In a brief summary, Syracuse beat Virginia Tech that season (in the snow; it was a great game; I watched it on my 19″ Zenith tv), and finished second in the Big East conference with a 6-1 in-conference record. Pitiful VaTech finished 4-3 and in third place. In one of the greatest slights in recent football history however, the executives of the Gator Bowl (the game usually slated for the second-place finisher of the Big East and ACC) opted for VaTech instead. Florida State humiliated the Hokies, while Syracuse easily prevailed over Kansas State in the (arguably inferior) Insight.com Bowl.

I don’t have the time to go into all the details anymore, that is quite obvious (to you, and me), but you get the point (or I hope you do, as I try to drive it home): This was a heist. Syracuse was the better football team. And VaTech sucks.

The most oft-mentioned statistic as categorically “unfair” is the 300 wins for starting pitchers as a requirement to be considered a hall-of-famer. In today’s age of middle relief specialists and five-man rotations, it is simply becoming a matter of calculus — or more accurately, simple algebra (a related form in the language of mathematics) — that doing such is nearly impossible. For a pitcher to win 300 games, he must register 15 wins for 20 seasons or 20 wins for 15 seasons. That is becoming more and more of an anomaly and doesn’t represent “greatness,” by any measure, in the sport today.

A lesser mentioned statistic that is equally unfair is the 3000 hit threshold. Using the same math as above, a hitter would require 15 seasons of 200 hits or 20 seasons of 150 hits. Surely any player that would meet such criteria would be hall-of-fame worthy — besides Pete Rose and Rafael Palmeiro maybe — or if they had some inordinate number of home runs to complement their hit totals (which may or may not be a function of natural or unnatural strength), like Babe Ruth (2873 career hits) and Lou Gehrig (2721), they would have a key to Cooperstown.

But establishing 3000 hits (or 300 wins) as any sort of threshold of representing greatness is a misnomer. Careers are cut short by injury or death, players can be a part of winning or losing teams (and statistics in playoffs do not count), and who precedes and follows a hitter’s place in the batting order has a great effect on pitching decisions (more so today). Having 3200 hits does not necessarily make you a better player than if you had 2800 (unless you also had 540 home runs and 420 steals; then you’d be a god)

Here are some great ballplayers that have not hit 3000, and are either Hall of Famers or should be…

• Frank Robinson 2943
• Barry Bonds 2935
• Mel Ott 2876
• Babe Ruth 2873
• Brooks Robinson 2848
• Andre Dawson 2774
• Roberto Alomar 2724
• Lou Gehrig 2721
• Bill Buckner 2715
• Ted Williams 2654
• Jimmie Foxx 2646
• Tim Raines 2605
• Steve Garvey 2599
• Reggie Jackson 2584
• Ernie Banks 2583
• Joe Morgan 2517
• Fred McGriff 2490
• Frank Thomas 2468
• Ozzie Smith 2460
• Jim Rice 2452

Not every hit is equally important either. A slap single in the ninth when you are down (or up) by six means nothing. The most underrated batting statistic in all of baseball is runs scored. I’d follow that with a statistic that measures all players almost equally, the most normalized batting statistic: doubles. Not every player can belt 50 home runs, nor can every player run-out bunts or infield singles (or stretch doubles into triples). But a double is equally attainable by every player in the league, or it should be, and I’ll assume that it is. This is why when you look at the career leaders list for doubles, you immediately recognize not only the greatest players in history, but the best all-around, athletic players; true ballplayers.

When measuring a player’s absolute value, assigning an arbitrary number for a given statistic, literally based on nothing (aside from it being a round number), is an unrealistic and inappropriate method. A player’s worth should be measured by his contribution to his team (runs, runs batted-in, etc.) and his team’s success, not to mention defensive skills¹ and overall gamesmanship.

1. Defensive skills are nearly impossible to statistically evaluate (and always will be; no two ground balls or fly balls are the same).

Qualification: Long-time readers — hell, even casual readers — know that I attend A’s games semi-regularly in Oakland (not yet this season; I’m taking the year off), and don’t consider Giants fans true baseball fans, for whatever that is worth. Giants fans are like the indoor bird sanctuary at the zoo. Yea, it is nice to see all those birds in one place, but there is something extra wrong about the habitat, a feeling that accentuates the unnaturalness. You can just tell that they do not belong. (This is obviously a mixed metaphor: the ballpark as the habitat works; the fans as the birds do not. Note to self: work on metaphors.)

I’m not a big fan of zoos anyway. I’d much rather prefer animal refuges. If it were up to me, I’d ban zoos that don’t meet criteria (e.g., San Francisco’s banning of elephants at the City Zoo since they were not allowed an acre per elephant, a requirement that was impossible to meet; the end result is no more elephants at the zoo, which sort of makes sense, since historically there have never been elephants in the bay area, the environment and climate simply do not support it) and all circus acts that include animals. I think that is fair, but that is why I’m what they consider “unelectable.”

The A’s mascot is an elephant, and I’m alright with that. They’ve had the nickname “White Elephants” since the start of the last century when they played in Philadelphia.

Full circle.

First come, first served. That is my idea. (It is now trademarked.) All tickets $20. An hour before the game, $10. Once the game begins, $5. (Feel free to increase or decrease these values as you wish, depending on the stadium, team, opponent, day of the week, etc.) Any seat that is available is free to you. What would happen? Well, a lot of people would show up early to get good seats, right behind home plate, the dugout, etc. They may show up so early, grab that seat (no savesies however), then need to get a few hot dogs, nachos and sodas to hold them over until the game starts. That is revenue for the team (on the items with the biggest profit margin).

These first come, first served games shouldn’t be when the Yankees are in town, of course, but when the Royals or Twins or Orioles are. On the television, every pitch would show a full stadium behind home plate. That isn’t a bad thing. The real fans (those that stay with struggling franchises, those that come to the non-must-see games, those that fight the colder evenings) will be closer to the game and the players. That isn’t a bad thing either. Those fans are the team’s base.

When you are the A’s — and you are struggling — how could this not work? One Wednesday a month: first come, first served.

Whenever the Sabres make it to national tv, I make an appointment to watch it (or at least TiVo it). And when the Sabres play the Sharks in San Jose, I make sure that I will be there. But what about the rest of the season? Tonight I will try something different: I will watch the Sharks-Ducks playoff game.

I am a Sabres fan lost in the bay area, so I will try to root for the Sharks, but if the underdog Ducks are having their way, I will not be upset (at least visibly). More importantly, I will try to acclimate myself to the style of hockey played in the west — the forecheck and defensive hustle — and see if this type of hockey I will be able to find myself watching for the foreseeable future. If not — well, I’m moving back to Buffalo, because nothing beats watching and caring for the god-damned Sabres.

Click for complete bracket.

For you long-time readers, these picks may seem familiar, and they should. Two years ago, I predicted an all Big East Final Four (it didn’t happen), and I predicted a UConn-Syracuse final three years ago (again, did not take place), so no, Virginia, you are not going bat-shit crazy, you have read this before. In fact, I had Syracuse winning it all in 2005 (didn’t work out), and probably did the same in 2004, but I didn’t blog about it (what was I thinking?).

I don’t gamble or bet on anything, so I only fill out these brackets for my own amusement, but there was one time I would have won big if I had entered a pool. Since each successive round counts more, when Syracuse won it all in 2003 — and I had them picked as the winner — I was sure to win any of the pools I would have joined.

Anyway, some interesting notes on this year’s bracket, including seven Big East teams in the Elite Eight (all seven teams, that is), plus…

Midwest
- (9) Siena over (8) Ohio State;
- (10) USC over (7) Boston College;
- (6) West Virginia over (3) Kansas; and
- (6) WVU over (2) MSU.

West
- (9) TAMU over (8) BYU;
- (6) Marquette over (3) Missouri;
- (5) Purdue over (4) Washington; and
- (6) Marquette over (2) Memphis.

East
- (9) Tennessee over (8) Oklahoma State;
- (12) Wisconsin over (5) Florida State;
- (10) Minnesota over (7) Texas; and
- (3) Villanova over (2) Duke, although I will be rooting for Minnesota to upset Duke in the second round.

South
- (9) Butler over (8) LSU;
- (10) Michigan over (7) Clemson;
- (5) Illinois over (4) Gonzaga; [UPDATE -- I switched this pick.] and
- (3) Syracuse — homer alert — over (2) Oklahoma.

Aside from those noted above, my bracket assumes the higher seed to win.

Image: ESPN

A pretty good birthday gift.

UPDATE — And the highlights…

In his latest column however, Reilly abandons logic when he suggests that the 2001 MVP award should have gone to Luis Gonzales, as well as the home run record, because the actual winner — Barry Bonds — had used steroids that season. There is a fine point that Reilly purposely misses: Luis Gonzales also used steroids that year. Gonzales may have not admitted it yet, but numbers do not lie.

Here are Gonzales’ home run totals for the five years leading up to his break-out 2001 season when he hit 57 home runs: 15, 10, 23, 26, 31. And here are the home run totals in the years following the 2001 season: 28, 26, 17, 24, 15, 15, 8.

In the court of public opinion, based on the evidence, Gonzales should also be convicted of steroid use.

What is even more perplexing is that Reilly shrugged off Adrian Beltre’s 2004 season numbers as an obvious steroid-infused campaign, yet Beltre’s career numbers and break-out season parallel Luis Gonzales’ career to a tee.

Reilly is utilizing alternating logic, and I cannot respect that.

I do not like it when announcers needlessly criticize players, especially when the player is actually excelling at what he does. Take for example, the Cardinals’ punter in the first quarter (I believe). While the punt was in the air, Al Michaels blurted out, “A bad punt…” He should have used “poor,” but that is not the point. It turned out to be a 43-yard punt. There was a four-yard return, which means a net punt of 39 yards.

I don’t know who Al Michaels thinks he is, but that was a good punt. Not just decent, good. The league leader in net punting this season was Shane Lechler who averaged 41.2 yards. If that is a great punt, what does a net 39-yard punt mean? Certainly not “bad.”