically all fucked.

At least we'll die laughing.

Madness, Day Four

You've almost made it, boys and girls. One more day to go in the first weekend of the tournament, and I know we're all feeling a little bit melancholy. Except for Danimal, who's been wearing the green in Savannah for the past few days, and might not remember his own name. It's Danimal.

But we're here for you. A little pick me up to get you ready.



Chuck Berry passed away yesterday, and while his personal legacy is a bit justifiably tarnished, his musical influence is undeniable. In a terrific 2016 New York Times Magazine piece, Chuck Klosterman argues that, "Chuck Berry may very well become the artist society selects when rock music is retroactively reconsidered by the grandchildren of your grandchildren."



I think Przemek Karnowski is my favorite player in the tournament, with Deonte Burton a close second. In the big Pole's honor, here's cut by Riverside, the Krakow Post's selection as the Best Polish Rock Band of 2015.

Musical Madness, Day 3

The on-court action hasn't been all that mad yet, so we fully expect today to be bonkers. And if it's not, all the better for the pool I filled out solely based on KenPom ratings. Go Zags! We're in the business of slapping together barely related musings this week, so here's a little more.



Both this fine blog and Sentence of Dave have posted about the legendary Tuareg band Tinariwen in the past few weeks. I'll be damned if you can't hear their influence in the first part of this excellent, multi-faceted (and wicked chill) new single from English indie group Alt-J.

Run the Jewels rolled into DC last month for a couple of shows at Echostage. While they were in our little town, they played one of the cooler NPR Tiny Desk Concert sets I've seen (and there have been some amazing Tiny Desk shows - you could do worse than spend an evening sipping a beverage of your choice and binge-watching on YouTube). The chemistry between Killer Mike and El-P is amazing in such a small space - their ad-libbing is effortless. Make sure you watch to the very end for a message from Mike.



As always, this is but a vehicle for your commenting genius. Go get 'em, champ.

Madness Open Thread, Day 2

Hey you. Don't watch that. Watch this.



Your commenting paradise awaits.

Madness Open Thread

On the best sports day of the year, our traditional* filler post, complete with my earliest/best childhood NCAA Tournament memory. I even remember the Bryant Gumbel cut-in:



*It's not, but I'm ticked I didn't think about it earlier. Go Seahawks.

Better Know Your Asshole Politician

Steve King (R-IA) just saw a black person on Capitol Hill

It's been a while since we dropped one of our signature 'Better Know' posts. Historically, we focus on minor league baseball mascots and the occasional Canadian Football League franchise. Today, a bit of a departure. I hope it's temporary, but there are lots and lots of potential entries in this particular category. Just wait until we get to Gohmert.

Name: Steve King

District: 4th District of Iowa

Tenure: 2003 - 2017, though technically he served the 5th District from 2003-2013, then didn't get the hint when the 5th was abolished and won election to the 4th in 2013.

Major Policy Issues: Healthcare, Agriculture, Immigration, Economy & Federal Spending, Unvarnished Racism

Legislative Accomplishments: Near as I can tell, based on a review of Congress.gov, King's accomplished fuck all in 14 years in Washington other than conclusively proving that he's soulless racist asshole. Maybe you can figure out where I've missed something.

Achievements in Jackassery: King made news this week for retweeting nationalist Dutch politician Geert Wilders, adding his own enlightened commentary.

David Duke quickly endorsed King's viewpoint, saying, "sanity reigns supreme in Iowa's 4th congressional district". By day's end, even Republicans were going on record to say that, "Hey, y'know, maybe that's a littttttle bit racist, bro. And we prefer our racism a bit more subtle." Paul Ryan said that King had maybe misspoken, but King clarified that he meant exactly what he said. It's refreshing, I guess, that racists are cool with coming out of the closet. Means we can see them coming.

So America got woke to Steve King's gross worldview this week, but this dude's been a fucking asshole for a long time.



He's compared immigrants to dogs, and suggested that America select them as if we were choosing the pick of the litter.

Predictably, he made an issue of Barack Obama's middle name during the 2008 Presidential campaign.

In 2010, he took to the floor of the House and insisted that racial profiling was an important part of police procedure.

He was one of 11 Representatives to vote against providing Federal aid to Louisiana in the wake of Hurricane Katrina. Because, blacks, I'm guessing.

I could go on. I won't because I'm becoming even more disgusted than I was when I picked up this pen* and started writing.

Fuck Steve King, and fuck a party that countenances people like him.

Sunday Morning Pajama Music

Ignore the awkwardness of the scene. Maybe don't even look at it - just listen to the tune. I've been digging on Pinegrove's Old Friends for a couple of weeks now. It's spare, and simple, and it somehow brings me back 20 years. Perfect Sunday morning coffee drinking, newspaper reading, bracket contemplating stuff.

Today is a #nice day

Morning folks. TGIF. I'd like to welcome you all to the 69th day of the year. Niiiiiiiiiiiice.

Announcing An Upcoming Announcement

Democracy Dies in Darkness is the earnest and timely new motto of the Washington Post. Peeps, apparently, die in the bright light.

On Sunday, the Post is set to announce the end of its popular Peeps Diorama contest's 10-year run. According to the Deputy Editor of the Washington Post Magazine, David Rowell, "Hard journalism this was not, but for us the contest offered its own sweet rewards. As fewer submissions began to come in, though, echoing the decline in readership of this feature, we knew that it was time to let bunnies be free again, and we have ended the Peeps contest run."

As staunch supporters of Peeps, and of the contest (several of us having submitted losing entries in years past), we can't stand idly by while Peep sculpture is denigrated as less than serious journalistic enterprise. Nor can we let this rite of Spring simply disappear.

We're not the only ones, apparently. The Washington City Paper quickly tweeted their intent to pick up the Post's sword and fight on, as will local blog Popville (I don't know them any more than they know us). And we're cool with that, because a) our idea transcends Peeps, and b) more importantly, we've always been kind of an NIT-level thing, and so our aspirations are fairly modest.

The Teej and I were in the midst of discussing logistics for G:TB taking over the Peeps Diorama contest when we realized we'd actually started seven years ago. Dave, who's known for a lot of things, but generally not for his prescience, actually prepared us for this moment when he inaugurated the first G:TB Circus Peanut Diorama Contest in April 2010. Here's a copy of the rules:

The rules for G:TB First Annual Circus Peanut Diorama Contest are as follows: 1) while making the diorama, you must be under the influence of at least ONE circus peanut. I ate two. 2) No Peeps allowed.

So we've got a framework, but we're going to make a few changes. We'll announce the complete rules on Monday, which will likely expand the candy palate to the entire Easter ouevre (yeah, that's right, you can use Cadbury Creme Eggs and those crappy thin-shelled chocolate eggs, if you'd like, and Peeps will be allowed). But fret not, Post Peeps peeps, we're here for you. Get to work.

Check Ya Rec(tum)

Last night, I had a delicious meal of pork dumplings and Asian slaw, which I followed with a large chocolate chip cookie. I had a beer at about 9:30 (Rogue 7 Hop IPA, if you're curious, courtesy of the new Total Beverage in my hometown - and ain't that a gift from the Gods). And I won't have anything else of any substance until 3:00 PM tomorrow.

I'll be subsisting on Jello, coffee, broth, and water today, and I can't have anything at all tomorrow morning. Beginning at 4:00 PM today, I'll be cranking 12 oz. of SuPrep and 80 oz. of water to Roto Rooter my insides. Then, tomorrow, a doctor's going to knock me out and shove a tube up my ass.

I'm doing this for you, friends.

You see, my family's got a history of lots of different kinds of cancers, chief among them colon, with esophageal and prostate running close behind. As a result, my doctor suggested that I accelerate the normal timeline for men to get their shit checked out (literally, I guess), and I'm scheduled for my second colonoscopy tomorrow. The first one was a thing of beauty. The pictures, anyway. My colon's a kaleidoscopic marvel. I'll spare you actual visual.

So if I'm cranky online today, you'll understand why. Just remember that I'm sacrificing so that you'll have me around for a good long while, and make sure you ask your doctor about your own colonic health. The life you save may be your own.

This Week in Wrenball: There Are Mountains

Sublime confluence of superstition, laziness, and Gheorghian repetitive tendencies this morning, as we get you ready for the Tribe's 2:00 tip against top-seeded UNCW in the CAA Tournament semifinals.

As we told you previously, W&M needs senior Omar Prewitt to play to his potential to have any chance of breaking history's grip on the program. Prewitt scored 10 of the Tribe's first 16 points on the way to a 20-point, 13-rebound effort in a 71-66 quarterfinal win over Elon. One down.

Number two will be much harder, and 71-66 is more likely to be a halftime score than a final. UNCW dropped 101 on W&M in the teams' first meetings before the Wrens turned the tables, scoring 96 to blow the Seahawks out in Williamsburg. Both teams have strong offenses and like to play at reasonably quick pace. Wilmington is deeper, and in Devotae Cacok have an inside presence that the Tribe is hard-pressed to match.

The Tribe are underdogs, there's no question. For them to reach their third CAA final in four years, a lot of things have to click. You know what one of them is.

This Week in Wrenball: CAA Tournament Preview.

We're kinda exasperated, too, Tony.

The 2017 CAA Men's Basketball Tournament begins tomorrow in Charleston, SC with the annual Pillow Fight Friday play-in games. Your William & Mary Tribe (16-13, 10-8 CAA) nailed down the 4th seed with a nerve-wracking 83-79 win over Towson last weekend. The winningest senior class in school history (all 318 years of it) takes on 5th-seeded Elon at 2:30 Saturday afternoon.

Let's dispense with the obvious. I don't have the first clue what to expect from this W&M team. They beat every team in the conference at least once, and lost to everyone except Delaware. They ran then-unbeaten-in-league-play UNC Wilmington out of the gym in Williamsburg, winning by 18. They topped Elon at home, too. The Wrens also got ripped by 24 in Wilmington, and lost on the road against a dreadful JMU team and a lousy Drexel squad.

The Tribe can win this tournament. There's an equal chance that they lose to Elon.

I've been wandering through a thicket of statistics to see if I can figure out a key to W&M's success, and I'm struggling to come up with anything concrete, other than a fairly obvious correlation between shooting percentage and victories. When they shoot well, they win. When they don't they usually lose. The Tribe's not gonna create a bunch of extra possessions via turnovers and offensive rebounds, so they need to make their shots. Rocket surgery, it ain't.

While I was engrossed in hoops stats, I did find something that amazed me. Check out this comparison (click on the table to enlarge it):

Player A is Marcus Thornton during his senior season in 2014-15. The consensus CAA Player of the Year and unquestioned greatest to ever wear a W&M basketball uniform was incredibly productive, for sure.

We'd take another game like this one.

Player B is Daniel Dixon this year. Nearly across the board, his senior year numbers are better than Thornton's. He's been a more efficient shooter, better from deep and from inside the arc. He's rebounded effectively, passed well, and been a better defender.

Color me bumfuzzled.

You could argue that Thornton had greater responsibility, initiating the offense while being the unquestioned focus of opponents' defensive game plans. And you might note that Dixon has the luxury of a pass-first point guard in David Cohn to get him looks and carry the primary ball-handling load. You'd be right in both cases. But as good a season as I know Dixon's had (he's scored in double figures in 22 straight games, dropping 30 or more five times - the most for a Wren since Adam Hess did the same in 2003-2004), I had no idea he was scoring at such an elite level.

Dixon's numbers get even better in CAA play, where he's shooting 60% from two, 40.7% from three, and a league-best 86.7% from the line. He's averaged 29.5 points per game in his last four, getting stronger down the stretch. He pulls down nearly six boards a contest in league play, and drops almost three assists a game. He's a no-brainer first-team All-CAA selection who'll get some POY votes. Considering where he came from the first time we wrote about him (in a cameo performance in the greatest basketball story ever told), Dixon's step up has been the story of the season.

As good as he's been, he's going to need help in Charleston. Omar Prewitt's senior year has been as strange as Dixon's has been sublime. Prewitt's scoring and efficiency numbers have declined across the board, and his three-point and free throw percentages are the worst of his career. He looked lost at the line late in the Towson game, short-arming a pair of crunch time freebies. He's capable of dropping 30 or completely disappearing - he did each of those things in the season's final five games.

The Tribe's two-headed post has stepped up of late, with both junior Jack Whitman and freshman Nathan Knight recording big games in the season's final stages. Cohn's been a solid and reliable triggerman. Greg Malinowski's been less consistent than Wrenville would like, but he's capable of getting really hot from deep. All of those guys need to deliver to keep the impossible dream alive, but we need the Omar that showed up in the epic Hofstra semifinal in 2015 to have more than a slim chance.

It ain't Baltimore any longer, but it may be our last time to type it. Omar need to be comin', or the forces of good can't hold this corner.

PSA: Soccer Safety

In every youth soccer league of which I'm aware, the kids are required to wear shinguards. On it's face, this seems like a prudent policy, but if you delve below the surface, it's really just a ploy by Big Shinguard to get millions of American parents to drop extra coin on thin pads that don't provide that much support.

Or so I thought, until my weekly run with the rest of the old guys. I cleared a ball off the line, but just barely. As I tangled with an attacking player, he attempted to backheel the ball into the net. He made solid contact. With my unprotected shin. I pretended it didn't hurt.

It hurt like a motherfucker. It still kinda hurts, but I'm so sore for several days after playing soccer that it kinda blends in with the rest of my aches.

I'm buying catcher's shin pads for next week's run.

And I prevented the goal, and later scored on a sweet flicked header, so glory is mine.

Game Over, Man. Game Over.

As most of you know, Bill Paxton died today at the way-too-young age of 61. He was Gheorghe's kind of actor, versatile and funny, with an ever-present hint of mirth in his eyes. He appeared in two of my very favorite films, stealing the show as Chet Donnelly in Weird Science, and catalyzing Kurt Russell's badass turn as Wyatt Earp's younger brother Morgan in Tombstone. Ironically, in both cases he played the brother of a character named Wyatt.

We'll pour a few in his honor this evening while watching the Oscars.

Turn This Mutha Out

As I haven't been shy to disclose, my wife and I walked around the corner to see George Clinton and Parliament Funkadelic at a cool little music venue in our town. The Tally Ho Theatre's been around for a while in various incarnations, but at present, it's a 500-ish capacity joint with great acoustics and good beer. We usually get touring tribute bands, local talent, and the occasional one-hit wonder (Gin Blossoms have been here a couple of times), so it was a bit of an excellent surprise that the Mothership landed in Leesburg.

Brother Clinton is pushing 80, and his role is more that of conductor than full participant in much of what his band kicks out, but he led P-Funk through a nearly three-hour set of funk, rap, metal, blazing guitar from Blackbyrd McKnight, and more funk. 

I grabbed a couple of shitty videos, but I missed capturing McKnight's incendiary ten-minute solo work on Maggot Brain. You can check out a reasonable facsimile here:

Here are the few that I took, and no, I have no idea how to rotate the second one. Just tilt your heads. Coulda sworn I got video of Atomic Dog, too, but there's no proof of that. Clinton's the one wearing the white bathrobe, though he's done away with his trademark rainbow dreads. We got close enough to the stage by the end of the evening that my wife managed to snag beads tossed by the band on their way off the stage. Didn't ever think I'd get see P-Funk live, and I sure as heck didn't think it'd happen walking distance from my house. Pretty, pretty cool.

I need some parenting advice

How am I supposed to handle this?

When I sat zson down and told him he wasn't allowed to use potty words at school he said "Like what?" and I said "Like poop and butt" and he laughed and I started to laugh and caught myself. Then he asked "Can I yell penis?" and he has a lisp so he said "penith" and I almost lost it but held it together and said "No, you can't yell or even whisper penis." So he whispered "penith" in my ear. I don't think the talk was successful.

Soothing a Savage Beast

It's Presidents Day, but we're not here for that. We're here for a whole bunch of new music by bands we like. And we're here for you adding new stuff to this post, because you like bands, too.

Longtime GTB faves Old 97s release Graveyard Whistling, their 11th studio album, on February 24. Rhett Miller and the boys recorded the record at the same studio they used to make their 1996 major label debut, Too Far to Care. If the first two singles are any indication, this one will be on the dark side. Here's the second single, All Who Wander.



Indie darlings The Shins (famous mostly for the namedrop on The Test podcast) are out with Heartworms, their newest album, on March 10th. The first single, Name for You, sounds very Shinnsy.



New Pornographers are one of the most underrated bands of the last fifteen years. A.C. Newman stands in line to nobody when it comes to writing a pop hook. Their new album, Whiteout Conditions, hits on March 10. They'll be at the 9:30 Club on April 28 and 29 if anyone wants to go see them. This is High Ticket Attraction.



Red Baraat might be the world's best party band. They release Bhangra Pirates on March 24, and will conveniently be playing The Hamilton in DC that night and the next. Haven't seen any videos yet for this record, so enjoy this NPR Tiny Desk Concert from 2012.



Last, but certainly not least, Son Volt released Notes of Blue last Thursday. You can hear Promise the World here, and listen to the entire record at NPR. Jay Farrar might not have the critical and public acclaim of former Uncle Tupelo bandmate Jeff Tweedy, but Son Volt are reliably excellent and evocative of a place and time.


What else is out that the Gheorgheverse needs to hear, boys and girls?

Minnows and Narhwals

Embarrassment of footie riches this month, as our friend Fat Guy in a Speedo has been productive. The fifth round of the FA Cup kicks off this morning, with storylines to please the most discerning fan. We've got bigs versus littles, hooligans against champions, and probably an unavoidable thrashing or three. Fingers crossed that Fulham avoids getting completely throttled by a pissed off Tottenham side that's coming off dismal performances against Liverpool in the league and Gent(!) in the Europa League. Herewith the Fat Guy:

It’s the fifth round of the FA Cup this weekend and we all know what this means; a week off of soccer watching for everyone but the single, male whose team is still in the tourney. That being said the Cup still delivers in the minnows vs. narwhal scenario that was envisioned at its inception. Or maybe the FA never thought that grown men would kick a ball on some grass for a metric shit ton of poundage 120 years in the future.

The two teams to surprise this year are Lincoln City and Sutton United, two non-league teams - which means they are mostly made up of amateurs whose day jobs consist of non-soccer related activities envisioned by the FA 120 years in the past. (Speaking of Fat Guy, Men in Blazers had an awesome interview with Sutton's backup goalkeeper, 280-lb, 46 year-old Wayne Shaw.) Put into perspective by the Guardian (and proving its reporter wrong), “You probably won’t read this anywhere else this weekend, but just nine non-league teams have made it to the fifth round of the FA Cup since the end of the Second World War. This season, two of them have done so for the first time since the establishment of the Football League in 1888.” So there’s that.  

Unfortunately, statistical significance doesn’t equate to real-life excitement as prior girlfriends can confirm. Sutton United play an Arsenal team whose 5-1 midweek tonking in the Champions League by Bayern Munich should inspire them to victory in pursuit of the only silverware they might have a shot at this year. It’s actually looking like Arsenal manager Arsene Wenger will finally part ways with the club he’s been at for twenty-some years this summer. I hope not, as the angst of Arsenal fans worldwide has provided the rest of us with huge amounts of schadenfreude over the past decade. Lincoln City vs. Burnley might be more competitive but I doubt it. 

So, what’s worth watching you ask? Fuck if I know. Millwall plays Leicester City, and this might be interesting in that high-flying underdogs Leicester City won the league handily last season and are in danger of relegation this season, which would be a first in the modern era; paradoxical in light of the highly consistent Lester with whom we're all familiar. Plus, Millwall’s fans will chant “No one likes us, we don’t care” whilst hooliganing the shit out of the place as is their wont. Fulham – Tottenham has potential unless you follow oddsmaking. 

It's supposed to be beautiful outside this weekend. Maybe just go for a walk. 

Keeping It 100

On Tuesday night, four-time women's NCAA Division I basketball champion Connecticut defeated sixth-ranked South Carolina, 66-55, marking the Huskies' 100th consecutive victory. That's an amazing number. The excellent Sally Jenkins wrote a compelling piece on the victors' run, calling out John Feinstein by name under a headline that read, 'Bored by UConn women's dominance? You must not like basketball.'

I was amused by the rare public slap, and enjoyed the article's dissection of Geno Auriemma's exacting standards. But I didn't think much about the thesis until I got a direct message from a friend on Twitter, which read:

"As a keen and varied sports observer, father of daughters, and possessor of Y chromosome and all of its lunkhead qualities, curious about your take on UConn women and 100 in a row and where it rates on your spectrum."

I am, in fact, a keen and varied sports observer. I watch all kinds of athletic contests, male and female. I've watched more women's soccer over the last six months than I've watched NFL football. It is also true that I possess one or two lunkhead qualities. But I do have daughters, and I'm an unabashed lefty women's rights supporter. Hell, I've written multiple posts right here about Elena Delle Donne.

And after careful thought, I realized that I don't give much of a damn about the UConn streak. In fact, I kinda agree with the aforementioned Feinstein, who responded to his close friend Jenkins this morning. The nut of his thesis is basically this: I prefer men's basketball because I know it better, and because it's more competitive:

But, Sally my love, here’s the thing: I’m going to continue to watch the men because I know and understand the game and I know and understand the people. If you prefer the women’s game—or, for that matter—the NBA, I am 100 percent fine with that.

I would never criticize you for not finding Saturday’s game between UMBC and UMass-Lowell as interesting as I will find it.

And I’d never call you stupid for two reasons: 1: I know you are smart as hell. And 2: you’ll always be the sister I never had.

Geno Auriemma is a hell of a coach. Connecticut's accomplishment is stunning, incredible, and unlikely to be repeated. Unless they do it again, because as Feinstein points out, the rising tide of women's basketball has yet to lift all boats. UConn has yet to have an opponent come within 10 points during the current streak. That's impossible. Or at least impossible in a sport that's got any kind of real competitive balance.

But it's a crazy streak, regardless. It just doesn't move me.

Go Buy Charles's Stuff!

My friend and former colleague moonlights as a professional actor. A few years ago he told me about an improvisational dramatic film he was working on. It's now available on iTunes, Amazon and at live screenings. Here's the trailer.



I suggest you support independent film and rent (or even buy!) Somewhere In The Middle this weekend.

World Music Tuesday

What, you're not familiar with World Music Tuesday? Maybe you should pay better attention.

One of my favorite Tuareg rock, folk, blues bands released their newest album last week. Tinariwen, featured here previously, has an amazing backstory, full of legitimate danger and intrigue (and Roy Orbison), and a dizzying melange of influences on their unique sound.

Dig their new single, Sastanaqqam, from their album, Elwan:

This Week in Wrenball: The Next One(?)

A little over five years ago, something happened in a William & Mary basketball game that made me literally jump out of my seat with wonder and surprise. Marcus Thornton's audacious drive and dunk attempt signalled a new era in Tribe hoops history - unto us that day a (near) savior was born.

Marcus is two years gone now, learning his trade as an offensively talented but still raw professional point guard. He's averaging 11.3 points and 1.6 assists (with 1.9 turnovers/game) for Consultinvest Pesaro in Italy's top league. But just his week, something else happened in a William & Mary game that made me sit up and take notice, if not exactly jump.

Early in the second half of the Tribe's eventual (and brutal) road loss to Towson, freshman center Nathan Knight grabbed three boards (two offensive), scored a basket, made two free throws, and ran the floor to make an acrobatic block on Tigers veteran forward John Davis. Knight's efforts helped the Tribe extend their lead to 15, and though they ultimately blew that lead, it was a bit of a coming out party for the exuberant 6'10", 250-pound newcomer.

Knight scored a career-high 15 points in 19 minutes against Towson, making 4 of 6 from the field and 7 of 8 from the line, adding 5 rebounds and 5 blocks in his best collegiate performance. He tied that career-best scoring mark yesterday against Charleston, going 5-7 from the floor and making all 5 of his free throws to go along with 6 boards in a tidy 19 minutes. In his last four games, the Syracuse native is averaging 12.5 points, 4.8 rebounds, and 2 blocks, despite never playing more than 19 minutes in any of those games.

The big lefty served notice of his talent early in the season when he dropped 14 on Louisville despite missing 7 of 9 free throws. He took 12 shots in that game, refusing to back down against the Cards' big, athletic frontcourt. After his recent upswing, he averages 7.9 points and 4.4 boards per game, making 54.0% of his shots, and leads the CAA in blocks/game, averaging 1.5. His 37 blocks are already the 8th best single-season tally in school history. All of this in an average of only 17 minutes.

W&M's had some talented offensive big men, and they've had guys who could get after it on the glass and defend the rim, but they haven't had both in the modern era. Nathan Knight looks for all the world like he combines Tim Rusthoven's skill in the post with David Cully's strength and defensive talent. And if he continues to develop, G:TB readers will get very familiar with his name and his game.

After yesterday's win over Charleston in Williamsburg (where W&M has yet to lose this season), the Tribe are 14-10, 8-6 in the CAA. They're tied for fourth in the league with Elon, and appear assured of a top six finish, which is all that matters at this point. The league's six best teams avoid Pillow Fight Friday, where the 7-10 seeds square off to see who advances to the CAA Tournament quarterfinals. Just like every year in the past decade or so, W&M has enough talent to win the title. And just like each of those years, they're one inexplicable hairball puke away from losing to someone with inferior talent.

But whatever happens this year, Nathan Knight's big smile and bigger game portends good things for the next three seasons.

Fill 'er Up Friday

I spent the week in Orlando with a bunch of sales guys. Recovery starts now.

But the world still needs us, so I can't shirk blogging duty. Our man Teejay offered this spot-on political analysis this morning:

Inspired by his simple wisdom, I reached out to the White House for comment. The response did not fill me with confidence.

Logo-a-Go-Go

Our tiny dictator wants a post up pronto.  What with our doofus overlord vacating the position 36 months ago, you're our only hope, Obi Wan.  Oh, wait, is that me?  Filler ensueth.

Every good rock band needs a logo.  The bigger and better your band gets, the more ubiquitous that logo is, and the more that image -- often without any words to associate it with the band -- stands just fine as a symbol of the group.  There are specific criteria that separates the best logos from the rest, some objective and most subjective.  I won't list them.  You get it.

Instead, I will proceed directly to the List of the Best Musical Act Logos.  A better name for this is Best Rock 'n' Roll Logos, but some might argue about certain acts' inclusion in the "rock" category. Whatever.  You get it.  Here we go.  This is what I came up with...

Top 12 Logos that Include the Band Name:

Top 15 Logos That Don't Include the Band Name:

Sometimes logos are meant to be mashed up.  Check out this T-shirt on local DJ Les Coole:

Feel free to add to this list.  

Oh, and yes, #8 is of course Random Idiots.

Bite Me, Randy Newman

The Michigan directional schools are making a serious play for my affection. First Eastern Michigan and the legendary Earl Boykins, and now the Chippewas of Central Michigan, who've doubled down on diminutive dribblers. (Yeah, that's right.)

Marcus Keene leads the nation in scoring with 30.2 per game, and he's deservedly received a great deal of run in the national media. Sports Illustrated just profiled the 5'9" guard, and he got an ESPN highlight package of his very own just two nights ago. He dropped 50 in a 101-92 win over Miami (OH), and a cool 36 when William & Mary came to Mount Pleasant.

Keene also gets 5.1 assists and a ridiculous 4.5 boards per game. A good percentage of those dimes come on passes to fellow 5'9" guard Braylon Rayson, who averages 20.3 points of his own in coach Keno Davis' freewheeling system.

Davis encourages his team to let fly - Central Michigan is 4th in the NCAA in points per game, 3rd in the country in 3-point attempts, and 2nd in 3-pointers made per game. And judging by some of Keene's highlights, he's cool with his players, um, expressing themselves. Check out what Keene does at the 5:40 mark of this highlight package against Wisconsin Green Bay:



Six point game, a couple of minutes to go, your starting point guard pulls of a gratuitous reverse spin and steps into a deep three, that he drains? Cool, cool.

So in Central Michigan we've got not one, but a pair of Tiny Archibaldalikes in one starting backcourt? Pinch me, I think I've found the Lollipop Guild. The Chips are 15-8, 5-5 in the MAC, so they're gonna need some luck to play on a bigger stage.

Perhaps we can arrange some leprechauns.

zSuper Bowl zPorn

Big game tonight, I guess. I'm mostly excited about the appetizer festival we're making as a family to celebrate America. But our tradition of service as a comment zone for big national events demands that we post something. The public needs us. And we're not a blog that shirks its duty.

If you've got $312k burning a hole in your bank account, and you aren't willing to wait for the GOP to destroy the economy to see it disappear, then I've got just the thing for you. Legendary British automaker Aston Martin, James Bond's preferred ride, just announced a convertible version of its Vanquish platform, and holy Lord above is it a gorgeous piece of automotive ass.

Not only does the V12 engine pump out 580 horses, but it packs Satin Chopped Carbon Fiber panels and a Sumptuous Bridge of Weir Caithness Leather. If you know what that means, you'll know how incredible this car is. And if you know, I'd love it if you could tell me. Because I don't know.

But look at that thing. It's a damn sculpture on wheels. Prettier than anything we'll see tonight, with the possible exception of Julio Jones.

Roll Tide.

Bigly Football

The English FA Cup fifth round matchups were drawn earlier this week. For the first time in history, as far as we know, two non-league sides have reached the final sixteen, with matches to take place two weekends from now. Sutton United will likely get smoked by Arsenal, and Lincoln City is a big underdog against Premier League minnows Burnley, but it's a miracle that both fifth-division teams are still alive. For what it's worth, I dated a girl named Sutton once. She was really cool and hip and I have no idea what she saw in me. The first night we met, I impressed her by putting an empty bread bag on my head. My game was strong. She still is cool and hip, actually. She's a lesbian art director in San Francisco now. 'An art director who happens to be a lesbian' might be a better way to write that sentence. So I'm rooting for Sutton United.

I'm also rooting for Fulham, who take on Tottenham Hotspur on February 19. The Cottagers are in good form, and Spurs won't necessarily field their first team. So I'm sayin' there's a chance.

We asked our so-called football expert, Fat Guy in a Speedo, to give us a fuller preview of the fifth round. We got more than we bargained for.

Okay? Look. Many, many people have been telling me many, many things about this FA Cup thing over in England. No one knows that I am a huge fan of English soccer, it’s true I am a tremendous fan, believe me. My friend, who happens to be a very famous soccer player, probably the most famous player ever, told me that no one is a bigger fan than me, no one. It’s true he said that.

 People, lots and lots of people, ask me why I’m such a huge fan of the FA Cup, they do, they really, really, do. Is it because it’s 144 years old, they ask? Look, I tell them, so what if it’s hugely, hugely old? John McCain is really, really old and he’s a total loser, big league. Could you imagine a 144-year-old broad? Please, what a total disaster that would look like. I would rather grab a total pig like Rosie O’Donnell’s pussy than some 144-year old’s. It’s true.  Believe me.

“Well,” they ask, “is it because every team in England gets to play in it, amateur and professional? David vs. Goliath?” Listen, I don’t care about a bunch of losers playing against their superiors. I mean what are we now, Communists? Wait, can we strike that quote. I actually know some important Communists, I mean they are very, very, very important and they are really great people, really great, believe me. If I ran the FA I would get rid of amateur teams, I mean, who needs them, who wants to pay money to watch their loser team do what they do best and lose? And we’re not even talking about a lot of money here, we’re talking about really not a lot of money. These are really, really, not smart people.

“Then why do you like it?” they ask, and it’s simple, so simple even that handicapped reporter the lying press said I made fun of could understand it. Fake news! Fake news! I was a tremendous soccer player when I was young, it’s true, ask anyone. I could play any position and I was the best at it, really the best. For free kicks, I used to build a wall with the other team’s players. It’s totally true, ask anyone. Everyone thought I played soccer because my tiny hands didn’t have to hold a ball but that is more fake news. True, I never had a handball but they were all very, very jealous losers. I mean, where are they now? Exactly. They all respected me a tremendous amount. I quit playing because team sports are for failures. Everyone knows this is true, go ask anyone. Winners don’t need to be dragged down by losers just because our team shirts are the same color. I mean, did you remember those shirts? How ugly were those things? I wouldn’t use them for toilet paper, am I right? Well we’re bringing the shirt making back to this country and it’s gonna be great and a lot of people are gonna have a lot of new jobs. People without jobs destroy things. What, you say they don’t? Well somebody out there is destroying those things.

Wait, wait, what’s that? You want to know who’s left in the Cup this year? All the big-league teams and some of the losers are left. Fulham plays Tottenham, I know this because Fulham are now total crap. They were good when they were owned by my friend Mohamed Al-Fayed and he had lots of Americans playing for him but he sold them and they are really, really, crap. His kid killed Lady Di, true story. I once rented him a hotel in London, the whole thing, for double the price it was worth. Then I told him he couldn’t stay there but he had to pay anyway and he did, true story.

Finally, Some Good News from Washington

We're gonna do a post every other day this godforsaken year whether they're any good or not, so help me Marcus. I'm working on a longform one, and I've got some of our contributors hard at work on some recurring bits, but none of that is ready to go today, so instead, a formal celebration of something we all already know about.

Delle Donne!

Our fondness for the 6'5" former Delaware Blue Hen is well documented. And now she's coming to Washington, reportedly because she wants to be nearer to her family, with which she's famously close. Chicago's loss is our gain. The 2015 WNBA has averaged 20.5 points, 6.6 boards, and 1.7 blocks per game in her four professional seasons, never missing the playoffs with the Sky. She'll make the Mystics instant contenders, a status deeply unfamiliar to Washington's bumbling franchise.

(So bumbling, in fact, that I can't even waste my hard-earned money on Delle Donne swag yet, because they haven't slapped any together and put it for sale. Can you imagine that happening to a big free agent inked by Little Danny Starfucker?)

John Wall welcomed EDD to town, as did teammate Emma Meesseman. No word yet from former opponent Wale.

Adults Suck

America at this moment is bogged down in uncertainty, wallowing in the still difficult to believe new reality of our lives. Decisions, many of them hastily-conceived and influenced by fat white guys, are being made that impact the future. I'm obviously talking about National Signing Day, and I, for one, will not sit idly by while we celebrate fax machines and scream virtually at 18 year-olds who can run, jump, block, and throw - or in the case of Baylor University, do all those things while grossly violating standards of common decency, women's rights and ostensibly Christian values. No sir, not me.

Rather, in the spirit with which this blog was founded, I'm here to offer a silly filler post that serves as a vehicle for your commenting genius. And it'll make you smile, if you like the idea of 6,500 British kids singing They Might Be Giants' Birdhouse in Your Soul.