This Year's U.S. Open was Just Plain Boring

Written by: Zach Hammer, The Reserve Clause (Twitter: @Zach_Hammer)

I’m a total golf snob and watch at least portions of each tournament, and all of every major. It’s what I do. It helps me aspire to be a better weekend duffer. It’s not just that, it’s the fact that I’m in love with the game.

Golf, in the Tiger Woods era, has transcended its “old, rich guy sport” moniker. It now reaches people of races, creeds and sexes of all ages. That’s a good thing. It’s a great sport, and is one that can connect all of these people. To many of these folks, watching major tournaments whittle down on Sundays are highly dramatic sporting events. But not this year. This year is painful to watch and here is why.

1.        Low Scores: Last year, Rory McIlroy rang in the new era of golf when he won the Open with a score of -16. He completely dominated the field and had the tournament wrapped up by the turn in his final round. Nobody else stood a chance, yet I was glued to the TV waiting to see what magnificent shot he would pull of out of his hat next. This year’s tournament is just painful. Coming into Sunday I would not have been shocked if the winning score was over par. That’s not good, entertaining golf. Shame on you, USGA. Your job is to make our national championship as exciting as possible, but when professional golfers are posting scores that a weekend duffer like myself is capable of posting, adjustments need to be made.

2.       Lack of storylines: Sure, ESPN was riding the early Tiger lead to the core, and was praying that he’d pull out some “Tiger magic” on Sunday. Instead, what happened? Bogey, Bogey, Double Bogey to open his final round. See ya, Tiger! The best story line therefore fell to Beau Hossler. The 17-year old soon-to-be high school senior was in contention to possibly win the tournament, which as an amateur alone is pretty incredible. But as typical amateurs do, they slip in the final round. Now we’re stuck with aging stars Ernie Els and Jim Furyk. Sure, I get the “importance” of an older golfer winning. Thanks, but no thanks.

3.       The other TV event: It’s just too bad that the more entertaining matchup is running while the final pairings make their way around the back nine. I’ve already switched channels. Why? Because it’s not boring.

I love golf and will always love golf. This column is not meant to imply that I think that the game is boring, just that this particular incarnation of our national championship doesn’t do it for me. Maybe it’s the thick fog forming over the Olympic Club or the sleepy San Francisco golf fans? I don’t know. Either way, congratulations to Webb Simpson. He certainly deserves it. I just hope that he gives the USGA a sincere ear-full after the tournament is over. He probably won’t.

The More Perfect, Perfect Game Catch

Written by: Zach Hammer, The Reserve Clause (Twitter: @Zach_Hammer)

Every perfect game or no-hitter has that one, monumental, game saving play. Matt Cain may have pitched the "most perfect" perfect game last night, and his accomplishment certainly had that special moment, game saving play courtesy of Gregor Blanco.

In 2009, then White Sox pitcher Mark Buerhle also was perfect. Defensive replacement, DeWayne Wise robbed a home run to save it.

I want you to tell me which play was better.

First up: DeWayne Wise Robs Gabe Kapler:

Second up: Gregor Blanco Robs Jordan Schafer:

Ready...Set...GO!

2012 NBA Finals Preview

Written by: Zach Hammer, The Reserve Clause

Before I even get started down the path of no return, know this—we all got what we wanted. Well, I at least got what I wanted. No offense to the Spurs and their ageless, ball movement offense and incredible coaching staff, this is what the league office has been hoping for all season. Seriously, David Stern has now got a bigger grin/smirk on his face than when the Lakers v Celtics rekindled their bi-coastal rivalry in the 2008 Finals. This rivalry has everything that the league needs: intense fans (well, at least in OKC), star-studded courtside patrons (well, at least in Miami), great coaching (well, at least in OKC), and superstars (well shoot, I guess they’re in both OKC and Miami). 

Here’s the way this is going to work, I’ve spent serious time contemplating five key areas that are essential to winning this thing. I’ve looked at all of the stats, all of the material that I could get my hands on, watched every single game throughout the entire NBA Playoffs and have come to a conclusion that some will like and some will hate; that’s the nature of the beast, ladies and gents. So here we go, put on your best stadium handout fan shirt, and let’s get this thing going.

Backcourt

For those of you that didn’t know, OKC doesn’t start James Harden. He was the Sixth Man of the Year, which in most scenarios means that you are the best guy that can’t start in the League—dumb. Regardless, I can’t count “the Beard” in this category. Westbrook and Sefolosha start and a great starting pair they are. Westbrook’s athleticism is off-the-charts crazy good. A score-first point guard that has averaged a shade under 22ppg in the Playoffs, he is fearless and carries the first unit. He will need to improve on his playoff average of 2:1 assist-to-turnover ratio if he wants to truly dominate. No fear, he gets his. Sefolosha is a big off-guard and will be responsible for guarding both Wade and James. Tough task for anyone. Sefolosha has the ability to do it, and can be counted on to have at least one game where he “goes off” for 15.

D-Wade and Chalmers are an outstanding duo. I may be in the minority here, but Chalmers has the potential to be a top-5 point guard in the league in no time. How couldn’t he be when he has three superstars (Wade, James, Bosh) to work through? Trust me, Chalmers is the real deal. His 3:1 turnover-to-assist ratio trumps Westbrook, but they’re two totally different players. When the ball is in Chalmers’ hands, and he’s got a look, it’s usually from downtown. At 36%, his 3P% could use a little work, but when he’s got an open jumper, it’s going down—count on that. On to Wade…’nuff said. He’s got a ring and knows what it takes to win one—get another superstar and jump on their back to a banner (see: O’Neill, Shaq). He’ll get his shots, but needs to dismantle Sefolosha and get 25 per game in order for this team to be successful. As Wade goes, so does LBJ. That isn’t to say that James needs Wade to be productive, because he doesn’t, but when he’s on the floor, it opens and he can dribble, drive, dish, or go right to the bucket. 

EDGE: Miami. 

Frontcourt

In OKC they refer to the quadrant of Westbrook, Durant, Harden, and Ibaka as the “Big 4”. I have no problem with that. This team is built for longevity and is the blueprint for front office supremacy. What people don’t realize is that Ibaka is only 22 years old and has been playing basketball for a few, short years. That astounds me because he is ready to trump Dwight Howard as the best defending big man in the game. All NBA Defensive Team, a ball magnet around the rim, he keeps shots from getting off in the paint. There’s no reason to think that it stops here. If he can bring even one iota of an offensive game into this series, Miami is in trouble down low. Perkins will play the role of the bruiser. He needs to stay out of foul trouble and finish around the rim, which has been his Achilles heel this entire run. If he can pull down low double-doubles, Miami will not know where to turn.

Bosh is a perennial All-Star. His extended jumper range killed Boston in Game 7 and could be a major factor in getting Ibaka away from the rim. He’s no defensive liability, but not nearly as strong as the OKC frontcourt men, yet he’s a great help-side defender and can play from the elbow extended. He’s a mid- to high double-double machine and needs to fill it up in this series. Udonis Haslem will be called on to be the anti-Perk in this series. He needs to hit the 10-footer with consistency, bring a defensive mindset to this series, otherwise, they’re going to have issues.

EDGE: OKC

Superstars

No doubt about it, this is the most difficult category to consider. On one side you have the “Big 3” and on the other you have the “Big 4”. However, I’m taking another look at this, and I need to be objective. The true superstars in this series are Durant and James—don’t argue with me on this, because you all know that it’s the case. Stats are really a push. On one side you have the two-time reigning scoring champ, on the other you’ve got a perennial MVP. It’s too difficult a task to look at this as a one-on-one, apples to oranges comparison. It can’t be done. So here’s how I’m doing this: FANTASY DRAFT! If I were to start a team from scratch and held the first pick, these two would, without question, be the first two picks. But…I can only pick one. If I’m starting a franchise from square one and needed to draft the guy that I’m building my team around it’s LeBron James. Sorry haters, he’s the best player in the NBA hands down. I want a guy that can play any position on the floor, is a willing scorer, willing defender, and willing leader. I don’t care if he hasn’t hit a game winner, you don’t need to when you beat teams by double digits in the fourth quarter. People seem to forget that.

EDGE: MIA

Bench

This won’t take long, I promise. Miami has nearly $50M tied up in three guys. That doesn’t yield much in terms of bench help. Pat Riley has done an admirable job of putting proven guys around the “Big 3” that fall well within the cap limitations, but that simply isn’t enough. OKC has everything that a bench needs. Star player (Harden), scrappy, team-first defender (Collison), career winners (Fisher), and a dead red spot-up shooter (Cook) that when given minutes, can contribute. This one is over. No doubter here.

EDGE: OKC

Coaching

Scott Brooks was a career backup point guard in the league. He made it the hard way, coming up through the CBA and other strange affiliates before landing in great situations in Houston. He played with championship teams and knows what a team needs to do to win. He’s a former Coach of the Year after posting perhaps the greatest franchise turn-around in League history, taking them from a 23-win season to a 50-win season. That’s admirable, regardless of drafting and other circumstances. His players love him, the city adores him, and he fits the bill. 

Spoelstra is an enigma. He is seemingly the “Queen of England”, which amounts to a “prisoners run the asylum” type of situation. He has very little to do with the success of the Heat, other than the fact that he was able to hold the team together through the vast expectations preceding them, which is admirable but not enough. He knows that he needs to win right now and he will do what he needs to do to accomplish that. Otherwise, he’ll be looking for a job on Vinny Del Negro’s staff. He’ll be the guy cleaning the clipboard on the sideline.

EDGE: OKC

Final Say

I personally cannot wait to see how this series unravels. There are so many intriguing sub-plots: Can the Heat’s personification of the anti-Moneyball team be realized?, Can the upstart Thunder trump the powerful “Big 3” and begin their expected dynasty a year earlier than anticipated? Regardless of how this shakes out, expect fireworks and insane games. You don’t want to miss this, it’s going to be BIG!

PREDICTION: OKC IN 6.

Scarlett Johansson Nude!

By: Zach Hammer, The Reserve Clause

That title alone should set a new record for most hits on a single article. (Currently my Stadium Food piece, for those wondering.)

Wednesdays are the worst. While Mondays get all the bad rap, at least there are the great stories from the weekend to share. Like the one where your buddy tells you how he met this questionable chick, brought her back to his place, only to find his roommate had brought the same chick back to the same apartment the night before. Or about the time you left your phone in a cab, only to have the FBI show up at your door for supplying communication devices to known terrorist organizations.

But Wednesdays don’t have anything like that. No one has wild Tuesday nights. Well, only alcoholics, and no one listens to stories from alcoholics because at some point they stop being funny and start getting depressing. Unless he pees himself. Then it’s funny again.

Wednesdays aren’t close enough to the last weekend and not yet close enough to the next one. They’re when we need a nice pick-me-up the most. Well, this Wednesday came through. By mid-morning, the Twitter world was abuzz with talk of Scarlett Johansson nude pictures. God must have finally heard my prayers! On a scale of 1 to 10 of celebrities we most needed a good leaked nude photo of, SJ is a 37.

This little gift from above got me thinking. Is there anything better than Scarlett Johansson nude? After some serious soul searching, I decided no. Need some proof. Well, because this is a PG 13 site, I won’t share the pictures here. (Seriously, it’s called Google, go use it yourself). But I will give you five awesome things that aren’t even as awesome as Scarlett Johansson nude.

1. Playing Madden ‘12 with Bill Belichick

For some reason, the 18-25 demographic continues to line up at video game stores for hours in anticipation of the latest installment of Madden. Why? No clue. Maybe it’s the excitement of the two minor tweaks that the folks over at EA added to this year’s game. Maybe these booger-eaters just have no plans for Friday nights and just stocked up on a bulk purchase of Cheetos.

While I’m at a bit of a loss when explaining the Madden phenomenon, if you’re going to spend time coaching up a bunch of pixels, why not compete against the cream of the crop? And anyone who didn’t already think “The Hoodie” was the best in the business needs to watch NFL Films’ “A Football Life”, following Bill Belichick through the 2009 season. This guys never stops coaching, which is what would make it that much cooler to beat his ass repeate with the “Annexation of Puerto Rico”. BOOM!

2. Throw a 100mph fastball in an appearance as the opening pitch guy.

I for one am sick and tired of MLB teams bringing out these novelty honorary first pitch people who have zero arm. This is the great American pastime that we’re talking about. Everyone should be able to put a little zing on a baseball. (Don't believe me? Check out the video below. Number 2 was definitely robbed of the top spot.)

Now imagine someone like Henry Rowengartner skipping out to the mound to open up a game. Most unsuspecting fans would find it cute that a Little Leaguer is going to try and throw from 60-feet, but what if he rears back and lets one absolutely rip? How awesome would that be? Most of the bullpen catchers who catch the first pitch don’t even wear protective equipment. Imagine the horror and attention that the pitcher would get if he smashed the catcher’s face? Would the catcher still smile and sign the baseball? Who really cares about a signed baseball from a guy who would be selling life insurance after the season anyway? Nobody, but they would care about the ringer who went from throwing the ceremonial first pitch to getting a spot in the rotation.

3. Running a drunk 40-yd dash, on concrete, outside of a major tourist attraction.

You’re gonna have to trust me on this one, as I’ve done it and it was awesome. I ran a 5.13 by the way, but I’m pretty sure the timer was a step slow (he was drunk too, after all), and I puked afterward so I was obviously carrying unnecessary weight at the time.

4. Flying in a human squirrel suit

No explanation necessary here.

5. Being Adam Richman

Here is the guy that all men wish that they could be. He gets paid to be a total slob, the guy we’d all be if appearance and personal health didn’t matter. Believe it or not, Adam Richman is worth an estimated $8M. His job description entails travelling the country to stuff his fat face full of extremely unhealthy food in legendary portions. But who in their right mind wouldn’t sacrifice a little body weight for $8M?

I imagine only a fraction of you made it to the end without giving up on me and going to check out Ms. Johansson, but I thank those of you who did (or at least came back). Did I miss anything? If so, let me know in the Comments below.

Summer Music Festival Wrap-up

It's always a sad day when the weather starts to cool off and the sun goes away at 5pm. Here in Chicago, the only thing that can prepare me for winter is to put on my snow suit and stand in front of a max speed fan for a few hours. But what better way to pay homage to summer more than sharing some of the highlights of the summer concert festival that was? From Pitchfork to Coachella to Lollapalooza, I have compiled a playlist of some of the best performances of the summer, spanning the country. Enjoy, you uncivilized heathens:

It's a Sunday morning, that means we all need to get ourselves out of bed and actually do something with ourselves today. My plan? Maybe go to the driving range or something. Grammy Award winning artists, Arcade Fire got everyone's attention at Coachella this year with their closing number "Wake Up". Even though I'm not entirely sure that Win Butler isn't actually Two Face, he and his band sure can rock. Who would have ever thought that a band comprised mostly of strings could sound this b? 

Just because I like my readers, I thought that I would give you a double shot of Wiz Khalifa. Maybe I'm biased because Wiz hails from my home state, but he's still one of the best new rappers in the game. Personally, Wiz should have probably been slated to play at night just so we could see the mushroom cloud of  smoke hovering over the crowd. Regardless of how inebriated the crowd and/or Wiz were when this show went down, it's a shame that I couldn't get to Cali for this show.

Delta Spirit is a band that really should just release new material in time for summer. In this video, they play the summer anthem, "Trash Can" at this year's Lollapalooza festival. Some of the talent at Lollapalooza has dipped slightly, but Delta Spirit has to be considered a pure speculation pick. Having them play at a festival like Lolla is kind of like taking an undrafted rookie running back in the late rounds of a draft, then having him blow up and lead the league in rushing (see Arian Foster). Most people aren't quite sure of what they're going to get, but as soon as you put them in the lineup, they make your team (festival) miles better. Here's looking at you, Delta Spirit--you just rushed for 1,600 yards.

Last but certainly not least, my favorite performance of the entire summer festival series--"Wide Eyes" by Local Natives. I may be a little biased here too, as I've seen these guys on a few occasions and let me tell you, they can blow the roof off the place. Somewhere, David Crosby is crying tears of joy that another Laurel Canyon band is proudly carrying the torch of the great LA bands that came before them. Let's not forget that Taylor Rice has maybe the coolest moustache in the business.

I'm sure that I missed some great performances. If you see a glaring weakness in any of my favorites, let me know. 

Top Tweets of the Week (August 22-27)

Written by: Zach Hammer, The Reserve Clause

First thing's first: I'm not stupid. I know that a week isn't just five days, but when you sit at work all day waiting on your TweetDeck timeline to update so you can fight your way through, that IS your week. Technically, the weekend is just a time to consume way too stale beer and find the best $1 pizza slice that the city offers. Now that that whole mess is settled, let's jump into it. 

I'm breaking this down in descending order (that means that it goes backward from 5 to 1, just in case you needed a definition).

5. @KjMcGarr: “Irene” was the go code in Black Hawk Down.”

-What a movie! There is nothing like Josh Hartnett leading men to save Jeremy Piven's dumbass. It all could have been avoided if Piven simply knew how to fly a damn helicopter. I flew a helicopter in my friend Aaron's house last week and I must say--it isn't that difficult. C'mon Piven, you're Ari Gold for god's sake...you're better than that. Regardless of his flying inadequacies, I have to do it: 

Matthews: "All units, Irene. I say again, Irene!"

Durant: "Fu**in' Irene!"

4. @Rosenberg_Mike: “The government has asked several hundred thousand people to leave New York City. That is long overdue.”

-Is there a single city in the world that could possibly better itself anymore by getting several hundred thousand people the hell out of dodge more than NYC? I love the city--perhaps the greatest city on earth, but my estimates put the amount of "I Heart NYC" vendors somewhere around "several hundred thousand". The world would be a much better place if we didn't have to see someone from Iowa City wearing one of these shirts while working on their cattle farm.

3. @JimCarrey: "My avatar is the eye in a self-portrait called 'What Have You Don?' an unavoidable question u ask yrslf when u take any creative risk.?;P"

-Someone should probably tell Ace Ventura that the only reason that he has so many followers is that people are obsessed with his fall from grace. Seriously, who in their right mind puts out an Emma Stone infatuation video with the hope that people actually think that it's a joke? Oh, the Mask, you really are a beauty. Your movies haven't been relevant since you wore Gack on your face and fought crime. But you're really, really rich, so if I were you, I'd just continue to think that people actually care about you.

2. @ericstonestreet: "Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom! Mom watch. Mom. Mom watch this. Mom. Mom. Mom watch! Mom! Mom! Mom! Mom watch this.'--how I get a hot mom's attention at a pool."

-Man, this guy has way too few followers. Stonestreet is the anchor of the popular comedy show, Modern Family. He plays the overweight, extremely feminine Cameron and kills every single episode. Aside from MF being the best sitcom on TV right now, Stonestreet is a stupid hilarious tweeter. All tweeting aside, he might have come up with the most brilliant pickup line in history. What kind of woman doesn't get turned on by a grown man pulling off the perfect can-opener? I'll have the results of this pickup line back to you very soon. 

1. @TheCousinSal: "I will miss my Uncle Frank dearly. A great man, friend, comedian. Please enjoy this classic: Uncle Frank"

-Listen, not all top tweets have to be about fart jokes or infatuation issues (insert Carrey joke here). The great Uncle Frank from the Jimmy Kimmel Show passed away this week. Uncle Frank was a former NYPD officer and in his 20 years of service he was known to have only arrested 6 people. Rather, his thought was that a good lecturing did just as much to change the minds of criminals. As one of maybe ten fans of the show, it certainly is sad to see him go. God speed, Uncle Frank!

The Thing About Stadium Food

Written by: Zach Hammer, The Reserve Clause

America is in the midst of a crippling recession with no real recovery in sight, unemployment rates are staggeringly high from coast to coast, and the stock market rises and falls with the ferocity of a diving pool at a fat kids camp, yet there’s one thing we Americans refuse to give up: Our goddamn stadium food.

My brother is a grocery store flier shopper. Every Sunday he pours through grocery store flyers to plan his meals for the week. I, on the other hand, believe saving cash is all well and good, but when it gets down to actually walking the grocery aisles, I’m about as disciplined as Dominique Strauss-Kahn (see, I read real news too). But as different as we may be, there is still that one beautiful thing that brings cheapskates and irresponsible idiots together: the $14 baseball helmet nachos.

As Americans, we may spend our weekdays clipping coupons and buying TP in bulk, but we are still more than happy to dole out stacks of cash for those delights that lie behind the heavy steel counters. Last fall, my brother and I made our way through the concourse at an NFL game to find a restroom when a smell so delicious hit me that I instantly forgot the reason we climbed all those stairs. I turned to my brother, who was equally entranced, and we made our way barreling down the concourse, through an old lady and likely a small child or two, until there they stood before us in all their glory: gigantic roasted turkey drumsticks. We had to have one.

After an excruciating wait, it was finally our turn to approach the heavy steel oasis and place our order. As the elder brother, I took the lead: “Two ridiculously large turkey legs, please.” The woman behind the counter turned to her left, tightened her back brace, bent at the knees, and with all her might lifted two massive pieces of poultry out of the roaster and onto a pair of woefully undersized plates. “That will be $44.”

I, a  shameless consumer of $8 hummus, was appalled. “$44? That’s insane. Does it come with anything else?”

“Nope,” she answered, “just the leg. You want ‘em or not?”

“Not for $44 I don’t.”

Without batting an eye, she moved to the next customer, who promptly ordered our turkey legs, then brushed us aside to grab a stack of napkins before walking away victorious. It was obvious right then and there that I had made a terrible mistake.

My brother stepped in. “Ma’am, we’ve changed our mind about the ridiculously large turkey legs. We didn’t know they came with unlimited napkins. We’ll take two.”

He handed over $50, told her to keep the change, and we had finally secured our prize.

At that moment, my brother didn’t care that he just forked over $50 of his hard-earned dollars, or that the same amount of money could buy him groceries for the week. He had gotten exactly what he wanted, and there on the concourse, there was no recession, no unemployment rates, no depressing 401K statements. We had our chemically-enhanced turkey legs, roasted in pure lard, and nothing else mattered.

And that’s the great thing about stadium food. There is no place on earth that you could get a chicken-fried elephant ear and not care that you just sacrificed your cheese and butter for the week. In a world of penny pinching and downsizing, we still hold stadium food sacred.

So while we may have missed the go-ahead score, nearly peed our pants in the 4th quarter since we never did get to that bathroom, and my brother ate ramen and ketchup for a week, on that fall afternoon, we were millionaires.

Ditch the Teamsters

Written by: Zach Hammer, The Reserve Clause

I will always remember spending my treasured high school summers sweating away on the assembly line at my family’s manufacturing company. I remember thinking, “What the hell am I doing here? All of my friends are sitting pool side doing anything other than build parts. I need to get out of here”.  I knew that I had to create a plan to get myself out of that situation—and quickly.  So one night I went home and did some thinking.

“What can I do to better my situation? Sure, I’m only 16, but seriously, $6/hour to sweat my ass off and make parts for a tractor?  Yeah, my family owns the company but there has got to be some give here. I’m giving up all of my summers to work in these insufferable conditions (it really wasn’t that bad; I was just a complainer). I deserve better.”

So after hours of thinking, planning and strategizing on what to propose and how to propose it, I had my solution. I was going to start a union! It was fool proof. I would be the sharp, cunning, 16-year old leader of the union and I would lead the Keystone North labor revolution. I had a plan, I built a strategy, and I was ready to march up front to the office and confront my boss (once again, my Mom).

Me: Mom, I need to talk with you for a second.

Mom: Okay, but why are you wearing a suit? (I wasn’t really wearing a suit, but it makes the effect stronger.)

Me: Nevermind the suit (I really wasn’t wearing a suit). I’m here to talk about this situation.

Mom: You aren’t quitting baseball.

Me: I don’t want to quit baseball. I love baseball. Mom, stay with me here.

Mom: Sorry okay. Go ahead.

Me: I think that the conditions that I’m currently working under are insufferable and should be addressed immediately.

Mom: What do you mean? You work for 3 hours, then take a 2-hour lunch/poker break and still get some spending money in your pocket. I’m not sure that I’m okay with you taking Patrick’s money, but that’s his problem. He’ll learn.

Me: You’re missing the point. Mom, I’m unionizing the labor here at Keystone. I think that I deserve more than $6/hour. I’ve worked here since I was 12—either on landscaping or on the line and have never seen a raise. I’m going to picket to let you know that I’m serious.

Mom: You don’t want to unionize.

Me: Pretty sure I do, Mom.

Mom: Well, I’ll give it to you this way. If you are serious about it, you’re fired!

Me: Really? You’d fire your own son?

Mom: Yes. Unions are bad for our business. Maybe one day you’ll take over the company and you will know why.

Me: Okay, well I need my job. I have a large long distance phone bill to pay. I really need to dump my girlfriend.

Mom:  See you at home, honey.

Me: Mom, you can’t call me that at work.

Mom: Sorry. Now get your butt back out there.

Here’s the moral of the story—my Mom was right. Unions are terrible for business. And now that we sports fans have had to deal with two brutal lockouts, it’s more apparent than ever. Sure, the NFL labor negotiations consumed roughly 5 months of our lives, but the truth is that there should have never been a lockout in the first place. The single most important day in the lockout was the day that the NFLPA decertified. Once the NFLPA decertified I have to admit that a small part of me thought, “They get it! There will no longer be a player’s union. Finally, a professional sports league will have independent, employees that won’t dig and disrespect their employer and will earn a fair wage and just shut up and go to work”. My opinion is this—pay the players what they deserve. Sure, they make a lot of money already, but their careers are extremely short and let’s face it, the sports are incredibly popular, so why should they not make reap some of the benefits. However, my company makes more annual revenue than the NFL and I don’t make nearly as much as even the league minimum. I’m not complaining and if there ever was a union within my company, I’m sure I wouldn’t have my job very long. I’m fine with that. Sure, I’d love to make millions of dollars, but I’d rather work hard and keep my job on my own accord—not grandfathering my way into a career.  

The NFLPA and the owners had their reasons for a lockout; they were legitimate. On the contrary, the NBA lockout is another story. Greed on the players’ behalf that screams greed. These are among the most heavily paid athletes in any professional sport. Now they want more out of a fleeting league. Many teams report losses in the hundreds of millions. Yet somehow, the players don’t believe them and want more money. It’s a shame and as a diehard NBA fan, it saddens me. Why can’t these players just be happy playing the sport they love and making enough money to satisfy them for the rest of their lives? If the owners really want to make money, then the cap number needs to fall and quickly. Something needs to give and unfortunately it won’t. We are in this for the long haul. In closing, we’d better get used to watching a lot more hockey. Oh, I digress.

Starting 9: Baseball's Most Needed Walk-Up Songs

Written by Zach Hammer and Andrew McLean
After a late night of planking and owling, Zach and Andrew have teamed up to present TRC's first ever combo piece. We give you the Starting 9: Baseball's Most Needed Walk-Up Songs:

1. Miguel Cabrera – “Monster” by Kanye West

Lyric: “Everybody knows I’m a mother-fucking monster.”

Reason: ‘Cause everybody knows Miggy’s a mother-fucking monster.

2. Grady Sizemore – “Hurt” by Nine Inch Nails

Lyric: “I hurt myself today.”

Reason: Dude is a walking (okay, hobbling) DL stint.

3. A-Rod – “Asshole” by Denis Leary

Lyric: “I’m an asshole / (He’s an asshole!) / I’m an asshole”

Reason: We don’t even need to put anything here.

4. Dustin Pedroia – “I Wish” by Skee Lo

Lyric: “I wish I was a little bit taller.”

Reason: He’s 5-foot-nothing, 112 pounds, but still MURDERS the ball.

5. Tim Lincecum – “High All the Time” by 50 Cent

Lyric: “Give me some dro, purple haze and some chocolate / give me a dutch and a lighter and I’ll spark shit.”

Reason: This kid’s high as a kite at all times, which is probably why he says he has never felt any arm pain after a single start his entire life.

6. Prince Fielder – “Drop a Couple Pounds” by Juelz Santana

Lyric: “Now if you can’t see your shoes and you dont know what to do / Better hit the gym, stop eatin all the food.”

Reason: See picture above.

7. Josh Hamilton – “Living on the Edge” by Aerosmith

Lyric: “Tell me what you think about your situation / Complication, aggravation is getting to you.”

Reason: He’s a recovering drug addict and alcoholic, and he just accidentally killed a guy. If that’s not living on the edge, we haven’t ever seen living on the edge.

8. Brian Wilson – “Basket Case” by Green Day

Lyric: “I am one of those melodramatic, neurotic to the bone.”

Reason: Whether it's legit or just an act, this guy is missing chromosomes or something.

9. Matt Kemp – “What’s My Name” by Rihanna

Lyric: “Ooh na na, what’s my name?”

Reason: With as much as he cheated on Rihanna while they were dating, you know he said the wrong name in bed a few times.

The Biggest A-Hole in the Room

Written by: Zach Hammer, The Reserve Clause

Let’s be honest, the thought of most rock stars sends images of womanizing, drug abuse and bad attitudes rifling through our minds. But you know what? That’s exactly the way that I want to think of rock stars. I like to picture them swilling Jack Daniels, holding interviews and not knowing what the hell they’re talking about and referencing musical inspiration that makes us feel like we’re definitely not the cool kid. For every any man rocker like Springsteen, you’ve got the weird, Patti Smith and the self-obsessed, Don Henley. In today’s day and age, for every Jason Mraz you’ve got people like Julian Casablancas.

Julian Casablancas was born and bred to be a pretentious you know what. He was born into a wealthy Upper East Side of New York family who spent his childhood summering in the Hamptons and spending his Prep School days somewhere in Switzerland. I know what you’re thinking; of course Switzerland is the best place in the world to harness your internal punk rocker and revolt.

“You know what I’m going to do mom and dad? I’m going to take my trust fund and shove it right up you’re a—!”

Sure, maybe he didn’t really say that, but that’s the way I picture it going down. What he really did was take his family money and invest it into one of the biggest bands in the world—the Strokes. Great band, even cooler member names, terrible attitudes, rock stars.

I remember hearing about the Strokes prior to “Is This It” being released. I remember seeing their first video for “Last Night” and thinking that these look like kids who were born with a recording contract. Well, I wasn’t far off and to make matters worse, they believed in the same entitlement. Casablancas frolicked around Manhattan with all of the hottest models, wearing boots with way too many straps and buckles, sipping his $9 coffee and laughing about the previous night’s conversation about people walking their pet turtles.

When I really need to know if this person is a classic jerk, I want to know if they smoke cigs? Casablancas passes this question with flying colors. I’ve never seen him without a cigarette in his hand. I think I even saw him on Letterman blowing smoke rings with Paul and Dave. It was pretty impressive. If it was still legal for Marlboro to put humans on their cigarette ads, Casablancas would probably have the most lucrative promotional contract in the history. So much so that Don Draper would slam nine bottles of scotch in an average work day just because he didn’t come up with it first.

Here’s the thing about Casablancas—he gets it. The NBA has “the secret”, the NFL has “team first” and MLB has…wait…uhh…”The Steroid Era”? I don’t know, but what I do know is that any time I see him on TV or whatever media outlet, I always think to myself, “Man, this guy is a total jerk. I don’t have time to sit here and watch this”. But then, like always, I sit there and watch the performance and when he’s finished I realize how much he gets it. He may make his band mates send him musical track copies so that he can record his parts in private, but dammit he knows how to rock. He’s captivating. He may not move one inch on stage, but he has style.

I can appreciate rock stars.  I know that they work extremely hard on their craft. I also know that it isn’t easy to juggle nine different models at one time. However, that’s not Casablancas. He’s a married, family man. Maybe he wanted to record his lyrics in private because he wanted to spend more time with his family? Who am I to judge? So long as he continues to put out incredible, highly anticipated music then I will not complain. I just hope that I don’t see him on a casual stroll with his baby, walking their new pet turtle. That may push me over the edge.

You don’t think that Julian Casablancas is the biggest a-hole in the room? Then tell me who you think it is in the comments section below or hit me up on Twitter (@leonardhambone).

Dinner With a Schmuck

Written by: Zach Hammer, The Reserve Clause

How many times have you been asked, “If you could go to dinner with anyone—alive or dead—who would it be?”? One, two, ten times? As far as I can remember—and believe me, my memory is about as short as most NFL running backs’ careers—I don’t think I’ve ever been asked this question. So I decided that I’m going to ask myself instead.

“Hey Zach, if you could go to dinner with anyone—alive or dead—who would it be?”

Hmm, GREAT question, but I don’t have to think about this for very long. It would be David Halberstram.

I’ll admit that I read and read a lot. I’m one of those people who will read the label on a body wash container just because I want to know how many rats were tested prior to pouring it on my loufa. Because I read so much I feel like I can afford to be a bit pretentious. I always try to identify a voice. Is this someone that I can identify with? Does this person romantify an aspect that I would never expect? Does this person pick subjects which are both intriguing and difficult? I know for certain that there is and never will be a writer like Halberstram.

I have read and re-read The Breaks of the Game probably five times in my life. It is a book that I can’t do without. Halberstram reels his readers in by digging into the characters and exploring topics and issues that most writers never do. I will always remember the day that Maurice Lucas died. Before reading Breaks I had no idea who Lucas was, but after learning about him over those 300-some odd pages, I felt like I knew that Luke didn’t go down without a fight. Luke became a part of me and when he died, I felt like I lost a member of my family.

The thing about Halberstram was that he was perhaps the greatest sports writer of all time. However, his genius transcended just sports. His views on war (The Best & the Brightest, The Coldest Winter), death (Firehouse), and life (The Fifties) gave readers an outlet to learn and to see both the good and the ability of man.  

But what would I want out of a dinner with the man that wrote so many of my favorite books?

I would want to know everything, and I’d probably do it over a plate of eggs and some coffee. I’d ask him what Bill Walton was like, I’d want to know how he could stomach talking with the families of the decimated firehouse from 9/11 and if he were alive, what he would want to write about now. After dinner was over, I’d want to go for a stroll and share a few cigars and talk about Bob Gibson and Mickey Mantle.

If you can’t already tell, Halberstram is my literary hero and the title of this column is not meant to insinuate that he is the schmuck. In fact, I am the schmuck. Even if I tried for the rest of my life to write the most impressive, touching stories, they could never reach neither the intensity nor the vulnerability that Halberstram wrote with. But in the meantime, I’m going to revisit Breaks, try to spark my writing and get lost in the mind of a genius.

The Landing Zone

Written by: Zach Hammer, The Reserve Clause

I had a discussion with a "friend" this past weekend about how the MLB Trade Deadline works. Although he is a fan of the game, I have to admit that he has no idea how salaries and contracts work when a player is traded. While I do my best Michael Heisley impression when trying to figure out the NBA salary cap rules ("ARE THERE THINGS IN YOUR LIFE THAT YOU HAVEN'T READ?!?!"), one thing that I do know is how the trade deadline works. Teams want to dump ridiculously bad contracts of players who are both productive and non-productive alike in order to either build for the future or to make a last-ditch run to the World Series. Teams will wager their future (prospects) for guys who will don their team's uniform for a month or two. It is the ultimate gamble, but regardless, it is incredibly important for a team to get it right. 

I want to take some time to look at a couple of players that could find new homes. Unlike some networks (hmm hmm), I am not going to take a flier and recommend 20 possible destinations. That's just a waste of time for everyone. I'm going to give you my best guess, combined with the best fit. 

Carlos Beltran, OF, New York Mets

It's no secret that the Mets are in some financial difficulties. Fred Wilpon was a Madoff investor and has been linked to multiple SEC and Federal Investigations. In danger of losing his team, he is trying to douse the fire by dumping contracts. The most ludicrous contract is that of Beltran. During his tenure in New York, Beltran has been a pariah. Under performing, steroid scandal and constant injuries has killed his reputation. However, for all of his downfalls, he can surely help a contender. Beltran was a former five-tool player in Kansas City before he left for "greener" pastures. He is a plus defender and gives a team a nice middle of the order bat. My prediction is that he moves back to the American League and to a team that could use some additional pop from an outfield position.

My Guess: Beltran is shipped off to the Los Angeles Angels. Bourjos is hurt, Trout is 19, and they need a solid centerfielder to best the surging Rangers.

James Shields, P, Tampa Bay Rays
Shields has been the best pitcher on a team that has extreme depth (both MLB and MiLB). Although I'm not sure that Tampa even wants to deal Shields, they are in no position to make a run for the playoffs. I think that their mindset is to get guys like Hellickson, Niemann and Price comfortable and settled in as the backbone of the Rays' staff. Those guys are the future and Shields isn't part of it. Tampa has been very open about their intention to not want to move Shields, but do I really believe that? Not a chance! Shields will be moved and in return, Tampa will probably add an organization's top pitching prospect.

My Guess: There is no contending team in baseball that needs to reaffirm their rotation more than the Detroit Tigers. Shield won't come cheap, but one thing that Detroit does have is pitching prospects. Expect them to deal Casey Crosby - a lefty who can flat-out bring it. It will take more than Crosby for Tampa to bite. I expect them to move an MLB-ready player.

Aramis Ramirez, 3B, Chicago Cubs
Surprise, surprise. The Cubs are going to be preparing for next year. The Cubs needs are immense. They do have prospects, but most of them are so low in the organization that they can afford to wait - maybe even for another hundred years. In the time being, they must get this contract off their books for next season. Ramirez is one of the bright lights of this team and his trade value may be the highest that it's been since his time in Pittsburgh. I think he stays in the National League and more than likely in the same division. Most pundits view inter-divisional deals as consequential, but when you deal with the Cubs you're probably pretty safe.

My Guess: Pittsburgh Pirates. Neal Walker and Andrew McCutcheon are rising stars. They can both hit for power and average, but their priority will be to protect the former Pirate. With Ramirez, the Bucs are going to be in a position to contend right now. The NL Central is a very weak division and this deal can solidify their position.

Why The Reserve Clause?

Written by: Zach Hammer, The Reserve Clause

     In 1968, Curt Flood made perhaps the biggest blunder in World Series history when he slipped and couldn’t catch up to an eventual deciding fly ball in Game 7 against the Detroit Tigers. With that hit, Jim Northrup, Al Kaline, Willie Horton and the rest of the Tigers would go on to complete the series victory and literally set the City of Detroit on fire. Following that blunder, a man who was once regarded as perhaps the premier outfielder on perhaps the best team in baseball – the St. Louis Cardinals – was expendable. Flood gained disdain from the Busch family and the St. Louis fateful so fast that you would have thought he was found guilty of throwing the World Series. Not long after the series was over, Flood and now famous broadcaster Tim McCarver were shipped off to Philadelphia for Dick Allen and a couple of other players. But Flood knew that he was a better player than what the guys in Philadelphia were; he was a 7-time Gold Glove winner. Rather than report and play out his contract, Flood matters into his own hands. He refused to play.

     Curt Flood was a great player, but he was made famous by challenging the moratorium known as baseball’s reserve clause. The reserve clause was, at the time, the only thing standing between a man and his own choice of where he wanted to work. Flood fought for years for his personal right to choose his employer, to allow businesses (teams) to jockey for his services. He was only chasing the American dream and for his efforts he was basically black-listed from the game of baseball. Only after years of struggle was the reserve clause lifted. The funny thing is that it took two people—not named Curt Flood—to bring the reserve clause down. Regardless, Flood was the man who ultimately beat the game of baseball and brought an archaic rule crumbling down. It was through perseverance, understanding and resolve that this feat was possible.

     So with no more backstory, I want to welcome fans of anything (well, mostly sports, gambling, music and film) to The Reserve Clause. We, much like Curt Flood, are chasing our own personal freedom. In this case, that freedom is to write about anything that we want. Why does a sports site have to be all about sports? Similarly, why does a music or gambling or film blog have to be all about those topics? The answer…they don’t—especially in what we do. We will bring you special contributors over the case of however long this blog runs. Our contributors will write pieces which fans and just regular people want to read. We’ll give you some advice on how to win a few bucks if you want to bet a game. We can tell you why you should probably leave Billy Butler in your fantasy utility spot. We may also tell you why we think Brian Eno music is completely mind numbing and unlistenable.

Without further ado, welcome to The Reserve Clause; we hope it’s everything that all of the other blogs try to be!