The proper way to cheat

The last couple of weeks have seen a rash of athletes succumb to failed drug tests. Melky Cabrera, Bartolo Colon and Lance Armstrong have all been dealt their punishments and have undergone the (in my opinion) far more disheartening task of seeing their names wrung through the 24-hour news cycle as cheaters, liars, etc.

Personally, I have no sympathy for any of them, nor do I want to hear the sob story of any other athlete who has been suspended or banned from a sport for his or her use of performance enhancing drugs. For almost a decade, PEDs and the like have been at the forefront of controversies in sport, so the fact that anybody in this day and age would use them and expect to get away with it is just lunacy.

The worst part about all of this is that there are SO MANY better ways to gain an upper hand in competition without running the risk of a big suspension or having your name become synonymous with cheating.

I don’t condone the use of outside influences, mechanisms, or substances to get ahead. PEDs are the last recourse of those who not only can’t cut it in their sport, but who also don’t have the dignity and class to move along as countless others have before them. The same goes for those who use technology to try and gain an edge. While I don’t condone a bounty system in football, at least the Saints were still just playing man vs. man and not using video information obtained illegally to outscheme an opponent. I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that New Orleans is missing out on all kinds of player and coach participation - when all that their scheme would do is give the other team an advantage since the Saints would be too busy trying to target specific players instead of responding to the actual plays – while the Patriots got nothing but fines for blatantly ignoring league rules and warnings while utilizing outside forces to fundamentally alter the way their games were played.

Pardon me if I sound too nostalgic, but whatever happened to the good old days of getting a competitive edge? I’m the most competitive person that I know, but there is no way that I would go as far as some people and teams that have been caught. The rules of many sports are black and white, but people have always been able to find some sort of grey area to get that extra touchdown/home run/bucket. Why risk weeks or months or even years of being a national pariah when there are so many other ways to get ahead that carry far less severe punishments if caught?

That’s right, kids. I’m not insinuating that you shouldn’t try some shady and underhanded way to gain an advantage, I simply posit that you do so in an efficient matter. After all, if you ain’t cheatin’, you ain’t tryin’.

So, for those of you who want to get that last little bit of an edge in your intramural or rec league games (or even little league. Hey, I don’t know who reads this, and you youngsters can never start cheating too early!), here is a list of ways to stay on top of the game without finding yourself answering to the commissioner or hanging around with some guy who insists on holding the cup for you while you pee.

Baseball/Softball

This game has been around forever. For much of its existence, those who don’t follow the game closely have criticized it for being too boring and for having too much down time. There may be some truth to those statements, but for the player that needs to rely on things other than talent to be successful, all of that down time has provided us with plenty of ways to skirt the rules of the game.

One of the most common baseball cheats is to doctor the ball. With the right amount of scuff or foreign substance, even a bad pitcher can look like Cy Young. The trick is that umpires are wise to the old emery board and vasoline routine. Instead, get teammates in on the action. Have your catcher file down the metal hooks that hold down the straps on his leg protectors. He can put a nice cut on the seams with that. Same goes for your infielders. A strange looking ball might convince the ump to come and search your pockets, but he’d never guess that your shortstop is the one with the nail file and has been going to town on the ball whenever it’s thrown around the horn.

If you need more speed, don’t try to mess with the ball. Just throw it from closer to home plate. The opposition would get wise to your game if you did it all of the time, but if you wait until a clutch situation where you need a strikeout, it’s incredibly easy to go undetected as you step a foot or two in front of the rubber while you fire it in.

For those of you who have stopped with the hardball and are now just weekend warriors on the softball diamond, there are still some tricks. Doctoring the ball is even easier here. You won’t strike anyone out, but making a nice gash in the ball will keep teams from leaving the yard on every other pitch. Even better, in my league, the team that is batting must supply their own ball. If they want to buy loaded bats and put pitchers’ lives at risk, they’re going to end the game with a whole lot of useless softballs (MSRP: $5.99 each).

Football

Why risk an international incident by illegally recording opponents’ practices when you can just pick off the plays?

Every team at every level has game tape nowadays. (Fun Fact: I actually got paid $30/week in high school to advance scout opponents for a pee wee football team. People are insane.) For some colleges and most high schools, this game tape is as good as stealing a playbook. Many teams get their plays in via hand signals. They might look complicated, but with 30 minutes of studying the gestures and then comparing it to the resulting play, it’s pretty easy to get an idea of what each sign means. Hire a coach to do nothing but pick off signs, and your defensive coordinator has much less to worry about.

Have you ever played against a running back that you just couldn’t get a hold of? He might have been cheating in order to give you the slip. Game pants are tight and slick to begin with, but giving your jersey and pants a once over with cooking spray will make you that much harder to bring down. Silicon works even better, but it has a smell that can be detected much easier.

On the field, it’s easy to bend the rules to get a big gain. If you’re a receiver and a ball gets overthrown, don’t just get your legs tangled and hope for a flag. Incidental contact is being called all of the time nowadays. Instead, get an arm stuck in the defenders ribs and shoulder pads before going down. The contact will keep everyone’s arms from flying out and making the fall seem accidental. That’s free yardage, people.

If a ball gets loose in a big pile, there are plenty of ways to obtain it even if your aren’t the first one on the scene. Some of you might be reading this around dinnertime, so I’ll just leave it to your imagination. Suffice it to say, the tactics will work. Just make sure you’ve stopped doing whatever you’re doing before the ref digs through the pile far enough to see anything.

The cheat that I’m still waiting to see would involve messing with the radio signal that allows teams to call in plays from the press box. Intercepting the transmission would be too risky and would likely carry a very stiff penalty (and besides, if there are any hand signals going on, you’ve already got your designated windtalker coach to pick things off). Instead, wait for a pivotal point in the game and then cut the power or jam the signal. You don’t have to start an electrical fire or render the headsets useless. You just need 15-20 seconds where the other team can’t communicate and get their plan in place.

Soccer

There really isn’t any need for a guide to cheating in soccer. Last time I checked, flopping to draw cards and penalty kicks accounted for the majority of many teams’ strategies.

On fun trick that I’ve heard though… If you ever find yourself having to stop a penalty kick, you can hack your opponent’s mind. Start screaming “All right! All right! All right!” like you’re trying to pump up yourself and your team. Emphasize the “right” part of it. Studies have shown that if the shooter hears it, he’ll subconsciously decide to go right with his shot more often than not. That’s not even really cheating. That’s winning WITH SCIENCE!

Hockey

This is the sport where the line between stretching the rules and outward violence is at its thinnest. If you don’t want to put someone in the hospital, these can be tricky (If you don’t care about the health of other human beings, you’re going to do great and the Philadelphia Flyers should sign you immediately).

First off, there’s the unique aspect of the semi-legal aspect of fighting in hockey. Connoisseurs of the game maintain that there is an elegant beauty to dropping the gloves or, failing that, there is a point to fighting in that it protects star players.

I call shenanigans. Those theories make valid points, but once you go toe-to-toe with an angry Canadian with a good maple syrup buzz going, all bets are off. You need to avoid dying, and the best way to do that is to hurt the other guy as fast as possible. For that, you’ve got “the stinger”. It’s painfully simple. Just throw a hook, intentionally miss by tucking your fist toward your chest, then catch your opponent on the forehead with the trailing elbow. Physically devastating. Highly unsportsmanlike. Brutally efficient.

If you’re a goalie and you’re sick of taking slap shots off of your face, just go to town on the back of anyone’s leg that gets near you. Refs are going to need to see blood before they whistle a goalie for anything.

At any other position on the ice, save the dramatic overhead stick chop for the more understated jab to the ribs or chin with the butt of your stick.

For any and all other shady tactics, just make sure a teammate is screening whichever official is closest. After all, they’re less padded than you and are perfectly willing to look the other way on your awful, awful tactics if it means that he doesn’t have slap shots and 250 pound forwards crowding his space.

Basketball

I’ve got painfully little experience in this game, so I’m not sure of the best ways to cheat without getting caught. As a 5’7” guy with little vertical leaping ability, you can be sure that I’ll find those tactics if I ever give the game an honest shot.

Instead of my experiences, I’ll refer you to the movie Space Jam. As far as I can tell, MJ and the Looney Toons broke every single rule in the book over the course of the second half, but damned if they didn’t win anyway.

So there you go. All of these tricks are at least borderline illegal and definitely frowned upon. Your opponents will hate you and even your teammates will question your morals.

But the important part is that you’ll be winning, and the punishment for your deeds will be minimal if you get caught.

So you’ll still be playing, which is more that some of those over-the-top cheaters from the last few weeks can say.

The dumbest thing I've ever heard (this week) - I guess some teams just don't like winning

For those of you who are new to my blog – and I’m pleased to say that, thanks to some facebook marketing and a few gsufans.com members, there are plenty of you – welcome to one of my recurring themes.

I watch a lot of sports. Probably too many. But that’s beside the point. When you watch hour upon hour of sports coverage, you will start to notice that absolutely ridiculous stories will pop up once in a while. Sometimes it’s the athletes themselves that do things that are overwhelmingly stupid. Other times, it’s the media that turns a dumb story into an overblown circus. Either way, I find the time to call these stories out when one of them crosses the line into absolute absurdity.

The newest member of the dumbest things that I have ever heard comes courtesy of the loveable losers turned N.L. East favorite Washington Nationals.

Now, I know that it’s been a hot minute since this franchise contended for anything other than the first overall draft pick. In fact, the Nationals/Expos have only made the MLB postseason on one occasion, and even the 1981 Expos needed the benefit of a strike-induced, hastily implemented postseason structure to make it past the regular season. As if one strike related playoff mishap wasn’t enough, the baseball gods seemed to drive home the point that they really don’t like this franchise when they allowed the 1994 Expos to be – without much doubt – the best team in baseball, only to have a lockout abruptly end the season with Montreal leading the N.L. East by six games in the middle of August.

All of that said, the Nationals have been taking baseball by storm throughout the 2012 season. Entering the year, there weren’t too many talking heads that didn’t have a good opinion of the team. Years of general awfulness had supplied the franchise with high draft picks that were beginning to blossom, and some good trades and free agent pickups placed veteran talent at key positions. Most predicted the team to do well within a few years, but Christmas has come early for Washington.

One of the biggest reasons for the quick rise to the top of the standings is first overall pick of the 2009 draft and all-around badass Stephen Strasburg. Even though the Nationals rushed him through the minor leagues and watched him blow out his elbow one month into his major league career, Strasburg has bounced back to become one of the most dominant starting pitchers in the game.

As of the time this post was made, Strasburg sat at a record of 12-5 with a 2.97 ERA. For the sabermetricians who don’t fall in love with those standard stats, Strasburg was also posting Bill James-approved jaw-droppers such as his 1.067 WHIP and 11.3 K/9.

Being the obviously competent franchise that they are, the Nationals have come up with a clear and concise plan of action for their superstar – LET’S SHUT HIM RIGHT THE HELL DOWN!!!

Yep… That’s right. If the Nationals are going to take part in the 2012 postseason, Strasburg will apparently only be able to observe from the bench.

Before this season began, there was talk of the Nationals limiting Strasburg to a certain number of innings. After some questioning, the Washington brass caved and admitted that, indeed, they had a top end of 160 innings for their ace.

Of course, anybody with half a brain would assume that the Nationals would ease up on their limit once they saw that they could actually be contenders. After all, it’s nothing new for good starting pitchers to go well over 200 innings pitched in a playoff run.

Apparently, success and logic are nothing compared to the Nationals’ stubbornness. They’re standing firm on the innings limit and it’s looking more and more likely that the Nationals will clinch a playoff spot, yet have to check their biggest weapon at the door sometime in early September.

Now, I’m no MLB front office type, but as a fan of a team that was mostly atrocious for the first 20 years of my life, I think that I have some sort of authority or credibility when I humbly ask WHAT THE HELL IS WASHINGTON THINKING!!!

Why are their pitching coaches/physicians/scouts suddenly acting like there is some magic number or exact formula that serves as the limit for a pitcher? There is a playoff spot on the line for christsake!

For decades, the outcry has been that athletes – despite the ungodly amounts of money that they make – are treated as nothing more than assets and commodities, then thrown out like last week’s trash as soon as they stop producing for their team.

With the advent of free agency a few decades ago, baseball has become a sport in which it is very hard to craft a championship team, and nearly impossible to nurture a dynasty. More and more, baseball front offices cultivate their homegrown talent, then carefully select trades or free agent signings, just hoping to create a window of a few years in which their team might win once or twice.

The overwhelming trend has been to find a team that can win, then utilize any and all means to make sure that they do win.

I guess that just isn’t the Nationals’ style.

Why is 161 innings just too much for their best pitcher to throw… especially when the team is in the hunt? Why – in an era where a franchise’s success can be so fleeting – is the Nationals’ front office so intent on suppressing one of its best chances to help win something big?

There is simply no science to back up the franchise’s thinking. Sure, the more you throw, the more chances there are to become tired or injured. But that isn’t baseball. That’s just a defeatist excuse.

I’m not looking to take baseball back into the era of four-man rotations. I just don’t agree with seeing a great pitching talent not utilized to his full potential for no other reason I can see than to protect the franchise’s investment.

The entire plan is counterintuitive. The Nationals state that they won’t overexert Strasburg this year so that they can ensure long-term success. Sure… That makes sense the first time you hear it, but think about this – You can’t have long-term success unless you first have short-term success. The easiest way to achieve short-term success is to keep playing your best player, and the Nats are about to stop doing that.

Of course more pitches will wear down a pitcher, but that’s the issue. No two pitchers are alike. Try as the training staffs might, there has never been a metric to show when a given pitcher’s shoulder or elbow is going to call it quits.

Modern medicine turned career-ending injuries into nothing more than hurdles a few decades ago. From there, more steps have been taken and procedures that used to require a year or more of rehab are now minor speed bumps that see players bouncing back in just a few months. Those who are choosing to “error on the side of caution” nowadays are doing nothing more than covering their own asses and protecting their investments.

Doctors from two centuries ago could tell you the same thing that today’s doctors can – some guys can train their asses off and never manage to avoid injury. Other guys can play video games, down a six pack, then go out and be an MVP. No amount of medical breakthroughs can determine whose body will refuse to break down or whose will give in at a moment’s notice.

For the Nationals to cite nothing more than precaution as the reason that they’re shutting down Strasburg is cowardice at best. They were a crappy team that finally had some prospects pan out. They also got some talent in place to help out those prospects as they grew into major league players. They have built the foundation perfectly, but are now trying to back off of a year or two of potential World Series winning teams just to try and preserve a name that will continue to bring in revenue long after most of the 2012 team has either deteriorated or become too expensive to keep in town.

Long story short, the Nationals’ franchise has never been very good. Right now, the Nationals are on top of their division and look like they can cruise into what would be just their second playoff appearance in their history. One of the biggest reasons for this success is a guy that will apparently be shut down – thanks to an arbitrary innings count – weeks before the Nats get to play a postseason game.

I’m no tactical genius, but that’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard (this week).

A national college football poll - Margin of error: +/- 3%

For as long as the nation has recognized the need to rank college football teams, it has also failed to figure out one best way to do so.

Throughout the better part of the 20^th century, you couldn’t open up a magazine without running into the publication’s own views on which teams were the best. There were only a few polls that were widely regarded by the public, but that never stopped schools from claiming a title bestowed upon them by a less than reputable voice on college football – I’m looking at you, 2004 Golf Magazine national champion Auburn Tigers.

In fact, 1998, the first season of the BCS, saw the first unanimously named champ (Tennessee) since the 1972 USC Trojans. The years in between – and many of the years preceding 1972 – often had even more than two champions, with a record six schools getting the No. 1 ranking in some fashion or another for the 1980 season.

Even though we now have a system that crowns a lone champion, there is still no shortage of polls that offer their own suggestions as to which teams are the best from week to week.

If groups (Associated Press), television networks (ESPN), websites (cbssportsline.com), coaches and self-appointed geniuses with their own special systems can put out rankings every week, then so can I.

Thus, I present to you, the Undermining Statistical Excellence to Legitimize Entirely Subjective Suppositions poll – henceforth to be known as Mike Anthony’s USELESS Poll.

These rankings, while mostly aiming to give you my general view of the current week’s version of the top 25 teams in the nation, will also take into consideration things like obscure college facts, tailgating intensity, cheerleader hotness, and fanbase lunacy that for some reason go unrecognized by most polls.

So consider yourselves lucky, because you are now the proud viewers of the first ever USELESS poll.

1. Alabama – Now that computers account for much of the selection process for the national championship game, the preseason polls are largely irrelevent. Where in the past, teams could be unfairly punished for starting out too low before tearing through their schedule, the many components in the computer formulas now largely negate to advantage or disadvantage of a high or low preseason ranking. With that in mind, my preseason poll takes a page from the always reliable and predictable world of wrestling (the folding chairs and cage matches one, not the cauliflower-ear, singlet-wearing one) in choosing its favorite. Alabama is the reigning champ. Until the Crimson Tide loses a game, they’re on top.

2. USC – No… Not you, South Carolina. Stop calling yourself USC. Win (or at least claim) 11 national titles before assuming that your initials are all that people need to research or even find your campus buried in the middle of South Carolina: America’s ‘D’ student. USC is so good that even postseason bans and scholarship restrictions couldn’t stop Lane Kiffin from bringing in truckloads of talent. If not for undergoing their final year of bowl ineligibility in 2011, the Trojans would have been a shoe-in for a BCS game. This year, they should be even better with Matt Barkley – who will be an early Heisman favorite – returning for his senior season. A midseason showdown with Oregon will be the only time that USC has to beat comparable talent in the regular season and a win should earn them a spot in the title game.

3. LSU – All too often, teams fall victim to their previous success, believing that they can win games in the same fashion and with the same game plan that has previously led to victories. Sadly for the fightin’ swamp people, their bold and heroic attempts to have Alabama forget how to kick field goals didn’t work out in their national championship meeting. LSU will likely rebound and contend for a championship again this season. The Tigers’ only big question mark is at quarterback, but since the last SEC quarterback to play a role in a championship season specialized in 12-foot jump passes, I’m guessing that they’ll be alright.

4. Oklahoma – For the last five years or so, the champion of the Big XII (Hey… kudos to you for keeping the name despite being two-thirds of your former self) has had one of two problems. The BCS representative has either proven critics right and underperformed when having to face better defenses, or been kept out of the national title game discussion because of the conference’s perceived softness, only to throttle its bowl game opponent. All too often, the Sooners have been on the underperforming half of those problems. National talking heads all seem to agree that Oklahoma has one of the best – if not THE best – roster in the country, but past shortcomings are keeping many of those analysts from predicting a title for Oklahoma.

5. Oregon – Remember when these guys used to use Donald Duck in their official athletic logo? How did those guys ever evolve into a perennial national power? Oh, wait, right, millions upon millions of dollars donated by Nike. But still, it’s impressive that such an ignored section of the country can consistently lure enough talent up there to field a team that can compete with anybody else in the country.

6. This space intentionally left blank – The first five teams on this list are good. Really good. Like, waaaay better than the rest of the teams in the nation. Unless something very unforeseen happens, some combination of Alabama/LSU and USC/Oregon will go undefeated, with Oklahoma also threatening to run the table. If two of those five finish the regular season without a loss, there is no way that any other team can jump them. If you are a fan of any team other than the top 5, please treat this empty ranking as a metaphor for the hopelessness and emptiness that the upcoming season will offer you, regardless of what your team accomplishes.

7. Boise State – Two years ago, the Broncos blew their best shot at getting to a national championship due to a couple of blown kicks. Last season, Boise fell just a point short of an undefeated season once again. The Broncos lost four-year starting quarterback and all-time NCAA wins leader Kellen Moore, but Boise still gets the benefit of a doubt in my book. They have more wins than any other FBS program over the last 12 years. They aren’t a fluke. Stop treating them like one.

8. Florida State – Fun fact: once you account for adjustments made by the NCAA to the record books, Bobby Bowden has less wins than he did two years ago, yet has soared into the lead for wins by an active coach. We’ll now observe a moment of silence so that Joe Paterno can roll over in his grave…. OK. Good. Florida State is loaded with talent this season. The only thing keeping them from a higher ranking is that the Seminoles have never let something as trivial as vastly superior talent get in the way of underperforming. FSU has the potential to run the table in the ACC, but nobody will believe it until they see it.

9. Michigan – Even though the Wolverines don’t quite have top-10 talent in my opinion, this is their big chance to get back on top. Ohio State is still ineligible for the postseason and might lack some competitive fire. Penn State is an absolute mess. Even Iowa doesn’t figure to be as competitive and plucky as usual. A lot of Michigan’s success will come from improved talent on both sides of the ball. Finishing in the top-10 will require some more Shoelace-inspired luck, but it’s happened before.

10. Wisconsin – I’m still not convinced that Wisconsin wasn’t the best team in the nation last season. They were the better team and played the better game in every matchup and were only beaten on hail mary completions in back-to-back weeks. The Badgers are every bit as nasty this season, save for the departure of Russell Wilson. Wisconsin will be tough, but they can’t win it all with a first-year quarterback.

11. West Virginia – After competing for the laughable title of Big East champion for the first 14 years of the BCS era, West Virginia has finally escaped to greener pastures, conference geography be damned. It’s hard to believe that WVU is only a few years removed from being one monumental choke job against Pittsburgh away from playing for a national title, but the Mountaineers have managed to stay competitive through that tragedy and the subsequent exodus of Rich Rodriguez. West Virginia won’t be able to keep up with Oklahoma, but should do just fine against most of the Big XII.

12. Georgia – Many have the Bulldogs ranked higher than 12^th. For this, I call shenanigans. As a constant advocate of the underdog, I’ve spent many a night arguing at the bar with some misguided SEC fan about the merits of non-BCS conference teams being able to compete against the best in the nation. Inevitably, the other guy will bring up strength of schedule. This is where UGA loses points in my book. They have somehow managed to avoid playing Alabama, LSU and Arkansas in their conference schedule for a second straight year. The SEC may have produced six consecutive national champions, but I’m afraid that the Bulldogs will suffer for having dumpster fires like Buffalo, Florida Atlantic, Vanderbilt, Kentucky and Mississippi on the schedule.

13. Arkansas – Much like Georgia, the Razorbacks are also receiving more love than 13^th in just about every other poll. This ranking is more of a matter of principle. I refuse to believe that a single division of one conference is home to three of the top 10 teams in the country. Furthermore, no matter how impressive Arkansas is this year, they’ll never do much better than 13^th if they plan on getting thunderdomed by the other two powers in their division like they did last season.

14. Michigan State – Aside from the overachieving non-BCS schools, is there a more consistently good team that gets less press than Michigan St.? Sure, the Spartans have had some bad seasons not that long ago, but plenty of powers have done the same. Michigan St. is usually in the Big Ten title picture well into November. Even when it isn’t, it usually bullies its way into the headlines with a big upset. The Spartans were quietly awesome last season and will be very good again in 2012.

15. South Carolina – Old habits sure do die hard. Even with Stephen Garcia out of the picture, South Carolina is adding to its stats in the “Quarterbacks Arrested” category. Much like Clemson and Florida State in the ACC, South Carolina is the SEC team that always seems primed for a breakout season, yet always seems to find a way to shoot itself in the foot before it ever sniffs greatness. The SEC East doesn’t seem to have much competition after Georgia, but even so, I don’t think Marcus Lattimore’s brand new ACL will be strong enough to carry his team to the SEC title game.

16. Clemson – While I’m on the South Carolina/self-destructing team bandwagon, I might as well touch on Clemson. Just go ahead and apply most of South Carolina’s preview to this team. Very talented… minimal competition… great chance that the one team favored over it in its division will find a way to blow it. The stars could very well align for Clemson, but they’ve never taken advantage of it before. Why start now?

17. Nebraska – There are so many things about Nebraska that perfectly embody the spirit of college football. The Cornhuskers have the tradition of USC, the rabid following of Alabama, and the ability to turn their stadium into one of the largest cities in their state like Michigan. Nebraska has also done a great job of shaking off the Bill Callahan era – a span of time which I believe will be conveniently forgotten by most Nebraska fans within the decade.

18. Texas - After coasting through most of the last decade and riding his team’s ridiculous talent to a national title and one more championship game appearance, it’s time for Mack Brown to start worrying about his job. Texas supporters were willing to look the other way and let him throw most of his coaching staff under the buss when the Longhorns went 5-7, but Brown didn’t do a much better job in last year’s 8-5 showing. If things don’t get better quickly, people will be calling for Brown’s head. Personally, I’d be calling for their mascot’s head… I bet Bevo would be delicious.

19. TCU – The Horned Frogs (still a totally bitchin’ nickname) won’t be favored to win the Big XII this season, but are certainly good enough to pull off a surprise. If they do, they’ll have what I’m sure is a record by winning the conference title in three different conferences in consecutive years. Completing that feat would lead me to cry out for TCU to go independent and pick a new conference each year to swoop in and harass.

20. Kansas State – In sticking with the Big XII theme at this point of the poll that predicts a heart-wrenching season with a couple of close losses that would have vaulted the team into BCS contention if only they were wins, here come the Wildcats. If Boise State is the perennial underdog darling in the public’s eye, then Kansas State is the hipster douchebag of teams that are good despite there being no good explanation for their success. Kansas State was doing this way before Boise made it cool. The Wildcats used to be one of the worst programs around. In fact, before Bill Snyder was given control of the program in 1991, there were the worst. He whipped them into shape, retired, watched the program go to shit in just a couple of years, returned, and immediately made KSU good again. That guy is doing something right.

21. The USC Song Girls – Come on. Admit it. Once we get past the top-20, those last five spots are just to make slightly better than mediocre teams feel good about themselves and give those schools’ fundraising departments something to work with. I defy any of my readers to find me a team ranked No. 21 or below that would draw more attention than three hours of streaming internet coverage of the Song Girls going to practice and then getting drunk at a frat party.

22. Stanford – Those dweebs out in northern California may have lost the top NFL draft pick and some great tight ends and offensive linemen, but I want to give them a chance to show that Jim Harbaugh and Andrew Luck were able to build a foundation before they left campus. Stanford doesn’t have much of a shot of winning the Pac 12, but it is still a good team and a solid pick for third best team in the conference behind USC and Oregon. Come on, geeks. Become the Duke University of college football. The ire that would draw from SEC fans alone would earn you a permanent spot in my preseason poll.

23. Notre Dame – The good news for Notre Dame fans is that the 2012 version of the Fighting Irish should be the most complete, well-rounded team in years. The bad news is the Notre Dame’s schedule will likely bake that completeness and such totally irrelevant. Detractors of the Irish often cry foul on the grounds that they are independent and can make as easy or tough of a schedule as they please. The ability to schedule tough opponents will likely haunt Notre Dame this season. The Irish travel to Michigan State, Oklahoma and USC, and have home dates against Michigan and Stanford to boot. One of the better Irish teams of late might struggle to finish too far above the .500 mark.

24. Louisiana Tech – The Bulldogs only make this list because I noticed that they were pretty high on the ‘Also Receiving Votes’ section of the preseason coaches poll. That poll might just be trolling me in convincing me to buy into their logic. Either way, I’m sure that the USELESS poll will soon become the trusted leader in national rankings. I might as well bomb on a preseason prediction now while I still have some humility.

25. Penn State – I have no allegiance to Penn State. In fact, I’ve often been known to loudly root against the Nittany Lions. But as a resident of the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania for the first 14 years of my life, I have plenty of friends and family who live and die with Penn State football. As a show of goodwill, I figured that I’d put the Lions in this last spot for my preseason poll. After all, this is probably the last top-25 poll Penn State will make for about a decade.

#WhatHappensInVegas

There comes a time in every man’s life when he has a sudden and profound realization – “I have too much money lying around and I need to waste it as quickly and efficiently as possible.”

This past spring, my bank account was teetering on that edge of comfortable living when my good friend Ritchie came to the rescue. He wanted to visit Las Vegas. After about one one-hundredth of a second of selling me on the idea, I was hooked on the plan and already scouting out flights and hotels.

You see, when I was just a little kid, I got my first taste of gambling. While on a trip to the Baseball Hall of Fame, my father and I made a pit stop at the race track to bet on the horses. As we were leaving, we passed one of the windows and the guy working there asked me what horse I liked in the next race. I spouted off a random number and he gave me a ticket. My dad figured it was a fake, but then saw that it was a genuine $2 bet on the next race. He paid the guy and we watched one more race. I don’t remember where my horse finished. He definitely didn’t win. They may have put him down at the quarter post for all I know. But for some reason, 7-year old Mike looked at the situation, saw that we were never getting that two dollars back… AND COULDN’T WAIT TO DO IT AGAIN!!!

It took about 20 more years (save for a few poker games and the occasional afternoon of Keno), but last week saw me headed west towards a Vegas vacation.

The only downside of the trip that I could see was the travel and the time changes. Kelly and I would have to take an early flight there in order to get into town by early afternoon and the four hour flight was over twice as long as I had ever spent on a plane. Even after my fourth trip that has required air travel, I can figure out exactly how I feel about flying. I don’t think that I’m too scared of it since I have been able to read, sleep and order liquor drinks at the same pace as I do while at sea level, but I’m still a little unsettled. Maybe I’m just too logical about things and still haven’t gotten used to thinking that being trapped in an aluminum tube hurtling though the air at hundreds of miles per hour while 30,000 feet off the ground is a good place for a human.

Either way, I found a good deal on our flights, so the only thing left was to get to the other side of the country.

For that, we turned to Southwest Airlines. Famed for their efficiency, affordability and – to my knowledge – one of the few major airlines that has never used one of its planes to test the durability of the Earth’s crust (scientific note: the crust welcomes all challengers). Since Southwest obeys schoolyard law, there are no assigned seats and everyone gets a position in line based on when they check in for boarding. Kelly had the position in front of me, so it was left to her to lead the way. Armed with a good position in line, we had our pick of over half of the seats on the plane. Looking forward to getting a good view of parts of the country that I have never seen before while enjoying a relaxing flight that would take us to our vacation, Kelly decided to pick… a row with a window view half obscured by one of the wings that also had two kids under seven years old directly behind us. I mentioned this to her immediately. I was met with a look of death. I decided to just make the best of the flight.

We made it approximately halfway to the runway before one of the kids decided to use the back of Kelly’s seat as a kickboxing sparring partner. I got a little too amused, and received a second look of death while still in Georgia.

Once in the air, things calmed down in the row behind us, but the party was just getting started at the back of the aircraft. Apparently, it was TAYLOR’s 21^st birthday. As someone who is awful with names, I only remember TAYLOR’s because the 10 or so drunken friends of TAYLOR felt the need to remind everyone about TAYLOR and how we should all sing Happy Birthday to TAYLOR and buy drinks for TAYLOR.

Somewhere over Oklahoma, I began wondering if it was possible for just half of a plane to crash.

As we entered Nevada and cleared the last few mountains, my childlike excitement levels peaked. I’ve seen a ton of movies and TV shows that show clips of Vegas. We all have. I knew that I would have a great view of the city (so long as the wing wasn’t in the way) as we descended and the sight that I got was as awesome as I could have imagined. After a few miles of residential neighborhoods, the plane dropped low and the view exploded into an alternate reality.

The Stratosphere towered above everything but the mountains. Caesar’s Palace stood in the distance, standing taller than you would ever imagine just from seeing it on the big screen. We caught a glimpse of the Eiffel Tower at Paris and the sphinx and huge pyramid of the Luxor – our hotel for the weekend – came into view just as we touched down.

One more chorus of Happy Birthday for TAYLOR while we taxied to the gate and the vacation was underway.

I know that Vegas was built on gambling, but I was unprepared for just how abundant the opportunities to lose your money are. As we walked up the gate, I joked to Kelly that we probably wouldn’t make it 100 feet before we saw a slot machine.

I was way off. It was probably only 40 feet.

Once Ritchie and his fiancée Erin picked us up, it was time to hit the strip. Once again, I cannot stress just how big all of those famous landmarks are. The skyscrapers at New York, New York are hardly scale models, the Hooters hotel and casino has as many stories as their waitresses have daddy issues, even the lions in front of the MGM Grand are at least 30 feet tall.

We checked into our room on the 14^th floor – not even halfway up the pyramid – and then got to touring. The casino at the Luxor is actually one of the smaller ones of all of the resorts, but nice just the same. Everyone lost a few nickels on slot machines, but with three of us new to the whole gambling scene, nobody got up the guts to try out the tables right away.

After walking from the Luxor to the Excalibur (and finding a restaurant that sold $2 beers – a stop that Kelly and I made about a dozen times) we finally decided to lose some of our hard earned cash. After trying unsuccessfully for a few minutes to explain roulette to Kelly, I remembered that the dealers are supposed to be nice and helpful. I figured he could do better than me. Of course, that was before I realized that 80 percent of the dealers in Vegas are elderly Asians that speak with heavy accents. I had no problem with that at all, but it is sort of difficult to fully learn a game when someone keeps taking your money and offers only broken English explanations when you ask why.

Luckily, we got off to a hot start. Kelly and I both made some easy black and red bets and earned $20 in just a minute or two of play. We decided to walk away while that luck lasted.

As dinner time approached, I was anxious to find a good deal for us. After all, this is Vegas – home of the $5.99 steak, seafood, strippers, etc. buffet. We came to realize that all of the buffets at the resort hotels have backed off of that old-time shtick and now want upwards of $40 for dinner, so that idea died quickly. But being the good vacationer that I am, I had done my research and found a handful of locals that raved about a steak dinner at a place called the Ellis Island Casino. After selling the rest of the group on the plan, we walked to New York, New York, figuring that Ellis Island should be right there.

For all that Vegas does right, geography isn’t high on the list. We found out that Ellis Island was a good two miles from New York, New York. After walking in the Vegas heat for one mile, we came to our senses and hailed a cab to get us the rest of the way.

Now, there is nothing that has ever blitzed my senses like seeing the Vegas strip. When in the middle of it, you’re basically walking in a canyon of awesomeness. However, travel a block or two away from

Las Vegas Boulevard

, and you’re quickly approaching some shadier areas. Unfortunately, this is where our cab started driving. I was nose-deep in a brochure when I got an elbow in my rib cage from Ritchie.

“Dude. Is this restaurant really inside of a Super 8 Motel? You cheap bastard.”

Well… it turns out that Ellis Island is indeed connected to a low rent hotel. But being the troopers that we are, we at least decided to try it out. We discovered that the casino did have a restaurant and that they did have the steak special that I had heard about. Better still, the steak was as good as any high end steakhouse I’ve eaten at and the place had a microbrewery to boot.

Feeling lucky with my awesome choice of a $7.99 steak and beer dinner, I finally got up the nerve to play some blackjack - $5 minimum, of course, because while I had no idea about the whole casino/restaurant/Super 8 deal, Ritchie is right that I am a cheap bastard. The first hand I was dealt in Vegas was blackjack. Then 20. Then 21. In less than five minutes, I turned $40 into $75. Obviously, I was on a roll and would take down the entire town within the weekend. BACK TO THE STRIP!!!

As impressive as the strip was upon arrival, it gets even better at night. Seeing dozens of 50-story buildings sticking up out of the desert sand and shooting every possible shade of neon light at you is pure sensory overload. I would guess that it’s entirely possible for a non-gambler to have just as much fun as we did simply because of all the over-the-top visual experiences and the 24-hour party that is the main strip.

After seeing the half mile or so of the south end of the strip, we headed back to the Luxor and hit the tables. Roulette, blackjack, video poker… you name it, the game paid off the first night. Ritchie and I made a killing off of two blackjack tables and I finally got to satisfy my urge to have some big money chips burning a hole in my pocket.

Golf awaited on the second day, so I managed to walk away from the casino for a healthy four hours of sleep before our tee time. For being in the middle of a desert, Vegas knows how to grow a golf course. Lush fairways, packed down sand dunes that roll your ball back into play, and – most important of all – cheap beer highlighted the course, and a back-nine 40 just added to another great day in Vegas.

On the second night, we were in a sight-seeing mood, so we decided to take the monorail to the far north end of the strip to the Stratosphere to watch the sun set over the mountains from 1,078 above the ground. The monorail was a fast and efficient way to cover the length of the strip, but the advertisements left out one important detail.

You see, all of the six or so stops on the monorail are attached to a resort. You just hop out, walk through the resort’s casino, and you’re back out on the strip. Unfortunately, the northernmost stop on the monorail route is at the Sahara. I’m sure that there was nothing bad about the Sahara – back when it was in operation. Now deserted, we were left to walk around the empty casino and cover another half mile or so of increasingly sketchy streets to get to the Stratosphere.

After a great sunset, we caught a cab back through the shady streets and were dropped off at the Wynn where we began the longest aimless walk this side of the Old Testament.

We were originally scheduled to stay at the Wynn, and my wallet could not be more pleased at the change of venue. That place – along with its sister resort, the Encore – are the definition of “spare no expense”. Between the extravagant flower gardens at each entrance, the Cartier shops (that’s right. One Cartier shop just wasn’t enough for the Wynn), and the lighted pool/waterfall/30-foot animatronic singing frog, it came as no surprise that there wasn’t a table game in sight with a minimum bet lower than $25.

From there, we ventured to the Palazzo, followed by the equally Italian-themed and vastly less ridiculous sounding Venetian. Now, I’ve never been to

Fifth Avenue

or

Rodeo Drive

, but I can’t imagine that the endless rows of shops in the Venetian are lagging too far behind in terms of “Who the hell can afford to actually shop here?” If you ever want to take a two-mile walk while feeling bad about your bank account, I implore you to walk through the entire shopping center at the Venetian.

Despite the overpriced stores, what can’t be denied is that the Venetian’s ability to put a man-made river that flows over one thousand feet on an above-ground level of the building is very impressive. Everyone has heard of the river and the gondolas, but I wasn’t prepared for the ceilings. Domed and obviously professionally painted and lit, the entire building suddenly transforms from shopping center to outdoor Italian town at twilight. It’s hard to describe just how real they make it look. Of course, half of my mind had already melted from the alcohol and constant walking, so maybe it isn’t really all that great.

After finding our way out of the Venetian’s labyrinth, we ventured down to Caesar’s Palace (more impressive than I could have hoped for, and hosting the best Alan from The Hangover impersonator that I’ve ever seen) and the Bellagio, whose fountain show is as spectacular as it is classy, thanks to the opera music it was set to.

By the time all of that had been done, we were all about to drop, yet it was still another half-mile back to the monorail and close to another mile back to the Luxor once we hit our stop.

Finally, with my feet painfully asking what they had done to anger me, we made it back to the casino. Ready to finally sit down, Ritchie and I found our saving grace – the Party Pit.

Seemingly not convinced that free drinks are doing the trick, several of the casinos have added an extra perk to keep you smiling as your money flies out the window. At the Party Pit, there is a mini runway set up between the gaming tables featuring a couple of girls dancing. Note that these aren’t strippers – I’m too classy for that. They’re just scantily clad enough to make me feel a little bit better about the six-card 21 that the dealer just drew on me.

The Party Pit actually turned out to be good luck for Kelly and me, but Ritchie got taken to the cleaners. Up over $150 on the day, Kelly and I scoped out the most innocent looking old lady dealer the world has ever seen, sat down to pounce, then spent 30 minutes getting thoroughly pummeled by Betty White’s demonic older sister. But hey, that’s Vegas. It wouldn’t have been as fun if I hadn’t wanted to punch out an old lady for dealing me nothing but 14s and 15s.

Heading into our final full day in Vegas, I really started to get into the spirit. Despite thinking that my feet might literally fall off from all of the walking the night before, four hours of sleep was plenty and I was guzzling Bailey’s and coffee at 6 a.m. in the sports book and debating on laying down a bet on the British Open. Once Kelly was awake, it was on to the kid-tested, degenerate gambler-approved breakfast of Krispy Kreme donuts and Bud Light. It’s really underrated. The glaze and low-proof alcohol combine to form the perfect a.m. version of a jagerbomb.

After some $5 blackjack at New York, New York, I finally hit my luckiest streak of the trip. We sat down at some video roulette machines and worked our way through a few dollars each. Lunch was nearing, but just before I was going to cash out, my bet on black-15 hit, paying 36-to-1 odds, finally hit. Not one to walk away from a heater – and also not one to realize that hitting one bet in 20 spins shouldn’t qualify as a heater – I placed another single bet and watched as my bet on black-26 hit on the very next spin. Lunch is on me!

Later in the day, we took the car and headed north toward

Fremont Street

to see the old part of town. On the way, we made a detour to the Gold & Silver Pawn Shop, better known as the setting for Pawn Stars. About 10 years ago, I discovered that I own a trading card that might be worth a little bit of money. Hoping to get on TV, I chaperoned my card two-thirds of the way across the country, then ventured into the slums to find the shop… only to be told that they don’t buy trading cards.

Are you kidding me? I’ve seen you buy gas masks designed for infants. I’ve watched as you shelled out hundreds of dollars for old kids toys that are half rust. How can you not want sports memorabilia – one of the most collectable things on the planet?

Oh well. No big deal. By the way, don’t buy into all of the hype on the show. The place is tiny, in a bad part of town, and right across the street from a strip joint.

After that debacle, we headed to Fremont, a.k.a. – the place I would go if I was in Vegas all by myself. The place is the perfect combination of cheap, old-school, tacky and tasteful. I’m not sure if all of those things can actually exist together, but I’m not a fashion or design person, so I’m sticking with it.

In this new age of computerized everything, Fremont is the only place we encountered that still has the old slots that you can put coins into and then rejoice as you win a gallon of nickels. Combine that with cheap drinks, neon signs that haven’t been updated since the 70s, and a constant cigarette haze hanging five feet in the air… It’s like the mother ship is calling be home.

Then, there is the light show. A good 1,000 feet of

Fremont Street

is covered in a dome that doubles as a giant LED screen. At sunset, the roof lit up with an over-the-top video montage set to “American Pie”. Nine minutes of unrelenting awesomeness. Even though there were easily a few thousand people on the street gambling, perusing the strip clubs, and buying souvenirs, the light show was the only time throughout the entire weekend that I saw everyone come to a complete stop.

Staying on Fremont would have been great, but our time in Vegas was winding down and nobody wanted to drive through the wasteland between Fremont and the strip. A few hands of blackjack (Kelly and I had the Party Pit turn on us and try to take all of our money) and we were off to bed, ready to head home in the morning.

But wait! There’s more!

It was glaringly obvious by Sunday morning that Vegas had a grip on me and that it was time to go back home. Still, that didn’t stop me from waking up at 6 a.m. again for more early morning gambling.

After all, when is the next time I’m going to have a halfway plausible excuse to start drinking and acting like an overly caffeinated kid at such an early hour?

*Checks calendar. Sees that first GSU home game is only a month away.* Ok, but still…

Anyways, Vegas gave me a nice present on the way out the door. I doubled the $100 I pulled out in just an hour and Kelly helped me add another $50 before we checked out.

Going home is always the toughest part of any vacation, and this was no exception. We arrived at the airport over two hours before our flight and were told that our 12:30 flight had been delayed to 12:50. We passed through security and arrived at our gat just in time to see the time bumped back to 2:00.

At least there was a restaurant and bar.

Then, 2:00 became 3:30.

Ah, the joys of air travel. In the end, we didn’t touch down in Atlanta until almost 11:00 eastern time and didn’t get back to Statesboro until 3:00 in the morning.

I should have been spent after all of that, but I couldn’t have been better. The next morning came and I was devastated not to have 30 different sporting events, a casino full of games and a breakfast bar with 20 different kinds of quiche at my disposal.

Kelly and I had sworn that we wouldn’t get too wrapped up in Vegas and that we would look for a different spot for our next vacation.

I’m not so sure that I’d take that bet.

The dumbest thing I've ever heard (this week) - S-T-U-P-I-D

I don't have much to say on this subject, but as a self-described sports blog, I feel obliged to report on something sports-related before giving you yet another non-sports blog that is soon to come.

I should stress the "sports-related" portion of that last paragraph as this week's dumbest thing ever is somewhat of a yearly "sports" annoyance for yours truly.

Every spring for the last decade or so (I haven't kept track since it would be too depressing), ESPN has televised the Scripps National Spelling Bee. While the professional writer in me appreciates the constant strive for correct spelling in all walks of life, the sports addict in me (along with most of the rest of the universe) is always in for a letdown when the spelling bee breaks into the regularly scheduled block of whatever pre-taped, low-ratings event should be taking the place of a bunch of 10-13 year old kids that don't belong anywhere within a mile of a network with both "entertainment" and "sports" contained within its acronym.

The spelling bee is cute and all, but can we please drop it from ESPN? I get that it's competition, but so are dog shows, Pokemon tournaments, and junior high science fairs. This is just ridiculous. If I wanted to spend five hours watching middle schoolers sweat and be awkward, I would hang out with someone's creepy uncle in his van out by the recess yard every day.

I remember spelling bees... I went through them every year. Each year, one lucky student from my school would be the "spelling king" who was rewarded with the prize of a weekend full of more spelling instead of watching cartoons. Inevitably, this master of the 26 letters would lose, return to class, and never speak of the experience again.

Don't get me wrong. I love competition. I get worked up over Iphone games and don't even like to lose at board games. But where is the competition and high stakes in a spelling bee? Sure, the winner of the whole thing gets a scholarship, but everyone else in the finals at least gets a free trip to D.C. There is no downside - and thus, no TV-worthy competition - to a spelling bee. Just look at all of the kids that get knocked out. There are only ever two reactions to finally spelling a word wrong. The kid is either relieved that they can go back to their summer vacation or terrified that their parents will beat them mercilessly and send them back to their dictionary-filled dungeon for the next 11 months.

In all my years of being forced to watch spelling bee highlights when all I really want to see is a recap of the Phillies game from the previous night, the closest thing to athleticism is still the little asshole that got so worked up over a word that he actually passed out while on stage. Come on, ESPN. Don't put that nonsense on the same channel as people who actually run and jump and succeed athletically for a living.

These little kids may be smart, but showcasing their encyclopedic brains and trying to sell it to me as either entertainment or sport has to be the dumbest thing I've ever heard (this week).

Behind enemy lines

As much as I love sports of all kinds, there’s just no way that even I can put up with watching games or listening to ESPN radio on a 24/7 basis. Even though I will never cease to annoy my girlfriend with 2 a.m. re-re-re-runs of Baseball Tonight and my insistence that eight hours before a Georgia Southern kickoff is not too early to start tailgaiting, I do my best to try and take a step back from sports every now and then.

And so it was that last Friday saw both Kelly and I have an entire day to ourselves. While one part of my brain told me that it would be a perfect time to start partying in anticipation of GSU’s appearance in the Southern Conference championship softball game, the part of my brain that rather dislikes sleeping on couches decided that this wasn’t in my best interest. Instead, I joined Kelly in a trip to Savannah so that she could find a dress to wear for my sister’s wedding.

Now, I’m no stranger to shopping with the fairer sex. Having a mother and two sisters, I’ve been through the rigors of clothes shopping before and realize that their way of deciding on wardrobe is a bit different than my own philosophy of ‘that one looks good and is even within arm’s length. I’ll take it.’ Still, it had been quite a few years since the old days of the family trip to the mall for back-to-school shopping and I quickly realized that I was in for a rude awakening.

Before we go any farther, I feel obliged to make a plea to my girlfriend… Kelly, this isn’t an indictment of you or your shopping tendencies. I have every reason to believe that you are on the most desirable end of the scale of girls that I’d want to be in a mall with while they hold the only key to the car. I love you, and the dress that you picked out is absolutely perfect.

OK. Hopefully that gets me out of too much trouble, so let’s continue on our adventure.

Things started up innocently enough. As we rolled into the mall, I was instructed to go to Belk. My first instinct was to say, “Babe. We have a Belk in Statesboro. Why did we have to go the whole way to Savannah for this?” Luckily, I’m not a complete idiot so I kept my mouth shut. Once inside, I kept my silence for what I’m guessing was at least 20-30 seconds before asking rather loudly why one store needed approximately 53 different makeup and perfume displays – all of which were infested with women in cheap pantsuits looking like they applied their makeup with a shotgun.

Once we ventured upstairs to the men’s and women’s sections, I immediately wandered off to look at polo shirts, only to realize that one rack of clothing with little horseys on them cost more than my college education. Resigning myself to my fate, I joined my girlfriend among the forest of dress racks to begin judging the candidates.

The first rack: too tacky. The second rack: too dressy. Don’t want to show up the bride. The third rack: Juuuussst rig-OH MY GOD, LOOK AT THAT PRICETAG!!!!!

About 10 minutes in, it seemed as though we hit the jackpot. Kelly found a dress that we both agreed looked good. In fact, she had seen it before and liked it a few weeks ago in Statesboro (still not falling for that one), and it was even a bit cheaper here. But then, tragedy befell me. There were none of those dresses in the right size. A few more trips through the Belk racks turned up nothing, leading me to endure the unknown perils of the rest of the mall.

As a guy, it’s amazing how many women’s clothing stores you never knew existed until you are required to look at all of them. In fact, there are 28 different stores classified as women’s apparel under the roof of the Oglethorpe Mall.

Not only are there an inordinate amount of women’s clothing stores, but they seem to have run out of normal names to go by. After the first quarter-mile of walking or so, I wasn’t sure whether we were looking for a dress or a nightclub. With store names like 5 7 9, Cache, Decibel, Envy and Rainbow, it’s tough to tell.

To my credit, I was pretty well behaved. Luckily, I was in need of a new pair of flip-flops, so at all of the stores featuring clothes for men and women, I was able to stare at a wall of shoes instead of pretending that I had an eye for picking out a nice dress.

Of course, even this reprieve wasn’t entirely good news. Thanks to my well-documented cheapness, my search for flip-flops turned into a five-store diatribe on how overpriced a slab of rubber and a couple of leather bands have become and how anybody willing to drop $50 for a pair of flip-flops should give up any and all credit cards on principle.

Kelly, who I know for a fact has spent the equivalent of an impoverished African country’s GDP on footwear, probably didn’t want to hear any of it, but – to her credit – let me wear myself out with complaining and will likely compliment whatever $5 Wal-Mart flip-flops I end up buying.

Finally, on what I think was the 12^th store that we set foot in, gold was struck. After finding dresses that were “too big, too small, too white, too black, and too flowy(?)”, Kelly found her perfect dress. With the finish line in sight, all she had to do was try it on. So we waited…. And waited… and waited. Ten full minutes went by and evidently, none of the four women filling up the dressing room had anything better to do that day. Luckily, Kelly spotted another fitting room and after a nerve-wracking wait, she emerged with a dress that fit perfectly. SUCCESS!

All that was left was to check out. At least, that’s what I thought. While spending 15 minutes looking through the racks and ten more waiting to try on her dress, Kelly loved the dark blue number she had found. Yet, in what I’m assuming is some sort of female mind game, the final 50 yard sprint to the cash register was filled with me having to assure her of how good the dress looked as she was suddenly second guessing her choice.

I had come too far to start the search all over, so I summoned up what was left of my psyche and kept her in favor of the dress.

Sensing that I was perilously close to escaping, the store we were in threw out one final curve ball. You see, every store that I go to has the same setup. You go inside, you pick up whatever you want and on the way out, pass a register where you can pay.

This relatively simple arrangement is lost on department stores. Instead of conveniently placed registers near the exits, there are checkout islands placed randomly throughout the store. There’s one at the makeup booth. There’s one under the escalator. I think that I saw one in the bathroom. Fortunately, we found one with a straight shot to the exit so that I could ensure no further shopping.

But that isn’t the end of it. Of course it isn’t. There are four registers at these islands and three people working, yet only one seems to actually be scanning items. AND NOW THEY’RE ROTATING!!! This turns the checkout process into an impromptu game of musical chairs as everyone circles the island, not quite sure of which register is open or where a line should form. This is fine for the women, who get a 360-view of all the other items on sale near the island. For us men, it becomes a death march. We keep slowly shuffling around, keeping eye contact with the other males, searching for a sign of weakness and ready to pull our shopping companions to an open register at a moment’s notice. There is no male camaraderie here. This is war, and we’re just trying to get back home in one piece.

At long last, we arrived at the register. Now desperate to keep us in its clutches, the store makes its last stand. The female soldier behind her scan gun went on her three-minute rant, all the time staring directly at Kelly as my thoughts and opinions were of little consequence.

“Are you a member of our club? Would you like to become one? If you do, you’ll receive 5 percent off today, 10 percent on special sales, a microchip in your brain that beams our clearance items directly to you, and a nice little carrying case for your boyfriend’s testicles.”

I think that’s about right. I kind of blacked out.

Thankfully, Kelly resisted all of this and, after giving a phone number, email address, home zip code, and filling out a survey – I’m not joking here. They actually made her give all of that – we were allowed to escape with her dress and a one-item receipt that stretched over two feet (still not joking).

Thoroughly beaten, I was allowed the solace of the food court. Never has $7.99 honey chicken tasted so much like freedom.

I thank you for sharing in my experiences. I’ve been told that talking about traumatic events is the best way to begin coping.

If you’d like to hear more of my travels, come visit me at my sister’s wedding next week. After Kelly reads this, I’m sure that I’ll be relegated to the corner of the reception room, left to drink alone and dread the next formal event to which we’re invited.