More Bracket Busting Fun

I went back through the brackets all the way to 1985 – the first year the NCAA men’s tournament went to 64 teams – and found some more info that you may or may not find useful when filling out your brackets. Here are some of the highlights by seed:

-         No 16 seed has ever beaten a 1 seed.

-         15 seeds have won just four times over 2 seeds, but are currently on a eight-year drought – the longest since failing to win in six straight years from 1985 to 1990.

-         No. 14 seeds have a winning percentage of 15% in first round games, but have won only 5 % of the time in the last 10 years. At least one 14 seed won for seven straight years from 1986 to 1992, but only seven have won since with the latest coming in 2006.

-         2008 was just the third time since 1985 that two 13 seeds won in the first round. No. 13s have averaged one first-round victory per tournament during the last nine years, but have won just one second-round game since 1999.

-         No. 12 seeds have won in the first round at a higher clip than No. 11 seeds (34% to 31%) overall, but those numbers have been skewed towards the 12s even more the last 10 years – 40% to 32.5%.

-         No. 11 seeds have won just one second-round game in the last seven years and just four times in the last 18 years.

-         After winning just four second-round games from 1985 to 1996, 10 seeds have won 14 in the last 13 tournaments – but just one in the last four years.

-         No. 9 seeds defeat No. 8 seeds 54% of the time, but have defeated No. 1 seeds in the second round only three times – just once in the last 15 years (2004).

-         Although No. 8 seeds lose slightly more first round games then they win, they have won three times as many second-round games against No. 1 seeds than No. 9 seeds. The 8s have four of their nine wins over No. 1s in the last 10 years.

-         Of the six No. 7 seeds to make the Elite 8, none has ever advanced to the Final Four. Three of those six No. 7s got to the Elite 8 in the last seven years.

-         Only one 6 seed has advanced past the Sweet 16 in the last eight years and no 6^th-seeded team has advanced to the Final Four since 1992. The only No. 6 seed to win the national championship was Kansas in 1988.

-         Despite averaging 1.4 teams in the Sweet 16 since 1985, No. 5 seeds have advanced to the Elite 8 just five times – just once in the last seven years. But of those five teams, four advanced to the Final Four and two to the championship game. Five seeds are the highest to never have won a national title.

-         Even though No. 4 seeds that win in the first round are always favorites in the second round regardless of opponent, only nine have advanced to the Sweet 16 the last seven years. Only three 4^th-seeded teams have advanced beyond the Sweet 16 the last 10 years. The only No. 4 seed to ever win the NCAA tournament was Arizona in 1997.

-         No. 3 seeds average a hair more than one Final Four appearance every other year, but have made it to the last weekend of the tournament just twice the last five years. However, of the three No. 3 seeds to win national championships, two have come in the last seven years. No. 3 seeds are also the only ones besides No. 1s to ever account for both representatives of a national championship game (1989).

-         Only four times since 1985 have all No. 2 seeds reached the Sweet 16, and last year was the first time it happened since 1996. No. 2 seeds have averaged just 2.2 Sweet 16 appearances per season since 1999. No. 2 seeds have won just four national titles, and only two in the last 18 years.

-         All No. 1 seeds have advanced past the Sweet 16 just seven times, with five of those coming in the last nine years. More than two No. 1 seeds have advanced to the Final Four just four times, and only once have all four No. 1s reached the Final Four (2008). Since 1985, No. 1 seeds have averaged 1.76 Final Four berths per season.

Vote for my sister to win $25,000!

I need a quick favor.

Please click on the following link and vote for my sister, Corine, to win $25,000. She’s the only student in the Nation’s Next Top Model Home interior design competition and she put together an AWESOME house. Voting ends September 26th, so get on there now and tell all your friends to vote. Thanks!

http://www.nationsnexttopmodelhome.com/index.php/tmh/vote-final-duplicate/

King of the Cassel

Hey, long time no post!

Turns out that Sportsticker must be trying to save a couple of bucks because they haven’t had us writing game stories lately, just getting quotes. Hence, nothing to throw on the blog (unless I was actually legitimately blogging, which I haven’t done in awhile).

Anyway, I will probably have some fantasy baseball stuff up here in due time as I construct my cheat sheets. I just got my Baseball Prospectus and Baseball America Prospects Guide last week, so I’ve got some reading to do yet.

But I finally wrote something new over the weekend, so figured I should post it. Matt Cassel is now a Kansas City Chief.

http://www.fantasyfootballchamps.com/members/index.cfm?page=topstory&id=2855

Stars 4, Wild 3

Talk about a weird game, this one had pretty much everything…

http://nationalpost.pa-sportsticker.com/default.aspx?s=nhl-game-centre&mid=84752

A View from the Bridge

With the new I-35W bridge opening Thursday morning, it was somewhat fitting that I stopped a few blocks away from it Tuesday night to take in a showing of “A View from the Bridge” at the Guthrie Theatre. And since it says at the top of this blog “sports AND entertainment,” I figured I’d drop a quick plug for what was an AWESOME show.

The lead role of Eddie Carbone was played by John Carroll Lynch, who you may know from such movies as Zodiac, Gothika, Fargo, or as Mimi’s love interest in The Drew Carey Show. I’ll be honest, when I found out at intermission it actually was him and not just a look-alike, it took me about 10 minutes into the second act before I could view him as his character in the play. However, he did an excellent job and stood out in a cast of high-quality performers. His bald head, arrogant attitude and believable accent was more than a little reminiscent of Tony Soprano.

The only gripe I had about the show was Bryce Pinkham’s accent, particularly at the start of Act 2. The Yale School of Drama grad was stellar overall in his role as Rodolpho — cousin of Carbone’s wife Beatrice (played by Amy Van Nostrand) and love interest to Carbone’s niece, Catherine (played by Robyn Rikoon). However, at the start of the second act I noticed his Italian accent slip into a Hindu accent on multiple occasions, but only for a few seconds at a time. It was a minor hiccup that likely went unnoticed, but I tend to pay special attention to Italian accents given my surname. He was strong enough elsewhere, though, that it was easily forgivable for a theatre novice like myself.

I was impressed at the cast’s ability to hold the audience in the first act despite what could have been excruciatingly long scenes. There was some strong foreshadowing in the early moments of the show before Beatrice made her first appearance, and Marco (Rodolpho’s brother, played by Ron Menzel) dropped a big hint with his chair performance to close out the act.

As strong as the first act was, the second was even better. Perhaps it was just the increased intensity of the scenes, but it seemed that the acting took a step up in Act 2. There was a good 20-minute stretch where I was so mesmerized by the show that I no longer felt like I was at a play, I was just observing someone else’s life. I snapped out of it and had to shake my head and close my eyes to snap back to reality. It was actually pretty cool and something I had not experienced at a show before. Then again, the Guthrie’s intimate Wurtele Thrust Stage puts you so close to the action it likely makes it easier to become one with the show rather than just a simple observer.

As previously stated, I’m a novice when it comes to theatre so I’m not going to try to rate this show in any way. However, I was thoroughly entertained — moreso than any non-musical play I’ve ever been to — and would recommend it to anyone who might be remotely interested in checking out a live show. The story is solid, the acting is great, and for those in Minneapolis, the Wurtele Thrust Stage provides a perfect backdrop to both.

Twins 2, Nationals 1

Before I get into Tuesday night’s Twins game, it certainly was cool to see the Celtics dismantle the Lakers last night. It was especially cool to see Doc Rivers and Kevin Garnett get rings. I’ve never been all that impressed with Rivers’ in-game management, but there is no denying his ability to get his team to play together and play strong defense. Throw a ridiculous amount of talent into that equation and you wind up with an NBA championship.

I remember as a kid always getting a kick out of when Michael Jordan would throw a handful of rosin at Johnny “Red” Kerr before the games. Garnett used to do the same thing in Minnesota and I was fortunate/unfortunate enough to be a target on a couple of occasions. Its a little sappy, but its kind of cool to now be able to say that an NBA champion once threw annoying white dust in my face.

As for the Twins game, one hour and 59 minutes is all it took for the Twins to pull off the victory. Delmon and Dmitri Young combined to go 0-for-6 in the battle of the brothers. After the game, Delmon’s nephews were running around the Minnesota clubhouse. The younger looking of the two – maybe 11 or 12 years old, tops – goes up to Delmon as he’s leaving and says jokingly, “Give me your keys and your ID. I’m going drinking and driving.” I’d like to say that Delmon immediately told him that the comment was in no way funny, but he just kept on walking. Perhaps he addressed it later, but I doubt it.

Anyway, here’s hoping for another sub-two hour game tonight!

http://nationalpost.pa-sportsticker.com/default.aspx?s=MLB-game-centre&mid=7660

Just Another Day at the Office, Part III

I managed to get in a pair of games in St. Paul the next week, which was a hop, skip and a jump compared to the other two. Granted, this assignment came with about three hours notice and I arrived in time for the second half of the first game, but other than writing a crappy story for game two the night went off without a hitch. The next day, however, the Bonneville got another big job with a section final in Elk River – 35 miles away.

 

Once again I spoke with the AD before making the trek north and found out to my delight that wireless internet would, in fact, be available. He just had to plug it in before the game. So I show up about 15 minutes before tipoff to find precious few seats available and no power outlets in sight. Good thing I charged my batteries. I managed to talk a radio guy at the corner of the gym into letting me share his table, where I fired up the computer and managed to get the internet up and running. Again, my Outlook does not work, but by now I’m used to this. I discovered the previous night in St. Paul that my Web email actually would work as long as I did not include attachments. Apparently I have some setting screwed up, but the U of MN helpline should just be called the U of MN line, because they had no good answers for me.

 

Anyway, I’m treated to another pretty good game that turns out to be an upset and I throw together a solid story and accurate box score – thanks to the radio guy who announced the score one last time before signing off, allowing me to catch the fact I missed a pair of free throws in the final seconds while I was typing. With an hour to spare before deadline I open up my web browser only to find an error message. I check my wireless internet – no signal. I frantically search for the AD, who it turns out is now gone and apparently has taken his internet with him. The good news is I still have time. The bad news is, I live too far away to risk driving home to send. So I peel out of the parking lot and hit the gas on School Road, noticing as I burn through a light that there is a police officer waiting to make a left hand turn. I glance at my speedometer to see I was only going 6 mph above the speed limit and then watch in my rearview mirror as the officer slowly turns left. Fortunately, he doesn’t make it a U-turn to chase me down.

 

After verifying I hadn’t wet myself, I recalled that I saw a Caribou Coffee somewhere that I could use for their internet connection. So I hop on the highway in search of this place, growing more and more concerned by the second as I run out of civilization en route to the interstate. Finally, the last place before oblivion is none other than the Caribou. Unfortunately, the right-hand turn I take leads me into a trucking facility with no access to the coffee shop. I quickly turn around and get back to the stop sign and look left to see myself with five seconds to beat the oncoming traffic to double back towards Caribou. So I slam on the gas and cross the two lanes. A quick reminder: I’m way out in Elk River, so it’s extremely dark on this road. Also, I was in such a frenzy looking for a place to stop, I failed to notice that I was on a divided highway. About a half second before I would have ended up in the ditch, I realize my error and take a hard right onto the shoulder. With traffic fast approaching behind me I slam on the gas and make it to a turn-lane in time to not get rear-ended. I’m sure I was flipped off, but it was dark out so I didn’t notice.

 

I make it the rest of the quarter-mile without incident and pull up to the coffee shop at 8:56. I burst through the front door and find a pleasant young lady standing behind the register without another soul in sight. I whip out my wallet and ask what is cheapest on the menu, blabbing about how I figured I needed to buy something in order to use the internet. She tells me to forget about it and go ahead and hop on the information superhighway for free, but reminds me they are closing in three minutes. I once again burst into a panic-induced sweat because my stupid computer takes a good five minutes to fully boot up. But after pressing the power button I find out that I’m finally in luck. I left the gym in such a hurry that I didn’t fully power down – leaving me computer running on battery power. I send the story and confirm with the desk they’ve received everything with 30 seconds to spare.

 

Another young lady strolls in from the back room and thanks me for not ordering anything because she didn’t want to wash anything over again. So I leave my final two dollars in their empty tip cup, stroll back to my car with my health and vehicle still intact, and thank the high school basketball gods that March comes but once a year…

Just Another Day at the Office, Part II

The Strib had me move on to boys hoops the next week, which had me on a trip to Rogers High School for a pair of section semifinals. Google maps informs me that this was another 26-mile one-way trip. Double true. So I called up the school’s athletics director to determine what internet source they had, if any, to allow me to send in stories on deadline. First he told me they had wireless, then he called back later and told me to bring an Ethernet cord. No biggie.

 

I show up at Rogers 10 minutes before tip-off because I had been handling girls state basketball duties for the AP at Target Center in the afternoon – giving me a total of four games for the day. Anyway, I find the AD and ask him to show me where I should sit so that I can use the internet. He leads me to the far side of the gym, where we actually reach the end of the bleachers and then make a right towards the wall. At this point I’m getting a little worried, and sure enough, there’s the Ethernet outlet – behind the bleachers with no way to see the court. So, I plug in just to make sure the thing is working (but fail to check my Microsoft Outlook), then take a seat for the first game. It goes off without a hitch, I write my story and fill out the box score and then head to the side of the bleachers to send between games. Suddenly, an error message pops up. I can’t send any emails. I try using the Web e-mail, and that doesn’t work either. I try to make adjustments during timeouts of the first half of the second game, but nothing works. More adjustments at halftime; no dice. So in the second half, with tension now mounting because of approaching deadlines, I must sit at the table – where I can’t see the second game I’m supposed to write about – and come up with a plan. I keep the running score thanks to the PA announcer, and I judge made and missed free throws by what side of the gym cheers after each shot. Ultimately I send my story piece-by-piece via instant messenger and get to watch the second game. But the fun isn’t over yet.

I get a quick post-game interview in and begin writing my story once the final buzzer of the second game sounds with precious minutes left before my deadline. The fans poured out of the gym quickly, leaving me seated at a table next to/under the bleachers and a handful of janitorial staff to pick up after messy high school kids and parents. As I added up my box score, points were missing. In the end it turned out I just wasn’t adding properly, but as I frantically tried to solve this problem my mind blocked out the sound of an approaching leaf blower.

A few seconds later, it is raining. Well, it isn’t literally raining, I’m still fairly dry minus the sweaty shirt. However, there are bits of dust, popcorn shrapnel, Doritos, hot dog wrappers, Skittles and myriad other disgusting basketball viewing remnants streaming down onto my head and computer. I immediately start yelling, but I’m no match for the leaf blower. So I spring out of my seat and run back with my arms waving, finally grabbing the attention of the janitor with the Ghostbuster-esque pack on his back. The man is profusely apologetic and I’m not particularly angry, but I am extremely dirty and gross and have a story to finish writing.

I’d like to say that’s the last bad thing to happen to me, but after I made the 26-mile drive back home following a long day of basketball I noticed that a light bulb in the kitchen was out. So I remove the frosted glass dome and replace the bulb and attempt to put the dome back in its place. After a small turn the dome will no longer move, so I assume it is correctly in place. Instead, it was just jammed against something. So as I stood in the kitchen for a few seconds talking to the lady friend, the glass dome springs free and drops directly onto my head. Somehow it does not shatter, instead bouncing towards my girlfriend. She got both hands on it, but it was heavier than expected and slipped out of her grasp and onto the floor, where it shattered into a million pieces. Good times.

 

Part III coming soon…

Just Another Day at the Office, Part I

For most people, March Madness is a time to witness madness – a chance to fill out multiple sets of brackets, ultimately to wind up cheering for multiple teams to win the same game so that you wind up with at least one respectable finish either among your co-workers, friends, or significant other. But thanks to my seasonal employment at the Star Tribune, I’ve gone from witnessing the madness to partaking in it.

 

No, I’m not talking about the zenith of the college hoops season. I’m talking about high school section basketball.

 

I know that most of you don’t really care about high school sports, and honestly I’ve got nothing personally invested in them either – especially hundreds of miles from where I attended high school. It’s more the outlying stuff that has turned into a comedy of errors.

 

First, there was the trip to Delano for a pair of girls section final games. Delano High School is a 26-mile drive for me one way, so that in itself turned this from work day to adventure. Less than a half mile into my trip, a wolf ran out in front of my car without as much as noticing a speeding Bonneville headed its way. I immediately called my girlfriend, brother and sister, because although I assumed there must be wolves in Minnesota based on the NBA team’s nickname, I had never seen one. The three of them seemed much less interested than me.

 

The first game was uneventful, unless you are a huge fan of blowouts and one team committing two dozen unforced turnovers. For the second game, which featured a city team against a far suburban team, I found myself seated a row in front of a heavyset pale gentleman with a goatee in a grey sweatsuit, grey Twins ballcap, and hair striving to match both. The gentleman, whose daughter played for the city team, fancied himself a coach. The incessant yelling was fine, but every time something didn’t go the way he wanted, he stomped on the bench in front of him – sending reverberations up my spinal column and aggravating an already sore lower back. Not to mention, I was trying to work here! Later, as the fouls mounted up against his favorite squad, he began muttering about how the all-white/female officiating crew was racist. Fortunately, I remembered I could walk, so I got up and sat somewhere else in the second half. The ride home featured no wildlife.

 

Part II will be up soon…

“The Bad Man Punted Baxter!”

What’s up blog … ummmm … people? If I’m a blogger, does that make readers bloggies? I’m not sure how that works. A couple of quick hitters for the time being, none of them pertaining to fantasy sports, however.

#1: Title
I’ve had a few inquiries about the title of this blog. Punting Baxter is a reference to the movie Anchorman. Jack Black’s character kicks Ron Burgundy’s dog, Baxter, off a bridge after Burgundy unintentionally hits him with a burrito thrown from his car window, knocking Black’s character off his motorcycle, giving him quite a raspberry. Burgundy later tells Brian Fantana, “the bad man punted Baxter,” while weeping in a glass case of emotion (a phone booth). Being a fan of funny movies – Anchorman, in particular – and this being a sports heavy site, the title seemed to fit snugly.

#2: Barbaro
Not sure if you were all aware, but I’m pretty big in the horse community ever since it caught wind of a story I wrote for Fanball back in the day titled Bored With Barbaro. Anyway, I felt bad about it because I certainly didn’t want to make it seem like I didn’t like horses, but I’m pretty sure the equines of the Minneapolis metro area were looking at me funny after the story was published. Perhaps they will no longer dream of kicking me into a wall if I pay tribute to their fallen soldier now. The ol’ boy will be laid to rest at the site of his crowning achievement. Rest in peace, horse.