5 Things I'd bet You On

Here are five things I'd be willing to wage you on right now, no questions asked:

1) Joe Girardi not only keeps his job for the remainder of the season, but the remainder of his contract (through 2010)

2) LeBron and The_Real_Shaq will not win the NBA Championship next season heck they won't even make it to the NBA Championship next year.

3) Manny Wood will sell out when Manny Ramirez returns to action, and he will keep the Dodgers in first place throughout the rest of the season.

4) Ricky Rubio won't play in the NBA next year -- and not too many people will end up caring.



5) Michael Vick won't sign with an NFL team until September at the earliest.


Thoughts, comments, bets you'd like to make? E-mail me at SAYoungberg@Gmail.com

Where's the Beer?

The perennial power house Pittsburgh Pirates were in town to take on another dominating basement dweller and there was only one thing that could make watching these two teams play tolerable -- you guessed it -- beer.

After I waited patiently for the Nationals to get out of the fifth inning (2 errors, 1 missed play line drive, and 3 walks later) I spruced up and headed over to the beer vendor.

But something terrible happened, something unimaginable the vendor had ran out of beer.

Where could the beer have gone? No they hadn't stopped selling, it wasn't the 7th inning yet.

Anheuser Busch? Nope the distributor was there that morning.

Just this guys stand? No senor, every stand around the stadium was out of their delicious $9.00, refreshing cold beer.

Flabbergasted. In all my years of baseball games I have never seen something quite of this magnitude. Yankee Stadium never ran out of hot dogs, Camden Yards always had enough Cracker Jacks and soda pop, heck, even the Bowie Baysox and Potomac Nationals were always well stocked in their concessions stands!

Dilemma. Why is it that the lousiest team, with the lousiest stats, the lousiest players, and lousiest record -- who can't even spell their own team name right -- get this one wrong as well?

"SIR, how could you run out of beer? It's only the fifth inning!"

"Son, we may only sell a couple thousand tickets a game, but when you're 14-40 the fans have to pass the time somehow."

That explains the man making out with his glove.

While the fans in Washington might be sick and tired of watching their beloved Nats lose 26 of their last 32 at least there first in something -- beer consumption per fan -- a minor victory for quite possibly the worst team in all of professional sports.

To Favre or not To Favre?

Fast forward: it's November 1st 2009. The Vikings are 5-2 and coming off a crushing victory over the reigning champion Steelers. They're playing at Lambeau field. It's 16 degrees when the loud speakers echo throughout the frozen tundra "At quarterback number four. Brett Favre."

Some fans throw snowballs, others cheers enfatically, some swear and curse at the maurder, while others are just in shock to see this soap opera unfold right in front of their very eyes.

For this is the first time Farve has played in Lambeau donning a jersey other than the Packers.

We are all sick of the hype, but there isn't a football fan or journalist amongst us who cannot deny they would be very intrigued to see Farve take on his former team. Just imagine if you're sick of the hype now what the weeks leading up to the game would be like? Oy vey.

As a Viking fan I'd love to see it. The Vikings have the pieces in place to really challenge the wide open NFC -- even if the Williams Brothers are suspended four games -- this team, like few others, is a quarterback away from domination.

Is he in it to win it? Is it revenge he seeks? But could anyone truly play this game while not having their heart (or shoulder) in i? I think Farve has his intentions in the right place, but the thoughts keep popping up why would he go through this -- again?

Fast Forward: It's November 1st. Fourth quarter. Packers winning 21-17. Eight seconds to go. Two yards out. Farve, play action fake to Peterson. Rocket pass to Berrian. VIKINGS WIN! His legend continues to mystify us...but does he Lambeau leap like he has so many times before?

We shall see by the end of the week.

The Dentist: Hell on Earth

I despise nothing in this world than going to the dentist. Standing behind someone with 100 items in the grocery store? No big deal. Watching a mother walk her child on a leash, no sweat. Traffic when the AC is down and it’s a scorcher, I’ll just replenish the fluids later.

I despise the dentist.

The drills, the smell, the lobby waiting for your name to be called so you can hurry the hell out of there – but at the same time you hope your name isn’t called because one knows on the other side of the door is door. A living hell, that’s what.

Now in 21 years of dental appointments I’ve been through it all – or so I believed – five cavities filled in one sitting, wisdom teeth gone and done for, fillings, root canals, cleanings.

Before I went to get my regular 6 month check up I was asked to fill out a “medical update survey” it was bland and pointless but one question I particularly enjoyed was; “how much do you fear going to the dentist? 1 being no fear 10 being dreadfully scared.”

I wrote the number 11 and then circled it. I hate the dentist. Then yesterday came.

Steeler Loving Lunatic

I was pretty sure that my dental hygienist was born Misery City USA, I thought that before she talked about her beloved Pittsburgh for ten minutes while setting everything up.

Secondly she has her little square decorated in Steelers apparel. Car flag, poster, license plate that says 5 Time World Champs (but the five is covered up by a sticky note with the number 6 on it…sweet.) Then there were the two photos of her from Super Bowl 43, one of the field, the other of her with her personalized Steelers jersey (again sweet) with the black and gold flowered lei around her neck. Minus one point.

My friends I watch football, I watched the Super Bowl from start to finish but for ten minutes while she was putting on her latex gloves and arranging her weapons to clean my teeth she gave me a play-by-play of how the game looked from her seats.

Apparently James Harrison ran the ball really far for a score and did you know that Santonio Holmes caught the winning touchdown? I did. Minus another two points.

Ross The Intern

I was hoping she’d be all talked out after numbing my senses with Steeler blabber – but the dental gods were clearly out to get me, she wasn’t done talking, not even close. Next up she presented her thesis on Jay Leno and his big finale from the Late Night Show.

Apparently this was a huge occurrence in her life because she TiVOd the event and bought the episode of iTunes. Her favorite Jay Leno clips featured Ross The Intern. For those of you who don’t know (which included me till yesterday) Ross the Intern is an extremely flamboyant intern who well – is gay.

Or as my no filter, no sense for common decency hygienist put it, “he’s a flaming faggot!”

Take a second to let that one sit in.

That’s what she said, “he’s a flaming faggot.” Now I’m not homosexual (there’s nothing wrong with that) or am I necessarily politically correct BUT WHAT THE HELL? What do I do here? Awkwardly laugh because when she has two latex gloves, and a metal scrapper in your mouth it is no time to start an argument. Minus ten thousand points.

Name calling, check. Summary of the Jay Leno finale, check. Impersonations of Ross – no she couldn’t she couldn’t be that horrendous of a human – check.

When one is reclined in the dentist’s chair it is equivalent to being held prisoner while ‘Bruno’ has his way. You can’t move, you can’t run, you simply take it whatever it is that comes at you. Even if it is the worst, not to mention most offensive, homosexual references imaginable.

Gum Bleeding Grand Finale

Have I mentioned yet how much I despise the dentist? What really irks me the most is the cleaning process.

You sit down and have your teeth scrapped away at, like an elderly woman scrapes the ice off her sidewalk, short strokes, loud noises, and only amusing to watch not be part of.

So when hygienist from hell sarcastically told me my gums bleed, I sarcastically replied “that happens when you jab your metal hook into my gums bitch!” Well that’s what I would’ve liked to said – and I’m pretty sure she knew it.

It was over after this. She read my mind and let the bleeding commence. In the next couple of minutes I’m not entirely sure what happened. I bled, and I bled, and I bled while my mouth was rinsed out once.

One rinse out in five minutes. You know how much blood, saliva, and testosterone gets lost when you bleed from your mouth while the hygienist scrapes away and polishes your teeth?

It was absolute hell in that chair for forty minutes. I squirmed from the pain – the pain of her stories, her impersonations, and her downright disregard for my mouth – what that hygeinst put me through was sheer and utter torture.

But next time I’m asked to fill out a form that asks ““how much do you fear going to the dentist? 1 being no fear 10 being dreadfully scared.” I’ll put 0.