After 23 years, it all comes full circle on the scoreboard

Some of you might remember some time back when I wrote what just might be my favorite post that I've ever written here. This is not because it is particularly clever or particularly well-written. It provides no clever social commentary or particularly astute observations about myself, sports, the world or the social causes of the Haymarket Square Riot or any other historic incident. No, this was a very important, very necessary journey of self-discovery that brought with it a number of revelations of the life-changing variety. I speak, of course, of when I did the necessary investigative reporting to uncover my very first New York Mets game.

As you may recall, for years I had known little of the origin of my Mets fandom beyond a picture of the scoreboard and had long assumed my first game was, in fact, not my actual first game. This all came to light when I decided one morning to actually look at the picture. The evidence was fairly obvious and soon the mystery was unspooled, but the gist of it -- that my fandom was spurred on by having my name on the scoreboard -- was clear.

Last night, nearly 23 years later, my fandom returned to light in the same fashion in which it had started.

Yes, there are some differences that are telling. For one, last night the Mets game was at Citi Field while at the time of the first picture they would still be 18 years away from leaving Shea Stadium. For another, this was a trivia contest (which I answered perhaps too enthusiastically), whereas the last mention was a birthday notice. For yet one more, the contest was organized via Twitter, a tool that wouldn't exist for 17 years after the last time I reached the scoreboard. For obvious reasons, I suppose I should note that last night I was mentioned on the scoreboard not so much by name, but by Twitter handle, a remarkable yet subtle sign of how the world has changed.

As a result of all of this, I also got mentioned by the Mets' official Twitter feed, which, of course, means I can cross one of the major achievements I had long sought off of my to-do list.

Congrats to@davidkalan who wins #MetsTrivia. Please go to the Fan Assistance Booth in CF opposite Section 142 to claim your prize.
— New York Mets (@Mets) May 10, 2013

It's the most wonderful time of the year

Ladies and gentlemen, at long last, we have reached that most exciting stretch of spring. No, I'm not talking about those magical nights when the New York Mets seemingly invent new unbelievable ways to lose to what are essentially minor league teams on consecutive nights, though that is typically around this time, too. I am talking about the Stanley Cup Playoffs, two magical months in which athleticism, drama and excitement all coalesce into a display that just about the safest bet to deliver in all of pro sports.

Sure, in the course of a 16-team postseason tournament, every game can't be a gem. But by and large most of them are, and the haphazard zaniness that annually ensues in the first round is unmatched by anything short of the NCAA Men's Basketball Tournament.

Need evidence?

Look no further than last night, when the Chicago Blackhawks and the St. Louis Blues opened the 2013 Stanley Cup Playoffs with overtime-winners that happened more or less simultaneously. There is almost nothing in any major sport that captures the same kind of edge-of-your-seat tension and punctuated explosion of energy that results from overtime playoff hockey. I am saying this not merely because it pays my bills, but because it is, as anyone who watches sports can tell you, absolutely true. Those moments have littered my own fandom over the years be they produced by journeymen like Grant Marshall, entrenched stars like Jason Arnott or potential stars of the future like Adam Henrique. One of the things that made last season's postseason run by the Devils so exciting -- or perhaps exasperating -- is just how many times their season had hung on the knife edge. I should note, of course, that my team is far from the only one to experience this.

You know, I really can't believe it took this long

As I documented here some time back, my first New Jersey Devils game that I ever saw in person was Dec. 7, 1995. I was 10 years old, seeing hockey games in person were still an exciting novelty as opposed to a enjoyable run-of-the-mill activity, and the Devils had called up some young pup for a one-game cup of coffee named Patrik Elias. The Devils lost that game to Toronto, 2-1. I distinctly remember Ken Daneyko getting called for a penalty in the final minutes that effectively sealed the game and Daneyko angrily banging on the glass as he was being locked into the penalty box. The AP recap makes no mention of this, though Daneyko did have 14 penalty minutes in the game, but it does misspell Elias' first name as "Patrick".

That was 17 and a half years ago.

For perspective, in that span of time my life has changed in the same dramatic number of ways that anyone's could between the ages of 10 and 27, and perhaps most insanely, the man who scored New Jersey's first goal that night, Petr Sykora, was one of several players I interviewed last spring at the 2012 Stanley Cup Final Media Day. Martin Brodeur, New Jersey's starter that night in 1995, was also one of them.

I'm not sure if that says more about how my life has changed than it does about the remarkable longevity of those two particular players, but either way, it has been a long, long time since I saw that first game at Brendan Byrne Arena. Since then I've seen the Devils play in several different buildings with even more names and and I have been at dozens of games. In that span, New Jersey has won nine division titles, four conference championships and two Stanley Cup championships in addition to the one the team won six months before my first game. I have been at a number of games that were pivotal in both the regular season and each of those runs. I was in the stands at both the Conference semifinals and the Stanley Cup Final in 2003 and I went to a total of four playoff games during the Devils' run to the 2012 Stanley Cup Final a year ago.

Last night, however, was a first. I went to a game that was completely meaningless.

Easy to be Harv

I'm pretty sure that like most Mets fans, I woke up this morning attempting to forget that the last four days ever happened. Sure, there was the one bright moment when the Mets briefly donned Frank Tanana-era throwbacks, but after two snowstorms, three delays or postponments, a blown six-run lead and, oh right, three losses in three games, it would probably do us all a bit of good to forget about the most disastrous trip out west since the Donner Party got stuck. It was a brutal 96 hours in which New York's offense slowly started to fall back to Earth and the bullpen pitched if not worse than I would have then certainly no better.

So, yeah, that was fun.

As New York comes home and licks its wounds, a 7-4 start that seemed strangely filled with promise is now a discouraging and mediocre 7-7, and the truth is becoming readily apparent that not only will the Mets not compete this season, but it seems like the only joy in watching them might come from watching Matt Harvey.

But, boy oh boy what joy that looks like it'll be.

Harvey just might be the only light at the end of the Mets' tunnel right now, which isn't to say the roster is bereft of quality talent. Obviously David Wright is still an All-Star caliber third baseman and the face of the franchise, but Wright, Ike Davis, Daniel Murphy and any other mainstay that has an opportunity to stick around for the franchise's (hopefully) impending renaissance is a known-quantity; they are the intimacy between a married couple that is still enjoyable but without the excitement and mystery that once made everything special.



Until Zack Wheeler makes his debut in the Major Leagues sometime this summer and until top-tier catching prospect Travis d'Arnaud joins him -- which apparently could be much further away than anticipated -- this will be the Harvey show as we all look to learn more about him and make his starts appointment viewing. In not instance is that fact more clear than tonight when Harvey's spot in the rotation is coming up in the Mets' return home opposite Washington Nationals ace Stephen Strasburg.

I forgot that these words could be put on paper in this order

Ladies and gentlemen, the New York Knicks have won the Atlantic Division Championship.

Yeah, I know. It sounds weird, right? In my rational, probability-driven point of view I know that it was probably unlikely I would go the rest of my life without seeing the Knicks win an NBA title, let alone a mere division crown, and yet, it still seems a bit odd. After all, last year when the 'Bockers won their first playoff game since I was a sophomore in high school and that alone was a bizarre sensation, which I detailed at length. But when you take sheer odds into account, and then add in the multiple biases in New York's favor (a big market rife with marketing opportunities that attract top players, general franchise cache that does the same, the ability to spend large amounts of money), it would be silly to think the Knicks were forever doomed to the mediocrity I had grown accustomed to.

And yet, it still seems strange. But here we are.

Last night, by virtue of their 120-99 thrashing of the Washington Wizards, the Knicks, winners of 13 in a row and of 50 games for the first time in 13 years, clinched their first division championship since 1994, when, in case you're wondering, I was a few months shy of my ninth birthday.

Now, if we're being honest, this is a largely meaningless distinction given how little of an advantage division winners have when it comes to seeding, matchups or even home-court advantage in the NBA Playoffs. But it's still a nice little reminder that most tunnels, no matter how long, have some light at the end. Unless you root for the Chicago Cubs. Still, while the Knicks have made playoff appearances the last two seasons and a start (and apparently a finish) to this one that makes them look like a championship caliber team, in many ways as a fan you still need concrete tangible signs that the franchise is taking decisive steps in the right direction. This, even though it will never actually be signified with a banner in Madison Square Garden, most certainly qualifies.

180 Days of Pain: A 2013 Major League Baseball Preview

I shouldn't really say "pain" per se. That might be misleading. As I lined out on a friend's blog yesterday, the New York Mets' 2013 season does have an air of anticipation and optimism about it because after many years of "rebuilding" the Mets' top prospects are finally making their way to the Majors. That doesn't mean New York is going to compete for a postseason berth this year. Doing that was already a pretty far-fetched idea before the news broke that oft-heard-of-yet-little-seen Mets' folk hero Johan Santana will again likely miss the entire season.

Devastating and sad as that news is -- and it really is on multiple levels -- it was silly to think that this really altered the trajectory of New York's 2013 campagin.

No, this is a team going somewhere and going nowhere all at the same time. The Mets are not making the playoffs. They are almost certainly not finishing 2013 with a winning record. They will probably not even finish above fourth place in the NL East. In fact, the most immediate positive to come out of this season will be the totally sweet new batting practice caps and the fantastic new alternate jerseys, finally removing black from the team's color scheme.

But there are more lasting impacts than simply an improved uniform set. Matt Harvey is getting a full Major League season under his belt, Zack Wheeler and Travis d'Arnaud will make their way to the big leagues and Ike Davis might actually be healthy for a whole campaign. There is no need for excitement in the outfield or bullpen whatsoever, but that's not the point. Those can be patched in the future with free agency if the team is actually close to real title contention. The point of this year is that we'll finally get to see just how far off we are and if the moves of Sandy Alderson and the gang are going to finally bear fruit.

From the looks of it, they are, and that means in 2014 and 2015 the Mets might actually be good. And in 2016 they might actually be World Series contenders. And as long as I ignore the fact that I'll be 31 during the 2016 World Series, it doesn't feel like it's all that far off.

But if this season doesn't exactly go well? Well, then it really will feel like pain. Kind of like the pain Mr. T brought down in Chicago this week.

I'm throwing my bracket out with the chametz

Hello, dear friends. I know it's been a while, and I will be honest, a lot has happened since we last spoke, but I will try my best to cover all (read: some, not much) of it in this super special passover edition of the ridiculous things I'm going to ramble about. For those of you who live in boxes, or at least not New York City, you may not be aware that Passover, one of the holiest Jewish holidays, began last night, which meant a boozy, wine-filled and mildly vindictive seder, as well me being unable to have bread, cookies or beer (basically anything delicious) until sundown next Monday night.

So yeah, חג פסח שמח, everyone!

See this is a pretty big deal. So big, in fact, that in Israel, the land where you wouldn't be able to swing a dead cat without hitting a door with lambs blood over it this week, the entire country is prepared in basically every way it possibly could be. But hey, we're prepared over here, too! That's why Barack Obama, once again, held a seder at the White House, something I'd totally love to get invited to sometime, even if Obama recently proved during his trip to Israel that while he gives great speeches with keen geopolitical insight, he's definitely not a Jew.

Seriously. "That's good matzah?" There's no such thing as good matzah. Every Jew knows this.

But that's a whole different blog entry. Either way, Barack was prepared, I was prepared and apparently the Angel of Death was more prepared than my bracket, which neglected to put lambs blood over its door and was therefore brutally slaughtered this weekend in the West Regional. (See, we're getting to the whole sports thing).

See, this past weekend was the opening weekend of the NCAA Tournament, that annual rite of spring in which we all openly admit that we have no idea how college basketball works because it's nearly impossible to get a correct bracket and the likelihood of yours surviving the first four days is about as likely as a swimsuit model showing up at your doorstep, the Mets winning a World Series before I die or finding matzah that is actually enjoyable to eat.

The City of Angels and the Staples Center Trifecta

I attended a small stand up comedy show in the East Village last night and one of the comedians had a set involving his experiences as a high school basketball player in Philadelphia. Apparently, because of his height, he was matched up against the best player on an opposing school, who was the son of a mediocre NBA player and an awfully nasty trash-talker on the court.

The punchline: It was some asshole named Kobe.

This seemed bizarrely appropriately to me, and not just because another comedian had talked about his L.A. Lakers-themed Bar Mitzvah with its curiously named Kareem Abdul-Jabbar table, but because in approximately 25 hours, I will be taking off from Philadelphia International Airport (I'm taking a brief layover in a cost-saving measure) en route to LAX for a momentous weekend in Los Angeles.

This is probably a bit odd if you know me. After all, I'm not a big fan of L.A., which is to say that short of Philadelphia, it's probably my least favorite city in the U.S. And how convenient for me that I get to go through both of them tomorrow. All that said though, I am quite excited for the trip for quite a few reasons. For one, at least four or five people I know in L.A. are going to try and convince me the city is actually awesome, which I admit will be a tough sell, but I'm at least willing to hear them out on this. For another, according to weather.com it's supposed to be mid-to-high 70s with sunshine all weekend, and I'm more than just a little tired of winter at this point. For yet another, I'm determined to prove to all of them that mass transit is actually great and they should all try it some time, provided the city bus I'm on isn't in danger of being blown up by Dennis Hopper.

Also there are sports there.

It's the Chicago Blackhawks' world. We're all just living in it.

I like the Chicago Blackhawks. Anyone who knows me knows I was once an intern with the organization and knows that, as a result, they hold a soft spot in my heart. They're not my favorite team, obviously, but when the Blackhawks are playing anyone other than the New Jersey Devils, which in a lockout-shortened season such as this one is every game, the Blackhawks are the team I'm rooting for.

So considering that, you can probably imagine that I've enjoyed Chicago's historic start to the current season and most of the nonsense idiots have written about it. Lately, however, my impression has gone from excitement, through awe to simple befuddlement.

Because, kids, this shit is just crazy.

After their 3-2 win against Colorado last night, the Blackhawks are now 21-0-3 over their first 24 games, which, if you're wondering, means they've liteally gotten through half of the season without losing a game in regulation. Half. Of an entire season. 50%. Yes, it is a shortened season, but it's half of a season nonetheless. The previous mark for most games without a regulation loss to start a season, held by the 2006-07 Anaheim Ducks, was 16 games, meaning the Blackhawks' streak, regardless of season length, is 50% longer than the previous record.

To give you an idea of how impressive that is, a comparable mark would be if someone broke Joe DiMaggio's 56-game hitting streak by 23 games. Granted, this isn't a perfect parallel. The odds of Chicago's current run place them at happening roughly once every 700 years, whereas DiMaggio's hitting streak probably shouldn't have happened ever. Still, there's no denying the fact that Chicago's current run is one of the more improbable things to occur in recent sports memory.

This is no longer the Madison Square Garden I grew up with

The older I get the more I notice or am affected by the passage of time. This brings about many signs that maybe, just maybe, my childhood might be long gone and never coming back. I can look at my brother's wedding more than two years ago or my sister's nuptials coming in just over four months for indications of that. But one significant sign that the world is different from when you grew up comes from recognizing that the places you spent your youth are long gone. Perhaps the diner you frequented is now a Five Guys or the record store you bought Use Your Illusion I at has become an Apple Store.

Or perhaps the sports venues you once attended are all long gone.

Indeed that last one has gotten a dramatic and striking overhaul. In my life growing up in the New York metropolitan area there were nine professional sports teams and I've seen them all, but in the last six years, nearly all of them have changed, or announced they will soon be changing their homes. The Devils moved to the Prudential Center in 2007. The Yankees and Mets each opened new ball parks in 2009. The Giants and Jets opened MetLife Stadium in 2010. The Nets moved to a cozy new place at the Barclays Center this past fall and the New York Islanders will join them when they leave Nassau Coliseum behind for good in 2015.

The Knicks and Rangers always seemed like outliers, though. There were no plans to leave Madison Square Garden, the home they proudly call "The World's Most Famous Arena" whenever they opportunity presents itself. While I'm not a Rangers fan, I am a Knicks fan, and the Garden is still where I saw my first in-person hockey game in April of 1995. It is a place with an interior that even as recent as last season felt magical and yet comforting to me, with its purple and green seats and almost claustrophobic intimacy as the upper decks crouch uncomfortably above the lower ones.

There are memories there.

But even if the Knicks and Rangers aren't moving, they are still adapting with the time. In the summer of 2011, the Garden began a lengthy renovation process that will be executed in three distinct phases so as not to disrupt the NHL and NBA seasons. While the first phase changed some of the distinct purples seats into black, the building, aside from some widened concourses, was still more or less recognizable. However, with the second phase essentially finished in the summer of 2012, the building has taken on an entirely new look.

The next trip is officially on the docket, and it's a big one

First, I should acknowledge a shameful lack of recapping what was a, uh, bizarre Super Bowl last Sunday. Suffice it to say I always figured the biggest television event of the year would run a little longer than your average football game, but I'd be lying if I told you I expected this would be aided by an unexpected 34-minute power outage at the Superdome. I have seen some curious things during Super Bowls in the past whether they be men catching footballs off their helmets, streakers running onto the field and getting tackled or the Buffalo Bills actually participating in a playoff game, but this might have been the strangest one by a fair stretch.

While the two Harbaughs might have flipped their lids a few times at the mishap -- though considering almost no one within earshot of them could actually fix it I don't entirely understand why -- I'll at least look back at it fondly as a collective experience we'll all laugh about years from now. It also gave us some time to check out Puppy Bowl IX, which didn't make me feel as dumb as I thought it would. Fortunately, there are other things for that.

The best part about the power coming back, however, was clearly the impact it had on the game, allowing the 49ers to regroup when they were trailing by 22 points and actually making the game entertaining. The next thing you knew it was suddenly a classic that came down to a final drive, a goal-line stand (which was about as poorly executed by San Francisco as could be -- no timeout before fourth down? No running plays to Colin Kaepernick?), a few controversial non-calls and some absolutely marvelous end-game strategy that nearly saw even more fun end-game strategy if the Niners had fair caught the final free kick and taken a free kick of their own in hopes of a game-tying field goal.

All in all, it wasn't the greatest Super Bowl I've ever seen, but it was certainly one of the better ones, and it reaffirmed the fact that more often than not in the free-agency-salary-cap era the Super Bowl truly delivers, and the city of Baltimore celebrated in the only way they know how. Since the year 2000, 9 of the 14 Super Bowls played have ended with a margin of victory of seven points or less, and one of the games that didn't -- Super Bowl XLIV -- only didn't because of a late New Orleans pick six as Indianapolis was driving for the tying score. The Super Bowl almost always delivers, this one, nearly featuring the greatest comeback in championship history certainly did and now it cripples me emotionally to know I have to wait seven months to watch real football again. The only real disappointment was that Ray Lewis hit the under on his postgame theological references.

But on the plus side, the Giants are officially back in the hunt to be Super Bowl champions now, so there's that.

Oh hey, there's a football game on Sunday night

I had a dream Friday morning that I was up close and watching the Giants in the Super Bowl this Sunday. It was exciting, exhilerating and I didn't want to wake up lest I spoil the fun. There were a few issues with this setup, though.

1) They don't let you sit in the middle of the field to watch the action during the Super Bowl.
2) The Super Bowl is being played in the New York area next year, not this year.
3) The Super Bowl definitely isn't being played on the turf field in Queens West across the street from me.
4) That field doesn't even have the dimensions to hold an NFL field.
5) You cannot see One World Trade Center from the field in Queens West.
6) The New York Giants are not playing in the Super Bowl this summer.

That last one is the only one that really upsets me, but as they say, all good things something something. So this Sunday, the Giants will be handing off the Lombardi Trophy for, I don't know, like a year maybe, to either the Baltimore Ravens or the San Francisco 49ers. It's a pretty big game if I'm not mistaken -- so big in fact that it is not happening at Queens West Field but rather the Superdome in New Orleans.

Potato, Potahto.

So yeah, Super Bowl XLVII is happening this weekend and while it doesn't carry the intrigue or global import of, say, any Super Bowl the Giants might be playing in, apparently it's still going to be played. I'm pretty surprised about this, but such is life. I will be watching anyway.

I am an irrational person, or why I can't enjoy Silver Linings Playbook

I like the New York Giants. You all know this. I am not quiet about it. Consequently, I do not like the Philadelphia Eagles. I am not quiet about this either. In fact, when people ask me what the major deal-breakers I have when dating women are, I boil them down to something like "smokers, Republicans and Eagles fans." And I usually note that the smokers and Republicans are negotiable. I simply cannot imagine sitting on a couch on Sundays for 60 years listening to someone scream out "Fly, Eagles, Fly" 16 times a season -- or heaven forbid more than that. Really.

If one had to peg the sports franchise I dislike the most, the Eagles would probably be the winners -- in a walk. The Dallas Cowboys may be the first team I learned to hate, but the Eagles were the first I learned to loathe, and that kind of emotion runs deep.

It is because of this that I had been wary about seeing -- or at least spending any money to see -- the widely-praised Oscar-nominated film Silver Linings Playbook. Yes, it has Robert De Niro, who just might be the best actor of his time, and yes, Jennifer Lawrence isn't half bad looking and is pretty good at the whole acting thing, too, and yes it is supposed to be a fine, fine film, and yes, it does provide definitive proof once and for all that Chris Tucker is still alive (which I was oddly reminded of in my e-mail this afternoon). But it also happens to have main characters -- and a plot -- that are deeply entrenched in their love for and have their lives enormously affected by the Philadelphia Eagles, and that, for whatever petty, stupid reasons I may have, just didn't appeal to me one bit. I simply couldn't comprehend enjoying a film if the Eagles were in any way positively reflected.

Now, don't get me wrong. I don't necessarily think anything at all associated with the Iggles is pure evil. I actually call some Eagles fans (well, two of them) among my friends and I've even tried to be magnanimous about it once in a while, so at worst the Eagles organization and its fans are maybe only 98.7% pure evil, but the simple fact remains that the city of Philadelphia, its sports teams and often its fans during my visits have always stuck in my craw. I have had no visit to the City of Brotherly Love for a sporting event in which I was not heckled or criticized for wearing my own team's colors in a way that was more consistent, inappropriate or predictable than one would find anywhere else. Of the 23 major league sports teams in the United States' Northeast Megalopolis, the Philadelphia Eagles are the lone team I have yet to see in person, and while this isn't intentional, it hasn't really been accident either.

Basically, if you're reading between the lines here, I don't much like the Eagles.

So can we talk about how much I missed hockey?

Yes, yes, yes, I know none of you are really going to be as excited about this as I am when all the attention focused on the American sports world right now has to do with the first annual Har-bowl spectacular, but really, how many stories about the strong bond between these two brothers can you read over the next two weeks? Answer: not very many. It's going to get boring after a while. It might get nearly as redundant as the stories about Ray Lewis chasing a title in his "last ride," a story that is only important because there are obviously no players on the 49ers with long productive careers that have never won a championship or anything. So don't worry, we probably won't be hearing about any of them, just like we haven't heard about any of them so far.

The Harbaugh brothers and Ray Lewis are basically going to be the only people in the Superdome next weekend.

Until then, however, we need something to fill our time and I have just the thing for you. There was quite a bit of skepticism from media pundits about how hockey might be negatively impacted by its third major work stoppage in 20 years, but attendance, TV ratings and ticket sales all seem to argue otherwise. Now, anyone who was following the action leading up to the season openers probably could have read the tea leaves and known fan response would be strong, but for me, personally, as I sat down on my couch last night and watched the Devils thump the Flyers on national TV while I watched the Blackhawks pick up a big division win against St. Louis on my iPad, all I could think was one thing.

"Holy crap, I missed this."

Now, I probably watch more hockey than most of you so perhaps I was simply going through withdrawal since my addiction wasn't being fed, but watching a game you love when you've gone longer than expected without seeing it is a hell of a lot of fun. And so far, it's been a hell of a lot of fun. Granted, I may simply be feeling that way because the Devils are 2-0-0 while the Rangers and Flyers are both winless with five games played between them, but how could I not be enthused when Ilya Kovalchuk is potting penalty shots or making beautiful saucer passes like this one?

Hallelujah, hockey is back! Oh and there's football.

As I watched the puck drop between the Devils and Islanders last night to start the long-awaited NHL season I realized just how much I missed watching my team and watching hockey in general. In many ways, it was a bit of a cathartic day and my only regret was that I wasn't back in the office like I have been in years past to absorb as much of it as I possible could.

I needn't fear though. In the crazy, hectic 48-game shortened schedule there will be plenty of hockey to watch in the 99 days that will compose the NHL regular season, and I for one, really can't wait to be distracted by it on a nightly basis. In fact, despite being on about five hours of sleep right now, I just may stay up late watching the Blackhawks visit Phoenix tonight because, well, I missed it all that much.

I could expound upon this a little more, but I'm short for time and I pretty much laid out how I think this season will pan out in some extensive detail here. You can read up on it if you're so inclined.

In the meantime, though, I'm content to just sit back and watch the puck drop. Oh, and watch some football. I suppose I should get into that since there are some sort of kind of big games today. Here's how I'm expecting them to go, and it is only slightly biased by my own hopes toward the outcome.

AFC Championship Game
(4) Baltimore over (2) NEW ENGLAND

NFC Championship Game
(1) ATLANTA over (2) San Francisco

Enjoy the football, and welcome back to hockey season, everyone.