Must See New Year's Eve Music - The Rivalfish Sweet Sixteen

By Jonah Ansell, Rivalfish Producer/Music Writer, jansell@rivalfish.com

If you're anything like this fair Cubs fan, you've been let down by dear ole 2006. Cushion the inevitable failure of your favorite team in 2007 by kicking off the year with a high note.

Sure, the midnight deadline is near, and you have probably already committed your dollars to a social bandwagon you could care less for, simple because you didn't want to be drinking gin and tonics in your parents' den to a Carson Daly backdrop. It's time you stand up and say "no" to those overpriced, underwhelming New Year's Eve parties.

Rivalfish encourages you to trade small-talk for hard-rock at one of Rivalfish's Sweet Sixteen - a list of can't miss New Year's concerts across the country, to ensure that this New Year's is better than the last. You'll have to find venue and ticket information yourself, we're not going to do all the legwork for you.

The NYE 2007: Sweet Sixteen

Atlanta - Sound Tribe Sector Nine

Agoura Hills - REO Speedwagon

Atlantic City - Trey Anastasio

Camden, NJ - Disco Biscuits

Chicago - Umphrey's McGee, Taj Mahal

Costa Mesa, CA - Poison

Denver - Yonder Mountain String Band

Las Vegas - Prince

Los Angeles - Gnarls Barkley, Flaming Lips, Cat Power

Memphis - North Mississippi All Stars

Milwaukee - Cake

New Orleans - Galactic

New York - Clap Your Hands Say Yeah

San Francisco - The String Cheese Incident

Santa Rosa, CA - Les Claypool

Sayreville, NJ - Robert Randolph

RIVALFISH'S 2006 SONG OF THE YEAR: Everybody Daylight

No need to waste your time with snazzy adjectives or clever verbs, Brightback Morning Light's "Everybody Daylight" is Rivalfish's 2006 song of the year.

Chances are, you won't hear this blasted at Yankee Stadium or during halftime at an NFL game, but Rivalfish will donate $1,000 to charity in honor of the first MLB closer that slowly walks out from the bullpen to the mound to this song.

This song has the power to transform Mariano Rivera 98 mph fastball into Sidd Finch's 159 mph fastball. Listen to the song. Buy the album.

SAY "CHEESE!" - SATURDAY

Saddam Hussein's Rose Bowl Tickets Likely To Go Unclaimed at Will Call

The Douche Bag's Guide to Bringing in the New Year Like a Man

Hey douchebags! Party-going women could give a crap about your sports trivia prowess. Lucky for you, Rivalfish feature writer Zach Crantz has put together a detailed guide to bringing in 2007 like a real man. -- Rival Room Producer

by Zach Crantz, zcrantz@gmail.com

5:30 post meridian: Get dressed. Make yourself look hotter and richer than you really are. Use extra gel and extra shaving cream (this part is just for you unless of course your friends watch you shave… hey, I’m not judging). After making your face as smooth as a baby’s ass --this is an outdated and very creepy saying?-- give yourself that extra edge by pouring on some extra after shave; preferably Old Spice.

5:45 post meridian: Take one more look in the mirror. This is the make or break moment which separates the men from the boys. Give it your all here because this 10-second glance into the mirror will determine the outcome of your night. You have to mirror-face hard. Mirror-face like it’s the last look you’ll ever get at you average looking mug. Then mean mug for an additional 15 seconds. This will remind you of how tough and intimidating you look when in the presence of testosterone-induced competition stalking your feeble prey.

7:00 post meridian: Congregate at a hotel lobby with all of the people you call "friends." Start drinking watered down cranberry and vodkas… no, not because you're a pussy… Your having opted to go with the limp-wrist cranberry and vodka is because you’re not sure whether or not that discomfort in your vas deferens is The Clap or just a sports-related injury. And besides, your sisters told you cranberry juice fights bladder infections… how do they know that? Those whores. Just to be extra safe and extra cool: crush up a penicillin and rail it off of one of the bathroom sinks located on every side of the hotel lobby.

8:00 post meridian: Drink like there’s no tomorrow.

9:00 post meridian: Drink like there’s no tomorrow.

10:00 post meridian: Drink like James Bond had it all wrong; therefore, Tomorrow --actually-- Never Lives.

11:00 post meridian: Keep drinking pussy. Post-grad COLLEGE!!!

11:55 post meridian: Oh shit. Scramble around in as unashamed a manner as is humanly possible to find the lucky young lady that you’re going to swap saliva with. If your soul mate isn’t out there, cling on real tight to your ex-girlfriend in the red dress and remind her of all of the funny times. Like that one time she slipped on ice and you laughed your ass off.

12:00 anti meridian thinger???: Eat face like no one is judging, because honestly, they really aren’t.

12:15 in the “morning”: Purge like no one is judging. Purge like you’re in a sorority with soundproof bathroom stalls.

1:00 in the morning: Realize that you just puked up that penicillin that you snorted off of a communal washing post. Realize that the discomfort is not a figment of your imagination.

2:00 a.m.: Go home alone because regardless of how many Altoids you hide under your tongue, your breath still smells like regurgitated Thai food.

2:25 a.m.: Log onto your Bodog gambling account and make an outlandish bet that you know you’ll be unable to afford. Twice. This here bitter Michigan alum suggests Michigan over USC… are you surprised? What’s a booster club?

3:36 a.m.: Listen to the “Garden State” soundtrack and look at pictures of all of your ex-relationships. Reconsider your values and convince yourself that this year is going to be different. Chia. Happy Effing New Year!!! Effing?

Rivalfish Names Perry's Deli #1 Eatery in Chicago

by Jonah Ansell, Rival Room Producer, jansell@rivalfish.com

In the wake of the countless $125/plate New Year's Eve dinner/drinking packages to choose from weekend, Rivalfish would like to honor a far more fulfilling, far less seasonal institution: one that is better, cheaper, quicker, tastier, that unlike the wham-bam NYE parties, whose memories will have faded with the hangover by 4 pm on New Year's Day, we are pleased to honor a Chicago establishment that never fails to infinitely satisfy.

That's right, it's almost December 31st, and magazines/blogs/cable music channels everywhere are scrambling to compile best of/worst of/top 10 lists to order the events of this past year, in hopes of fabricating a linear "cause/effect," "best/worst" timeline that we feebleminded humans can look to for direction in hopes of bringing order to order our chaotic existence. These lists, which peaked in cultural relevance in about 1993, with the rise of David Letterman's once-hilarious nightly Top Ten lists, have now become so ubiquitous in our cable news culture, that no matter what brilliant judgments are made, they must be taken with a grain of salt when they're divided and ordered into a friendly and easy to stomach list with ten identical placeholding spots. Just because Google insists upon over-organizing the information within our world doesn't mean that we have to follow.

If you are a human that relies on such a relational list to define your interests, read no further. People have become so consumed with creating "lists" that they no longer make "statements."

For those of you who embrace the chaos, the answer you've been searching for is Perry's Deli. It's the #1 Eatery in Chicago.

Calm down fans of Johnny's Beef, Elmwood Park is NOT Chicago.

Calm down fans of Manny's Deli, their prices send a single meal skyrocketing upwards of $16, reminding me of a certain Stage Delicatessen in a certain other similarly high-priced city.

Calm down fans of Charlie Trotter's, Rivalfish threw down over $500 at your elegant eatery this past year and although you satiated the fuck out of us, you didn't complete us.

Perry's completes us, weekly. Perry's is the greatest escape in the Chicago Loop. It offers deli sandwiches both overwhelmingly good and overwhelmingly generous. The deli boasts a "no cell phone" rule, that has distinguished it from most other restaurants in America in years past, as Perry's chefs would yell at patrons who tried to bring the dealings of the Loop into its best eatery.

In 2006, Perry's upgraded its enforcement of the cell phone rule with the installation of a punishing "siren button" in the kitchen. As soon as a potential patron walks through the door talking into a cell-phone, the alarm blares, sending all dining eyes onto the perpetrator. Not since third grade recess has public scolding been so delightful. But a true Perry's lover need not dwell on the particular anecdotes about the restaurant that make it unique and mediable to a journalist who describes what insiders appreciate from the outside.

It's the sandwiches, stupid!

From the Peter Pansky to Ernest's Ecstasy, to to the 1st-timer must: Perry's Favorite.....and, just wait a sec, who could forget the assortment of Triple Decker sandwiches bound to kill afternoon productivity.

So make sure you head over to Perry's in 2007, to guarantee yourself a year better than 2006.

SAY "COTTAGE CHEESE!" - THURSDAY

A Christmas Gift You'd Surely Return

THE WEEK IN SPORTS AND LEISURE!

Rival Room readers are notoriously unmotivated and illiterate. They need to be mentored, and taught the touches of true satirical elegance. So we begged a legitimate online newspaper, The Beachwood Reporter, to teach us how to present useful information that would better our readership, like a bunch of stand-up guys with no criminal records or orphan pasts. So here’s the definitive list of what each person in the city of Chicago should do on a daily basis to pay heed to their sporting itch. Vagisil is recommended for your other itch.. Check it out. Check out Beachwood. Check out these adult-seeming activities for the next week in Chicago. But please come back. Maturity is for grad students and wine anyway - Tello Real, Rival Room Editor

THURSDAY: To Get Bowled Over/Get into the Spirit. Rutgers v. Kansas State. Texas Bowl. Houston, TX. NFL Network. 7pm. There are a handful of bowls on the 28^th to be used to practice the bowl-watching that you'll be doing later in the week in front of people. My favorite is the Texas Bowl, between '98's "surprise" team and '06's "surprise." So practice by learning your Man Info for this bettor's nightmare. Know at least one player on each unit of each squad, and crack a good joke about how this bowl game is being shown on the NFL Network. Then practice the face you'll make when you realize you're not going to be able to afford that whole "Valentine's Day proposal" your girl has definitely been counting on.

FRIDAY: To Plan Your Route/Form a Runners Street Gang. Become a Dedicated and Organized Exerciser. www.walkjogrun.net. The more I check out this site, the more I realize how much of a slap in the face it is to the family of Chandra Levy. Just as it allows runners to post their running routes and calculate their distances and speeds, it allows creeps like me to view the routes of strangers and the times they usually hit the pavement on a nightly basis. You can even contact the other users to set up a running date. This seems about as safe as a website that offers a list of schoolchildren and their favorite candies with the option to view satellite footage of their walk home.

SATURDAY: To Get Your College Football Fill/ Ignore Your Family. Keep Current on the Changing Stock of Teen Commodities. www.rivals.com. We don't have any college football this weekend, but we do have an entire industry dedicated to the speculation of adolescents and their high-pressure life choices. Rivals.com is the leader of this industry, going deeper into the college football machine than any non-creepy middle-aged athletic-has-been would ever want to. Guess who might be going to Notre Dame next year to fill the vacant spot at Full Back? SOMEONE ELSE'S CHILD YOU FREAK!

SUNDAY: To Finally Make Those New Years Plans/ Have an Excuse to Not Get Kissed. Bears v. Packers. Soldier Field. 7:15pm. NBC. Tickets available at stubhub.com from $187-$1,499. I love when I have an excuse to not make overpriced plans for the most anticlimactic night of the year. For that reason, I wish I would have bought tickets to this Bears game, and would now be able to shamelessly avoid whiffing my way down the bar-skank ladder as I weasel my way through the masses and try for my 4^th "free" drink of the night at an overcrowded hotel lobby. Happy New Year!

MONDAY: To Show What You've Practiced/ Drink More. New Years Day NCAA Bowl Games. ESPN, ABC, CBS, FOX. 10am - 10pm. Let's be honest. While New Years Day isn't the sports-gambling bukakke extravaganza it once was, you still have the Outback, Cotton, Gator, Capitol One, Rose, and Fiesta Bowls to keep you glued to your set for 12 hours while I'll be glued to the bottom of my emptied Jacuzzi listening to a Peter Gabriel live album, trying to kick the '06 Shakes. Don't tell me what happens. I'm going to erase all of my roommate's girlfriend's Grey's Anatomy episodes and TiVo the whole damn lineup of ManBall. Silly woman.

TUESDAY: To Watch Real Football/ Impress Birds on Carnaby Street. UEFA Champions League - PSV Eindhoven vs. Liverpool FC. ESPNDeportes. Noon. Hmmm, a FOOTBALL game between two English Champions League teams being shown on ESPN's Spanish language channel just because it's not a mainstream American sport. No, our major media isn't ethnocentric at all! Who would say such a thing! There are going to be some pissed-off Hispanics on Tuesday when they tune into their favorite channel and hear the accent of white people even more condescending and prejudice than the crop they encounter stateside.

WEDNESDAY: To Pretend It's Everest/ Get a Workout. Rock Gym 101 Rock Climbing Class. Upper Limits Rock Gym @ 1304 W. Washington, Bloomington. Noon - 2pm or 6 - 8pm. $30. Ever since catching an episode of that Everest program where the legless guy causes the death of the Third World stud Sherpa, I have really wanted to get back into the rock climbing I became skilled at as a youth. Yes, instead of AYSO, we asthmatic suburban children learned how to climb faux rock-overhangs at expensive camps in Northern Wisconsin. Aren't you jealous? No? Oh, you're going to go play some pick-up basketball outside? Nah, I can't play cause of that whole airway constriction issue I mentioned. Have fun, and please take this class so that you can come play with me later!

NEIL REED DEMANDS HIS COMEUPPANCE: The Angry T's "Angry Thought of the Day"

"Rivalfish Featured Columnist and Angry Entrepreneur, Tony "Angry T" Guerreso, has been hooking up with Neil Reed's cousin. When Neil discovered that the guy banging his cousin Roger was a famed sports columnist, he gave Neil this letter to share with the sporting public. Hopefully, for doing this favor for Neil, Roger will let Angry T be the Angry "Top," if you know what I'm sayin' " - Tello Real, Editor-in-Chief

By The Angry T, anthony.guerreso@gmail.com, www.theangryt.com

Well, fantastic, Bob Knight is going to break ol' Dean Smith's record for most wins all-time in NCAA basketball. Well, let me tell you who is not excited about this: yours truly, Neil Reed. If you remember correctly, that son of a bitch Knight choked the shit out of me in 1997. I am still kind of pissed about that, although no one else seems to be. You remember that little incident this year where Knight quasi-slapped Texas Tech Forward Michael Prince on the chin to get his attention. Well, that was similar to what he did to me, except instead of quasi-slapping me, he choked the shit out of me. Sure he wins basketball games and there is no doubt he is a Hall of Fame coach, but what about Neil Reed? I have had lingering neck problems since that incident. I can't go to fireworks shows on July 4th because I can't look up. I can't go to sporting events because I can't turn my neck and look at different parts of the court or field. I can really only focus on one basketball net when I watch a game, so I stare at an un-used basket when the teams are at the other end. I used to love bird-watching, no more my friends, I can hardly look up in the trees. Everyone knows the rare yellow warbler is only found at tree height, so what can I do...what can Neil Reed do?

Scouts say I could have played in Europe, but I lost so much court vision with my neck mobility problems that am relegated to playing 17 years olds at the Y for 10 dollars a game. It’s pathetic and it is all because of that Bob Knight. The "General' they call him. That’s a coincidence, because I need a general anesthetic daily because that jerk-off choked me. Don't buy into the hype. And before you say, "You little pussy, that man is 75 years old, how much could it have really hurt?" First, he has old-man strength, which is second only to retard strength in terms of brute force. Second, this man knew what he was doing, he as choked before and goddamn it he will choke again unless people like me stand up to him. This is Neil Reed's time to air his grievances; it is festivus season after all. So root for Bob Knight, if you are an advocate of choking young kids. Sick bastards.

Sincerely,

Neil Reed

THE FIRST ANNUAL BOWL BOWL: A Redundant Athletic Gathering

by Zach Crantz, zcrantz@rivalfish.com

No one will be wearing shoes at this particularly mellow NCAA football game. This is because those attending will be high and they’ll feel just too environmentally conscious. The helpless grass will seem just too fragile for those kinds of 'soles.' Everyone invited to this game will be smoking lots of pot and conversing about the corrupt political machine that is the BCS.

There’s an old joke which goes as follows:
Q: What is the one thing that pot and Michigan football have in common?
A: They both get smoked in 'bowls.'

Yes, I agree, there are some damned clever little potheads out there. Fortunately, this joke has lost its appropriateness this year because Michigan isn’t even getting packed into the right bowl. This January they will not get smoked at all; instead, Michigan will do the smoking. Even I'm sick of hearing myself talk about the BCS; so, I decided to write about it one last time instead. Besides, there is huge news to relay along to the wide-eyed/bushy-tailed Rivalfish community (aka all of our writers’ collective group of friends, 24 random regulars, and the occasional passerby).

It has just been reported that the Michigan Wolverines have opted to send their B-squad to the Rose Bowl this year and that they are sending Henne, Hart, Manningham et al to the Bowl Bowl instead. When I asked coach Carr why he was doing this he just looked at me through squinted eyelids and said, in a muffled voice that made me think he was having trouble breathing, “That’s a very good question; a great question.” Then he exhaled a giant cloud of purplish smoke and walked away. Weird. It was hard to find other appropriate individuals --with relevant opinions-- to comment but, like those astute Houdini sand fleas at the Carolina seashore, I kept on digging. With the help of some of my contacts I was able to get a hold of Fidel Castro and Osama Bin Laden to give their two cents (two cents which they, of course, robbed from their oppressed people). It turns out they both watch college football (apparently Comcast really is Com-f*cking-castic), and they both agree that their cousin, Jim Tressel, should have his Buckeyes follow suit and do the same B-squad swap for the BCS National Championship game by sending his real men to the Bowl Bowl.

Fidel claims he has known "that little Tressel bastard" since he wore a miniature sweater vest upside down as a diaper. He says that anything more forceful than a mere explicit suggestion of this B-squad swap would, and I quote, “Make the Cuban Missile Crisis look like a Sunday afternoon in a Gainesville nursing home.” I have absolutely no f*cking clue what Mr. Castro meant by this but it seemed important so I kept it in this report. As it turns out, with the right amount of peer pressure from these two dictators, Tressel was strong-armed into sending his best boys to the Bowl Bowl as well.

Apparently, players at this alternative National Championship game will, instead of playing against each other, play with each other toward a common goal: make an absolute mockery of the game. Quarterbacks will follow in the BCS’s footsteps by tossing their once-opponents some bones. Instead of trying to avoid throwing interceptions, it will be the QB’s primary objective to give them away as if he is a celebrity martyr passing out condoms at an AIDs Shelter. Wide receivers will play more like deranged free safeties that immediately hand the ball off to their opposition and vice versa (imagine the biggest, most confusing game of 500 ever actualized). Players will drench the other team’s coach in Gatorade at the end of the game and fans will be too high to know what the hell is going on. It is really is going to be a sight to see.

Due to the recent announcement of this year’s Bowl Bowl, in addition to the other sixteen thousand bowl games (plus or minus a cherry), gambling point spreads are now about as unimportant as a Pamela Anderson Playboy spread. Things have gotten so skewed this year that sports bookies are only taking “gentlemen bets;” bets in which no money actually changes hands and instead the winners get to kick the losers in the nuts in the presence of legendary boxing referee Mills Lane. Seriously, the fact that Vegas had a 3 pt. spread for a Mich. v. OSU rematch and a whopping 8 ½ pt. spread for FL v. OSU really says it all. In Las Vegas, they actually pay these genius statisticians-turned-“researchers” to not have families just to make sure these spreads are as creepy-sixth-sense-esque as is humanly possible. So, the outcome of the Rose Bowl and the BCS National Championship game have already been written by the football gods. Because of this, I strongly encourage you to do some chores for the nice elderly lady down the street who has a prescription to some medicinal marijuana, kick back, take some rips from a bong, and watch the Bowl Bowl this year in lieu of the already written “top-notch” bowl games.

My honest predictions for the actual games: Michigan 44, USC 20; OSU 27, Florida 10 (if I’m completely wrong then I’ll claim to have been high when I wrote this). Also, keep in mind that these predictions are made assuming A-Teams are actually playing A-Teams. Finally and fittingly, in the words of the A-Team alpha male, a man who goes by the name of Mr. T: “I pity the da BCS.” Cheers my friends. Go Blue!!! And I never thought I’d say this, but Go Bucks!!!???

MERRY CHRISTMAS SINNER!

"Well, Maybe if You Pass My 'Coolness Test' You'll Get Some Gifts"

SAY "CHEESE!" - SATURDAY

American Girl Unveils Porcelain Griffey Doll Just in Time For Holidays, ALL SALES FINAL!

SAY "CHEESE!" - FRIDAY

Denver Area Sees Dramatic Increase in White Kids with Cornrows

SAY "CHEESE!" - FRIDAY

Stoned Carmelo Anthony Speaks Highly of New Teammate Iverson

SAY "CHEESE!" - THURSDAY

Denver Athletic Employees Celebrate Iverson's Arrival With Additional 90 Second "Stretching Break"

THE WEEK IN CHICAGO SPORTS

Rival Room readers are notoriously unmotivated and illiterate. They need to be mentored, and taught the touches of true satirical elegance. So we begged a legitimate online newspaper, The Beachwood Reporter, to teach us how to present useful information that would better our readership, like a bunch of stand-up guys with no criminal records or orphan pasts. So here’s the definitive list of what each person in the city of Chicago should do on a daily basis to pay heed to their sporting itch. Vagisil is recommended for your other itch.. Check it out. Check out Beachwood. Check out these adult-seeming activities for the next week in Chicago. But please come back. Maturity is for grad students and wine anyway - Tello Real, Rival Room Editor

THURSDAY: To Watch a Great HS Rivalry/ Rep' "Smoke Park." OPRF @ Fenwick Boys Basketball. 505 W. Washington blvd, Oak Park. 7:30pm. $3. Former Oak Park River Forest JV Gymnast turned megastar Chris "Ludacris" Bridges said it best in one of his ditties: "I rep' Smoke Park so Chi-Town can get seen!" Yours truly also attended this scholastic beacon of diversity that rests on the Chicago/Oak Park border, and dream nightly of the time we notoriously upset NBA baller Corey Maggette and the Fenwick Friars amid crowd-wide chants of "overrated!" OPRF hasn't beaten their parochial cross-town rivals since. At 6-1, we're so good this year that Bulls bench-legend Randy Brown's son goes to OPRF and didn't even make the team. Huskies fans, get ready for the Top 25.

FRIDAY: To Stop Jocking the Bears/ Pay Attention to the Beginning of Something. Chicago Bulls @ New York Knicks. 6:30pm. Comcast SportsNet. While everyone in the world concerns themselves with the tragic deaths, gun laws, and meaningless selections to an All-Star Game held after the season, we have winners more deserving of our jersey-chasing over at the House that Jordan Built. Blackhawks, I'll get to you in a second. The Bulls have won 12 of 13, P.J. Brown promises to stop being a pouty child, and Scott Skiles hasn't displayed his Indiana-born bigoted ways in about a month. And when you thought it couldn't get any better, we get to slaughter a team coached by Chicago's most vilified opponent. Pay attention now before you're accused of bandwagon jumping.

SATURDAY: To Be Fair/ Watch the Coolest Game on Ice. Chicago Blackhawks @ Colorado Avalanche. 8:00pm. Comcast SportsNet. Yep, you read it right, the Mighty Hawks are going to be on the moving picture box this Saturday. And here's the freakier part: THE HAWKS ARE ABOVE .500! Now don't fact-check me on this, but that's got to be the first time since Roenick, Amonte, and some arbitrary non-American shared a line. I hear new coach Denis Savard has instituted a rule that requires each Hawk to do at least one spin-o-rama before taking a shot on net. Radical.

SUNDAY: To Heed the Law/Avoid One-Game Suspension. Illinois State Police Firearm Owner Identification Application. Sooner Than Later, Mr. Pippen. $5. Tank, you thought you would have learned from the mistakes of Scottie Pippen, Lonny Baxter, and Sebastian Telfair. Well, maybe you did, as you didn't fire your unregistered uzi out of a moving car a block from the White House for absolutely no reason like Baxter did. Didn't they cover that on The Constitution Test we all took as 8^th graders? Lonny must have skipped a grade. Anyway, register your weapons, or my clan of legally-armed do-gooders and I will tattle before you have a chance to hurt my team or betting interests.

MONDAY: To Show You Care/Celebrate a Birthday. Christmas With Your Friends and Family. All Day, jerk. Love Don't Cost a Thing. Well, of course there's the annually over-hyped NBA game that's going to be played on Christmas morning. Even when this game used to often feature the Jud Buchler-era Bulls, this Hebrew columnist thought it was sacrilege to do this to the players and their families. But then I'd think about what was under the tree in these players' Cribs. Or in the driveway with a bow like us common folk only see in commercials featuring a dad/son, dad/daughter, or attractive young couple combo. Your mommy and daddy aren't that rich so turn off the stupid game and have a genuine conversation for Christ's sake. Literally.

TUESDAY: To Watch More Hockey/ Start Saying "Eh". Chicago Hounds @ Quad City Mallards. MARK of the Quad Cities @ 1201 River Drive, Moline. 7:00pm. $14 -Way too much for sem-pro hockey. There's a lot more mediocre hockey going on Chicago than you'd ever imagine. The Hounds are in the, eh, in the UH, eh, L and are affiliated with, uh, no, uh one. They're headquartered in Hoffman Estates. All the players get driven to the games by their moms in minivans with a USA Hockey sticker on the back windshield. They have to pay to play, yet can call themselves Professional Hockey Players.

WEDNESDAY: To See a New Set of Balls/ Drink Like One of the Guys. St. Edmunds Bowling League. Circle Lanes @ 7244 Circle Ave, Forest Park. 7pm-10:30pm. $6/game for non-league rollers. Two days after Christmas you'll see a lot of new bowling gear at these legendary lanes in this resurgent Near-West suburb that thrives during the holiday season due to its liquor-based economy. What else were wives going to get their neutered spouses than an accessory for their one remaining hobby (excuse to get out of the house)? You'll also be treated to a jovially diverse set of ethnic jokes spread evenly throughout this diverse clan in one of Chicago's most endearingly and radically Old School 'hoods.

Rivalfish's 2006 Bears - Super Bowl Shuffle Remix

Lyrics by Pete Keeley, petekeeley@gmail.com and Jonah Ansell, jansell@rivalfish.com

Performed by two inexorably white rappers who will remain nameless for their families' safety.

Back in 85' you might recollect
a certain Chi-Team, that earned yo' respek.
But now it's 06' and the Bears are back,
The Coach is gone, and our new one's black...
Pour some out for the winners of Super Bowl twenty...
but we'd beat their asses like they owed us money.

This year we're causin' all types of trouble,
Pretty soon we'll be doing the Super Bowl Shuffle.

I'm Urlacher, heard of me?
Everybody and their dog has my jersey.
The most feared man in the NFL,

Except for Jeff Garcia, but that's because... well...
The best player on the best defense,
on the best damn team... am I making sense?
Home field advantage, Let's f-ing do this.
I only kill people on the field, unlike Ray Lewis...

I'm Rex Grossman,
When I first got drafted, they sold no tickets
People were weary from the way I did whippets,

But it doesn't matter, we're playoff bound
So I get more ass than Cade McNown,
Preseason haters can lick my balls.
The ones in the endzone, as well as my drawls.

They call me pretty Ricky, hands are sticky
I'll catch any football, I'm not picky.
I'll catch the curl. I'll catch the slant.

Go deep on me, and I'll uncle your aunt.

I know where you're throwing like I was in your huddle.
Now I'm gonna do the Super Bowl Shuffle.

The call me TJ Hammer, or "Super Neck."
I turn a Michael Irvin tie into a bitch's barrette

Now I grind down the defense, and open the door
for Rex to go deep on 2nd and 4.
Replacing me with Cedric, is the plan...
But he sucks...

Cedric: Hey Thomas.

Thomas: Ced. What's up man?

I'm Robbie Gould, I kick ball.
I play with the ball, I kick the ball.
It's pronounced like "gold," not "gould" you fool!
I never miss a kick, but you know I'm a tool,

But that's okay, I got a secret... I'll whisper:
(I had sex with Tank Johnson's sister)
What? I like a little meat. Don't knock the hustle.
I just came to do the superbowl shuffle.

I'm the rookie Mark A, from the Crimson Tide

Running backs can't run, fullbacks can't hide.
As to what I mess up worse, there's some debating:
A quarterback's health or his passer rating.
But possibly the most unbelievable thing:
We're so fucking good I'm second string!

It's your boy, Bernard. I make big plays happen.
I cause more blown coverage than Janet Jackson. .

All the corners rave about my speed.
I take more balls deep than Tara Reid.

It's not that our schedule is sweeter that syrup.
We just make the NFL look like NFL Europe.
So book a Miami hotel on the double

We'll be there doin' the Super Bowl Shuffle.

Please let us win a playoff game this year,
Or we'll be in deeper shit than Michael Richards' career.

SAY "CHEESE!" - WEDNESDAY

Nuggets Starting Five Demand Trade

LAWRENCE FRANK NOW WEARS A BATHING SUIT in the SHOWER AFTER GAMES: The Angry T's "Angry Thought of the Day"

"Being gay is a lot like being a gynocologist: there's absolutely nothing wrong with it, but it'll definitely make your wife uncomfortable. The NBA has an outed gay fella now, and we've enlisted our snazziest scribe to help unsheath the mystery. Without further ado, here's the most sought-after free agent in the sports blogger community, The Angry T, from www.theangryt.com, one of National Lampoon's newest ponies. Hopefully this will cheer him up. If not, we suggest a warm bath and a lilac facial mask." - Tello Real, Editor-in-Chief

By The Angry T, anthony.guerreso@gmail.com, www.theangryt.com

You may or may not have heard, but a couple different “news outlets” are reporting that a member of the NBA’s New Jersey Nets is gay. (check this out as well) I will preface this article by saying that this really shouldn’t even be an issue. While one of these outlets calls it a “scandal,” I say who cares? So the dude likes dudes, there are a lot of those guys out there. Isn’t it reasonable to assume that at least one of the approximately 350 NBA players would be gay? I am going to go against Todd Jones and his hilariously bigoted comments toward gays in 2002 and say more power to the guy if he thinks he can deal with all the attention he will inevitably receive. (Take a look at Shockey’s comments as well, what a clown. You look like you are missing a chromosome or two Jeremy, not sure you would be the homosexual players’ type.)

With all that said and my disclaimer firmly in place, I would like to introduce to the most likely candidates and allow the reader to play “Guess the Gay New Jersey Net.”

Before we begin, remember the clues, Scooby Doo style: African-American, dates Caucasian women, enjoys nightlife with teammates and friend Tyson Beckford.

5. Jeff McInnis: Surprising pick here, but I did a little research and it turns out that Jeff is friends with Tyson Beckford. He also has a child with a Caucasian woman. Using those clues, this could be our guy. Unfortunately, the article above also says that the player is a “prominent” member of the New Jersey Nets. Unless the definition of prominent has changed, he is about as “prominent” as Yinka Dare, RIP.

4. Jason Kidd: We all remember the well publicized story involving Kidd and his wife. He slapped her around a little bit, what a man. You have to ask yourself, why would anyone hit a woman this beautiful, or any woman for that matter? Well, maybe he did it because he hates women, so much in fact, that he loves men. The logic in those last two sentences is flawless. There is no reason to re-read them to pick apart potential flaws because they are infallible. With his history of hatred and violence towards women, Kidd would seem like the logical choice. However, he is married, and the story makes light of the fact that he has “been linked to many women in the past.” This disqualifies Kidd, despite my air-tight argument to the contrary.

3. Marcus Williams: The best pure point in the 2006 NBA draft fell all the way to the 22^nd pick where he was selected by the Nets. Very few people thought that Williams would fall this far and New Jersey was very happy to get him at this pick. Now some may see that slip as a result of the other teams not looking for or needing a point guard. Others would argue that Williams’ character issues after he stole laptops from UConn dorm rooms made some teams shy away. I would argue, because this article makes more sense if I do, that Williams fell because teams knew about his late nights with Tyson Beckford and his potential propensity for dudes. The other teams refused to risk the negative publicity from homophobic fans once Williams was outed. One strike against Williams as the homosexual in question is that he really has never received any publicity for canoodling with Caucasian women. In fact, he hasn’t made any publicity for canoodling with any woman, which both confirms and disconfirms his case as the player in question. For the moment, we will assume that Williams is not the gay New Jersey Net, because the next two Nets probably fit the profile a little bit better than ol’ Marcus.

2. Vince Carter: Vince is an intriguing option for the gay New Jersey Net. He definitely would fulfill the “prominent” qualification. I have also unearthed a piece of evidence that I find particularly damning for Carter. Fredric Weis, the 7’2” French center can confirm that Carter enjoys putting his testicles directly on the forehead of other men. This piece of evidence alone could confirm Carter as the Net in question. However, besides Carter’s obvious propensity for forehead/testicle action, and friendship with Tyson Beckford, Carter has a daughter with current wife Dr. Ellen Rucker-Carter. Mrs. Rucker-Carter is an African-American, which would go against what we know about the gay New Jersey Net. Even though Wikipedia reports that Carter recently filed for divorce with Mrs. Rucker-Carter, I begrudgingly remove Carter from contention based on the fact that he doesn’t match the criteria quite as well as the final player on our list.

Drum roll please… you have probably already identified the person that I will now make a case for as the gay New Jersey Net. You are probably also thinking that I could have saved the previous 750 words and you could have saved the last 10 minutes of your life.

1. Obviously, Richard Jefferson is the gay New Jersey Net. He is prominent, he has been associated with Caucasian women in the past, namely his Ex-girlfriend and model, Teresa Lourenco, and although there are no pictures of him with Tyson Beckford, they are reportedly friends. The fact that he broke up with that girl makes me think that he might be gay. After that fact, I am starting to think that this “breaking story” really isn’t that surprising at all.

While there are no definitive answers to the question, we have, at the very least, identified the contenders and the long shots. Honestly, I don’t care who it is, and I don’t care if he is gay, but given the opportunity in a different situation I would play “Guess the (Blank)” again and again. My next article could be “Guess the Person Least Deserving of his Position in Sports,” with all five entries as Matt Millen. After that, maybe “Guess the Most Pathetic Franchise in Sports,” with all five entries as the Lions. How about “Guess the Next Athlete to Commit a Murder,” with four entries for Chris Henry and one for Tank Johnson. (Check this out too, funny stuff) By the way, who knew Tank’s name had less to do with his physical stature than his artillery collection. That’s taking Y2K preparation to the next level. Personally, my bathtub has been filled with water for 6 years. Now, back to the topic at hand. Finally, I will write an article called “Most Likely to Offend a Significant Amount of People with this Column,” with 5 separate pictures of yours truly.