Sh*t We Don't Understand: The Beach

Memorial Day is approaching, and with it the unofficial start of summer. Cue the flocking of people to shore towns all over the country for some good old-fashioned fun in the sun. Come Thursday we'll be inundated with "MDW...going to the BEACHHHHH!!!!" Facebook statuses. I'm sure all things Memorial Day and beach-related will trend on Twitter as well. While I'd be either out of my mind or downright inhuman to not welcome the beginning of summer with open arms, I'm going to have to get on the soapbox for a few minutes. If someone wants to sit me down and explain it all to me, then they can surely go ahead. But I just don't get why the beach is apparently so awesome.

You know that feeling you get when you're at some place and everyone else seems to be having a lot more fun than you? I hate that feeling. It's like you're at a party that you weren't invited to, a feeling rivaled in suckiness only by that of being sober in Philly's Olde City on a Saturday night. That's the feeling I get at the beach. Every time I've been there in my adult life, I've wished I were somewhere else. Someone had to finally take this stand. Kevin, John, and I originally planned to publish a roundtable-type discussion on this topic a year or so ago, but circumstances prevented it last summer. Now that the matter is relevant again, I can no longer wait. Having lived in New Jersey my entire life and spent the summers of 1989 through 1993 exclusively at the shore when my parents owned a motel in North Wildwood, I consider myself as qualified a judge as any.

Let's first get it out of the way that I don't hate the beach. I just don't love it the way so many people seem programmed to. I've had my share of fun on the beach in my life, but here's the thing: all of the actual "fun" things that there are to do on the beach can basically be done anywhere. What do I want to do if I find myself on the beach (besides the requisite ogling like any man is wont to do)? I want to throw a baseball or football around, get a game of wiffle ball going, read a book or newspaper, maybe listen to the iPod, take a quick dip, etc. Take any of these activities away from the setting of the beach, and guess what? They're no less fun or enjoyable. You can swim in a pool, you can play ball at any open field nearby, and you can read or listen to music basically anywhere. Is there anything inherently fun about the beach itself? To get to the beach, you've got to sit in traffic, find parking, overpay for the parking you find, deal with all the Ronnie and Sammi clones running around (although I'd find the real thing thoroughly enjoyable), and, most of all, immerse yourself in sand and the stench of seaweed all day. There are other ways to enjoy the outdoors and get a tan, people. Unless you aspire to be a fragrance millionaire, there are very few activities for which the beach is actually an immediate prerequisite.

But some people may say to this, "Wait a second, going to the beach is about enjoying putting your toes in the sand and being able to lay there and do nothing all day and listen to the crash of the waves! It's so great!" No, it's not great. I'm sorry, but sand f*ing sucks. It gets everywhere and makes your skin bone-dry. And doing nothing all day? Well, that also f*ing sucks. I'm not burning my free time just laying in the sun when I can be actually doing things in the sun. That eloquent crash-of-the-waves soundtrack? It's likely going to be drowned out by a mixture of seagulls and little whiny kids begging their parents to buy them an ice cream sandwich. Maybe I just lack the ability to turn my mind off like that, but I'm irked by people who are able to just lay there on a beach doing nothing without ever feeling supremely bored.

Some people may also say "Well, of course you don't like the beach that much. The Jersey Shore is a dump anyway." I can't disagree with that, but I would offer the rebuttal that I've set foot on some exquisite beaches in North Carolina and Cancun (which had blue water, I shit you not) without ever getting that overwhelming feeling of awesome that I'm apparently supposed to. When I was in Cancun on spring break in college, the novelty of it being 85 degrees out while it was 40 degrees back home wore off in about half an hour. Yet somehow the group of 16 girls we were on the trip with religiously laid out there, hour after hour, day after day, like they were auditioning for a Corona commercial. Meanwhile the rest of us guys hung out at the poolside bar getting to know people from all over the country, one tequila slammer at a time. I'd like to think the latter is a much better way to spend a trip than basically sitting in an outdoor tanning bed for 5 days.

One of this blog's values is that we'll give you our straightforward, (relatively) uncensored opinions and in the next breath acknowledge that those opinions aren't necessarily gospel. The reader can take in whatever we have to say and make what they want out of it after that. I'll freely admit I have more than my share of anti-beach biases. Like I said before, I spent five full summers at the shore as a kid and hated the fact that I was away from all my school friends. Even worse than my well-documented disdain for sand is my inability to avoid getting horribly sunburned. For a while I dated a girl who, despite an apparent love for laying on the beach and being a complete waste of humanity for hours on end, shifted her bitchiness into 6th gear whenever we were actually there. And finally, if I'm at the beach then there's a fair likelihood that I'm missing a Yankee game, which is a huge, huge strike from the get-go.

I leave you this evening with the reminder that no, I do not "hate" the beach (at least, not as much as this guy does). I just don't love it. For the record, I very much enjoy living in a coastal state and couldn't imagine living in an area of the country that would require a plane trip just to see the ocean. But this whole idea of "ohh I really need to go to the beach, I hate the winter because I can't go to the beach, I can't exist without the beach, blah blah blah" that you see so many people conveying? It just strikes me as utter nonsense. You know that Jimmy Buffett quote "if there is a heaven for me, I'm sure it has a beach attached to it" that you saw displayed on every single girl's bedroom wall or AIM profile back in college? Well, with due respect to the mayor of Margaritaville and his devoted Parrotheads, I ain't buying that. You know what, hold that thought for a minute. Maybe my heaven will have a beach after all - as long as there is a golf course and a casino attached to it.

Sh*t I Don't Understand: The Royal Wedding

I've spewed about this general subject before, but since all the buildup and enthusiasm over the Royal Wedding has brought the whole ordeal to an uncharted level of annoyingness, it now warrants its own post. I'll be honest - at first, the news of Prince William's engagement did turn my head. After all, it's not an insignificant event by any stretch of the imagination, so let's make it clear that I'm not trying to downgrade the overall weight that the wedding carries. The British Monarchy is an interesting lesson in history, tradition, the whole bit. Weddings like this happen about as often as a solar eclipse. Throw in the fact that Prince William is the son of the late Princess Diana and was a teen tabloid heartthrob himself in the '90s, and you can see why the hype machine is ratcheted up enough to blow the entire town's electricity.

But, that being said, come on. The level of coverage is just insane. Not only does a Google search for "Royal Wedding" produce 56.5 million results, but (possibly more importantly), it's also the first thing that pops up on the automatic search aid after typing just the first two letters. Not only that, but when you type in the "y," three of the first five suggestions are Royal Wedding-related. I think apologies are owed to Roy Halladay, Roy Rogers, Roy Orbison, and Roy Oswalt for the sudden decrease in Google popularity.

You know what's worse than the level of coverage itself? The fact that enough people are actually eating this garbage up! I've even heard of people that are taking the day off from work to immerse themselves in all things Royal Wedding. Unless you're from the UK, why is this so important? Just give me one good reason for an American to donate such an inordinate proportion of their time to following this wedding. Allow me to remind those Royal Wedding fans out there, that this is the union of two people who (brace yourselves for this) you do not know, you will never meet, do not care about you, have zero impact on your life, have basically zero political power, and, most importantly, are not even meaningful figures in your own country!

Maybe this is just one of those things that separates women and men as species (yes, I said species). Women don't get why men obsess over sports, and men don't get why women obsess over things like this. And despite the title of this post, I can see, to a certain extent, why a lot of women may be all about the Royal Wedding. Like I said earlier, Prince William was on the cover of every teen magazine back in the days that the current 18-34 demographic was growing up. He's grown up handsome (no homo), educated, and with a legitimate term of military service under his belt. And now that he's getting married with the utmost pomp and circumstance, nearly a generation of American women suddenly feels like they're in 7th grade again. And, in turn, since this is the wedding of a person they once held up so high in their thoughts and on their walls, they want everything to be perfect. They don't want their former dream guy getting married to just anyone, hence the gross obsession, if not unfair scrutiny, over Kate Middleton's dress, hair, shoes, etc. etc. etc.

In that respect, I guess I can relate. Part of the reason I love playing sports and going to games is to unleash the 12-year-old inside of me. Getting off the subway at 161st St and River Ave. in the Bronx gives me chills and goosebumps even in 90-degree heat. When I'm there watching Mark Teixeira and Robinson Cano, the only thing adult about my world is the beverage in my hand. I think that can be equated somewhat to the Royal Wedding obsession. Apologies in advance for making a big generalization, but you can't tell me that a good deal of women don't have some sort of dream about being the centerpiece of a huge wedding like that and having all those eyes on them as they walk down the aisle. It's probably the same feeling I get when I think about stepping into the left-handed batter's box at Yankee Stadium.

But (and I'd be doing this blog a disservice if there weren't a "but"), the line must be drawn somewhere. I can't completely give Royal Wedding nuts a pass by comparing it to sports fandom. Because sports actually grip us. Sports are something we follow day-in and day-out. Sports are unscripted. Sports are there for us, season after season, generation after generation. The Royal Wedding? There's no question of winning or losing, no outcome hanging in the balance. She walks down the aisle (and hopefully doesn't trip), they stand at the altar, exchange vows and rings, say "I do," kiss, and then it's time for a reception that is sure to sway the value of the GBP one way or the other. And then it's over. Sure, you'll have the honeymoon pictures on every tabloid and God (or Bog) save us from the media arms race when the first baby is born. But any way you slice it, you're back to your mundane life after Friday evening.

The idea for outside distractions from the grind of life is to create memories to draw back on when the days never seem like they're going to end. That's why people shoot the shit about the 50-foot eagle putt they sank, the three-run triple they hit to win a game in their softball league, or the college football road trip they took. But I'd really like to meet the person who says "you know, those three weeks I spent glued the TV poring over the Royal Wedding were such a rewarding experience, I'm so glad I did that." On second thought, no I wouldn't.

Wake Me Up in a Month

Coming up tonight, on TNT: Overmatched Team A tries to steal a playoff game from Juggernaut Team B! And if they do so, don't miss the next 6 months, during which Team A will try to sell its fanbase on the idea that a 5-game playoff loss is a successful season! Be sure to treat yourself to this compelling melodrama, the only thing more viewer-enticing than Charles Barkley doing a Sodoku puzzle!

I've tried. I've tried and tried and tried and tried. I've picked a few teams I wanted to root for and against. I've set aside time to watch games. I've even gambled on a game or two (note to the Blazers: putting a hand in a guy's face is not only allowed, but it may actually make your opponent's shot more difficult. Try it sometime.). But I just can't get into the NBA Playoffs until the Conference Finals at the earliest.

With rare exception, the NBA's first two playoff rounds are brutal. When you think "playoffs" in general, you think of a heightened level of competition and intensity that is not found in the regular season very frequently. You think of hot underdog teams making the odds-on favorites sweat. The NHL, NFL, and MLB deliver on this more often than not. The NBA? Eh, not quite.

Why? Well, for starters, too many teams make the postseason. When a league sends more than half (16 out of 30) of its teams to the playoffs, it's begging for mediocrity. For instance, the Indiana Pacers, for all their pluck and relative likability, wedged themselves in as the 8-seed in the Eastern Conference with a 37-45 record. Give me a break. That's like a 73-win baseball team playing in October. Now, I know I'm walking right into it because the NFL saw a 7-9 playoff team just last season, but this sort of thing happens almost every year in the NBA, while the 2010 Seahawks were the first sub-.500 NFL team to ever make the playoffs in a full 16 game season.

Couple the overload of teams with the fact that the first round is best-of-7, and you've reduced basically the first two weeks of the postseason to a formality. You know what else makes the other three major sports' playoffs great? It's the fact that if you're in it, you've got a chance to win it. Baseball only sends 4 teams per league and is possibly the ultimate playoff crapshoot. The NFL has seen two #6 seeds in the past six seasons win the Super Bowl, as well as several other #6 seeds reach the AFC or NFC Championship in the past decade. The NHL playoffs routinely see upsets and edge-of-your-seat Cinderella runs, thanks many times to the all-powerful "hot goalie" equalizer. Equalizers are hard to come by in basketball. The best-of-5 opening round used to make for some compelling series - who doesn't remember the image of Dikembe Mutombo after his 8th-seeded Nuggets stunned the Sonics in 1994? Unfortunately, since playoff gates, parking, and concession sales are too much to pass up, all rounds are now best-of-7. Not only does the 7-game format make it significantly harder on the underdog, but the multiple off days between games are a momentum-killer in addition to making the series take for-ev-er. Of course, it is possible to get a big upset (see the 2007 Warriors-Mavericks first round) or a terrifically played series (i.e. the 2009 Bulls-Celtics series that I linked to previously), but memorable moments in the NBA's early rounds are much, much scarcer than those in the other sports.

What you need to win 16 postseason games in the NBA is three or more elite players and/or a great defense. So that boils it down to maybe 4-5 teams that have a legitimate chance to be the ones standing at the end in mid-June. In about half of these early series, the favored team only needs to shift it into high gear when absolutely necessary. Defense is optional. The opening round is turned into more of a tune-up than anything else, almost like a top college football team opening its regular season with a small-conference or FCS school. You know how baseball has extended spring training for injured players and/or slow-to-develop minor leaguers? More often than not, the first round of the NBA Playoffs is just an extended regular season.

And those are just the on-court issues. Arguably the least bearable element of the NBA Playoffs is the coverage. TV and radio heads go blue in the face breaking down these series, which I suppose is understandable. What is bothersome is a channel like ESPN constantly pumping up its own NBA coverage in an attempt to boost ratings for the games that it carries. I don't need Sportscenter cutting away to the side studio every 6 minutes to pore over a mid-April playoff game where one team is happy just to be there. I also don't need Mike and Mike, who sometimes provide a listenable morning radio program, being force-fed for 9 weeks a guest list of stiffs like Tim Legler, Jamal Mashburn, and occasionally even Dick Vitale, all of whom -you guessed it- studio analysts at ESPN. The hosts have a comfortable, if not cliché, dynamic to their show. Mike Golic plays very well the role of "ex-lineman who is the butt of jokes about being fat and dumb," while Mike Greenberg holds his own as the "wimpy, somewhat dorky lifelong fan who could never really make it onto the field." It's unfortunate to see them constantly being put out of their element by endlessly pining over a sport they don't know that well, all seemingly under the direction of the mother ship.

Besides the relative pointlessness of some of the early round games, there is also a monotone nature to a basketball playoff series that makes it excruciating to break down game-in and game-out. In football, games are once a week, so opponents, locations, and conditions are constantly changing. In baseball, every game is its own entity - the pitchers are different every night (which often brings about significant lineup shifting), and the parks provide unique dimensions, weather conditions, and even rule changes (i.e. the DH or no-DH in the World Series). Leaving hockey aside (since we're not clubbed over the head with hockey coverage in this country), football and baseball warrant the ad-nauseam playoff talk. Basketball? You're often looking at the same starting fives night after night, playing in standardized atmospheres (now that the Boston Garden and its famed dead spots on the floor are long gone) where most of the time the only variable is home-court advantage. Is there an interesting dynamic to see how teams may approach defending and attacking each other differently on a game-to-game basis? Sure there is, but not to a level that justifies the skull-numbing NBA playoff coverage from all angles.

The long and the short of it is that bigger is not always better. The NBA appears to be learning this lesson now. I've written on this topic before. Too many big guaranteed contracts, too many teams, too many playoff teams, and in turn too many playoff rounds and too many playoff games have watered down the product immensely. The league's labor situation after this season will likely end up even more dicey than that of the NFL. Now, I don't want to full-on blast the NBA, because at its best it's a great product. In recent years the NBA adopted the slogan "Where Amazing Happens." Well, amazing does happen. But you've got to wait a month or so first.

The Anti-Soccer Rebuttal

Allow me to first make myself clear. I don't hate soccer. I certainly do not like soccer, but "hate" is not exactly the right word. I don't hate it. I just don't buy it. I never got very much into it as a kid, and at my ripe age now, there probably isn't much hope (kind of like how I am with Star Wars, sorry John). A big part of it stems from my growing up in a decently yuppie town and going to school with kids who thought they were tough shit because they played soccer, even though the truth was that 80% of them wished they could play football but their parents wouldn't let them. From an early age, soccer became known to me as the sport you played if Mom was too scared of you getting hurt if you strapped on the good old helmet and shoulder pads. I have many reasons for my disregard of soccer, ranging from the gameplay itself, to its fans, and to greater societal implications drawn from its following here in the United States. While my viewpoint may be somewhat unpopular right about now, just hear me out.

Part I - The Game
I'll start with the on-field stuff. Does it take a tremendous amount of skill and athleticism to play soccer at a high level? Of course it does. However, does that fact alone obligate me to take an interest in the sport? There is also a tremendous amount of skill on display in a sport like archery, as well as an insane amount of toughness and conditioning on display in MMA, but that doesn't mean I'm making plans to watch either of those anytime soon. The issue here is that the display of skill in soccer pales in comparison to the display of skill in the sports that are prevalent in America. Tell me, do you see anything on a regular basis in soccer that is on the level of hitting a 95-MPH fastball, threading the needle to a receiver in traffic while getting your clock cleaned by a 280-lb defensive end who runs a 4.5 40, draining a 3 with a 6'6" defender's hand in your face, snatching a 90+ MPH slap shot out of the air with the glove hand, or sticking a 190-yd 5 iron six feet from the pin? Sure, there are diving or leaping saves and well-executed sequences of passes and shots, but how often do you get those - once or twice a game? The other 88 minutes amount to a ballet, and on a side note I think I prefer ballet costumes to the stupid sponsored jerseys that professional soccer teams wear. Call me a curmudgeon but I kind of like the outlandish idea of a team's uniform prominently bearing the team's name or city.

Contrary to popular belief, the lack of scoring in soccer is a non-issue to me. I love low-scoring baseball games and even low-scoring football if it's played crisply. It's not the lack of scoring in soccer that irks me, it's the lack of structure. Two of my three favorite sports (baseball and golf) are often derided (by soccer fans, ironically) and labeled "boring" for their deliberate nature. But let's be honest, soccer ain't exactly a 10 on the heart-thumping scale either. The pace of soccer is so monotone, it allows for very little of the dramatic buildup you get in the other sports on a big 3rd-and-goal, a 3-2 pitch with bases loaded, or even the final sequence in a one-possession basketball game. A soccer game plays out like some kind of amoebic stream of consciousness. My favorite part of being a sports fan is trying to manage or coach along with the game as I watch. American sports fans value the chess match of what play to call on 2nd-and-1 or 3rd-and-4, what pitch to throw in this 2-2 count, when to bunt or send a baserunner, etc. Soccer is too free-flowing to provide those fan-captivating moments of strategy.

Part II - The Fans
The out-of-the-woodwork soccer following that takes place in this country every four years for the World Cup is enough to put you off your food. Americans will get all juiced up for soccer for the next four weeks, packing the bars and pubs decked out in USA soccer gear like they a.) actually give a shit, or b.) can name 6 players on the team. You know what the fervor is really all about? It's about the drinking holiday. It's about having the popular excuse to go to a bar at 10am on a Saturday and howl away at odd chants and songs in an effort to pretend to be European. And when it's all over they'll go back to ignoring the sport for the next 47 months. So why not just be real about it? Are you really feeling that left out from the party if you don't buy into all the World Cup hype fed to you by ESPN? Kevin made an interesting point in his post (immediately below this one) that following soccer is not necessarily the cool thing to do in the country. But for at least these four weeks it is the cool thing to do, and the amount of people that are becoming temporary soccer fans in the US right now give me all the more reason to turn a deaf ear to the goings-on in South Africa. This would drive me up the wall if I were an actual legit soccer fan like Kevin is. The "four weeks out of every four years" soccer fan is akin to the "championship parade" fan who saw less than 50% of the games that year.

American soccer fans, even the reputable ones, are a unique bunch. Through my years I've never seen a group of people get so offended when you say you don't like their sport. Go and try it sometime. Tell an American soccer fan that you don't like soccer and he'll react like you just called his mother a slut. He'll undoubtedly launch into a sales pitch for the game and try to insult my sport-watching intelligence while doing so. "Oh, but you just don't get it, it's the most popular game in the world, you just can't appreciate it because Americans' attention spans are too short, blah blah blah...." Nobody else does this! Hockey fans don't do it. Auto racing fans don't do it. MMA fans don't do it. If someone tells any of those fans that they don't like their sport, the response is usually along the lines of "that's your business, not mine." What is it about being a soccer fan that makes you more defensive than the post-career Roger Clemens?

And by the way, can we put this "world's most popular" argument in mothballs please? We all know it's the most globally followed game. But does that mean it's a rule that I have to like it, just for that fact? You're in America. Soccer may be the most popular game in the world, but not in this corner of the world. Accept the fact that your beloved soccer is a second-tier sport in the country in which you reside. If you want to go somewhere where soccer really matters, then feel free to move across the pond. I'll even help you pack. If I happened to move to France or Spain, I'd have an easy time accepting the fact that baseball is irrelevant there. Sense of surroundings, people. Sense of surroundings.

Consider this: America is comprised largely of the descendants of European immigrants, yes? These immigrants came over several generations ago from countries where soccer was king. Over time, sports like baseball, football, and basketball came into the fold and took over in the still-young-and-forming-its-identity United States. Soccer fell by the wayside as alternatives were offered. America, thanks to its size and diversity, has had a greater sampling of more sports than most other countries, if not all. And America as a whole has chosen other options over soccer.

On a cultural note, (and thanks to our blog follower Tony for this one) earlier American generations embraced these new "American" sports in part as a way to carve an identity for themselves as US citizens and separate themselves a bit from the countries from which they emigrated. It seems more and more now that people in America try to embrace soccer as an effort to be anything but American. I'm not against being open to other cultures, but seeing people walking around in foreign soccer jerseys with those multicolored scarves that make you look like you belong on a coffee logo bothers me as much as seeing 4th- and 5th-generation Americans with tattoos and/or car adornments depicting their ancestors' home country. Pride for your heritage is fine, but going over the top to act like you're actually from that country when in truth your family has been over here for 120 years is not. You get that point because we've gone blue in the face illustrating it in the past, so no need to dive back in. But let it be known that soccer fandom in this country goes a long way in feeding the xenocentric beast.

In conclusion, I'm indifferent to soccer itself. I can't ever see myself spending time or money in an effort to follow the sport in any way, but I'm not exactly starting a picket line against its existence either. What I want is for it not to be in my face for maybe 4 months out of every 4 years in an attempt to make it relevant in my home country. Have all the fun you want with the World Cup, but do not call my sports aptitude into question for simply sticking to my ways and conscientiously objecting to the blitz of soccer hype. Please cool it with the crusade to try to instantly rearrange the pecking order of American sports. If soccer is ever going to be truly that big a deal in the United States, it is going to take a few generations, because the appeal of sports is very much a generation-to-generation handoff. And in the mean time, you're just going to have to live with the fact that "Dad, you wanna have a catch?" is much more American thing to say than "Dad, you wanna go out and take some penalty kicks?"

(image borrowed from ESPN.com Page 2)

The Mike Mamula Olympics

Here's hoping you don't watch NFL Network this weekend, because if you do, you are going to be in for it. The otherwise great channel is once again dedicating this weekend to wall-to-wall coverage of the Scouting Combine. For a few days around this time each year, hundreds of the nation's top college football players descend upon Indianapolis to impress NFL decision-makers at (among other things) repping 225 on bench, cone drills, the vertical jump, and of course the 40 and the Wunderlic test. It's the world's largest group job interview, and we're all invited. Forgive me for remaining seated as I try to contain my ravenous excitement.

I've decided to bestow the Combine with the moniker "The Mike Mamula Olympics" in honor of one of the first in the long line of players whose draft statuses were grossly inflated by a head-turning performance in the dome. Back in 1995, Mamula was a respectable pro prospect, earning All-Big East honors as a defensive end for Boston College. He trained specifically for the Combine events and blew scouts away with his strength and mobility, impressing the Eagles so much that they traded the 12th overall pick and two 2nd round picks in the 1995 Draft to move up to take him 7th overall, ahead of players such as Warren Sapp, Ty Law, and Derrick Brooks.

Suffice it to say, Mamula's NFL career was relatively underwhelming. He wasn't a bad NFL player, but he rarely showed himself to be the game-changer that is expected out of a 7th overall pick. I don't want to say that the Combine is total garbage, because the drills are a very good snapshot of what a encompasses a player's skill set, and if a team is going to throw eight figures at a guy, it's only prudent to meet him face-to-face and see exactly what they may be investing in. Plenty of players have used a good Combine performance (Joe Flacco, for example) to compensate for a relative lack of exposure at the college level and parlay that into success on Sundays.

But let us all calm down on valuing football players based on what they can do in shorts in a controlled atmosphere. You know how you see kickers nail field goals from 55+ yards in pregame and then shank 28-yard gimmes once the crowd is roaring and the pressure is on? It's the same premise. Football is the hardest game to simulate among any of the major sports. It's great if my cornerback runs a 4.4 and has a 40 inch vert, but none of that will do me any good if his coverage instincts are bad and he bites on double moves all the time. It's true that the 18-yard-back-to-15-yard out is the most telling throw on whether a quarterback has an NFL arm or not, but can I see the guy throw that pass with shoulder pads on, outdoors, and while his back is killing him because he's been sacked 4 times already today? And is this guy someone who is going to quit on his teammates, or get rabbit ears anytime something negative is written or spoken about him? That's the kind of stuff I want to know. That's really where you separate Ryan Leaf from Peyton Manning.

What I don't understand is anyone who actually watches this thing. These guys aren't even on anyone's team yet and people set aside time for this? Plus, the same people that jump for joy when their team drafts a 4.3-40 receiver or a lineman that threw 225 up 38 times are the ones crooning over how they wasted a pick on a "workout warrior" when their guy is getting trucked come September. It's no coincidence that the teams who consistently make sound personnel decisions, i.e. Pittsburgh, are the ones who put less stock in the Combine than most others do. Call me old-fashioned, but I think 3-4 years of game tape are more substantial than a few jumps and shuttle runs.

I don't want to indict the millions of football fans out there, because as a nation we have come to thirst for all things NFL year-round. And that's why the Combine has become a monster of its own: in the sports desert of late winter, the Combine is a canteen of murky water, and many people will take a swig of it, out of what they feel is pure necessity. If it gets you by until come upon the beautiful unmuddied lake of baseball season in April, then fine. But just know that you can't live on the stuff, because it will leave you with a bad stomach lining - or a Vernon Gholston.