March Mediocrity

 Word out of college basketball today is the NCAA is about to expand its cash-cow men's and women's basketball tournaments to 76 teams, and, oh, goody. I can't wait.

I can't wait to see eight play-in games instead of four, which is the current plan for the expanded tournaments. I can't wait to see, on the women's side, Geno Auriemma pound a couple more teams 70-12 in the early rounds. 

Now, I'm sure there are folks out there who think this wouldn't be such a bad deal. More March Madness is more March Madness, right? Especially if it means more of those fan-favorite Power 4 mids get in. 

Which of course is what this is all about.

It certainly isn't about the Ivy League, the Patriot League or the MEAC getting another team or two into March Madness, even if that team goes 27-2 and then stubs its toe in the conference tournament. Oh, hell, no. Let 'em continue to eat NIT cake, the posers.

No, this is so the selection committee can wedge even more Big Ten, SEC, ACC and Big 12 teams into the show, whether or not they deserve to be there. The Power 4 poobahs -- most notably Greg Sankey from the SEC -- have been bitching and moaning 'til hell won't have it about how these small-conference automatic bids deprive some of their back-marker schools from getting in. It just tain't fair.

 "We are giving away highly competitive opportunities for automatic qualifiers (from smaller leagues), and I think that pressure is going to rise as we have more competitive basketball leagues at the top end because of (conference) expansion ..." Sankey said in 2024.

This was right before his conference got a record 14 teams into last year's NCAA Tournament.

Fourteen teams! And I bet some of 'em actually breached the .500 mark in conference play.

The SEC put 10 teams into the Madness this time around, leaving out the likes of Auburn (7-11 in conference) and Oklahoma (ditto). Add another eight teams to the pile, and they'd have likely gotten in. 

Ditto the Big Ten, which was represented by nine teams but left Indiana (9-11 in conference), Minnesota (8-12) and USC (7-13) curbside. Again, add eight more teams, and at least two of those might have squeezed through the door.

The ACC? Eight teams this year, including an SMU squad that went 8-10 in conference. 

Big 12? Also eight teams, including Central Florida, BYU and Baylor, which finished a combined 24-30 in conference play.

To reiterate: Oh, goody.

Look. The Blob has been shouting this to the heavens until it's blue in the face, which is nothing anyone needs to see: The first two days of March Madness are what sell the whole deal, and no one's tuning into them to see some crud Big 12 school play some crud SEC school in that riveting 8-9 matchup. No, sir. They're tuning in to see, I don't know, Hofstra take down North Carolina or some such thing. 

The little guys are the heartbeat of the Madness. So now we're going to add eight more Power 4 cruds to the mix? How does this do anything but let the Power 4s stuff even more cash in their already bulging pockets?

It certainly doesn't make the tournament more attractive. Or maybe adding even more March Mediocrity to March Madness is some genius-level strategy mere mortals fail to grasp.

Nah.

Journalist to the rescue

 I once saw a local media goober cut the line to get a selfie with Muhammad Ali.

The Greatest was in town for a Fort Wayne Komets hockey game, and also to meet with a bunch of kids with cancer. Local media was prevented from interviewing him -- his Parkinson's was quite advanced by then -- but we were invited to his suite in the arena to watch him interact with the kids.

One by one they queued up to meet the champ and pose with him for photos, as if Ali (who loved kids like no one else) were some sort of fistic Santa Claus. It was a sweet scene.

Until.

Until the aforementioned goober metaphorically shoved the cancer kids out of the way so he, too, could have his moment with Ali. The rest of us (and by "rest of us," I mean the other media goobers in attendance) were appalled. Like the world doesn't already think we're a bunch of lowlife hotdog-munching slobs?

"Thanks a lot, dip(bleep)," we said. Or at least thought.

Why do I bring this up?

Because the other night in Cleveland, a home run sailed into the stands, and a guy tried to grab it. Instead, he muffed it, and it rolled to a stop at the feet of a young girl. Who of course reached down to pick it up.

After which the guy who dropped -- a grown man, for God's sake -- leaped forward to wrestle it away from her. Stole candy from a baby, so to speak.

The home broadcast team said nothing. The broadcast team for the visiting Tampa Bay Rays, on the other hand, called the guy out on the air, as well they should have.

That wasn't the best part of this, however.

The best part was another guy named Ryan Bass took another baseball down to the where the girl and her family were sitting, and presented it to her. Then he posed for a selfie with them.

Ryan Bass is a Tampa-area TV broadcaster, podcaster and digital and print beat writer who covers the Rays for Otter PR. So score one for the hotdog-munching slobs.

Who frankly need the kudos these days, given that the current Regime and its acolytes despise the free press, verbally abuse any of its members who have the temerity to do their jobs, and banish any media from its presence who aren't bootlicks for said Regime. It's all straight out of that well-worn playbook, Tips For The Successful Autocrat.

Well, neener-neener-neener on them. This time, it was a journalist to the rescue.

Hooray for us.

History obscura

 Remember, on this Monday morning, the alliterative name Sabastian Sawe, because Sunday he did something no man, woman or child had ever done before. Remember, too, the name Yomif Kejelcha, who may have done something even more amazing.

What Sabastian Sawe did, on a flat course on a perfect dry day, was become the first human in history to run an official marathon in less than two hours. 

And Yomif Kejelcha?

He became the second human in history to run an official marathon in less than two hours -- and in his very first try.

Sawe won the London Marathon in one hour, 59 minutes and 30 seconds. Sixteen seconds later Kejelcha -- running in his first marathon -- crossed the finish line in one hour, 59 minutes, 46 seconds.

Sawe is from Kenya, ancestral home of distance runners since the days of Kip Keino almost 60 years ago. Kejelcha is from Ethiopia, second ancestral home of distance runners since the days of Abebe Bikila and Mamo Wolde, who won the marathon in three straight Olympics.

Wolde won in Mexico City in 1968. Bikila, the father of Ethiopian distance running, won it back-to-back in Rome and Tokyo in 1960 and '64. In Rome, he won it running barefoot.

All this, or at least Sawe and Kejelcha's historic achievement, you might have seen on the network news last evening, or perhaps even in your local paper. Where you didn't see it was on the lead page of  ESPN's website -- where it was inexplicably, and conspicuously, absent.

Lots of NFL post-draft stuff was there, of course. NBA and NHL playoff coverage and highlights. Also baseball; WNBA fantasy news; NWSL soccer; Nelly Korda going wire-to-wire to win her third LPGA major at the Chevron Championship; UFL football and NASCAR.

Heck. There was even a clip on there of Gettysburg College scoring a spectacular last-second goal in men's lacrosse.

But no Sawe. No Kejelcha. History obscura, so to speak.

Now, to be fair, you could find the Sawe/Kejelcha story on ESPN's site. But it was buried on the Olympic sports page, along with news about Chelsea Clinton running the Boston Marathon for the first time. And I suppose it's possible it was at one time on the lead page -- but by 7 a.m. this morning it was already gone, while every other sporting event from Sunday was still present and accounted for.

Doesn't seem right. Just doesn't.

Cautionary tale

 Diego Pavia's phone never buzzed this week, or whatever it is phones do these days. Not on Thursday. Not on Friday. Not even on Saturday, when the last name called in the 2026 NFL Draft was a linebacker from Buffalo named Red Murdock.

That made Murdock this year's Mr. Irrelevant, a title more coveted than it probably should be.

And Vanderbilt's Pavia?

Well, what do you call a Heisman Trophy runnerup who doesn't get drafted at all, and in the hours after the draft ended didn't even get an invite -- not from a single one out of 32 NFL teams -- as an undrafted free agent?

I don't know. Mr. Cautionary Tale, maybe?

Because, listen, it's not just that Pavia is a quarterback who tops out at 5-10 and 198 pounds. It's that Pavia is a quarterback who tops out at 5-10 and 198 pounds, and has a definite Johnny Manziel vibe to him.

Remember him? Johnny Football? The guy who beat Alabama, won the Heisman Trophy as a freshman, and loved to make that money-money-money gesture with his fingers every time he pulled a rabbit out of a hat at Texas A&M?

Manziel got drafted by the Cleveland Browns, where flashy QBs regularly go to become insurance salesmen. The Browns ruin quarterbacks the way most of us eat ice cream. Except in Manziel's case, he kinda did that to himself.

First of all, he wasn't as good as his hype.

Second of all, his hype was, if not entirely manufactured by Manziel himself, at least aided and abetted by him. Self-absorption practically rolled off him in waves, which is why he regularly wound up embroiled in off-the-field ... situations. Hey, he was Johnny Football, dammit. Why couldn't he (fill in off-the-field situation here)?

It only took the Browns two seasons to grow weary of all that. That's the same amount of time it took everyone else in the NFL to grow weary of  him, and also to realize he just wasn't very good. Which is why no one else signed him.

 He wound up playing in the CFL for the Hamilton Tiger-Cats and Montreal Alouettes, before the CFL kicked him out for violating the terms of his contract. After that he played briefly for some team called the Memphis Express in something called the Alliance of American Football, and later for some team called the Zappers in something called Fan-Controlled Football.

Now, I have no idea if Diego Pavia's career path will track that way. But if Johnny Football is his cautionary tale, Diego Pavia is Cautionary Tale 2.0 -- i.e., "How to guarantee you won't get taken in the NFL Draft."

It wasn't that he couldn't play; like Manziel at A&M, the guy beat Alabama, and he also beat Auburn three times. Vandy went 10-3 last season, with Pavia throwing for 3,539 yards and 29 touchdowns and running for 862 yards and 10 more sixes.

And did it all with, um, let's be polite and call it "swagger." A LOT of swagger.

After beating Auburn for the third time, for instance, he hinted that maybe Auburn coach Hugh Freeze might have fared better against him if Freeze had recruited him.

He also openly campaigned for the Heisman Trophy -- and, when he was beaten out by Indiana quarterback Fernando Mendoza, he went on social media and posted "(Bleep) all the voters", then partied at a New York nightclub under a sign that read "(Bleep) Indiana."

He later apologized, but the damage was done. NFL teams are almost comically terrified of potential distractions, especially among quarterbacks. And everything about Pavia screamed potential distraction -- even the fact he didn't find it necessary to hire an agent.

Everything about him screamed Johnny Football, in other words.

And thus, for three days, his phone didn't scream at all.

Too little ...

 Timing is everything, they say, except when it's not. And so let us first say this morning that the Boston Red Sox finally scored some runs yesterday.

Like, 17 of them.

Paved the Baltimore Orioles like a four-lane highway, 17-1.

And then ...

And then the Red Sox poobahs fired everyone.

Well, OK. So not everyone.

Only manager Alex Cora, the bench coach, the hitting coach, the assistant hitting coach, the third-base coach and the hitting strategy coach were served their walking papers. A sixth coach -- Jason Varitek, who's been with the organization for 30 years -- was "reassigned to a new role within the organization," probably because he's Jason Varitek.

(Of course, "reassigned to a new role within the organization" pretty much lives right next door to being fired. Think Milton Waddams and his stapler being "reassigned" to a basement storeroom in "Office Space.")

Now, if you're thinking here this all seems a tad drastic, given it's only April 25 in a season that stretches into the first blush of October ... well, that's certainly fair. But the Red Sox are off to a 10-17 start, which doesn't sound all that dreadful until you consider it's the second-worst record in the American League and the third worst in MLB.

Heck, even the Chicago What Sox (11-16) and the Colorado Rockheads (11-16) are a game better. The only teams worse are the Houston Astros (10-18), the hideous New York Mutts (9-17) and the appalling Philadelphia Phooeys (9-18). The latter are so bad they're already 10 games (OK, so 9.5) out of first in the NL East after just 26 games.

Extrapolate that out to a full 162-game season, and the Phooeys are on track to finish 59 games behind. That's impressive.

But back to the Red Sox.

If timing is everything, you've got to wonder how hard the Red Sox braintrust was smacking itself in the forehead when yesterday's score came down. The Blob's frequently over-active imagination figures the conversation went something like this:

Braintrust Guy No. 1: So, it's decided then. We're firing everybody but Varitek, who's being reassigned to the broom closet on the second floor.

All The Other Braintrust Guys (in unison): Huzzah!

Braintrust Guy No. 1: Now we just gotta deci-

Junior Braintrust Guy In The Back: Uh, boss?

Braintrust Guy No. 1: Milton! I told you never to interrupt me!

Junior Braintrust Guy: But ... but ...

No. 1: But what?

Junior: Um, we beat the Orioles 17-1 today.

All The Other Braintrust Guys: WHAT??

Junior: Um, yeah. 17-1.

No. 1: Well, that's great. That's. Just. Great. We're about to clear out almost our whole staff in April, which will make us look like a bunch of jittery goobers as it is. Now we're going to do it right after we scored 17 runs? And we're doing it mainly because WE HAVEN'T BEEN SCORING ANY RUNS?

We're gonna look like complete idiots.

Random Braintrust Guy: Well ... except for the fact that right now we're even worse than the White Sox and the Rockies.

(Brief pause as everyone reflects on the horror of that)

Braintrust Guy No. 1: True. Aw, to hell with it, let's do it. We'll just fall back on the old "too little, too late" defense.

(Everyone high-fives.  Junior Braintrust Guy says he'll spring for drinks.)

A few Draft-y thoughts, Part Deux

 I did not watch a single minute of the second day of the NFL Draft, and, no, not because I knew Pat McAfee, who long ago red-lined the Annoying Meter, was going to present the Colts' second-round pick. That was just sheer luck.

No, I didn't watch because, basically, I wasn't really on pins and needles to see if the Vikings, with the 82nd pick in the 2026 NFL Draft, would take Domonique Orange from Iowa State, whoever he is. Or if the Jaguars, with the 100th pick in the 2026 NFL Draft, would take Jalen Huskey from Maryland, whoever he is.

(No offense intended to either Domonique and Jalen. Guys, I just picked your names at random. But if you become stars in the NFL, now you can each say, "People said I would never make it. Including some dumbass in Indiana.")

Anyway ... 

On with today's Draft-y thoughts;

* The Indianapolis Colts, with the 47th pick in the 2026 NFL Draft, traded down to the 53rd pick. According to Gregg Doyel of the Indianapolis Star, who was paying far more attention than I was, this apparently got all the Colts fans riled up and calling for GM Chris Ballard's head again -- especially when the Jets scooped favorite son D'Angelo Ponds of Indiana with the 50th pick.

Instead, the Colts wound up with linebacker C.J. Allen from Georgia. People say he's pretty darn good. I guess we'll see.

* Speaking of the Colts, and Pat McAfee, he apparently was as strange as ever, calling the Colts the "Kings of the AFC South" and saying weird stuff about how Jim Irsay cured Daniel Jones' torn achilles from heaven. 

Watching the clip later on, however, I did notice Pat was dressed for the occasion. Wore pants and shoes and a shirt -- collared, even! -- and a sport coat. He wasn't wearing a tie, but, hell, neither did Roger Goodell on opening night. 

In fact, McAfee actually looked spiffier than the commish. Which frankly ought to be the story of the entire draft by my lights.

McAfee Out-Dresses Goodell. Film at 11.

* And speaking of the story of the draft ...

I guess it's still the fact the Los Angeles Rams used their first pick -- and the 13th overall -- to snatch quarterback Ty Simpson from Alabama. 

This despite the fact they still have Matthew Stafford, the reigning NFL Most Valuable Player, at the head of the table in their quarterback room.

This despite the fact Rams head coach Sean McVay didn't look all that pleased to welcome Simpson aboard, which suggested it was GM Les Snead who made the call.

This despite the fact McVay then went out of his way to say the Rams were still Matthew Stafford's team, and that, fine, OK, now we've got Ty Simpson, but he's going to be competing with Stetson Bennett for the backup spot.

The day-after spin from Snead and the Rams' organization is that Snead and McVay were definitely on the same page, and that the reason McVay wasn't turning cartwheels over the Simpson pick was because he didn't want to show the rest of the league how excited he was.

I can't tell you exactly how many people bought that. But a good guess would be "no one."

So what were the Rams thinking?

Beats me. Maybe they were looking at Stafford, who's 38 now, and noting how quickly quarterbacks (except for Tom Brady) tend to fall off the table once the years starting piling up. Or maybe they see Simpson is future trade bait if beats out Stetson Bennett for the backup spot. 

"Or maybe they just made a really dumb pick," you're suggesting now.

Oh, come on. When has THAT ever happened?

* Kinda surprised to see Carson Beck, who quarterbacked Miami to the national championship game before falling to Indiana, fell to the first pick in the third round. The Cardinals picked him. They also picked a 6-5, 315-pound offensive lineman from Texas A&M, Chase Bisontis. 

This suggests the Cards don't intend to just be Jeremiyah Love and a bunch of guys. Or Jeremiyah Love running for his life from three hundred bazillion dudes on every snap.

* Know who got drafted yesterday?

IU running back Kaelon Black, who went to the 49ers with the 90th overall pick. And Notre Dame tight end Eli Raridon, whom the Patriots snatched with the 75th pick. 

Total regional bias here, but I think both teams got one of those mid-draft gems Mel Kiper Jr. and the gang are always yakking about. That especially goes for Raridon, if for no other reason than Notre Dame seems to grow NFL tight ends like velvet leaf.

Anthony Fasano. Kyle Rudolph. Michael Mayer. Cole Kmet. Tyler Eifert before the injuries took him down. And if you want to go back some, Dave Casper and Mark Bavaro, among others.

That's a heck of a bloodline. Maybe the Patriots noticed.

I mean, they're the Patriots. They would. 

A few Draft-y thoughts

 Actually watched part of the NFL Draft last night, on account of the air in my tires was already rotated and the paint on the fence had already dried. What else was I gonna do?

Anyway, I watched. And, as night follows day, I have a few thoughts ...

* Roger Goodell, the commissioner of the Nash-unal FOOT-ball League, dressed for the occasion like a guy out for lunch at the club. What the hell, Rog, you couldn't even put on a tie? What was up with that? 

* Speaking of appropriate dress, one of the highlights of the night is always what the crazy superfans of various teams are wearing. The winner, by the Blob's lights, was either the Dallas Cowboys fan wearing the UFO on his head -- flashing lights, the whole bit -- or the New York Jets' fan in head-to-toe green and a plastic green Hulk fist garnished with jewel-encrusted rings spelling out J-E-T-S.

Or maybe the other Jets fan wearing a green hardhat with a white Mohawk growing out of the top of it.

As someone watching with me observed: "It looks like New Year's Eve in Times Square."

Yeah. Except the multitudes jamming Times Square are at least celebrating the New Year. The multitudes jamming the NFL Draft set included people celebrating being Jets fans. Lord have mercy.

* And speaking of the Jets ...

With the second pick in the Draft, they selected edge rusher David Bailey from Texas Tech. Like every other pick last night, he looked overjoyed. I can't for the life of me think why.

* Ditto top pick Fernando Mendoza from Indiana, gleefully donning a Raiders cap. And third pick Jeremiyah Love from Notre Dame, joyously tugging on a Cardinals cap. And linebacker Arvell Reese from Ohio State, happy to be the top pick of the wretched New York Giants, and offensive tackle Spencer Fano from Utah, whose fate might have been worst of all.

He's headed to the Cleveland Browns.

* Speaking of Fernando Mendoza, how cool was it that he chose to spend his Draft night with his mom, who suffers from multiple sclerosis? He could have been out there sharing a hug with Rog beneath all the bright lights, but he picked Mom to hug instead.

I'm tellin' ya. That young man's going places.

Well. Unless the Raiders ruin him.

* And last but not least ...

Did anyone else think it was odd they kicked off the Draft with the national anthem and a flyover? 

 I mean, it's the Draft, and the NFL is big on giant American flags and The Troops and all other forms of militaristic patriotic fervor. But at bottom it's just a selection show. I don't recall anyone belting out "The Star-Spangled Banner" to open the Oscars, the Grammys or America's Got Talent.

Just seemed a trifle weird to me.

Or maybe I'm just weird.

Don't answer that.