Wish summer would hang around longer? Not so fast my friend - Sports

The Sports Pile: Wish summer would hang around longer? Not so fast my friend - Sports

(Ed. Note: If you're one of the, uh, "many" people who check this blog, thanks. I'm going to attempt to contribute to it some more, since its been about three months since I last actually did anything on it. What will probably end up happening, and what happened here, is me lazily reprinting my school newspaper columns on here. But at least they'll be weekly!

Sweet Jeebus. Football is almost here, folks, and frankly, it's about damn time. With the exciting beginning of a new semester-funny-we also get to usher in the season of tailgates, Saturday/Sunday pile-fests, and all the pleasantly vice-filled amenities that come with fall. And if you've been tuned into the sports world at all throughout these hot several months, you've probably been privy to some pretty insufferably indestructible plot lines. Why? Because aside from America's pastime, we don't have a whole helluva lot going on from May until August. Don't get me wrong-I love baseball. I get the season pass every summer and spend most weeknights horizontally splayed on my couch taking mini-naps the whole time. But baseball lacks the same panache that a slew of Sunday skin, pig style, provides to us athletic mainliners; it's the slow and steady corrosiveness of alcoholism juxtaposed against the jacked up 12-hour rush of football's intravenous nature in this poorly planned analogy. It's also increasingly more difficult to have it jazzed up by ill-advised gambling, and you'll also notice that most sports channels, and often regular news channels, will "focus" (read: obsess incessantly over) on a few key stories to the point, usually by August, that we as a collective sports watching nation would rather be pumping a 12 gauge with our big toe than be forced into watching another LIVE LOOK IN!! of someone chasing a tainted record.

But, wouldn't I be totally remiss and completely wasting a freebie here if I didn't at least take some time and catch you up on the summer happenings? You know, just in case something-something about a rock, or perhaps you spent the whole time on a NOLS trip trying to make up for that "finding yourself" class-lacking semester last spring. What? It happens. And of course, if I didn't go ahead and tap the vein with some pre-season odds, well, I just think I'd be shorting myself. Or at least not having nearly as much fun. So, without further ado, the five best fake matchups of the summer (with accompanying money line!):

Barry Bonds v. Hank Aaron and the Asterisk (-400)

Sure, it's okay to ask how Hammerin' Hank is supposed to be favored, seeing as how Barroid already set a new record*. Well, without flat out practicing libel, I'm not entirely convinced that Bonds really deserves to be the home run king*. I do find it interesting though, that Barry seems to have rubbed a magic lamp, except it's one of those where the genie gives you your wish but secretly screws you over at the same time-yes, he became the all time home run leader*, but he'll never win a World Series (the Giants are horrible and no other team in baseball will sign him for the last year or two of his career) and he's one of the most hated and polarizing figures in the history of sports. Not to mention that while there's only one guy who can really challenge his record* anytime soon, it would appear that Alex Rodriguez has a very legitimate shot at topping 777* (or whatever the final record* ends up being). So, to recap, Bonds sold his soul and his legacy for a seven year period where he owns* a prolific record*.

The Family Beckham (-150) v. American Culture

This might somehow be the most underreported story of the summer, in the sports world at least. No one cares about American soccer anymore. Yes, the World Cup is great, but it's every four years. And let's get serious-Beckham isn't even a top five player in the world either. Nor is his wife relevant, unless you count the reality TV show where she ends up trying to cheat on a driving test at the California DMV. Now, I would have signed the contract too, and probably kept my mouth shut as well when people started talking about me "saving American soccer," if only because I wouldn't want to tell them the sad truth. Er, truths. The second one of course being that Beckham is going to be old, injured and overpaid for most of the time that America pretends that the MLS matters.

Michael Vick v. U.S. Government and Fido (-2200)

I read somewhere, or maybe heard somewhere, that the federal government has a 98% conviction rate. That's somehow even higher than the Sex Panther conversion rate and if true, it means Vick is what we like to call donecakes. Look, there's little to no chance he plays this year, and there's also little to no chance I try and force a joke here, since torturing dogs is easily one of the worst things I've ever heard of. It's one thing to be running an interstate underground dog fighting ring while moonlighting as an NFL quarterback (seriously, re-read that) but do you really have to electrocute, strangle and drown the dogs when they lose? 'Cause that's pretty f'ing sadistic, man.

Pacman Jones (-1200) v. Sanity

This guy has made my freaking year. Is it tragic that we're constantly forced to watch professional athletes waste their God-given talent through just outright irreverent behavior? Absolutely. But do I desperately wish that it would be socially acceptable for me to walk into the local convenience store, ask for a pack of Marlboro Lights and 20 on pump number five and then shower the cashier with 25 one dollar bills? You're damn right-making it rain always makes it more fun, whatever it is we're talking about. Although regardless of how chauvinistic and immorally enjoyable a stance I want to take towards Pac, what he's done over the past few months has been absolutely insane. First, there was Vegas and the strip club incident. Then he went to New York to meet with Commissioner Roger Goodell … and just absolutely could not-not go to a strip club the night before. I mean, really, Pac. You're there for 48 freaking hours. Just order a crappy movie at your hotel and don't go out. Surely you have more self-control than that. Of course, he proved me wrong on that count when he signed up to join TNA wrestling last week, only to have his performance on a pay-per-view event stopped just short by a Tennessee Titans restraining order. He's one failed plutonium smuggling away from making Maurice Clarett look like Mother Teresa at this point.

Boston Big Three v. Tim Donaghy (Even)

A very tough choice to make here as the NBA seemingly spent all summer fighting within itself for how to spin the attention The Association was inevitably going to take. There's the bad-Donaghy getting busted fixing games as an NBA ref, and the good-Danny Ainge backdoors his way into somehow doing a good job by landing Kevin Garnett and Ray Allen to go with Paul Pierce, not to mention the possibility of Reggie Miller returning for a title run. Donaghy's scandal is David Stern and the NBA's worst possible nightmare, especially when the guy was involved in playoff officiating. Such a horrid nightmare in fact, that even the Durant-Oden welcome wagon and the Boston Celtics' waltz to the NBA Finals this year probably won't be enough to overcome-although none of this will really even matter when Stern somehow (hopefully!) brainwashes us all into forgetting this entire summer ever happened.