Picking a Horse: What to do when your team misses the playoffs

I need a horse.

It’s October, leaves are falling, we have a pumpkin and baseball playoffs are about to start. For the first time since 2006 I don’t have a horse in the race- i.e. a team I have a vested interest in. Since 2007 I’ve been spoiled, in that every year, either the Red Sox or my adopted little brother team, the Phillies, have been in the playoffs- giving me someone to route for when the playoffs rolled around. Now while it hasn’t worked out so well following those teams since 2008, when the Phillies won the World Series, it has still allowed me to have a team to route for when the playoffs start, making the playoffs that much more interesting.

This year however, I have nothing. I have no horse. The Red Sox are in last place and have lost sixty games for the first time since 1966. The Phillies last minute attempt to make the playoffs stumbled and bumbled to a halt about a week ago. My horses are already at the bar.

So that leaves me wondering, who do I hitch my wagon too? This wouldn’t be an issue if I either A) didn’t care about baseball (which I do) or B) was able to watch it and just enjoy the game, not aligning myself with any particular team (which I can’t.) If I’m going to watch the playoffs, I want to be invested in it. This was the same reasoning that led me to adopting the Phillies when I moved to Philadelphia in the summer of 2006. 

I want to care about what I’m doing. So as a result, I want a team to route for.

As of today, here are the teams in this year’s playoffs:

American League: New York Yankees, Baltimore Orioles, Detroit Tigers, Texas Rangers, Oakland A’s
National League: Washington Nationals, Atlanta Braves, Cincinnati Reds, S. F. Giants and either the St. Louis Cardinals or L.A. Dodgers

How do you then decide between these teams? You need a system.

Ryno’s Advanced Metric Playoff Horse-Picking Strategy

Starting with Step 3, each team is awarded a point if they fall into a category. The exception is Step 2, where they are deducted a point. Whoever has the most points at the end is the team you route for.

Step 1: Decide Who Are the Automatic No-Go’s
Explanation: These are the teams that you wouldn’t support if your life depended on it.
Automatic No Go’s: Yankees, Nationals, Reds, Dodgers
Ryno Reason: The Yankees & Nationals are easy- as the main rivals of the Sox and Phillies, there’s no way I can get behind them. As for the Reds, well I’ve been to Cincinnati and frankly, I didn’t care for it. As a result, I don’t care for the Reds. Plus Cincinnati is an incredibly hard word to spell. And the Dodgers? I can’t support any team that’s new nickname is the “Yankees of the East.” And there’s also part of me that’s routing for Adrian Gonzalez and Josh Beckett to fail.
* These teams are not included in any of the following steps and are automatically awarded a zero.

Step 2: What Team’s Success Might Have an Effect on the Future of the Red Sox
Explanation: Ultimately it all comes down to the Red Sox. If they can’t be successful this year, you want them to be good and in the playoffs next year. So as a result, you want to be wary of any team whose success this year might hamper the Red Sox being successful next year.
Potential Sox Hamperers: Tigers, Rangers, O’s

Step 3: Judge Based on Baseball Reasons
Explanation: This one is pretty straight forward. Who are the teams who you like how they play, have players that you like and you like watching.
Baseball Reason Teams: Orioles, Tigers, A’s, Braves, Giants
Ryno Reason: It’s hard to not want to see more of the Tigers and the Orioles are proving to be pretty fun to watch.

Step 4: Judge Based on the City
Explanation: Again, pretty straight forward. Do you like the city a team is from?
Sweet City Teams: Orioles, Giants
Ryno Reason: Baltimore will always have a special place in my heart and I loved San Fran.

Step 5: Judge Based on the Team’s Uniforms
Explanation: If you’re a baseball purist like me, uniforms will factor into your decision.
Sweet Uniform Teams: Orioles, Giants, Tigers
Ryno Reason: All have a classic look to them and great hats. I love that the Orioles have brought back the old bird logo. And I’ve always like the Giants’ home jerseys.

Step 6: Judge Based on a Random Personal Connection
Explanation: In some way, no matter how random or how it came to be, are you connected to personally to one of the playoff teams (i.e. was your Dad a fan of one of them, is your significant other a fan of one of them, etc.)
Ties That Bind Teams: Orioles
Ryno Reason: The Pride of Regan Lane, Ryan Flaherty, is a utility infielder for the Orioles. I’ll support anyone or anything from Portland, Maine. But this one is especially cool. We used to play wiffle ball together, now he’s belting grand slams against the Red Sox. Pretty awesome.

Step 7: Judge Based on a Team’s Chances
Explanation: After going through this process, you really don’t want to do it again. Ideally you want to hitch your wagon to a team that has a legitimate shot to make and win the World Series.
In It to Win It Teams: Giants, Tigers
Ryno Reason: The playoffs are kind of a crap shoot this year, but I like the Giants’ (pitching) and Tigers (Cabrera/Prince & Verlander) chances.

Step 8: Judge Based on Your Initial Reaction to a Team
Explanation: This is the blink test. If someone flashed a team’s logo in front of you and asked for your first thought- is positive or negative.
Blink-Approved Teams: Orioles, Tigers, Giants, A’s, Cardinals, Braves
Ryno Reason: Can’t explain this one. I just like these teams.

Now tally up the scores.

American League

New York Yankees: 0
Baltimore Orioles: 4
Detroit Tigers: 3
Texas Rangers: -1
Oakland A’s: 2

National League
Washington Nationals: 0
Atlanta Braves: 2
Cincinnati Reds: 0
S.F. Giants: 5
St. Louis Cardinals: 1
L.A. Dodgers: 0

The result?

Looks like I’ll be routing for the Orioles in the American League and the Giants in the National League. I can support that.

So there you go- a surefire way to pick a horse in a race where you don’t have one.

You’re welcome.

Monday Hot Shots: True Blood, the Phillies, Debt-Ceiling Blues and Tommy Football.

If we were to compare our relationship with a certain TV show with a relationship with a person, than my relationship with True Blood is on its last legs. What was once a fun, healthy- albeit mindless relationship has degenerated into an empty relationship based solely on looks. The clock is ticking.

I love that the Phillies traded for Hunter Pence, a player I’ve always liked since his first game. I even specifically remember talking about Pence with Joe Dykes back at Bay Lines and how we both liked him, even though it was initially because he rocked the high socks. But as the years have passed, I’ve appreciated Pence more and more. But he played for the Astros- so it was like being a fan of a soccer player who only plays for a small West African team. Thankfully the Phillies have made it their business over the past couple years of acquiring players I’ve always liked, but have never really had the opportunity to rout for- Roy Halladay, Roy Oswalt and Pence. They even brought Pedro Martinez back, which was great because I never really liked him on the Mets.

Horrible Bosses was a great movie- funny, not too long, and perfectly casted. However, it was preceded by some of the worst previews I’ve ever seen in my life. How many movies can really start out with the premise- it was the greatest summer of their lives…? Oh and it’s a shark! But it’s a lake! But it’s a salt water lake! We’re doomed, but we’re pretty!

Day drinking gets harder, the older I get it. Actually pretty much anything involving drinking gets harder the older I get. That just doesn’t seem fair.

Kim and I finished season four of the Wire Saturday and even though I’ve seen that season probably four times now, it still gets me in the end. It also makes me believe so much stronger that it’s the greatest TV show ever. They don’t mess around, don’t hold anything back. They give you everything you could ask for. The Wire is the anti-Lost. Whereas Lost was full of questions with no answers, the Wire is situations that lead to questions that lead to reasoning that leads to answers and then lead to repercussions. And they do this for every character- no matter how or big or how small. It all matters. The Wire matters. I can’t wait to start season 5.

How do I tell a potential wedding DJ that I want A) them to play good fun music, B) don’t want them to sing along and C) want them not to be a douche without sounding over-bearing?

Go Karts are boring indoors.

Whole wheat pancakes taste just as good as regular pancakes.

I’ve tried my best to stay up to date with all this fun debt ceiling talk and I guess I’m happy that they’ve reached an agreement- wait, have they?, but honestly, who the hell elected these people? Sometimes I think that as a country, we’re not mature enough to handle a democracy. We had a good run, but maybe it’s time to hand over the reins.

The Patriots look good now, but given the past couple years- I can’t get really excited until the playoffs role around. For the last handful of years, Patriots’ seasons have been comparable to great movies with shitty endings. But I do love Tommy Football.

I’d like to name a dog Tommy Football. Hmm, might have to run that one up the flag pole.

Sports, the Emotional Corollacoaster

The baseball season isn't over yet, but God I miss it already. The World Series allegedly starts tomorrow- it's the Giants and the Rangers. But with the Phillies finally ending an incredibly frustrating season Saturday night and the Red Sox having been on vacation for a few weeks now, it all ultimately means one thing.

Basketball season. Go Celtics.

Oh wait, it's football season. Go Patriots.

Either way, it's no longer baseball season. In the World Series I guess I'll rout for...shit, I don't know and I really don't care. Whoever wins, I'll be fine with it. I like the Giants uniforms and I have family who bleed Rangers' blue. So it's win, win, lose. For the next couple weeks, weekday nights at Chateau Kimalicous and Ryno will consist of Mad Men and Modern Family, as well as cooking shows, HBO, Thursday nights on NBC, and failed attempts at finding good movies on OnDemand. One of the best things about baseball is the consistency of it and like with any thing you come to rely on, when it goes away it leaves you empty, confused, and watching reruns of The Office.

We saw the final at-bats of the once Fightin' Phils while looking through the windows of Urban Saloon after we finished Terror Behind the Walls- the haunted prison & fun house in the old Eastern State Penitentiary. Throughout the entire prison walk, old men in the group ahead of us clung to their phones, watching as the Phillies fell behind 3-2. As soon as we left, we hustled across the street, electing to watch the end of the game from outside instead of trying to muscle our way into the bar, which was packed wall to wall and also cripplingly quiet. People walking by on the street stopped and watched. They were quiet too, aside from asking how many outs there were. We all stood there in silence and continued to do so for a minute or two after Ryan Howard struck out looking to end the game.

Big White, down in South Carolina, seemed to take it especially hard.

"I just threw away my Howard shirt," he texted.

Shit. He loves that shirt.

Yet that was not a rash reaction. It was a sports reaction. It's why I love sports, because of the emotions it brings out in people.

Saturday afternoon, on a quick trip to Target to buy a set of Matchbox cars for Merrick for his awesome third birthday (man, I hope he has already opened it- because I'd hate to ruin the surprise and I know he loves blogs,) I loved the amount of people clad in Phillies' gear. There was no limit on age, no lean towards a particular gender, and no favoritism for just one player. It was like every Sunday during football season, when people bust out jerseys and t-shirts of their team and wear them until they get done watching Sunday night HBO programming. Sports are hope and passion and fun. They are fickle and unfair. They are a damn good time. Especially with cheap drinks.

When you think about it, baseball is a goddamn maddening sport and not the most of social sport to watch- especially playoff baseball when every pitch matters. But that doesn't stop anyone from searching out the bar with the best TV set up and/or drink specials. It's an event that can be better than a wedding or worse than a funeral. The only positive is that you can wear a t-shirt.

So goodnight baseball. I can't say it was all that awesome of a season, but it was still a good time. As for the Phillies, the only hope is that your laziness and complacency this season will result in a return to the fire and brimstone of 2008. I mean, you don't want Big throwing away any more Phillies t-shirts do you?

After the game and once most of the crowd inside the bar had sulked their way home, we all piled inside, carved out a nice area near the DJ and got to dancing. All of the TV's had been either turned off or turned to college football, which at the point was only there to be ignored by most and partially watched by a few. The music was fun, the dancing was funner. One speaker cut out and then another, but we kept dancing even though the music got quieter and muffled. We stayed until closing, until Kim and I were all danced out. Neither one of us mentioned the Phillies until the cab ride home, but it was after we talked about how much fun dancing was. When we brought up the game again, we then talked about pizza. There was no point in dwelling or lamenting the loss. It was time to move on and focus on other things- things that would make us happy and less hungover in the morning.

Sports incite fleeting and powerful emotions- for better or worse. The only ultimate positive is that these feelings won't last and soon they get buried deep down away in a place where the only thing that lets them out is one thing- more sports.

Go Celtics. Go Pats. Go pumpkin spice coffee.

See you in a few months baseball. Have a good winter.

Thunderdome Baseball Predictions with Dugan.

Today at the Thunderdome, Dugan was much more golden than he was retriever. We had found a good stick a few streets over and he had brought it with him. He grew attached; he wasn't much for letting go.

He isn't much for the Phillies' offense either, and had little to say about their current series with the Giants. We agreed that San Francisco does look like an amazing place that I'd like to go back too and he'd like to pay a visit too. I told him he probably wouldn't like flying and the drive would be a process. I think Dugan is resigned to stay on the East Coast for the rest of his life.

He would love that toll booths end once you cross the Mississippi. He is not a fan of toll collectors.

Last night, when I took the trash out, the air smelled like Halloween and the wind had leaves blowing up the street. Today it feels like fall. It feels like fall after summer- not just a taste of fall as summer winds up. Fall comes with crisp air and nights that require a hooded sweatshirt. Teaser fall days are just colder than summer. But today felt like a real fall day and at the Thunderdome, the wind blew through the chain link fence and sometimes pushed the stick in a different direction as it flew through the air. There were no distractions and the neighborhood was quiet. I saw a squirrel at one point, but Dugan did not. Therefore, we did not see a squirrel; only a stick that every two minutes would fly from one end of the Thunderdome to the other.

Dug feels that Phillies are missing a spark this year. I agree. You can't solely blame Rollins, but he definitely isn't the dude he was when the Phils won the Series in 2008 and no one on the Phillies has stepped up and assumed the roll of engine. Pitching isn't the concern now, Dugan believes. It's runs. The Giants, except for the game the other night, won't ever score more than four runs in a game. So if the Phillies can even casually hit the ball, they should be good. Dug thinks they win it in seven.

He is practical.

When we left the Thunderdome, I asked him if he wanted to bring the stick home with him. I put it in his mouth. Dogs look awesome when they're walking down the street with a stick hanging out of their mouth. But Dugan left it, he dropped it along side the court's entrance; not looking back once. Dugan is the Don Draper of dogs- he is moving forward and not holding on to anything for very long. He does not care for Old Fashions, though, and thinks smoking cigarettes is a gross, filthy habit.

Dugan is more of a beer-drinker.

Our goodbye was brief and I was soon back in the Corollacoaster, heading back into the city and giving the new Kings of Leon album another listen. I don't think they've sold out, I think they have just grown together as musicians. They're certainly different than when Mavo, Adam & I saw them in Boston and again at the State in Portland- but it's cool, people change. I'd have issues with drum machines or back ground singers- but there's nothing wrong with big choruses and summertime anthems. After listening to the album five times in the last few days, I'll say it's good- but not as defined as their past albums. The songs flow together and it's something that wasn't the case as much before. I am hard-pressed to say what my favorite song might be at this point.

The afternoon fall sun splashes hard hues of burnt orange across the bricks of the building next door. A self-imposed ban on the "Come Around Sundown" has been put in place for the rest of the day- TV on the Radio is playing now. Birthday parties and baseball games and haunted prisons tomorrow. Chili, red wine, and salad as November gets closer.

Dugan says Phils in seven, but offers no insight about what's after that.

Somethings you just have to find out for yourself.

Go Phillies.

Part 21: But we're years away from a magenta-colored person being elected for anything...

Okay.

I'm starting to lose it. My brain is so, so, so close to becoming completely useless that it's mind-numbing.

Literally.

I will largely blame it on the weather, which has managed to even dampen my high spirits that I had coming off of the election. Yes, the Election- another night of rampaging youngsters running wild down Broad Street. Well politics has never excited me in a way even comparable to say, a Red Sox/Orioles game in May, but Tuesday night I felt something and it wasn't just the sleepy j's. No. It was something else, something deep down inside of me that was shooting off fireworks and jolly rangers, swigin' beers, and living large out on the high seas. Not pride, because having a black man elected President doesn't really make me proud. It makes me happy because a dude who seems to know what's up and what needs to be done was actually elected President.

The fact that he's an African American is important and justifiably so.

But the fact that he's a leader, a listener, and now, the next President of the United States is far more important to me than the color of his skin.

But if he were some weird color- like fuchsia or turquoise- well, that would be a little weird I guess.

So Obama is going to be the next President, Democrats are rocking the Senate, and if you looked at America in the right morning light Wednesday morning, you might even think that some things are about to change. That this is a new America, or at the very least, the dawn of a new America, and while it has yet to change the scent of flowers, it has sold a shitload of bumper stickers and made Oprah happier than usual.

And that is always reassuring news.

Depressing news is the weather reports for Philly this week. Every day it's been the same song- rainy, cloudy, windy. It's perhaps the most unmotivational weather to hit a small logistics' company East Coast warehouse in years. The combination of the weather and the time change and my new kick ass bed has made me want to do exactly one thing and one thing only- sleep.

So while my excitement for President Obama, the Phillies, and the proud, new owners of our piece of shit box truck has been tempered some by the weather, at least I can sleep soundly and comfortably in my brand new bed from Sleepy's...the mattress professionals.

Goodnight, America.

Part 20: Escapes, Ice Capades and How a Turtle Woman ruined the Phillies' Parade.

I called Dad minutes after Brad Lidge closed out the Series for the Phillies. I told him that this moment- the Phillies winning the World Series- is amazing, but ultimately ranks second behind the Red Sox winning in 2004.

It surpasses the Sox winning last year- and is a solid second place. It was serious fun, the utmost enjoyment corners of the world were hit and conquered. People in the bar, they threw their arms in the air when it was over and they never came down. Yelling, cheering, hugs, kisses- the kind of excitement reserved for the absolute best New Year's Eve of your life. It was some goddamn pure & beautiful American fun. And then, then it was on to Broad Street. We didn't know why. No one did. But upon leaving the Kite & Key, it was the place to go and off we went. Every driver of a car honked their horn and people zig-zagged in flip flops and Air Jordans, garishly crossing the streets yelling out loud, Go Phillies. They would yell and people who you couldn't even see would yell back, Go Phillies, and then another group of people, funneling out of another bar, would yell, Go Phillies!

So onto Broad Street and the sea of people that were flooding down it. Down Broad Street, towards City Hall, thousands and thousands of revelers dressed in both well-worn and well-kinda recently bought Phillies' t-shirts jumped and danced down the street. They all yelled out, they all screamed at the tipitity top of their lungs- GO PHILLIES! All of these kids with beers crammed in their backpacks ran wild next to the cagey vets, slugging dirty whiskey out of flasks. More horns honking, cars over-flowing with passengers- they're jumping on the roof!- and pity the poor soul who left their car out on Broad Street that night because baby it was tipped the hell over and then stomped on for good measure! No car left unturned- very diligent revel rousers and we got to City Hall and it was lawless. Completely lawless. Cops watched as a massive group of youngsters shook and shimmied a rented box truck- Enterprise and oh, the poor bastard who rented that truck- the cops looked on as kids hung from traffic lights and drank their booze in a fabulously brazen manner. The cops didn't care, man.

The Phillies, yes the Phillies, had won the World Series. They beat the Rays who beat the Sox and who managed to annoy the better part of America- the people of course in the great Northeast were already annoyed with those brash bastards from the bay. Their stadium is a joke. It's a mall. Everything good you heard is true and everything bad you'd expect is true as well. That is the Tampa Bay Rays- deserving of the hype and deserving of the backlash.

Really, the Phillies winning was...

It was killer.

Big and I went to the parade yesterday and all I'll say, is that...we decided to go to City Hall- seemed like a good point and seemed, when we got there, that everyone had thought the exact same thing. But we wormed through the crowds and found a place that was really, as good as any. Four women were standing on the bench in front of us, holding hands, holding their ground. The one woman on the end, a turtle-looking, angry soccer/dirty hockey mom hybrid, kept turning around, looking at me, eyeing me up. She thought I was going for the bench- her bench, the woman that her and her Phillies-loving ladyfriends had probably claimed hours ago, but I wasn't. It was narrow. They had been there first. I was resigned to the fact that I wasn't going to see shit, but I still wanted to try. But she kept looking and when the crowd started getting up and amped and loud and louder, the woman turned and yelled to someone behind me, bring him here. A moment later, an Asian gentleman, pushed past me and with a youngster in his arms, climbed up onto the bench. Well shit, now I really couldn't see a damn thing and now I had some Asian gentleman's ass in my face. The child started crying- he didn't want to be there and the Asian gentleman handed him down to an Asian woman, who brought the child tight into her arms.

They're coming, the Turtle woman, said to the Asian gentleman. They keep coming and pushing and I was worried about the little one. I was, because they're gonna push up. They already are.

And this Turtle woman kept looking at me everytime she said they. Every single time. She finished a sentence, letting the last few words hang there and she brought her tortoise eyes back to my direction. Her eyes accused me, they were declaring that me, just Ryno, fully intended on trampling little babies to catch a glimpse of the Phillies.

I called her out on it.

Are you talking about me? I asked.

No, no, Turtle woman replied.

You're looking right at me. I said.

They're gonna push up.

I know! You've said that. Several times. And each time you looked at me. I'm not they. No. If anything, they are pushing me around. I'm a victim.

The Turtle woman turned away.

Just like they always do.

Go Phillies.

Part 15: Baby, it was an amazing summer night in Philadelphia...

Phillies fans- the old ones especially, are bitter, bitter individuals.

Last season, I got in more than a few arguments with old-timers at Phillies' games. Usually it was about Pat Burrell. And it infuriated people even more when I told them that actually, I had just moved to Philly and had recently adopted the Phillies- specifically as my National League team, my second team after the Sox.

That always pissed them off. Frustration showed because they rolled their eyes like dragon tongues and they always pushed their hat back on top of their head, jutting their graying wisps of hairs out like really excited monkeys.

Really frustrated monkeys.

Monkeys that see their checks bounce and monkeys who hate ATMs because really dude, they're just bad news.

Tonight I went to the Philles/Nationals game with the Newlyweds, and despite my bold declarations to Big White in recent weeks that I was really good luck and he was incredibly bad luck, the Phillies played like old waffles. Big didn't go, so ultimately I blamed myself.

The Phillies were flat and played like they had nothing to lose, when really, they had everything to lose. They aren't in first place anymore. They are in second, a game or so behind the goddamn Mets. And watching the Phillies tonight was watching a collection of dudes playing a game for the heck of it.

Not for the hell of it.

It was disappointing, but walking onto the train- the express train, which is completely awesome- I was still happy I went. It was a nice summer night, a smooth temperature and- there is now a tambourine outside and if only it was the circus, if only it was the freight train of amazing heading straight for crazy town...Crazy Town...land of completely paid student loans...

Well that would be pretty awesome.

Pretty awesome, would be a good way to describe the Phillies game if that's how the game actually went. But the game went south, the game was a little bit of a chugging bus route, crossing it's way across the horizon. It puttered and shimmied- shaked like a bad ass dude, until then, yep...the game ended. No more at bats for the Phillies, no more chances.

No more chances to try and win the game.

Dude.

Baseball is only not fun, when it makes you think about how the time to get up and make a move is getting closer and closer, and the times for you to a swing, are getting fewer and fewer.

Thanks a lot Jimmy Rollins.

Thanks.