Good vote

And I stand corrected. But I can't believe Case Keenum wasn't in the top eight! Er, maybe I can.

Toby's lament

Heisman Trophy voters will make the cowardly choice today and give Colt McCoy of Texas this year's award. Last year, this space shared the view that BCS outsiders have no shot at the Heisman. This year, the mold has been broken a bit, with five finalists and one a defensive player (a defensive lineman from Nebraska). But it's likely that in a Gino Torretta-like choice, voters will mechanically hand the Heisman to McCoy--the most well-known player on one of the two big-name unbeaten teams (Alabama is the other).

What has McCoy done to distinguish himself? Very little except that he was on most writers' preseason lists of candidates. They have the incentive of showing they were right back in August. The predictions, though, are silly. Even in September, papers print a "Heisman Watch," that is all based on projections. So someone like Toby Gerhart, the Stanford running back who came out of nowhere, really doesn't have a shot. And doubly so since he's playing on the West Coast.

McCoy's numbers don't stack up with Gerhart or Case Keenum of Houston. Further, he nearly choked in the travesty known as the Big 12 Championship, with a tepid victory over Nebraska. (The Big 12 stunk this year, by the way.)

Case Keenum 43 TD 9 INT 5,449 Yards

Toby Gerhart 26 TD 1,736 Yards

Colt McCoy 27 TD 12 INT 3,512 Yards

It's not even close. Sadly, Keenum wasn't even invited to New York for today, yielding to higher profile schools and individuals like Tim "Don't call me Jason White" Tebow. Gerhart had the best season, astonishing numbers against a solid Pac 10. The only hope is that someone like Mark Ingram, the Bama back who ran over Florida in the other travesty known as the SEC Championship, will actually eke out the trophy over McCoy. And don't even get me started on the BCS Mess this year.

Sewing machinations

This season of "Project Runway" has been uneven at best. Michael Kors has been missing for long periods of time. We haven't seen Nina Garcia in weeks, and I'm still thrown off by her jump from Elle to Marie Claire. The judging has been dreadful: terrible outfits are rated brilliant; amazing outfits are dismissed as ugly.

The past two weeks have been the worst. First, Ra'mon was bounced in favor of the bland Louise. Then this week devolved even further. In his sewing room rounds, Tim Gunn mostly praised the work of the duo of Epperson and Christopher. Nothing signaled that they were in trouble, in fact you could tell Christopher was proud that Tim had complimented their work.

When it came time to judge, though, the duo's work was harshly criticized. Soon, Christopher found himself standing next to Louise as the final two. Unbelievable. Christopher survived at least.

The switch to Lifetime, unless I'm missing something, hasn't made a big difference. In fact, the additional half-hour models show is kind of interesting. And the designers may be the best the show has ever had. Let's hope someone truly deserving emerges as the winner.

Steppe team

The first week of the Tour has been as odd as one might expect given that Lance Armstrong is back and riding for a team of renegades sponsored by a place mostly known for its proximity to the steppe. When Armstrong was just a great story, in the early 2000s, and people like Rick Reilly weren't covering the Tour, there was a delight in following the race quietly on summer mornings. Now, like when your favorite local band goes big time, the Tour is splashed everywhere because of Armstrong's fame. And sadly, the doping-riddled Tours of the past three years are overlooked.

Armstrong, whose brushes with doping strain the credulity of his proclaimed innocence, now rides for the Cobra Kai-like Team Astana, which is sponsored by a state-run company in Borat-land. Alberto Contador, Bobby to Lance Armstrong's Johnny, also has had brushes with doping allegations. As has Andreas Kloeden, the big German who is probably third-best on the team.

Johnny and Bobby went at each other pretty hard this week, which was an unusually eventful first week of the Tour. Armstrong broke away on a relatively flat stage, gained a lot of time on Contador and nearly wound up in the yellow jersey. Contador, the pre-race favorite, wasn't pleased afterward. Then Contador went rogue the other day on a mountain stage and surged past Armstrong, leaving the Texan fuming. It's hard to know what really is going on within the team when Johan Bruyneel, Armstrong's old buddy from the Postal Service team, is director. It should make for good theater the rest of the way. Let's hope another doping scandal doesn't derail things.

Sprocket dance

Seeing Lance Armstrong in a Team Astana uniform is like seeing Daniel LaRusso joining the Cobra Kai. Team Astana, owned by government-run entities in Borat's homeland of Kazakhstan, was booted from the 2007 Tour for doping . In the circus-like world of cycling, Lance Armstrong joining a team once laden with dopers hardly merits as news. Astana now includes a Star Wars cantina-like cast of characters--Alberto Contador, the young superstar, Andreas Kloeden, the Austrian who used to wear white-rimmed shades while riding, and Levi Leipheimer, the bald American with a funny name. Though Astana can hardly pay its riders the squad is considered the favorite in the Tour, which started today in Monaco. Adding to the madness is that doper Alexandre Vinokourov is hoping to return to Astana (the team, not the capital) in time for this year's Vuelta a Espana.

I've decided to root for Christian Vande Velde, another American rider with a European name, who gets written up in Chicago papers a lot because he's from Lemont, Ill. Vande Velde's team, Garmin-Slipstream, has stringent doping controls and was formed as a response to the scandals of the past couple years. I also will enjoy the commentary on Versus by Phil Liggett and Paul Sherwen. In these crazy cycling times, they're about the only two people we can count on.

Funky songs

One of the things I like about the Beastie Boys is the names of their songs. Here is the track listing for the upcoming "Hot Sauce Committee, Part I," due in September.

1. Tadlock's Glasses 2. B-Boys In The Cut 3. Make Some Noise 4. Nonstop Disco Powerpack 5. OK 6. Too Many Rappers (featuring NAS) 7. Say It 8. The Bill Harper Collection 9. Don't Play No Game That I Can't Win (featuring Santigold) 10. Long Burn The Fire 11. Bundt Cake 12. Funky Donkey 13. Lee Majors Come Again 14. Multilateral Nuclear Disarmament 15. Pop Your Balloon 16. Crazy Ass Shit 17. Here's A Little Something For Ya

I love any band with a song called "Bundt Cake." And I wonder if "Funky Donkey" is a sequel to "Funky Boss." As an aside, young donkeys are perhaps my favorite baby animal.

Charter member

A few weeks back I posted an ode to the re-discovery of an old musical favorite. I have a variation on the same theme to report today: the beauty of discovering a great band live and in-person.

More than a week ago, I had a chance to see Nine Inch Nails at Charter One Pavilion. It was a chilly evening, but really rather perfect for a spring concert (more on the venue later). I heard an usher say something about "Tom Morello of Rage Against the Machine" and didn't think much of it. The opener for NIN came on stage (Jane's Addiction had opened some shows on this tour but not this one) and I didn't really pay attention. Then the distinctive sound of a funk-metal guitar reached my ears. It was none other than Chicago native Tom Morello. The name of the band was Street Sweeper Social Club, and they had a sound that harkened back to the late 1990s heyday of rap-rock. Morello apparently has taken the project on in addition to his work as The Nightwatchman and with Rage. The vocalist is Boots Riley of Bay Area rhyme collective The Coup and drummer is Stanton Moore of Galactic. Even better, a portion of the band's proceeds fight hunger and homelessness! Check out a clip here; I highly recommend "100 Little Curses."

Not to be overlooked was the fact that this is (allegedly) Nails' last tour. To Clevelander Trent Reznor's credit, he and the group still bring it strong. Their stage show and sound system are top-notch. This show, in contrast to last summer's Lollapalooza appearance, included a long, meandering midsection with a number of moody, quiet numbers. Still, Reznor ripped through classics like "Heresy" and "Head Like a Hole," which closed the show.

Charter One Pavilion is quite the venue. I was skeptical of it at first, but there aren't many outdoor music locations in a big city like this--right next to a beach and within view of downtown. Boaters actually anchor just off-shore and listen to the shows echo across the water.

Goodbye Cleveland

Orlando unceremoniously bounced Cleveland from the playoffs last night. I'll be having Mickael Pietrus 3-pointer nightmares all summer; did he miss a shot in this series? The only thing more harrowing is that Dwight Howard can now rule the East for the next 10 years and may have surpassed LeBron as the dominant player in the game. I'll be rooting for Orlando in the Finals, though.

Official adventures

Well, that was a close call. The Cavs somehow staved off elimination tonight. The death march will continue Saturday evening in Disney World.

I'm not the only one who thinks the officiating is totally wacko. Bill Simmons, ESPN's Sports Guy, agrees.

Anvil time

If the last Cavs' loss was crushing, tonight's is like it's raining anvils. Or Orlando Magic 3-pointers as it were. Sure, Orlando has been unconscious from 3-land all series. It's hard to believe this could keep up, but it may not matter at this point--Cleveland appears to be done. The series has shown that Coach of the Year Mike Brown has some growing up to do. As does LeBron James. Jordan, Magic and Bird wouldn't miss free throws and make careless turnovers down the stretch. And Brown completely got away from the ball-movement game plan in the latter stages of the game tonight. It will take a miracle for Cleveland to win now, and nothing indicates one is coming. The only miracle so far is that Cleveland even won one game.

Feeling Cavalier

Last night was a crushing defeat for the Cleveland Cavaliers, and it's time to reflect on the series to date. This series is beginning to feel a lot like the 2004 Pistons-Lakers matchup in the NBA Finals and the 2007 Mavericks-Warriors first-round matchup. The Magic is playing the role of the Pistons and Warriors: feisty teams that have taken the momentum from the more talented favorites. In 2004, the balanced and scrappy Pistons trounced the much-favored Lakers who had a star-laden roster with the likes of Kobe Bryant, Shaquille O'Neal, Gary Payton and Karl Malone. In 2007, the top-seeded Mavs, the best team in the league in the regular year, faced an upstart Warriors club that played a frenetic style with a bunch of half insane players.

I realized this last night when Mickael Pietrus made a number of big plays on both sides of the ball. Why Pietrus? He was a key player on the 2007 Warriors. The Magic remind a lot of those Pistons and Warriors: balanced scoring, decent defense and nothing to lose. They keep coming at you in waves, with similar players and matchup nightmares in Rashard Lewis, Hedo Turkoglu and Pietrus. All 6-9 or so and 3-point bombers.

The Magic have been laughing and smiling a lot, even in tense moments. The Cavs, court jesters when winning, look completely dejected. The Cavs won 66 games in the regular season and have home court advantage throughout the playoffs. And so they've played much tighter than Orlando, which came into Quicken Loans Arena with fearlessness for Games 1 and 2. Save for one miracle shot by LeBron James, the Magic would lead 3-0 right now. Winning 66 games takes a lot out of a team--especially one that has never done it before. Maybe fatigue is part of this, too.

Some are suggesting not to panic. For these grave-whistlers, everything's fine and Cleveland has Orlando right where it wants 'em. But these sanguine folks likely are in for a shock in the next few days. It's hard to picture a scenario in which the Cavs turn this around. I'll be pulling for them hard tomorrow night in Game 4, though.

P.S. The officiating in this series has been terrible. NBA refereeing has become a perverse, ass-backwards experience. These people actually relish making bad calls now. It seems to have become exacerbated in the playoffs. I've never seen so many obvious out-of-bounds deflections called the wrong way. And clean blocked shots called fouls. It's becoming routine.

Magic coach Stan Van Gundy raised a good point yesterday. Every time James dribbles it results in a score or a foul. I know James is great, and I'm rooting for him, but it is bizarre that this could be the case. Then again, last night, even the refs allowed the Magic to get two clean blocks on No. 23.

Little solace

I've been waiting a long time to post something about this. Browns receiver Donte Stallworth killed a pedestrian while allegedly driving drunk a couple months back. This is a sad, appalling story. But hopefully the NFL is taking this seriously, at least according to this article that just appeared on Yahoo. One of the biggest travesties of all time involves Rams defensive lineman Leonard Little, who was drunk 10 years ago when he killed another driver in a car accident. The NFL treated the incident with a shrug--Little served an eight-game suspension. He's since enjoyed a long career, the horrific accident increasingly becoming a footnote. Sure, he shouldn't be punished forever. But society shouldn't forget about it either.

Cheese seas

Sometimes dusting off an old album is the perfect elixir for a musical malaise. I never really listened to Primus' 1999 release, "Antipop," until the past few days though it's been sitting in my CD collection. I thought of Primus a lot during our trip to California. The Bay Area trio often references NoCal locales in their songs--places like San Pablo Bay, El Sobrante and Coddingtown. I realize now that frontman Les Claypool's Rancho Relaxo is in Wine Country. Especially when we drove past Dee's Diner in Sebastopol, Calif., during our trip. Les has a solo song that is a tribute to the diner.

I rediscovered "Antipop" when I was reading Primus' Wikipedia entry. The piece suggested that the album was well-received by longtime Primus fans. That surprised me since Primus' hey-day was in the early 1990s. Purists prefer the stripped down weirdness of 1990's "Frizzle Fry" whereas latecomers prefer the stained-out oddities of 1993's "Pork Soda." I love it all, even the mid-1990s stuff.

Despite its name, "Antipop" always seemed the most "pop" of Primus' albums. Several stars guest on songs and several even guest-produce. The list ranges from Tom Morello to James Hetfield to Fred Durst.

In giving it another listen, I am blown away.

Maybe it's the new affection for NoCal, I don't know, but what an album. It's heavier than the records they made in the mid-1990s (most of which were filled with trippy ditties, upright bass and fuzzed-out drums--fuzzed-out drums, only Primus could achieve that!). "Antipop" delivers a return to the sound of "Fry" and "Cheese"--lots of heavy riffs and even the use of small cymbals and other unusual additions to the drum kit. Primus even discovered a new sound--a distorted guitar that sort of sounds like someone waving a piece of sheet metal.

Claypool announces his return to rocking with a yell at the beginning of the opening song, "Electric Uncle Sam." The fifth track, "The Antipop," opens with a Pink Floyd/Rush freakout and climaxes with a wall of metal that would make Metallica blush. Same with "Eclectic Electric," which actually includes Hetfield (of Metallica) on the ax. Strangely, "Lacquer Head," the first single released off the album (the video was banned by MTV despite it's anti-sniffing message) is not one of my faves. Anyway, Primus still "sucked" as they will be the first to tell you, and they were still discordant (as my college dorm-mates used to say) in 1999.

Airport alienation

Prague's Franz Kafka International Named World's Most Alienating Airport

Wire walk

If you haven't seen "Man on Wire," rent it. Now. It's a movie anyone can enjoy.

"Man on Wire," which won the best documentary Oscar, is about Philippe Petit, a Frenchman who tightrope-walked between the World Trade Center towers in 1974. What's as amazing as the walk itself, is the level of planning that went into the stunt. Even standing outside, on top of a 1,300-foot-tall building and shooting an arrow across to the other one is absurd.

Light show

It's such a great feeling to happen across a band that blows you away. Inspired by the Sabaijai blog, here is a video by Battles. I heard about this band because the drummer used to be in Helmet, one of my favorites of alltime. I especially like the 2:50 mark or so when the guitar kicks in and the lights come on.

Economy pageant

When I was growing up, only a handful of young women participated in the Miss SNPJ Pageant. We would visit the SNPJ Recreation Center near Enon Valley, Pa., and gawk at the old photos of Miss SNPJs past. It seemed like dozens of teens signed up for the pageant back in the 1960s and 1970s. By the early 1990s, there were only about four or five contestants per year.

This week, I opened my issue of the newsletter Prosveta to discover nearly a dozen contestants signed up for this year's pageant. I have a theory that perhaps the surge in interest is due to the economy. Here's why: several Miss SNPJ contestants will receive generous scholarships for college.

And perhaps this was the case back in the 1960s and 1970s, too. The success of the market in the 1980s and 1990s may have kept participation low. What's more shocking is that membership in fraternal insurance societies like SNPJ (which stands for Slovene National Benefit Society, in Slovenian) is generally down. Yet the pageant is soaring.

I'm not an economist, nor do I play one on the radio, but I thought I'd share one of the odd theories I come up with from time to time.

Precious metal

Metallica ripped through its library of hits and a few new cuts in a two-hour performance at Allstate Arena last night. The California foursome took the stage at about 9:15 for the second of two shows in suburban Chicago. Despite the dysfunction evident in the brilliant documentary "Some Kind of Monster," the band has aged pretty well. They took the stage all smiles and enjoyed themselves right through the whole set. Their energy is unbelievable for a bunch in their mid-40s.

The stage show was impressive--massive coffins hanging from the ceiling, black beach balls bouncing around, lasers and pyrotechnics. The evening culminated with the band playing one of its old face-melters with the house lights on--the bloodshot-eyed crowd in full display. As noted by the Tribune's Greg Kot, the band has actually allowed its bassist to be heard--former Suicidal Tendencies bassist Robert Trujillo's low-rider approach rumbled through the arena loud and clear all night. The show was performed in the round--an egalitarian approach for sure.

I could grouse about the bizarre shuttle bus system at the arena (crowded with drunk metal-heads at midnight), but I am accentuating the positive this evening.

Cardinal crest

A couple notes on the Super Bowl...first, a much better name for the Arizona Cardinals would be the Arizona Pyrrhuloxia. The cardinal-like birds reside in scrubby areas of southeastern Arizona.

Second, a fun item from the New York Times. Several players share their "Welcome to the NFL" moments. I like Bryan Robinson's story the best.

Lifting confusion

I'm going to get my ass kicked at the gym one of these days.

Loyal readers know that I previously worked out at a small Park District gym. In a final attempt to rehabilitate my knee, I got a membership to a "real" gym recently. I figured the ease of access, space and amenities would make going to the gym easier. I just couldn't bring myself to go to that cramped park gym any more with rickety treadmills that were mostly out of service.

The etiquette of the big gym is overwhelming at the moment. Strangely, the constricted space and simple machinery of the park gym made everything easier. It was clear who was doing what; the protocol went unsaid.

My first trip to the new gym I mistakenly stepped in to use a piece of equipment only to realize that someone else had been using it. The person using it was wearing a hood and weightlifting gloves. Rather than specifically note that I was cutting in line, he grunted something that drew my attention--only after I had replaced some weights. I immediately apologized but he signaled that I should continue.

I vowed to myself that I'd be more diligent in the etiquette department.

Workout machines these days are hard to figure out. I feel like Borat when he was in Miami Beach.

So I made another misstep on Monday.

I went up to a machine and looked around to make sure no one was using it. I've found that people at this gym have fiefdoms to themselves--at 5 p.m. Johnny goes to this one spot and works out EVERY DAY. Don't invade Johnny's space. So I looked around carefully and only saw one guy nearby, probably 10 feet away. I trusted that my piece of equipment was free and began to look for a 25-pound weight to add on. I grabbed what appeared to be an available weight and placed it on my machine. I noticed that the nearest guy was looking at me, and I looked up and briefly made eye contact. He looked away.

I sat on the bench and prepared to lift the weight and was interrupted by a small noise from a few feet away. The man was indicating to me some sort of displeasure. He gestured toward his machine. I had taken off one of the weights while he was in between sets and placed it on mine. The complicated machinery had confused me--what I thought was a stationery weight was actually the one he was using at the time. I apologized profusely and laughed about the confusion. He mostly ignored me.

I think what's most funny to me--other than that you should secure a 25-yard perimeter around every machine before lifting--is that both of these people were so damn passive-aggressive. They watched me remove their weights and never said anything until I made the gaffe. I don't get it.

Picture time

I can't resist sharing this. I like the child on the floor the best.

Fabio's remorse

I haven't paid much attention to "Top Chef" this season, but here goes with a somewhat-live blog:

8 p.m. -- Wow, I think this is the Gail Simmons wedding shower episode. And I just realized that I'm watching a rerun. Oh well, blog on.

8:02 -- Stefan inexplicably has a crush on Jamie. Yech.

8:03 -- This cast includes several well-trimmed beards.

8:05 -- Damn. I just realized I forgot Worcestershire sauce in the meatloaf I'm cooking.

8:06 -- Carla could pass for Scottie Pippen's sister.

8:09 -- Stefan and his Jamie love fall to Hosea in the Quickfire.

8:13 -- Ariane says that because she's married she understands the "Something borrowed..." saying. Memo to Ariane: I'm married and have never heard of it.

8:15 -- Gail's shower. Damn this is pressure.

8:15 -- I like the "Top Chef" Fabio more than the guy on the romance novels.

8:17 -- Carla's anecdote is funny because my wife and I have our own whistling call for locating each other in grocery stores.

8:21 -- Rice is so darn hard to make. I feel for Eugene.

8:32 -- Gail has a lot of friends.

8:33 -- I love it when Tom is stalking around the kitchen, inspecting dishes and scaring the cast.

8:36 -- The editor of Food and Wine has sort of a Julius Caesar haircut, I believe it's called. Kind of like Burt Reynolds in "Deliverance."

8:40 -- Fabio uses his Italian accent to win over the crowd only to fall on his face when it comes time to taste the dish.

8:52 -- My own meatloaf is good. I fear the judges would describe it as "old people food" which is what they said about the dish by Fabio & Co.

8:59 -- And another well-trimmed beard is eliminated.

Mountain best

Dan Wetzel hits the nail on the head with this post on Yahoo! Sports about the University of Utah and how they are getting derailed by the BCS. Not unlike the patternless area post about Heisman hype. One thing I hadn't thought of: big networks promote the conferences that they have agreements with. So the ABC and Big Ten and CBS and SEC and ESPN and Big 12, etc. So who's going to promote the Mountain West Conference? No one.

Classic winter

Today dawned with the sound of a helicopter hovering over the North Side as part of the coverage of the Winter Classic hockey game. The Detroit Red Wings defeated the Chicago Blackhawks 6-4 outdoors at Wrigley Field before a crowd of more than 40,000. This is the second straight year the NHL staged a game on New Year's Day outdoors (last year's was in Buffalo). While I wasn't able to get a ticket, it's a lot of fun to watch these games. The Winter Classic tradition may be pushing college football bowls out of the spotlight on Jan. 1--the bowls are now so spread out and diluted that the first day of the year is just another day with a bunch of bowls.

I think my favorite part of the telecast today was the presence of The Weather Channel's Jim Cantore. The broadcasters play up the impact of the elements a bit during these games (today it was a mild 30 degrees and overcast, though windy), but Cantore makes weather even more interesting. He was able to reference the "altocumulus" clouds while sitting on top of the centerfield scoreboard.

I heard a rumor that the NHL made snow to fill up the area around the rink but within the ballfield; I'm guessing this makes the Winter Classic more wintry. The truth is there's hardly any actual snow on the ground right now and we are in one of those typical Chicago phases of limited snow and cold temps.