Trading Dudline

So the trading deadline has come and gone and the Mariners underwhelmed again. If we go by The Dice Game's scorecard, the M's batted .333 -- good batting average, crummy trading average. Maybe it was pride overcoming former travel manager Lee Pelekoudas, but from here it looks like inexperience.

First, the good. The Mariners did deal octogenarian reliever Arthur Rhodes to the Marlins for Gaby Hernandez, a 22-year-old pitcher described as a mid-level prospect. That the Mariners landed a former third-round draft pick for a guy with no future is admirable. Rhodes will be the answer to a trivia question for having gotten ejected from his final game as a Mariner. Way to go out fighting.

Now, the bad. The M's failed to trade Raul Ibanez, even though talks with several clubs apparently heated up before the deadline, specifically with the Blue Jays, as reported by Geoff Baker at the Times. According to Toronto GM JP Ricciardi, the M's shot down the deal, even though Jayson Stark had Ibanez going to Toronto for two major leaguers. Said Ricciardi: ""We were ready to go forward. I think at the end of the day they just didn't feel as comfortable going forward to finish off the trade."

If the Mariners were offered anything close to two major leaguers, how could they turn that down? As an aging but still-productive slugger at a reasonable price, Ibanez virtually defines the kind of player who gets dealt at the deadline. It's unacceptable that nothing got done here. Bring out The Gimp -- even if he is sleeping -- because he probably plays better leftfield than Ibanez.

The M's also didn't unload Jarrod Washburn. His recent good outings had elevated him to desirable deadline prospect, and the Yankees wouldn't bat an eyelash at his salary. His trade value won't get any higher, but his paycheck does next year.

Other pieces of flotsam like Carlos Silva, Miguel Cairo and Jose Vidro didn't budge either. You're getting virtually nothing from these guys right now, so it doesn't much matter if you get virtually nothing in return for them. At least you get their bloated salaries off the books. See: Sexson, Richie.

Of course a lot of things had to happen for the Mariners' hopes to fall into place. The Dodgers' late swoop-in to claim Manny Ramirez altered several teams' plans. But that's the thing: this is a fluid situation and the aggressive teams win out.

Sure the Mariners have made some epic blunders at the deadline before. The 1997 debacle that landed Heathcliff Slocumb for Derek Lowe and Jason Varitek comes to mind. But some of the M's worst moves came when they were buyers, not sellers. Famously, the 1987 Braves (sellers) made a deadline deal with the Tigers (buyers), giving up Doyle Alexander for future Hall-of-Famer John Smoltz. We're not expecting heists like that, but you have to do something.

In a sense, the Mariners did make one notable trade. They swapped Bill Bavasi's ineptitude for Lee Pelekoudas' inexperience. The results look pretty much the same.

That's pride f***in' with you

Many SGB readers may know that this is Marcellus Wallace's line in "Pulp Fiction" when he pays off Butch (Bruce Willis' boxer character) to take a dive in the 5th round. I couldn't get this line out of my head as I thought about the pending trade deadline and the quandary our 39-65 Seattle Mariners find themselves in.

Acting GM Lee Pelekoudas needs to take heed of Marcellus' wisdom as he weighs trade offers. Yuniesky first brought up the subject in May, but let's be clear once again. Lee, get what you can and don't let pride f*** with you. This team is no good and don't let whatever small role you had in putting this team together affect the expediency with which you dispatch them to the far corners of pennant contending universe.

Here's the latest rumors:

* Jarrod Washburn to the Yankees - This sounds like a salary dump. The Mariners want some mid-level prospect for Washburn, who has been pitching very well as of late. The Yankees seem to be balking at this. If the Yankees are willing to take on Washburn's salary (about $10 million) for next season, I'd deal him for a bag of bagels or a decent slice. Don't play your hand too hard, Lee.

* Arthur Rhodes to just about everyone - The fact that people are interested in Arthur Rhodes is just another example of how baseball teams are always looking for lefty relief pitchers. Yes, he is having a decent year and has been very good recently, but he is 38, was on the shelf all of 2007 and had a 5-plus ERA in 2006 with the Phillies. So, I'd be happy with anything here including a shishkaberry for Yuniesky. (The SGB one not the Mariners' one. Although that chubby Cuban looks like he's had a stick or two (dozen) in his life.)

* Raul Ibanez to the New York Mets - This one is a little more difficult. Ibanez is the only bat to worry about in our punchless line-up. Also, he is a bargain -- one of the few in the Mariners line-up -- at $5.5 million a year. But hey, that's why people want him. You don't hear a lot of offers for Willie Bloomquist, do you? The Mets seem to be saying that the Mariners are asking too much. I assume this is standard negotiating policy, but the Mariners have to deal him. Try to get more than 5 cents on the dollar, but if you can get a few mid- to upper-level prospects for him, then do it.

If anyone else hears any decent rumors, we'd love to hear them. As a departing shot, I turn once again to the words of Marcellus Wallace.

"F*** pride! Pride only hurts, it never helps."

Wind?! Blows.

Why have one name when six will do? Apparently, the Thunder isn't the only option being considered for the former Sonics. What I love most about this short, otherwise straightforward article is this: "Marshal is usually spelled with one l. It's not clear why the league used a variant spelling." Perhaps Clay Bennett wants to honor this late manther and fellow oil baron. I'll leave the snark heavy lifting to TrueHoop.

How Many Ways Dost Thou Suckest?

Now that Seattle is a two-sport town, the Mariners are doing a great job of stinking up almost the entire sports section. It wasn't just their putrid present that sullied the front page, but also their organizational ineptitude on the back page that caught my eye this morning. The Seattle Times periodically lists the standings of the Mariners' minor-league teams, and what an eyefeast it is.

Showing that the nut doesn't fall far from the tree, all of the Mariners' minor league teams have losing records:

Tacoma Rainiers (AAA) 50-52
West Tennessee (AA) 11-19
Wisconsin (A) 7-23 (?!)
High Desert (A) 12-19
Everett (A) 15-19

If you're scoring at home, that's a combined 95-132 record. Throw in the parent club's tab and it's 133-193. It's hard to be 60 games below .500 in anything, but the Mariners are doing just fine, thank you very much.

On the other hand, one of the must put-upon franchises of all time, the Chicago Cubs, currently have winners at all levels of their system. Never mind the Cubs themselves have the best record in the NL.

Since I had some time on my hands, I decided to compare the Mariners' organizational "prowess" with their opponents in the AL West. It's not pretty.

Angels organization:

LA Angels of Orange County, CA, USA 60-39
Salt Lake (AAA) 60-42
Arkansas (AA) 9-22 (But won their division's first-half title)
Rancho Cucamonga (A) 17-13
Cedar Rapids (A) 15-15
Orem (Rookie) 22-11

Angels' organization record: 183-142

Texas Rangers' organization:

Texas 52-48
Oklahoma (AAA) 58-45
Frisco (AA) 19-12 (Also won divisional first-half title)
Bakersfield (A) 13-18
Clinton (A) 14-17 (Won first-half title)
Spokane (A) 26-8

Rangers' organizational record: 182-148

Oakland A's organization:

Oakland 51-48
Sacramento (AAA) 60-42
Midland (AA) 15-16
Stockton (A) 13-17
Kane County (A) 11-19
Vancouver (A) 14-20

A's organizational record: 164-162

If you're still reading, congratulations. You're probably like me and feel better knowing that the Mariners are really 50.5 games behind the Angels, rather than the 22 games the standings would have you believe. It's in these numbers that the putrid legacy of Bill Bavasi really shows itself. This is a deep hole that takes time to dig and time to get out of. And it assures us that while the Mariners' present is a blot on the sports pages, the future looks bleak too.

Will my M's headband get me a free hotdog?

Ok, so this is weird. With rumors flying that the former Sonics will soon be known as the Oklahoma City Thunder, the entrepreneurial minds behind the New York Yankees' AA affiliate have offered any person wearing Sonics paraphernalia a free ticket to a Trenton Thunder game. As Trenton General Manager Brad Taylor said in the press release, “We just want to help ease the pain for Sonics fans worldwide.”

I doubt any self-respecting Sonics fan will stoop so low as to trade on his or her fanhood for a free ticket to a minor league baseball game. I mean, sure we lost the team we've followed for 41 years, but hey, at least we get to watch the team atop the Eastern League take on the Altoona Curve for free! Dag, that's like, ten bucks! Sweet! Who's complaining!? We're making out like bandits!

Anything Else We Can Give You?

So eschewing our suggestions to name them the Team Rustlers, the Hayseeds, or the Dissemblers, the owners of the former Sonics are apparently going to name the team the Thunder. Wow, how original. I guess the Storm was already taken. And Iowa State already has this intimidating name and logo. Maybe 290-pound bust Ron Dayne can throw up the first jump ball (Tiki Barber's presence is optional). I guess in Oklahoma, you have to give a nod to the weather without reminding people too much of this or this. Oklahomans know their tornado outbreaks like The Dice Game knows high school ballers. Either way, I'm glad I won't be the guy cutting into "American Idol" to tell Kevin Durant to duck into his basement because a twister is bearing down on his mansion.

I'm sorry, why am I rambling on about this anyway? It must be that ghost limb thing. Stop me before I try to cut it off again.

Headlines That Appeal to the 14-Year-Old Boy in Me

ATP suspends doubles titlists Cermak, Mertinak for betting

I just can't read the word "titlists" quite right.

Safeco's Retractable Lineup

The first day of the rest of the Mariners' sorry lives commenced on Friday, as their future increasingly came into focus -- or not. First, the not: the M's lineup was still littered with names like Cairo and Johjima who shouldn't be taking up precious field space. Meanwhile, the star of the show was a guy who probably won't be occupying the M's lineup much longer.

If you saw Raul Ibanez voguing as he rounded the bases during his second-inning grand slam against the Indians, it would be no surprise. His is the M's name most often bandied about as bait before the trading deadline. Published reports say the Diamondbacks and Mets have been kicking the tires of the 36-year-old slugger and clubhouse dean. Said manager Jim Riggleman about Ibanez's preparation: "He does so much. He's in great physical shape, and he spends a great deal of time in the batting cage every day. He's relentless in there."

On the other hand, one of the Mariners' other tradeable assets could be sidelined longer than expected. Reports say unenthusiastic "ace" Erik Bedard might not pitch before August. That would give him exactly zero more starts for the Mariners to put lipstick on this pig before the deadline. So Bedard's already-diminished trade value takes another hit.

Therefore, here's the Mariners' short-term future in a nutshell: they must trade the productive hitter and good clubhouse citizen, while keeping (or getting limited value for) the underachieving locker room schlub. As Dave Niehaus might say: "Mariners Baseball: My Oh My."

Mariners = Bold

Today, Lee Pelekoudas told the PI his secret recipe for salvaging the franchise. Hold on to your hat, because this is some incisive baseball talk.

"Our goal here is obviously to get better. A good way to put it is to change the way we play the game." Actually, Lee, that's a pretty shitty way to put it. What the hell are you talking about?

"We have to execute the game much better than we have." Sound.

Now we get into some specifics: "We may get younger, and you generally don't get younger through free agency." Cool. So we're rebuilding. We'll trade some older guys, give what younger guys we have a chance to play, and focus on the draft. Maybe invest in scouting operations in Latin America. Except...

"Now to say that we're going to go all young and start completely tearing things up would be inaccurate. We have young players here. And if we surround them with the right players, I don't think we have to start all over again."

So there you have it. Change the way they play. Execute better. Surround the the spectacular core of Lopez and Betancourt with role players like Cairo. Who needs to start over with a plan that rigorous?

Seattle's Diversions

For now, let's set aside the question of whether climbing is a sport. It doesn't require balls per se, at least not the kind you can readily throw and catch. But after summiting Mt. Rainier this past weekend, I can say it probably does require some loose screws. However, when you can see forever from the Northwest's highest peak, you tend to see some other things too.

When I moved to Seattle almost four years ago, I was floored by the area's natural beauty. This place is lousy with mountains, water, trees and ferries. And oh by the way, they plopped a kickass city down in the middle of it. If you don't want to go to nature, it will come to you.

I wondered if people who grew up here became inured to the beauty. Did the scenery become wallpaper after awhile? It seemed impossible, given that about eight months of the year, Rainier and the Olympics might only show up once every other week. You can't take for granted what you don't really have. Then another question: how many other cities have settings where residents could even remotely have this internal debate?

On the other hand, Seattle's sports tableau has seen better days. Its sports fandom is tugging its collective forelock after losing the Sonics to Oklahoma. And the Mariners' swoon is drawing fannies to the seats in inverse droves.

But let's face it: what makes Seattle peopled by fair-weather fans is what makes it a great place to live. It's those opposite qualities that make places like Buffalo brim with rabid fans. Seattle has Mt. Rainier (and its eponymous beer); Green Bay has Brett Favre. Shit, I saw seven volcanoes this weekend; In Oklahoma City, you can't even see three. I can't say how many times I've watched the final seconds tick away as one of my teams was getting crushed on the road and thought, "Yeah, but now those fans have to go back to their lives in (insert lame, non-Seattle city here)."

Of course it hurts to lose the Sonics to Oklahoma City and the national media generally ignore this upper-left outpost. Seattle may be down to two major professional sports teams, but we know the real score. Seattle versus Oklahoma City or almost anywhere else just isn't a fair fight. If you don't believe me, look out the window.

Got Crabs?

If the answer to the question is more than five, then you're going to jail.

Stanklin and Yuniesky Airmails It went crabbing and fishing yesterday. (The crabs were too small, and we didn't know what to do with the googly-eyed flounder, but that's beside the point.) We are now both dyed-in-the-wool conservative Republicans, because we had to run the guantlet of the crabbing and fishing licensing process. We want government out of our goddamn lives. We're just plain old outdoors folk; we're not government bureaucrats living on the taxpayers' collective teet.

We had to go to a sporting goods store, give our drivers licenses and social security numbers to a snot-nosed kid, and pay $10 each. In return, we received four pieces of paper that are roughly four feet long when laid end to end. Among the things we were supposed to record on these four pieces of paper:

1. For salmon, the species (CHIN, COHO, CHUM, PINK, SOCK, CHINJACK, COHOJACK) and whether the fish was hatchery or wild, which only takes a quick calculation about the nature of the "adipose or ventral fin."

2. For halibut, but not steelhead or salmon or sturgeon, whether the boat was a charter or private.

3. For sturgeon, but not steelhead or salmon or halibut, the length of the fish.

The rules for Dungeness crabs were pretty easy--just a check for each crab and a note of the date and the "marine area"--but these notes had to be made with a ballpoint pen only ("do not use a felt tipped pen") and "immediately upon retaining" the crab ("failure to do so is a violation of WAC 220-56-175").

By the way, we are required to return our cards to WDFW "even if" we "did not fish or catch anything."

SGB loves the environment as much as the next underground group of Seattleites using nomes de plume. We do not tolerate over-fishing. We do not abide by the murder of baby crabs. We understand the need to pay money so the authorities can protect these marine resources for future generations.

But the licensing process is disgraceful. Funding the bureaucracy costs more than the fees raise. I'll bet a pair of Dice Game's sneakers on it. And this is to say nothing of the opportunity cost of the ordeal. Moreover, it imposes barriers that have nothing to do with protecting the environment or wildlife. If the point is conservation, then the system should be geared toward conservation, not general confusion and despair. For example, why not sell licenses at boat launches, instead of at Northgate Mall? That is a pointless disincentive.

We want a rational system in place, or we're voting for Dino Rossi and John McCain. All of us.

How to get what you want

(These words are not actually written by Clayton I. Bennett. Hell, for all we know, maybe the guy can't read or write or do anything beyond break the heart of a geographic region. But this is a sarcastic rendition of the devilish thought process that bounced through that noticeably rectangular cranium perched atop that robotic frame.)

How to get what you want: One man's guide to imposing his chicken-fried will on Seattle, Washington

By Clayton I. Bennett

The meek shall inherit the earth.

That’s what the preacher said a few weeks ago in church and I damn near pissed myself trying not to laugh. Sure, the meek may get the earth I thought to myself, but they sure as hell aren’t going to make off with a professional basketball team from one of the country’s largest cities like I did.

No sirree. A feat like that requires a cast-iron constitution and total and complete disregard for the integrity of an entire region.

And I’ve got some bills to pay now with that $45 million added up on top of all the other dough I’ve already forked over so I thought that while I’m waiting for the moving trucks to show up, I’d put together my guide of getting what you want. Sort of a memoirs-type thing about how I popped up in Seattle one day in 2006 and two years later made off with the oldest professional sports team from one of the largest darn cities in this fine country.

It wasn’t always admirable and it dang sure wasn’t easy, but I was pretty downright effective so maybe you can learn a thing or two from this Okie when it comes to getting what you want.

I. Pucker up and grab a cheek

Yes, I know, kissing some ass is a little unseemly. A grown man shouldn’t really resort to flattery unless he’s talking to a woman he‘s sleeping with. But that’s just pride talking and you can have pride and you can have a pro basketball team, but you can’t always have both and I‘ve found a well-placed smooch is worth millions in political capital.

Just look at what happened after Aubrey McSwiftBoat went and told that Oklahoma City business journal we never bought the team to keep it here. Well sir, that put a fresh cowpie dead center on the supper table. I mean, hell, we’ve been telling folks how honest and earnest and well-meaning we are about staying in Seattle. We’ve even signed an agreement to that effect, and when David Stern found out ol’ Aubrey went and spilled the beans, he was mad there might have been steam coming out his ears like in one of them cartoons my kids like so much. I mean, Sternie was all-caps mad when he sent me an e-mail, but then I got to work on him with the ol’ Bennett boot-polishing charm. I sent him a note telling him how much I admired him as an executive, bemoaning our lack of physical time together and called him just one of my most favorite people in the world. It was the kind of note you’d blush if your grade-school teacher read it aloud. It was also effective because go look and see if you can find one time the little guy wasn’t on our side when it came time to trade gut punches with Seattle‘s local government.

People who say imitation is the best form of flattery have never run into my form of flattery, which has proven capable of shining the very stinkiest of turds.

II. Lie

Mom won’t be happy about this one. Heck, I wouldn’t tell my kids to do it. And I try not to lie except when it helps me, but sometimes you gotta’ take that truth and bend it as if it were a 12-year-old gymnast . When I bought the team I told everyone that my first goal was to keep a team in Seattle. That’s what I really wanted. I didn’t even bring up the possibility of moving to OKC until some pesky damn reporters started asking about it.

Did I want a team in Seattle? No. I wanted to sell the team if it stayed in Seattle, but that was going to make me look like some manipulative speculator who either wanted a team to take to Oklahoma or one with a brand-spanking new arena that would fetch top dollar. That would have sounded too crass so I was better off lying and saying I’d be happy to have a team here.

III. Use big words

Hey, I didn’t go to the Casady School in Oklahoma just so I could avoid those bullies who said my head was made of Lego bricks. I learned me some fancy 25-cent words. Everyone said I wanted a new building. Nope. I wanted a “successor venue.” Some people say concession stands, I talk about “revenue extraction.” Those big words don’t really add anything to the conversation except to make me sound like someone who just maybe knows what he’s talking about.

IV. Play the victim

Now this one was tough considering that from the day I popped up here in Seattle, everyone figured I just wanted to skidaddle out of town with the damn basketball team. And that was before I asked the state to build me the most expensive damned basketball arena in the world. I wanted it to be capable of hosting an NHL team, arena football and all sorts of other stuff that was as useless as tits on an armadillo. Not only that, but I wanted them to build the damned thing in Renton and I wouldn’t whisper a single word about how much I was going to chip in.

Now, the cynical bastards might say I wanted that plan to fail, but when the legislature turned my deal down without so much as a how’s-your-father I pretended I was all down and out. Hell, I acted so crestfallen you’d have thought someone hokked a loogie in my peach cobbler. But that’s just part of the role you’ve got to play. Nobody likes a strong-armed out-of-towner. You’re better off just insisting that you’re the dork in the class nobody will give a chance to.

V. Never underestimate the accent

This one goes hand in hand with playing the victim and lying. I’ve found fibs are more readily swallowed if they’re served up with a twang. It’s like scooping sugar into tea. Now remember that I went to that white-collar wimp factory of a school that taught me all those big words. Not only that, but I went and married to one of the most powerful families in the state. We own the big newspaper in town. Hell, we used to own the Grand Ole Opry, but if I go and speak some Okie, people don’t seem to recognize me as the square-headed rich jerk that I really am.

VI. Lie some more

Now, you might remember when the city of Seattle flayed our little ruse out in the open when it found all those emails talking about OKC and “a man possessed” and “the sweet flip.” We had to come clean then, right? Hell no. That’s when you come back over the top, dig in your heels and double down.

Confessions are for idiot criminals in police interrogations and Vegan commie wusses. I just widened my eyes as if I was a big ol’ Jack-O-Lantern and insisted that golly-gee-no, everyone got it all wrong.

You find any little gray area -- no matter if it’s a charcoal gray -- and insist they got it all wrong. I was a man possessed about staying in Seattle, I said, even though common sense and a basic understanding of the English language indicated otherwise.

And guess what? I got just what I wanted. Hell, I can even make copies of their championship trophy and banners if I want and I went and called those “assets” when I talked about them as if it was some stock I just added to my portfolio.

Well, sorry, but the moving trucks are here so I better go tell them where to pack up those 41 years worth of history. I don’t plan on coming back to Seattle. I’m not too well regarded in these parts, and I understand that. But hey, I didn’t want admiration or appreciation. I wanted me a basketball team.

That didn't take long....

Talk about moving on. This press release from the city of Seattle ended up in SGB's mailbox. This is like putting up a match.com profile a week after filing divorce papers.

SEATTLE - With the immediate departure of the Seattle SuperSonics from KeyArena at Seattle Center, this premier concert and spectator events venue now boasts some of the best date availability nationally among metropolitan areas.

With over 15,000 seats, high tech audio and video capacity, first-class event management and client services, ample parking, and outstanding amenities, KeyArena offers an unsurpassed event experience.

Concert and event promoters will enjoy the choice of newly available dates, including highly desirable weekends, for multi-day events, touring shows, tour rehearsals, ice shows and family shows. They will find new special rates for family shows and access to an outstanding demographic range of young, affluent, boomer and family-oriented event goers. Corporate meeting planners also will find booking flexibility for major meetings and conventions.

KeyArena's status as the premier arena in the Seattle regional marketplace is well established, with the hottest touring shows on the calendar each year as well as our champion WNBA team, the Seattle Storm. This status is augmented by an advantage that no other arena can offer - that of being part of the 74-acre Seattle Center campus, a unique urban park with over 30 resident entertainment organizations, landscaped grounds, an abundance of outdoor attractions and a wide range of dining options within a five-minute walk.

Seattle Center's seasoned staff helps clients create successful events, from the initial contact with our booking department to on-campus and web-based promotions, event management and production.

Sexson Whiffs for the Last Time

Finally. It's Shabbat come early this week, and the Mariners have--finally--waived Richie Sexson. I assume that this SGB post from Sunday is what finally convinced the (interim) powers that be that Sexson sucks it.

The move raises two questions:

1. What do they do with first base? If the answer has the word Cairo in it, I will climb Mt. Baker with Moisture Fetch and stay at the top forever. Look, we're rebuilding. We don't have anything to rebuild around, but right now that's a detail. Balentien is what we've got, and we need to give him a chance to play every day, like we're (finally, after flip-flopping) giving Clement, sort of. Move Ibanez to DH, move Clement to first, and put Balentien in left. Or give Jeremy Reed another try. At least he was born in the 1980s. But this is a great opportunity to give a young guy some time while getting Ibanez out of left field before he does any more damage.

2. What in the name of Dave Kingman/Gormon Thomas/Rob Deer happened to Richie Sexson? From 1998 to 2006, he slugged .500 every year. Last year, .399. This year, .381, lower than Chipper Jones's batting average. I'm tempted to bring up steroids, but he still hits the occasional moonshot. The guy's got power, that's for sure. But there aren't many power hitters who completely implode at the age of 32. Whatever the reason, I won't miss him or his douchebag hair. I will miss the pursuit of the Richie Sexson hat trick: strikeout swinging, strikeout looking, double play, infield pop.

I H8 Brett Favre

This is not exactly a Seattle-related issue, but sometimes my irrational hatred of an athlete can spread beyond city limits. That's why I couldn't ignore the latest story about Brett "Look at Me" Favre.

So, the latest story has Favre texting the Packers GM to discuss a possible return. Is this the same Brett Favre who hemmed and hawed for the better part for three season, creating a distraction for his teammates and coaches, and then finally decided to retire?

Seriously, how selfish can this guy be? Aaron Rodgers already has the tough task of trying to replace a man who is bigger than cheese in Wisconsin, but now he's not sure if the job is his while Brett comes to grips with "his itch." The team can't rally around Rodgers until Favre finally stops with his game of "Will I or Won't I." Selfish motherfucker. Why aren't more reporters calling him on this?

I'll admit it. Favre is one of the best quarterbacks ever. His longevity has been amazing, but the media crush on him is outrageous. The adoration of Favre is even greater than the love for other great QBs -- John Elway, Joe Montana -- of yesteryear. Why? Because he is a good old boy who wears Wranglers and hunts.

Let's address the descriptions the media uses for Favre.

1) Gunslinger - This is code for a white quarterback who throws a lot of interceptions. Ever notice how there are no black "gunslinger" quarterbacks. That's because they become Kordell Stewart, last seen manning the QB position on Pros vs. Joes reality TV show.
2) An Everyman - Code for white football player with a substance abuse problem. What do they call a black quarterback with a drug addiction? Cut.

Packer fans, before you get too excited about getting number 4 back, take a look at Favre's two seasons before last season's remarkable season.

2005 - 20 TDs, 29 INTs and QB rating of 70.9
2006 - 18 TDs, 18 INTs and QB rating of 72.7
2007 - 28TDs, 15 INTs and QB rating of 95.7

Ghost Limb

When I found this next nugget, I got briefly excited, before I realized there was no reason to. According to The Oregonian, Blazers coach Nate McMillan just turned down a contract extension. He has two years left on a 5-year, $30 million deal he signed after leaving the Sonics. He explained his thinking thusly:

"I want to earn it. We haven't done anything here yet, and when my five years is done, I want to make sure they want me and make sure I want to be here."

That sounds to me like a coach with wanderlust. So upon seeing this, my first reaction was, "Wow, maybe he'll come back to the Sonics." Then I remembered that Seattle has no NBA team. Great.

They say that some people who lose limbs still "feel" the missing appendage from time to time, as if it were still there; sometimes it itches or feels tingly. They call it a ghost limb. I guess the Sonics are Seattle's ghost limb. So the question is, will it always feel like this? And in the words of Bill Simmons, is it sports bigamy to root for the Blazers now?

The Anticipation?

Where is one to find comfort in Seattle's bleak major-sports landscape these days? The Sonics are gone, the Mariners were out of contention before the days started getting shorter, and the Storm...well, maybe someone could page them to see how they're doing. Weather notwithstanding, many around here are looking forward to autumn, and maybe not just because the Seahawks are poised to rubber-stamp their next NFC West crown. Could this be the year the Seahawks' college brethren on Montlake turn it around? Their coach better hope so.

The Huskies have started the last two years tantalizingly well. In 2006, they shocked all by jumping out to a 4-1 record, including an upset of then-undefeated UCLA and a nailbiting loss to USC. But QB injuries collapsed the house of cards, and they ended up 5-7. Last year to start, UW thumped Syracuse on the road, then beat ranked Boise State. No small feat, considering the Broncos were fresh off a historic bowl win, stunning Oklahoma (including Clay Bennett, I hope -- although I may not have known I hoped it at the time) and a certain cheerleader. But the following week, the Huskies couldn't hold an early lead and lost to Ohio State. From there, a once-promising season devolved into a 4-9 campaign, lowlighted by come-from-ahead losses to lowly Arizona and Apple Cup foe Washington State. After letting coach Tyrone Willingham twist in the wind for awhile, UW decided not to fire him.

To be fair, the Huskies played what many deemed the toughest shedule in the country; in addition to the aforementioned out-of-conference teams, Washington also traveled to face Sugar Bowl participant Hawaii. The feeling was that the Huskies made strides despite their crappy record. This year, though -- in jockspeak -- UW has got to step it up and get some W's.

Unfortunately for win-hungry fans, Willingham doesn't schedule Directional Tech or Don Bosco Prep: The College Years. Once again, Washington's out-of-conference schedule looks rough: BYU, Oklahoma and Notre Dame. Yet UW needs to go at least 2-1 in its rugged opening trilogy against Oregon, BYU and Oklahoma (The Sonics Bowl?).

Washington has some horses. Talented redshirt sophomore QB Jake Locker is a duel threat, but he needs to rein in his throws. Some publications have rated recent UW recruiting classes in the top 25. And few Pac-10 teams north of Los Angeles seem to be ascendant at this time.

Willingham has always appeared to be a man of integrity, sometimes to his detriment. He turned an unenviable task at Stanford into a Rose Bowl berth for the Cardinal. He did a better job than you remember at Notre Dame, and his unfortunate ouster after three seasons and a 21-16 record sent Jesuit collars flying. Even waist-challenged savior Charlie Weis' record is only one game better in South Bend than Willingham, and his early success came on the backs of his predecessor's recruits. You think the UW-Notre Dame tilt might get some hype?

However, Willingham's unwillingness to get dirty could be his downfall. He seems reluctant to pluck potential talent from junior colleges and his lack of patience for malfeasance appears genuine. Rick Neuheisel he is not.

But in Year 4 -- nice guy or not -- Willingham must win. And the Huskies should win more then they have. UW looks like a middle-of-the-pac Pac-10 team with a shot at a bowl. But that's thanks to a myriad of craptastic postseason games that make teams feel marginally better about mediocre seasons. If Ty doesn't win, he better watch his back. The AD who pushed for Willingham's retention last year, Todd Turner, is gone. Administration and boosters will likely strike a hands-on-their-hips, toe-tapping pose if early losses mount. Basically, UW needs to make a bowl this year, or else. Or else we'll see Tyrone Willingham go the way of the Sonics -- not necessarily stolen from us by Bob Stoops, but sent off to some other place that will probably appreciate him more, at least for a few years.

This turd, once prized...

SGB readers know that we view the Sonics settlement in a less than favorable light. I like to think that we traded the team for a large box of turds ($45 million = turd; empty and unenforceable promises from Stern = turd; $30 million subject to legislative approval of public funds = turd). One particular turd was the right to keep the Sonics' name, colors, records, trophies, etc. This was, in my opinion, the prettiest and most coveted turd in the box. Under some scrutiny, however, it appears that this is just an ordinary turd, neither special nor different, with all the defining features you'd expect from a turd.

The common understanding is that Bennett left behind our legacy. But if you look at the settlement agreement - specifically paragraph 6 - you see that it isn't that clear. Bennett retains the rights to the entirety of the Sonics legacy and only has to return it upon (i) a new Seattle team in a renovated Key Arena, (ii) the full and final resolution of Schultz's lawsuit, and (iii) the permanent relocation of the former Sonics to Oklahoma City. [Side note: I'm ignoring the section dealing with an expansion team, since we all know that isn't happening.] Finally, even if we do get a new team, Bennett may use the Sonics legacy in perpetuity as "shared history."

Some thoughts:

1. Based on this settlement, if we get a new team and Bennett feels like it, two NBA teams may hang a 1979 championship banner in their rafters. That's just fucked up.

2. "Key Arena" is not defined in the document. Thus, if we get a renovated arena but secure new naming rights, we might be subject to the approval of an embittered bastard as to whether we're allowed to call ourselves the Sonics. Further, the team must be located in Seattle. So if we build an arena in Renton, Bennett may keep us from being called the Sonics. Awesome.

3. Our rights to the Sonics legacy relies on the outcome of the Schultz trial. This is fucking nuts -- Schultz had nothing to do with the Sonics honoring their lease obligations. He's a legal stranger to this case, but our right to the Sonics name is now subject to his lawsuit. Essentially, Bennett used the incompetence of the city attorney to gain some leverage in a completely unrelated suit.

I'm all out of outrage. I'll just drop this turd back in the box and start focusing on the Mariners and the upcoming football season.

Ichiro's quote of the week

The Seattle PI had this nice blog post with Ichiro handing out love to Miguel Cairo and doling out a subtle put-down to just about everyone else who is not Japanese. Not to question Ichiro's insight, but Miguel is hitting a robust .231 with an OBP of .307. He's not exactly So Taguchi.

''I personally think that Japanese make the best No. 2 hitters,'' Ichiro said. ''But he (Cairo) is as good as anyone in Japan batting second. Of course, Jose Lopez has done a good job for us batting second, too.

''But Miguel is the first real No. 2 batter I've seen since I came to the U.S.''

Asked what constituted a ''real No. 2 batter,'' Ichiro just tapped the side of his head.

''He understands the mental side of the game.''

New Low; Some Hope

“Whatever I can do to help this team to win a ballgame, I’ll do it,” says Jamie Burke, Mariners catcher, brought in to blow a save. Uh, if you want to help, how about hitting the ball?

In case you missed it: in a 15-inning standoff, mirroring the epic Wimbledon final (minus the heart and historic play), the Mariners lost 2-1 to the Tigers, with Jamie Burke being called out from behind the plate to throw the fateful, final inning. So Burke can now add an "L" to his illustrious Big League ball stats.

Another bizarre point of optimism from Jim Riggleman, too good not to note: "Burke did a good job for us. . . . He kept it to a one-run game." Jim, you know that we lost in extra innings, right?

Kidding aside, Burke should get credit for stepping up and actually getting two outs before losing the game. And really, the Mariners' offense had plenty of time to win that one before Burke was called out to pitch.

Finally, on a positive note, 24-year-old Mariners' reliever Cesar Jimenez looked good pitching a career high four innings of shutout, giving hope to all who want to see this team rebound.

Sexson Sucks It

Today, the Mariners trotted out Ryan Rowland-Smith to spot start. And he delivered. He threw five scoreless innings. Nate Robertson had his good stuff for Detroit, too. It was shaping up to be just a great, great game.

In the seventh inning, Raul hit a double with one out. They walked Beltre, naturally, to get to Sexson, and to set up the double play. Sexson worked the count to 2-0. Things were looking pretty good. Robertson was tiring, and Sexson had the count in his favor and could wait for his pitch.

So what happened? Robertson threw a very well-located fastball low and away. Sexson tried to pull it and--surprise--hit a grounder to short. Inning over. You learn in coach pitch when you're eight that you can't pull the low and away fastball. Be a little selective there, guy. Either go with the pitch, or take it. Hell, you strike out look all the time; the concept of taking a strike is nothing new.

The Mariners wound up losing in the 15th inning, and Sexson was a solid 0-6 with four men left on base.

It is time to cut him, or at least bench him. Let Clement get his hacks over there. Call up Balentien and let Raul play first. Call Bob Hamelin out of retirement. Do anything. Just don't let that choking choker choke anymore. You already wasted the money, but you don't have to inflict this on your fans.

Bring us your poor, your tired .... excuses/justifications for the Sonics exit

It's no surprise, but many Seattle residents are talking about the Sonics move to OK City. In my experience, there are two refrains that seem to be popular among the casual so-called Sonics fans.

1) "We'll get another team soon" -- I even heard one guy say that the NBA would be back within 2 years. His justification? Seattle is too big of a media market to be without an NBA team. Like Los Angeles with the NFL? Or Washington DC with baseball until two years ago? Would the NBA like to make sure all the major media markets are covered with teams? Probably. But will they place teams in all those markets at the expense of a bad arena deal? No way. Also, sorry to break this to you Seattelites, but we are living in the 14th media market. Not exactly a must-have. One ahead of Seattle? Tampa. No NBA team.

2) "Why would we want to pay for a team that wasn't good anyway?" -- This is the worst kind of short-sighted, fair weather comment that I have heard. Even modestly knowledgeable sports fans know that a team's performance tend to cycle. Poorly run teams have a longer trough and shorter peak, but it is cyclical. To make decisions on the long-term future of a team based on short-term performance is moronic. How quickly can fortunes change? The NBA champion Boston Celtics were the worst team in the league last year. How did they go from worst to first? Trading their stockpile of young talent for All-Star players to surround their one superstar. If only we knew of a team with young, talented superstar and a roster full of young, promising players AND a boatload of number 1 picks in the future. If only.

Back to the weeping and gnashing of teeth....

So, it's finally sinking in that Seattle is no longer an NBA town. Let's be honest; the league won't expand any time soon, and if it does, Seattle isn't going to get a team. (But hey, Mayor Nickels, thanks for keep the colors and name! Good job, guy.) A fitting end to the team that always seemed a throwback: named after a declining industry that made the town in the mid-20th century and has broken Seattle's heart so many times since; with a logo that always seemed a throwback to Walt Hazzard, no matter how many times they tried to update it; the arena reminiscent of a high school gymnasium; a team never willing to pay more than last-decade salaries. They won more than they should have, and I always rooted for them, even when I didn't live here. Now, as oil prices rise and force Boeing to cut back production again and lay off workers, the 'Sonics pull up stakes and head to OKC, to play ball for oil millionaires riding the wave of high oil prices. The irony is almost too much. So, to salve my wounds, let's try to assign a little blame. Let's assess the candidates:

The City of Seattle: This is my first choice for laying blame. Honestly, the City could have ponied up for a new arena, which was not only a much-needed improvement for Key Arena, but was, most likely, a long term financial boon for the city. Simply put, that would have saved the team. The voters rejected the levy, sacrificing any chances of keeping the team in Seattle.

Howard Schultz: Schultz was shocked, SHOCKED!, that a businessman from Oklahoma City, who had made lots of money in Oklahoma City, would buy a team and move it to Oklahoma City, who does not have basketball team, but who rabidly supported the Hornets for the brief time they played there. Jackass. I hate your coffee, and I hate you! The lawsuit is b.s. and nothing more than a PR stunt to save face for delivering our fate into Clay Bennett's greedy little hands.

Clay Bennett: Is he to blame? As much as I hate that he pulled the rug out from under us, his only shady dealing was the not-surprising discovery that he apparently never really had any intention of keeping the team in Seattle. Of course, all that might have worked out differently if the wool socks and Teva crowd hadn't turned out in droves to vote down the new arena.

I'd be curious if anyone else can let me know who to blame before I go through the trouble of making a voodoo doll to represent our moronic voting public.

Give me your violent, your crazy, your recidivist bastards yearning to make it to February

I apologize to the mourners for interrupting the Sonics-related sad sackery, but there are important, uplifting, burning Seattle sports issues to discuss: namely, the upcoming football season and one solid idea for making our football team not suck this year. And no, I don’t mean the Huskies – I have no idea how to make them stop sucking. I am talking about the Seahawks, the gridiron's nicest guys and former home of the chubbiest star running back since the Bus left Steeltown.

I know it’s hard to get excited about football while the weather’s still warm and the sun’s still shining during dinner. But for me, every year at about this time, I can feel excitement start to build about the coming of fall. Part of this excitement is, no doubt, the proximity of crisp, clear days and the new-school-year optimism embedded deep in my lizard brain. But a big part of the excitement is the approach of a new football season, so filled with nervousness and anticipation back in the Pop Warner days, and now brimming with the promise of drinking beer at 10 o’clock on Sunday mornings and watching Lofa Tatupu punish any running back with the temerity to run between the tackles.

Last year was a bit of a disappointment. Not as much for me as for a friend who picked Shaun Alexander first in his fantasy draft, but neverthless a disappointment to watch so much talent being squandered. But this year, I’ve got hopes. And I’ve got one solid idea for how we can turn our guys into the Emerald City marauders we need to be to make it to the big game.

We need more criminals.

That’s right. It’s no secret that some teams have achieved great success by keeping known felons in their ranks. Indeed, the examples of excellent individual acquisitions are too many to catalog here. But perhaps no team has utilized the criminally-inclined more effectively than America’s Team: the Dallas Cowboys. And frankly, I’m sick of seeing Jerry Jones's band of rogues win at the expense of our guys in green, and I think it’s time we steal a page from their rap sheet.

But first, let’s look at some fish that got away:

Terry “Tank” Johnson, for example, has been a successful acquisition for America’s Team. Having been arrested numerous times on a variety of charges, including illegal firearm possession and assault of a police officer, Johnson was dropped by the Bears. Career over? No way. The Cowboys were more than happy to scoop him up and plant him in the middle of a very effective D Line. The kicker: as a former Husky, the Seahawks were in prime position to add Tank to their arsenal in the 2004 draft. Who did they pick instead? Marcus Tubbs, who in 2007 had no felonies and no sacks.

Adam “Pacman” Jones is perhaps the most brilliant, and most felonious, Cowboy acquisition in recent memory. Sure, he sat out the entire 2007 season for making it rain just a little too hard, but his return promises to be spectacular, and will give the Cowboys their first true lockdown corner since Neon Deion left to be co-host of the 700 Club. Just looking at the numbers, it’s clear that Seattle should have snapped him up on the cheap: even taking the 2007 goose egg into account, Pacman’s three-year career average of 1.33 interceptions and 38.33 tackles per season outguns the 1 interception and 35 tackles Kelly Jennings recorded in his first and only season as a Hawks’ corner.

And aside from those two criminally good acquisitions, the Cowboys have been just as effective at growing their own, so to speak. The roster of Cowboy outlaws is too long to go into detail: Nate Newton, Michael Irvin, Erik Williams, Hollywood Henderson . . . . We all know that Rae Carruth would be running patterns in Arlington if only he’d had Johnny Cochran as his lawyer.

So, where does that leave us nice guys? Perhaps we can score the former Bengals' WR Chris Henry, who, based on last season’s on and off field performances, promises to be very bad, and very good, in years to come. But who else is there that we can acquire? There must be someone, and we just need to be on the lookout. For example: he runs a 4.0 forty but gets in a fight every Friday night? Awesome; bail him out and suit him up in Seattle. He benches 225 forty-five times but has failed every drug test since the combines? Great! From your lock-up to our locker room, we’re happy to have him.

I think Paul Allen and crew just need to start scouring the police blotters for franchise talent. Hell, maybe with two or three more violent criminals, we could be America’s team.

Sonics Coda

I went down to the Sonics team store to buy some of the history Clay Bennett so graciously declined to take to Oklahoma. A guy was walking out with a box as tall as he was. It held a nearly-life-size Kevin Durant bobblehead. Inside, a line of about 25 waited to buy dwindling supplies of Sonics stuff at 75% off. Behind me in line, a female Sonics employee talked on the phone about her future with the team and whether she would move to Oklahoma City.

"I've had better days." That was the response of the cashier to the rhetorical question of how he was doing. I bought a Sonics hat, a long-sleeved Durant t-shirt and a nylon Sonics wallet. Price: $15.25, down from $55.97. I pocketed a Sonics keychain flashlight. It was my symbolic pound of flesh for the theft of the team from Seattle. Outside, the KeyArena message board flashed information about an upcoming Neil Diamond concert.

A few hours after the Sonics settlement came down, I saw an exceedingly strange movie called "My Winnipeg." In it, director Guy Maddin narrates a phantasmagoric analysis of why he has been unable to leave his lifelong home, which comes across as the Buffalo of Canada.

One of the things Maddin laments is the departure of his beloved NHL team, the Winnipeg Jets; they bolted for hockey-mad Phoenix in 1996. For Maddin, this was a personal insult. His mother gave birth to him in a locker room of the old Winnipeg Arena while his dad was coaching a game. So Maddin perceived a small victory when it came time to implode the old barn. The first round of dynamite only destroyed the sections of the arena added on when the Jets joined the NHL. That the main frame withstood the initial explosion convinced Maddin it was a sign -- of what, who knows?

So what small victory can Sonics fans take from their team's departure? Bland bromides from city leaders about the possibility of a new team at an unspecified later date? Really, we're just left with a settlement larded with more dependent clauses than a nursing home full of Santas. Seattle, meet Winnipeg. Maybe you can go to the Neil Diamond show together.

The Inevitable

These "contests" are always as predictable as a Harlem Globetrotters-Washington Generals tilt. In the role of the Globetrotters: David Stern and Clay Bennett; reprising the role of the Generals: Sonics fans.

By definition, as fans we invest an inordinate amount of time, energy and emotion into our teams. We're still kids rooting for our heroes. And then the grownups with money come along and show us how deluded we've been to hitch our hopes to a team's wagon. Fans of the old Cleveland Browns, Baltimore Colts and many others know how this day feels.

Save for a few franchises, every NBA fan should realize this could happen to their team. Yet this is a strangely local story. Check the major sports websites, and the Sonics' move is getting national play somewhere between Baron Davis' signing with the Clippers and LeBron James playing kissy-face with Jay-Z.

In the end, we didn't have a chance. A settlement is the best the little guy could ever hope for, even without a guarantee of a future franchise. Congratulations Oklahoma City. Enjoy it now, because in 10 years when the crowds shrink and your arena is no longer state-of-the-art, you'll know how we feel.

A two sport town

Although I knew for months that this was the only realistic outcome, I'm somehow still affected. Part of me still clung to the slimmest of hopes that a last-minute miracle would save our team. It's probably the same part that convinced me to buy season tickets and to sit through a 20-win season. The same part that cheered madly during each tiny victory in the season (a breakaway dunk... a flash of brilliance from Durant... PJ waking up long enough to bench Watson). At every jump ball, I knew that we probably wouldn't win, but a small part of me always held out hope for a miracle or two.

It was the part of me that was a fan. The part that believed that our Sonics -- no matter how outmatched -- had a chance every night, no matter who they faced.

This is a blow to fans of all sports in all cities. It underlines the fact any sports franchise is subject to the whim and caprice of a very small number of very rich people. Any team can move at any time and the fans are helpless.

I'm extra, extra fucking bummed.

What now?

I grew up in Texas and started watching football when I was 7. That was the year Earl Campbell won the Heisman and then got drafted by the Oilers. (Yes, by SGB standards, I'm an old man.) I was hooked on the Oilers, even through the Hugh Campbell years. And even, somewhat to my shame, through the move to Tennessee. I saw no reason to give up my allegiance to a team just because Bud Adams is a rat-fink. To this day, I've got a place in my heart for the Titans.

I have no such place for the Sonics.

So. Assuming the Sonics are gone, what's a Seattle basketball fan to do?

Blazers? I know a lot of Seattle fans who can't stomach the thought. Me, I haven't been here long enough to hate them. In fact, I've only been here long enough to have huge admiration for Nate McMillan and to think they're putting together a hell of a team down there.

Huskies? I'm more of an NBA guy myself. But I love the atmosphere at Hec Ed. I just wish you didn't have to be an actuary to figure out their damned season-ticket system.

Maybe it's time to move on from basketball altogether. How are the Thunderbirds doing these days?

So the Sonics have just broken up with us. Who'll be our rebound team?

Sonics Settlement

The city and the Sonics have reached a settlement. Here's the note on the U.S. District Court's site. There's a press conference at 5 p.m. today to announce the details.

I'll be surprised if it involves the team playing any more seasons in Key Arena. But we'll see in 45 minutes or so.

Pimpin' ain't easy

From Ballers w/ randoms, a surprisingly transfixing album on Flickr: