The cleanup, or, all right officers, I'll come quietly

Oh, it's a mess around here all right. The Mansion burned down, that's all I know. I was in the guest quarters when it happened, writing my novel. Honest. Hell of a racket, must've been one huge party. Now it's deserted, random bits scattered all over the grounds: olive pits, a charred cocktail shaker, strange messages and assorted links:

A good auto racing blog.

A good steroid blog.

A cool T-shirt.

Favourite Record of the Year (and live show of the year). Honourable mentions here and here.

Irresistible tune of the year. And an honourable mention.

Worst Movie Trailers of the year.

From Antville, the field for Best Videos of the Year, with the winners here.

Moment of the year.

And that's it. Everything seemed to peak when P.J. Tucker did a Lorenzo Charles on Darrick Whittenburg Martin's airball just at halftime of last night's Raptors game. Then a fearsome crack in the sky sounded and everything was ablaze.

I guess it's back to the novel.

Happy New Year,

The Caretaker.

JABS' last post - The 34 BEST Things to Happen to Sports

It's time to shut the JABS Mansion down. The night watchman/caretaker has moved in - seems like a nice guy, but kinda stiff - and the condemned sign is outside.

Thanks to everyone for making this such a fun place to hang out the last 16 months, 600-plus posts, 1600-odd comments and a few that ended up in the delete bin. In the new year I'm moving into a new job here at The Star, as deputy to new sports editor Mike Simpson. And if it all shakes out the way we want it to, there will be a new blog up in its place quicker than you can say sayonara, once the kinks are ironed out of this new website.

Here's the one thing I promised, which hasn't even been finished but, with the success of the 50 Worst Things to Happen to Sports a while back, had a few of you sending in their choices so I feel like it has to go up. Consider this a starting point - the comments are open below to add some tinsel on this skimpy tree, maybe even bring it up to 50.

So here it is, in no particular order, and thanks to regular visitors Sean, Bob, Neate and a few others for their input:

Overtime. Specifically, 4-on-4 overtime.
The San Diego Chicken
Muhammad Ali
Salary caps
Alcohol-free zones
Bobbleheads
Bill James
Billie Jean King
Fantasy leagues
Retractable roof stadiums
Cable television
Replay
Satellites
Sport-specific stadiums
Jackie Robinson
DVR’s
Long shorts
HDTV
The mute button
Larry Bird vs Magic Johnson
Dikembe Mutombo Foundation
Martina Navratilova
Joe Namath
Wireless remote control
Monday Night Football
The virtual first-down line
Rick Reilly’s malaria net crusade
Madden NFL
Carlos and Smith
Right to Play
Free agency. Specifically, abolishing the reserve clause in baseball
Steve Nash
Clara Hughes
THE INTERNET

Have fun. Enjoy the holidays. Here's to a fine '07.

Photo of the Day: Postcard from Canada

JEFF STOKOE/CANADIAN PRESS-RED DEER ADVOCATE

The ol' shinny game goes on in Red Deer, Alta.

The NHL in Vega$

If I'm betting right now on a Penguins' final destination against pro sports' tendency to expand, I'm making Vegas an even-money proposition.

It's a hunch, but let's look at Las Vegas:

. . . the 29th largest city in the United States in 2000, but recent estimates suggest that the city's population has since surpassed that of Atlanta, Nashville, Washington, D.C., Louisville, Denver and Boston to place it 22nd in rank. It is likely to surpass Milwaukee and possibly a few other cities to reach the top 20 by the time of the 2010 Census.

Bigger than Milwaukee! Yowsa!

The gambling question has always made the proprietors of pro leagues look away from Vegas, but in recent years their cool sanctimony has withered under the changing climate.  The NBA will hold its All-Star Weekend in Vegas in '07 (if only to ensure the likelihood everyone shows up for media day and indeed, the game itself, all-star games being the most overrated and bloated non-events on the calendar there is, in any sport). Casinos are a part of the landscape now, and indeed all three slots emporiums in the running for a Pennsylvania gambling license include to varying degrees a Penguins home in their pitches - the winner will be determined in a critical gaming board decision Wednesday (and for the latest on the boondoggle beat, always check in on Field of Schemes). The WNBA put a team in a casino, for heaven's sake (like the 07 NBA all-stars, no betting is allowed on games). And let's just raise a glass and leave it at that for the debt the NFL owes to Vegas sports books that are packed to the gills every Sunday afternoon.

This is not something that can be called an ill-conceived, doomed notion borne out of desparation, and it has nothing to do with sanctimony: If the NHL doesn't get there first, someone else will, and soon. Just a hunch, but I reckon the thought has done a lot more than crossed Gary Bettman's mind. It'll happen. Far greater hockey minds than this one are touting Kansas City, for one, if the Penguins do up and move. But Vegas, and a major pro franchise? It's just a question of when.

Book Review: Orphans of Winter

A little while back, after doing a few book reviews here, a call went out for more. And so arrived Orphans of Winter - quietly, with little fanfare, the modest cover not promising a whole lot - which if it came from a more seasoned fabulist would be plenty good enough to go into the corners against Canadian HockeyLit stars like Paul Quarrington, Bill Gaston and Dave Bidini. But Orphans (Seraphim Editions), by folk musician turned writer Rob Ritchie, is a debut novel, and as such I'd call it pretty astonishing.

Perhaps it's that folk musician's background but Ritchie is a deft storyteller, delivering a barnburner tale that combines hockey, mysticism, religion and Canadian Aboriginal spiritualism. His hero, Stephen Gillis, is a complicated mess, a western Canadian hockey scout for the Toronto Centennials (read, Leafs) whose life-path accelerates when he's tipped on to an unheralded, ignored fourth-line forward by a mysterious stranger one night at the Prince George Arena. Vancouver Island and B.C., Toronto's talk-radio fuelled hockey frenzy, and out to Newfoundland it goes, Gillis and the forward's twinned stories converging.

Whenever the whole thing appears in danger of sliding off the table - and it comes close - Ritchie is able to pull it back:

"He had this theory that what made a specific sport popular was how well it mirrored some part of society that people thought was important. He had lots of examples . . . football was like war, baseball had to do with the industrial revolution, golf was all about manners and etiquette. The thing was, he could never really nail down hockey. The best he ever came up with was that the game represented winter."
"Winter?"
"That's right. Like it was this continuous battle for survival. From start to finish. Game to game. Year to year. Novice to Old-Timers. For best results play angry, like there's this storm inside you. I remember thinking at the time that it didn't really apply. Not with kids today growing up skating on multi-alloyed blades with custom-fit moulded boots, wearing top-of-the-line pads and equipment, shooting with their brand new high-flex graphite sticks and playing their games in state of the art arenas. But then I got watching that young winger Vancouver has on the right side this year. His name's Yvegeny Kaltzov and he's a 19-year-old Russian out of what remains of their national program. Did you know he spent the last two seasons in Moscow living in an unheated apartment with three other players? Two rooms between them, windowpanes cracked or missing, so the snow would pile up on the sill and on the floor below. I used to think guys like that played hard and angry because they were scared shitless of going back to conditions like that."
"And now?"
"Now ...? Now I think they play the way they do because they still know winter."

Don't go into this looking for a homespun, Hockey Sweater kind of read. It's dense going at times. But this season, among a few titles of note, it deserves to be grouped with the best. Nice work here, and well worth it if you're looking for a last-minute present for the literate fan of the world's most "beautiful and cold" game in your life.

Photo of the Day: Water colours

JUAN CARLOS ULATE/REUTERS

Mexico's synchro team goes underwater during last summer's CAC Games.

Related: World Press Photo Pictures of the Year.

We have a winner

Last week's auction for a complete set of NBA media guides has a winner: It's Bob Brown of Toronto, whose bid of $175 blew everyone else out of the water.

That'll make for a nice Christmas present for Sportsmen's Proudfoot Corner at the Star's Santa Claus Fund (named for the late great Star columnist Jim Proudfoot). Thanks to Bob, Wes Wayne and Pete and the rest of 'em at Brown Books, where the lunch hour and the coffee breaks are filled with Raptors talk. This has some symetry too, because it was Bob who submitted the winning bid on a similar package a year ago.

Thanks fellas. Much appreciated.

UPDATE: Bob's cheque ended up at $200 to Proudfoot Corner. Fantastic. Again, many thanks guys.

Photo of the Day: The Great Whine

PAUL CONNORS/ASSOCIATED PRESS

Wayne Gretzky appeals for an explanation Saturday in Arizona.

Weekend bits: Deck the brawls

Here's what you might have missed while figuring that 9-2 scoreline was just an office party-induced hallucinatory hangover:

Numerical string to ponder: 37.6, 39.0, 50.6. Give up? Too easy, I know, the last one was a dead giveaway. They're the Raptors' defensive FG numbers for the past three games, all W's, and yesterday's W over the GS Nellies included six Bargnani blocks. He's coming along, and so are they. Meantime, Jose Calderon was stretchered off with a back injury and wasn't on the plane to Phoenix where the Raps open their final pre-Christmas road trip.

Another great weekend for millionaire bozo jocks losing touch with their emotions and reality. The Knicks and Nuggets spilled their slapping and backpeddling into the baseline seats in NY Saturday (video here, although who knows how long it'll stay up), the former blaming the latter for actually playing the game out. The nerve. Suspensions may come down today, with original Raptor turned Knick-killer Isiah Thomas one of the focuses:

The league is certain to punish Anthony, its leading scorer and one of its brightest young stars, for throwing a punch at Collins. As for Thomas, a Hall of Fame guard who is now fighting to hold on to his job, the situation is unusual because there is no known precedent for a team’s coach, let alone its president, to be punished for instigating a fight.

Raptors coach Sam Mitchell, missing the point entirely: "We can't fight. We can wrestle. But we've got a better chance of scratching each other than fighting each other where we actually (land) a punch. ... So why is it such a black eye when these guys lose their temper?" Sam, fighting might be a part of hockey - if they penalized NHL coaches for instigating fights, the bench would be a pretty lonely place many nights - but it's not in the NBA, and when it moves into the expensive seats, it's a puffy shiner for all the world to see.

Oh, and this long-running idiot (the one on the right) spat in the face of an opponent, which means it'll probably show up as an option on the next NFL Blitz game. Meantime, there was Chicago Bear Tank Johnson's weekend: arrested for the third time in 18 months, then 12 hours later out partying with a friend who was shot to death.

Back to the playing fields: Agent Zero drops 60 on the Lakers (Kobe's held to 45).

This is not sports, but it's definitely seasonal: Boss drinks lots of vodka at Christmas lunch party and passes out - on the train tracks, his head on the rail, causing a four-hour delay during London rush hour (nice basket catch by The Morning News).

What I learned from the BBC's 100 things we didn't know this time last year: Jose Mourinho says he's only been in an English pub once, and that was to buy his wife some fags, as they're known over there (so there's 101 things - I didn't know the Special Wife smoked).

Jason Williams' line from Miami's game Saturday night stopped me: 26 minutes, 0 shots from the field or the line, seven assists. Hey, all hail White Carob.

One game away from the midpoint of the Premier League season - and now into the holiday match crunch, as David James notes in his Guardian blog - Chelsea's just two points back of Man United. And in Spain, a bad weekend for Barcelona - losing the yawnworthy Club World Cup to Brazilian side Internacional, and falling out of first place in La Liga.

Australia beats the Poms, reclaims the Ashes.

And still Down Under, a world record-breaking bungee jump.

Into the weekend: Ka-ching!

It's the Friday roundup. At last, with the holidays just ahead. The cash registers should be ringing with gusto the next couple of days. But enough about Vernon Wells' house.

We're down to the final couple hours in the Christmas auction for a set of NBA guides, and Bob Brown is in the lead, turning this into his own Santa Claus tradition (or, as my grandson simply calls him, "Claus!"). Nobody's topped Bob's $175 bid yet. Window closes at 3:30 pm.

One last read. James Mirtle had a good post Tuesday on exactly what is a .500 NHL team now, and whether the traditional term even is relevant (check out the comments too, for a solid bit of discussion). What exactly does .500 mean in the new NHL, with its OT and shootout losses counting for points in the standing?:

It's a decent question to ask, especially given that, heading into tonight's games, 13 of the 15 Eastern Conference teams had at least as many wins as losses (thereby earning the designation of being 'at .500' or better.) The thing is, however, if everyone can hit that mark, it's certainly not as valuable as it used to be back when .500 teams were those bound for the playoffs.

One more last read. Mike Wilbon, one of the best around, on the raging Phoenix Suns, stop No. 1 on the Raptors' upcoming road trip on Tuesday:

Even as Mike D'Antoni experiments and tinkers, the Suns' importance to the league has grown as Shaq has gotten older, as Iverson and Kevin Garnett have been marginalized, as the Lakers try to rebuild around Kobe in the post-Shaq era, as LeBron James and Carmelo Anthony try to have as much success in the playoffs as they have on Madison Ave. The Suns, without an iconic player, might be the most important team in the league. And right now, as Riley suggested, they're playing like it.

No iconic player? Not even the reigning, two-time MVP?

DON HEUPEL/ASSOCIATED PRESS

McCabe vs Briere: New NHL mismatch.

One last e-mail. Rick Akin noted in the latest Leafs penalty stats posted here that Bryan McCabe was bringing up the rear in penalties/penalties drawn +/-, and decribing himself as a "Leaf fan, without the blinders," goes off some on Mr McCabe:

His usual playoff meltdowns notwithstanding, the guy is having a classic McCabelike year. He does have some pizazz on the Leaf PP, as he shoots the puck pretty well. But after that, where's the beef??
There is very little that this player does at a high level, except get paid. Now, I am not saying he isn't an NHL calibre defenceman - he just isn't a top NHL defenceman, or even close. The NHL is now a pretty fast league, and McCabe's slowness of foot is really exposing him for what he is.
Did the Leafs have to give this guy the big money? Maybe so, it can be argued, and I was one of those who said, albeit reluctantly, go ahead and sign him for the big dough. Hindsight being mighty good stuff, though, would suggest the Leafs should have spent the five mil' on someone else - a good D man, a good forward, or maybe a goaltender. Any number of those Leaf kids who play defence, and can skate in today's NHL, would have been a better dollar value, and maybe, just maybe, have contributed more to the Leaf cause than McCabe.
Hey, it isnt Bryan McCabe's fault that he is Bryan McCabe, and will struggle mightily with the wide-open style the league has adopted. But, he will be in Hogtown for five very long years, and by then even the masses who insist on wearing the blinders will be giving him the Larry Murphy treatment. Perhaps some of those jeers should be directed elsewhere.

One last alert. The World Fishing Network sent along this Christmas morning programming note: The Festive Fish Tank - "It’s for those who’d rather watch the hypnotic, relaxing beauty of an aquarium instead of a burning log," the release says. Commercial free!

One last retrospective. The history of the Air Force. The shoe, that is.

One last funny. McSweeney's pitches 12 Contract bonuses for fantasy baseball players, including this one for incoming Blue Jay Royce Clayton:

If he finishes the season with a batting average above .220, the Blue Jays pay him an extra $1 million. Finishing between .221 and .230 gets Royce a handicapped sticker on his car and the key to every bathroom in the city. If he does the impossible and hits above .231, Royce gets to choose any three people, players or citizens, to get beaned by B.J. Ryan fastballs.

Sports around town. The Sam Ashaolu Charity Prep Showcase goes at York Memorial tonight (6:30 pm start) and tomorrow (12:30 pm start), including plans for a ceremonial dunk by the Duquesne basketballer from Toronto who was shot in the head three months ago but continues to make a remarkable recovery.

Not watching. Ski School, Monday, 3:30 a.m., Moviepix. I recall stumbling across this early-90s bit of CanCon crap a while back and watching in grim fascination for maybe three minutes. It was all I could stand. Now there's a weekend assignment for you: what's the worst sports film ever made? Can you top Ski School?

No pooch punts today. Gotta get out of here and put off the Christmas shopping for another weekend.