Yesterday, we took a look at the five ACC teams who should reach the NCAA Tournament. Among the other seven, Georgia Tech and Virginia are headed for certain disaster, on the scale of Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes. That leaves five others who will be in the hunt for NIT berths. The most interesting of that quintet, of course, is North Carolina. They are talented but inexperienced, and I'm bracing myself (i.e., stocking up on rum) for a roller-coaster season in which every invigorating win is offset by a frustrating setback. That's why the Tar Heels are ...

The Wild Card

North Carolina: You can't watch a UNC game without hearing this stat: The Tar Heels lost their top seven scorers, accounting for 81.4 ppg, and their top returning scorer averaged 3.9 ppg last season. But David Noel is a great athlete who has turned into a pretty good basketball player, and he's embracing his role as the team's senior leader. His 3-pointer gave Carolina a dramatic win over Gardner-Webb and quite possibly prevented me from jumping out a window.

Meanwhile, Reyshawn Terry spent the past two seasons as a reserve, but with Rashad McCants gone, the 6-8 wing finally has a chance to star. Terry's numbers from now on will bear no resemblance to his sophomore season stats (2.3 ppg in 4.5 mpg).

As for the newcomers ... well, they had me at hello. The three freshmen who started during the infamous 8-20 season were deer in headlights. The three freshmen who are starting now, and one who's coming off the bench, are far savvier. Tyler Hansbrough is living up to the hype and is an absolute beast in the middle. Bobby Frasor already has a clear edge over Quentin Thomas at point guard. Marcus Ginyard and Danny Green are tough, heady and fundamentally sound.

So what does it all add up to? I predict that the Heels will be 14-13 (7-9 ACC) heading into the ACC Tournament and then enter the NIT at 15-14 or 14-14.

And next season, when one of the greatest recruiting classes in college basketball history arrives in Chapel Hill, they'll win another national championship.

For now, my main hope is to beat Clemson. Yes, Clemson. The Tigers have never, ever won in Chapel Hill. They're 0-51 all-time, and I'd like to keep that going, as it's the last of the legendary streaks (20-win seasons, NCAA berths, etc.) still alive after the 8-20 season. But a win over Duke would be awfully nice, too.

Yes, they do play basketball

Miami/Virginia Tech: I'm combining these two because, frankly, who cares? Sure, they have legions of fans ... in football. Have you ever met anybody whose favorite team is the 'Canes or Hokies in hoops? I didn't think so.

The Hurricanes have a nasty backcourt combo in Guillermo Diaz (18.6 ppg) and Robert Hite (17.3 ppg), but assists leader Anthony Harris has been sidelined by a foot injury. The media put Diaz on the preseason All-ACC team, and without any dependable scorers in the frontcourt, Miami will need him to put up some gaudy numbers. He didn't do that against Temple -- going 1-for-10 from the field -- and the 'Canes got hammered. That's pretty much how I expect Miami's season to go. If Diaz is hot, they can play with the upper-tier ACC teams. If not, they'll lose -- but no one in South Florida will notice either way.

Virginia Tech's Seth Greenberg is the reigning ACC coach of the year; the Hokies went 8-8 in the conference after being picked by many to finish last. This season, guard Zabian Dowdell, forward Coleman Collins and swingman Deron Washington lead a balanced attack. But the Hokies are off to a rough start; starting small forward Wynton Witherspoon fractured a bone in his left foot and center Robert Krabbendam had surgery on his left knee. Then they lost to Bowling Green when freshman A.D. Vassallo tipped the ball into the wrong basket at the buzzer. Well, things can only get better.

In summary, I can't imagine why I would watch a Miami or Virginia Tech game unless they're playing UNC, or leading against Duke late in the second half, or I'm being forced to do so at gunpoint. So let's move on.

Clemson: If the NCAA and ACC came to Clemson and said, "From now on, you can't award any scholarships in basketball, but we'll let you have three extra scholarships in football," I honestly think their fans would jump all over it.

(In fairness, if UNC could have the opposite deal -- no football, but a couple of extra basketball scholarships -- I'd be OK with that.)

Oliver Purnell, now in his third season, rolled the dice by taking the Clemson job. Littlejohn Coliseum is a dump, no one really cares about the team unless Duke or Carolina is in town, the program has squat in terms of tradition and there are more than a few perennial powerhouses ready to beat the Tigers' brains in, year after year. Sure, you're coaching in the ACC, but that's like one of your boys saying, "Hey, guess what -- I'm dating an exotic dancer! I mean, a Chippendale, but still ..."

(Not that there's anything wrong with that.)

That said, the program does seem to be heading in the right direction. The Tigers are coming off a 16-16 campaign that included an NIT berth, and they will try to replace center Sharrod Ford -- who led the team in scoring, rebounding and blocks -- with the committee of Akin Akingbala, Steve Allen and James Mays. I probably have the Tigers a couple of spots too low, especially if streaky shooter Shawan Robinson becomes more consistent, but they're still a year or two away from being NCAA Tournament contenders. That's when Purnell can follow the Rick Barnes path to a better gig, and Clemson's program goes back to square one.

Florida State: Hey, Seminole fans! Bummed out about going 7-4 in football? Well, I have good news! I just saved a bunch of money on car insurance!

FSU currently has 11 players averaging more than 10 minutes per game. If Leonard Hamilton can settle on an eight- or nine-man rotation, maybe the Seminoles won't be quite as schizophrenic as last season, when they beat Florida, Wake Forest and N.C. State but lost to Texas A&M-Corpus Christi, Kent State and Florida International.

Leading scorer Von Wafer turned pro early, so FSU's strength shifts to the frontcourt, where small forward Al Thornton will shoulder the scoring load. Alexander Johnson has the talent to dominate in the paint and should shake off last season's sophomore slump. Diego Romero is an inside-outside threat who has overcome the tendonitis that hampered him as a junior. Newcomers Uche Echefu and Casaan Breeden will see immediate action, and Ryan Reid will enroll in January.

In the backcourt, senior point guard Todd Galloway mentors highly touted sophomores Isaiah Swann, Jason Rich and Ralph Mims. If Swann starts living up to his billing as a deadly perimeter threat, maybe the Seminoles can be the ACC's surprise team and, at least for a moment, take their fans' minds off their impending trip to the Champs Sports Bowl.

Down but not out

Georgia Tech: Jarrett Jack, B.J. Elder, Luke Schenscher, Isma'il Muhammad and Will Bynum are gone. Ouch. If I were a Tech student, that would hurt almost as much as the school's 2-to-1 male-to-female ratio.

(How severe is the shortage of women at Georgia Tech? Check out their Wellness Center's website and see if anything jumps out at you. Funny, I always thought of Chicago as the home of the blues - apparently, it's Atlanta.)

Anyway, Paul Hewitt says his current roster had more talent than the team that went to the Final Four, and his youngsters do show a great deal of promise. Ra'Sean Dickey should develop into a reliable scorer in the paint, wing Anthony Morrow is a former Mr. Basketball in North Carolina, forward Jeremis Smith would have contributed last year had he not suffered a dislocated kneecap and shooting guard Lewis Clinch was a scoring machine in high school.

The problem -- like at Wake Forest, UNC and Maryland -- is at point guard. Zam Fredrick, who had six assists and 12 turnovers in the season's first three games, will never be mentioned in the same breath as Mark Price, Kenny Anderson or Stephon Marbury.

After being soundly beaten by Illinois-Chicago, it's clear that the Yellow Jackets are in trouble. They'll be back with a vengeance next season, when signees Javaris Crittenton and Thaddeus Young are on campus. Crittenton is rated by one scouting service as the nation's top prep point guard and No. 7 player overall, while Young is rated as the No. 2 small forward and No. 3 player overall.

Virginia: New coach Dave Leitao has brought a much-needed dose of intensity and discipline to Charlottesville. He replaces Pete Gillen, who has presumably returned to his old gig as the frosted Lucky Charms leprechaun.

The program Gillen left behind is anything but magically delicious, and Leitao will take his lumps until he can bring his own recruits in. Virginia's top two scorers and rebounders are gone, and the program was also stung by swingman Gary Forbes' transfer. Guard Sean Singletary returns alongside the erratic J.R. Reynolds, but T.J. Bannister's hernia leaves the team with just seven scholarship players.

Bottom line, the Cavs can't score consistently from the perimeter, and they're not even trying to get the ball inside. The inexperienced trio of Laurynas Mikalauskas, Mamadi Diane and Tunji Soroye combined for four points on 1-of-9 shooting in 85 combined minutes during an 81-51 loss to Arizona.

The future is bright, though. Next season, the Cavs will move into a new 15,000 seat arena named after John Paul Jones, which should ease his pain over being left out of the big Robert Plant/Jimmy Page reunion. I'd like to suggest The Who's John Entwistle or Aerosmith's Tom Hamilton as the next bassists to be so honored.

College basketball is back, and as Dookie ... er, Dickie V will gladly tell you, it's a special time of year. In fact, during the Duke-Memphis game, Vitale said about 50 different things were special. The Blue Devils' narrow win is special. J.J. Redick is special. Coach K is special. The freshmen are special. Even Lee friggin' Melchionni is special.

How can everything either be special (like all things Duke) or utterly tragic (like underclassmen turning pro) in Vitale's mind? Is there anything that makes him shrug and say, "I dunno. I guess it's OK"?

Take, for example, ACC expansion. Although it's not the sacrilege I initially feared, I'll never be thrilled about having Miami, Virginia Tech and -- starting this season -- Boston College in the league, largely because they've screwed up the ACC basketball schedule.

The traditional round-robin was ... well, special. Every team played every other team, home and away. Now every team has two "primary partners" that it plays home and away, plus nine "rotating partners," three of which are played home and away, three played just at home and three played just on the road.

Got that? I may have missed the step where you divide by pi or calculate the coefficient of sliding friction, but the bottom line is that some teams' 16-game schedules will be easier than others. This season, Clemson doesn't have to visit Duke, N.C. State or Maryland. On the other end of the spectrum, Georgia Tech has to play Duke once plus Boston College, Wake Forest, N.C. State and Maryland twice.

Then again, not only is the ACC Tournament not screwed up, it's more of a basketball orgy than ever. When I was a kid, my favorite day of the year wasn't Christmas or my birthday; it was Friday during the ACC Tournament, when four quarterfinal games were played. Under the new ACC Tournament format, there will be a four-game opening round on Thursday before the quarterfinals on Friday.

If I were still 12 years old and living 30 miles from the closest movie theater or mall, this would have been completely overwhelming. Remember when Beavis would have a seizure and turn into "The Great Cornholio"? It would have been a lot like that.

Except maybe this year. Obviously, the tournament is more fun when your team is actually in it, and my Tar Heels might be due for a short stay after losing pretty much every contributor from last season's national championship squad. Get ready for even more shameless fawning from Dickie V, because the best team in the ACC this season is ...

Duke: I would never be so crass as to assemble an ACC All-Ugly team for the past, say, 15 years. But I might consider an ACC All-Aesthetically Challenged team for that period, and the starters would be Duke's Greg Newton, FSU's Sam Cassell, N.C. State's Jeremy Hyatt, UNC's Kris Lang and team captain Shelden Williams, who some believe bears a striking resemblance to Ken Griffey Jr.'s character in the "Homer at the Bat" episode of The Simpsons.

As for the Blue Devils' other All-America candidate, J.J. Redick entered this season as a career .399 shooter on 3-pointers. Can you believe that? The way Dickie V and Mike Patrick rave about him, you'd think he was .999 shooter. It's unlikely that Redick will finish his career as the most detested Dookie ever, as Christian Laettner set the bar awfully high. But if Redick goes on national TV and reads his ridiculous poetry again, all bets are off.

The bottom line is that Duke's the favorite to win another ACC title, although there are some concerns: 1) The Blue Devils need to a third scoring option to emerge; 2) DeMarcus Nelson is out 6-8 weeks with a fractured ankle; and 3) freshman point guard Greg Paulus doesn't appear to be quite the phenom that many expected.

Maybe I'm reading too much into a tougher-than-expected win over Drexel, but my opinion is that Duke is not a great team -- just the best team in a mediocre season for the ACC.

Contenders ...

Boston College: If you would have told me in 1994 that Boston College would be entering the ACC, I would have said, "Yeah, right after the Red Sox win the World Series." And yet they're here, and they're ready to make some noise.

Senior forward Craig Smith, a preseason AP All-America pick, leads four starters who return from last year's 25-5 team. Forward Jared Dudley was a first-team All-Big East honoree last season, Louis Hinnant is in his fourth year of starting at the point and swingman Sean Marshall is off to a fast start. If BC has a problem -- other than the curse that I placed on the program 11 years ago -- it's a lack of depth that's accentuated by the absence of center Sean Williams, who is suspended for the first semester following his marijuana arrest.

I've never quoted that idiot Larry the Cable Guy before, but this is the best advice I can offer to BC as it prepares for a culture shock: GIT-R-DONE! As in, march into Greensboro, punch the rest of the conference in the mouth and cut down those nets. Otherwise, you might not have another chance until Coach K and Roy Williams retire.

Maryland: The Terps almost certainly won't win the ACC, but for the umpteenth consecutive year, their fans will lead the league in obnoxiousness, obscenities and senseless acts of hooliganism. And it's not just drunken 18-year-olds. Turtle-mania has a way of turning (alleged) adults into common thugs.

For example, while taking a well-deserved break from outing CIA agents, Bob Novak got into a fight en route to watch the Terps play in the Maui Invitational. As the Washington Post reported:

... Novak was boarding an American flight to Chicago when he cut in front of another passenger while entering first class. The guy protested and laid a hand on Novak -- who responded by socking him and threatening to knock his teeth out.

I can't tell you how much I wish the other passenger had been me. Just thinking about beating that treasonous hack senseless -- in self-defense, of course -- gets me so excited, I need a cold shower.

But I digress. The Terps should be hungry after missing the NCAA Tournament for the first time in 12 years. They welcome four starters back, and the one they lost is a textbook case of addition by subtraction. Malcontent John Gilchrist is replaced at point guard by D.J. Strawberry, who has been shaky so far (13 assists, nine turnovers) after making the switch from small forward. He's surrounded by a veteran cast, headed by seniors Nik Caner-Medley and Chris McCray.

When I look at the Terps' top seven guys (or eight, if they can get something out of 7-1 Will Bowers), I'm surprised that they were picked fifth in the preseason ACC media poll. They'll be a lot better than that if Strawberry settles down, and I think he will. As we know, the name "Strawberry" is synonymous with stability and good decision-making.

N.C. State: Losing Gilchrist will clearly improve the Terps' team chemistry. I wouldn't say that losing Julius Hodge will be as good for the 'Pack. But that argument has been made several times over the past few years that my longtime associate Iron Mike, an N.C. State alumnus.

Here's what Gregg Doyel wrote a few days ago after watching N.C. State stifle Notre Dame:

Before Julius Hodge arrived in 2001, the Wolfpack hadn't been to the NCAA Tournament in a decade. With Hodge, N.C. State broke that streak and started a new one, going to four straight NCAA Tournaments. Expect that streak to hit five this season. ... N.C. State has a broad veteran base. Ilian Evtimov and Tony Bethel are fifth-year seniors, Cameron Bennerman is another senior, Engin Atsur is a junior and sophomores Andrew Brackman, Gavin Grant and Cedric Simmons combined for 20 starts last season.

As Gregg points out, "Hodge was a rare player -- one of three in ACC history with 2,000 points, 700 rebounds, 400 assists and 150 steals." That's true -- but he was also quite possibly insane, by the cliché that defines insanity as repeating the same actions and expecting different results. Sure, Hodge got the 'Pack into the Big Dance, but you knew they'd only go so far because aside from becoming somewhat stronger, he had the same glaring weaknesses as a senior that he had as a freshman.

For example, Hodge never altered that ridiculous chicken-wing jump shot. He hit .361 of his 3-point attempts as a junior and then .255 as a senior. Herb Sendek must have said, "Seriously, Jules, tuck in that elbow." The fact that he wouldn't listen -- if not for the good of the team, then at least to improve his own pro prospects -- pretty much sums up why the Wuffies may be better off without him. Now they can be an actual team rather than Hodge and the four other guys who happen to be on the court.

... And one pretender

Wake Forest: I officially do not understand why the ACC media picked the Deacs to finish third. Chris Paul is gone, and while Justin Gray is a fine shooting guard, he's completely lost at the point. Gray had 27 turnovers and just 12 assists against George Mason, Florida and Texas Tech. Sweet monkey pie!

With Taron Downey, Jamaal Levy and Vytas Danelius also gone, Wake Forest will lean on senior swingman Trent Strickland, who is poised for a breakthrough season, and center Eric Williams, who's a beast in the middle -- when he's not in foul trouble.

Skip Prosser is a fine coach (even though he couldn't coax any defense out of last year's team), but he has his hands full this season. In fact, I think he'll be fighting an uphill battle for the foreseeable future, as Coach K and Roy Williams continue to cherry-pick the nation's top recruits.

I'll put it this way: There was a time when I liked the Pittsburgh Pirates. Then after Bonds and Bonilla left and it was clear that the Bucs couldn't compete with major-market teams, I said, "You know what? To hell with this." Similarly, Tim Duncan and Chris Paul have come and gone, and there were no Final Fours to show for it. If I were one of those tie-dye-wearing kids in Lawrence Joel Coliseum, I'd have to wonder whether cheering for Wake Forest is worth the lifetime of frustration.

I do, however, believe that Wake Forest will be the ACC's fifth team in the NCAA Tournament. Enjoy the Big Ten-ACC Challenge tonight, and be sure to come back Wednesday as I try to contain my optimism about the Tar Heels.

Happy Thanksgiving -- especially to Cynthia and J. Darin Darst, who graciously prepared a feast for the folks in the newsroom. We enjoyed it tremendously -- especially the chocolate/peanut butter bars, which are both delicious and nutritious because peanut butter is packed with protein ... right?

We're all stuffed and on the verge of lapsing into blissful tryptophan-induced comas, but there are still plenty of leftovers. The only way this turkey is getting finished is if we put in a call to our esteemed colleague Brian Flood. I envision him swooping into the newsroom, wearing a tux and barking out orders like The Wolf in Pulp Fiction:

If I'm curt with you, it's because time is a factor here. I think fast, I talk fast, and I need you guys to act fast if you want to get out of this. So, pretty please, with sugar on top, eat the #%@! turkey.

As you'd expect, it was a pretty slow news day. My favorite story was about the possible retirement of Doug Christie, which would allow him to focus all of his time and energy on being hopelessly whipped.

(By the way, if you google "Doug Christie" and "whipped," you get 53,500 results. "Doug Christie" and "pathetic" brings up 33,100 results, while "Doug Christie" and "eunuch" gives you 26,300 results. Surprisingly, "Doug Christie" and "neutered" yields just 479 results.)

I'd also be remiss if I failed to point out this quote by Denver defensive end Trevor Pryce at the end of Pete Prisco's column:

"The sun shines up a dog's ass sometimes," Pryce said. "Today, we're the dog's ass."

Had the Broncos blown it against the Cowboys, I might have agreed with Pryce. But since they pulled it out in overtime -- and since I got both of today's games right in our office pool -- I'm feeling considerably more charitable.

I still haven't won an individual week in the pool (not even the time I went 13-1). But for the season, I'm tied for fourth place among 61 entrants, just three games back -- although I'm still kicking myself for picking my Steelers to win at Baltimore last week. Tommy Maddox? You guessed it -- he's dead to me. As I wrote to my associate Abe, from now on I'll pick against Maddox no matter who he's facing -- whether it's the 49ers, or a powder puff team, or even Duke.

I can't fully explain why I had any faith in Maddox after he spectacularly botched the Jacksonville game earlier this season, but it won't happen again. As our eloquent Commander in Chief once mused, "There's an old saying in Tennessee -- I know it's in Texas, probably in Tennessee -- that says, fool me once ... shame on ... shame on you. You fool me, you can't get fooled again!"

Now I need to get out of here before I eat more of those peanut butter bars. Twelve is my limit. On behalf of the newsroom crew, thanks again to the Darsts!

On to the night note ...

Home: Prisco on Broncos 24, Cowboys 21 OT
Mini: Dodd's Weekend Watch List
Mini: Prisco's Notebook
Promo Box: Miller on Dodgers

NFL: Falcons 27, Lions 7
Mini: Prisco on Broncos 24, Cowboys 21 OT
Mini: Prisco's Notebook

NCAA football: Dodd's Weekend Watch List
Mini: Dodd on Dusty Dvoracek

NBA: Mejia's reasons to be thankful / Pacers top Cavs

NHL: Predators 4, Kings 3

NCAA hoops: Doyel on Kevin Bookout
Mini: Doyel on Westphal and Fitzsimmons

MLB: Miller on Dodgers
Mini: Miller on Delgado/Thome trades

BANKED

Mini: Doyel on Kevin Bookout (9061348)

NEWSROOM

Judge's Peek at the Week

Anyone who has read my blog over the past few months is well aware -- painfully well aware -- that I am a UNC alumnus and rabid Tar Heel fan. I only mention this for the benefit of anyone who may have accidentally clicked on this page, which is probably the case for most of you.

However, since I moved to South Florida (motto: So Many Hurricanes, We Ran Out of Names), I've felt like I should pick a side in the state's football rivalries. I'm not doing this because being a UNC football fan is like trying to knock down a brick wall by repeatedly banging your head against it. And I'm not jumping on any bandwagons, since this season has been a disappointment for all three of the state's traditional powerhouses.

No, I just want to have some semblance of a rooting interest when I'm in a bar and two of the Sunshine State schools are squaring off. With all due respect to my longtime associate B-Moore, who works at UCF, I'm leaving the Golden Knights out of the equation for now, simply because I don't have the patience to adopt an emerging program. Ditto for South Florida.

Let's start off by taking a look at Florida:

Fun facts: Maybe you didn't catch this the first 800,000 times you saw that Keith Jackson commercial ... Did you know Gatorade was created in a UF lab? It's true! If you don't believe me, wait until the ad airs again, which should be right about .... now. Anyway, it is now sold in 31 flavors. Much to my esteemed colleague Brian Flood's chagrin, "duck sauce" is not among them.

Here's another bit of trivia from UF's alumni website: By substituting composted manure for peat in potting materials, UF agricultural engineers found a cheap and safe use for the tons of manure produced by Florida's dairy farms. OK, that's great, but did they have to make the manure thing No. 2 on the list of why "It's great to be a Florida Gator?"

Fans: I'm naturally goofy-looking. I don't need to make matters worse by doing the Gator Chomp. The Chomp proves one thing: not everything is intimidating just because 80,000 people do it. Would it intimidate anyone if Gamecock fans all did the chicken dance? Probably not -- but on the other hand, it would definitely create a distraction.

First thing that springs to mind: Sure, it's a football school. But Florida beat UNC in the 2000 Final Four. Not cool.

As far as football goes, if Steve Spurrier were still there, at least they'd be fun to watch. Instead, they have Urban Meyer, who should be very successful over the long haul. But for now, he's best known for weeping like a schoolgirl after the Gators' loss to LSU. I overlook Roy Williams' postgame tears because ... well, he's Roy Williams. Urban Meyer does not get the same benefit of the doubt from me. For now, he's the coaching equivalent of Kordell Stewart.

Quotable: Spurrier once tweaked Tennessee by saying, "You can't spell 'Citrus' without UT." He also said FSU stands for "Free Shoes University." Two great one-liners, solidifying his status as college football's answer to Don Rickles.

Most notable alumnus: Spurrier, who once coached at Duke. I hate Duke. Not a big fan of the Ol' Ball Coach, either.

Others who attended UF include Jonathan Demme, Faye Dunaway, Buddy Ebsen, Mel Tillis, Dwayne Schintzius, a murderer's row of failed NFL quarterbacks headed by Jesse The Bachelor Palmer, Darrell Hammond, Joe Scarborough, Emmitt Smith, David Eckstein, Jevon Kearse, Mike Miller, Stephen Stills, Terence Trent D'Arby, Bob Vila, Stephen Root (aka Milton in Office Space) and -- of course -- Gregg Doyel. I'm a fan of five of those people. (Yes, Gregg is one of them.)

Also, isn't Matchbox 20 from Gainesville? I might be making that up. But if it's true, it's the last straw. You know what? Even if it's not true, the Gators already have too many strikes against them.

Bottom line: The Gators are dead to me -- and you pretty much knew it when I mentioned Dwayne Schintzius, didn't you?

Let's move on to Florida State:

Fun facts: Until 1947, the school was known as Florida State College for Women. Coincidentally, I'm also for women. Speaking of which, if you've been to a college football message board lately -- and I don't just mean Seminole boards, I mean virtually any team's board -- you've probably seen the pictures that are floating around of those FSU girls. Sweet monkey pie!

But I digress. Today, FSU proudly boasts a student circus, and the school is affiliated with the Ringling Museum. I never liked circuses. Also, you can major in Professional Golf Management at FSU. Seriously.

Fans: FSU fans are adamant that the war chant and chop are respectful tributes to the Seminole tribe. Others say it's stereotypical hooting and hollering that doesn't advance the understanding of Native American culture in any meaningful way. For what it's worth, the NCAA cited the "unique relationship between the university and the Seminole Tribe of Florida" in removing "Seminoles" from its banned symbols list. Since I get my paycheck from the company that will pay an average of $545 million per year for NCAA Tournament broadcasting rights through 2013, I'm going to trust the solid judgment of our partners at the NCAA on this one (and, once again, encourage everyone to continue tuning in to America's Most Watched Network).

First thing that comes to mind: The last event I covered when I managed the ACC's official website was the 2000 Sugar Bowl, when FSU beat Virginia Tech for the national championship. It was easily one of the most memorable weeks of my life -- at least, the bits and pieces that I can actually remember. Sebastian Janikowski probably feels the same way. To no one's surprise, Seabass missed curfew on New Year's Eve. Bobby Bowden's reaction? His star kicker would play "as long as he's living and breathing" -- which, after a week in the French Quarter, wasn't a sure thing. When asked if Janikowski appeared to be receiving preferential treatment, Bowden said, "Does it appear to be? It does to me." I like the fact that Bowden didn't waste anybody's time by pretending otherwise.

The other thing I think about is former FSU guard Sam Cassell saying this about the fans in the Dean Dome: 'It's more like a cheese-and-wine crowd, kind of laid back." Not because he was wrong, but because the "wine-and-cheese" label has stuck ever since.

Quotable: "It's not like I killed the president," said Peter Warrick. He and Laveranues Coles were charged with theft after a department store clerk let them pay $21.40 for more than $400 worth of clothes. The scandal probably cost Warrick the Heisman Trophy, but he returned to play in the national championship game. Coles, on the other hand, was given Das Boot from the program because he was already on probation for prior transgressions. This was the best thing that ever happened to Coles, who channeled all of his bitterness and became a pretty decent receiver in the NFL. Warrick has six catches for 106 yards this season and hasn't scored a touchdown since 2003 -- the same year Coles received a seven-year, $35 million contract that included a $13 million signing bonus.

Most notable alumnus: Mr. Burt Reynolds. It doesn't get much cooler than The Bandit. By the way, I refuse to believe the recent rumors linking him with Martha Stewart. I can't imagine that the same guy who was with Loni Anderson in her prime would now be with Martha Stewart. Maybe I'd buy it if he were the one who just got out of prison, or if he really needed the money. Otherwise, there's no way he's that desperate.

Ron Simmons -- the All-American football player and pro wrestler -- is an alumnus. But so is Richard Simmons. Ouch.

Other folks who attended FSU: Fred Biletnikoff, Derrick Brooks, Mary Carey (porn star who ran for governor of California), Warrick Dunn, Lee Corso, Tony La Russa, Jim Morrison (yes, THAT Jim Morrison), Gabrielle Reece, Deion Sanders, Scott Stapp (of Creed), Hunter S. Thompson, Charlie Ward and Robert Urich. Take those two humongous clowns Corso and Stapp out of there, and that's an impressive group.

Oh yes, lest we forget -- O.J. Jackson, the subject of my first-ever blog entry and the man who redefined media guide headshots as we know them.

Bottom line: FSU has set the bar pretty high. I've enjoyed every trip I've ever taken to Tallahassee. Still, the presence of Corso, Simmons and Stapp gives me pause.

So, the door is open for Miami -- or as locals call it, "The U."

Fun facts: The university president is Donna Shalala, who was the longest-serving Secretary of Health and Human Services in U.S. history. She did a heckuva job at the helm of a federal agency, despite the glaring lack of Arabian horse judging experience on her resume. Also, I really like saying "Shalala."

In terms of athletics, Miami is arguably the most successful college football program of the past 25 years, having won five national championships (and being hosed out of a sixth). It holds the record for the most players selected in the first round of the NFL Draft, plus the most first round draft picks in a two-year period and the most in a three-year period.

Also, Florida State isn't the only program whose nickname has come under fire; to a lesser extent, the use of "Hurricanes" is controversial. From UM's website:

From time to time, opposition has arisen to the name that would "reinforce Miami's negative reputation as a weather-beaten community living constantly under the threat of destruction." But as one UM official rationalized in the 60's, "Does anyone think Chicago is overrun by bears just because the town has a football team by that name?"

Touche. I think the constant threat of destruction adds excitement to life, which is why if I ever leave South Florida, I'll build my next house directly atop a volcano.

Fans: When you think of the Lakers, you think of Jack Nicholson. When you think of the Hurricanes, it's Luther Campbell, the 2 Live Crew front man who would hand out cash bounties for big plays, back in the good ol' days of camouflage and unapologetic thuggery. Since Mr. Skyywalker has been banned from the sidelines, is it fair to say Trick Daddy is the program's most famous fan? Edgerrin James was featured in the video for Shut Up, and I'm told that Trick Daddy's songs are big on gameday. I'm told this because I wouldn't know firsthand; like most Miami fans, I don't actually go to games.

First thing that comes to mind: Connor Barth's 42-yard field goal as time expired, giving UNC a 31-28 win over No. 4 Miami last season. This is almost certainly the only time the Tar Heels will beat the Hurricanes in my lifetime. And still, when Miami beat us this season, my longtime associate (and devout 'Canes fan) Chris Bello sent me an email to bust my chops. Unbelievable. Imagine if the Washington Generals had fans; do you think they'd get mocked after every loss to the Globetrotters? Despite this, I recommend Bello's site for the latest analysis on the 'Canes, or to shop for Miami gear.

Quotable: "It's war, they're out there to kill you, so I'm out there to kill them! We don't care about anybody but this U! They're going after my legs! I'm going to come right back at them! I'm a #%$@ soldier!!!" -- Kellen Winslow.

Most notable alumnus: Oh, nobody important, just a guy by the name of SYLVESTER STALLONE!!! That's right. Sly briefly attended The U, but dropped out to move to New York and pursue his acting dream (thank God). He went on to revolutionize American pop culture by knocking out Mr. T and then single-handedly ending the Cold War.

Others who attended The U include Gloria Estefan, Enrique Iglesias, Dwayne Johnson (aka "The Rock" -- who once threatened to kill San Diego State's mascot as he chased it into the stands), Ray Liotta, Charles Grodin, Grace Slick, Rick Barry, Michael Irvin, Edgerrin James, Jim Kelly, Ray Lewis, Greg Louganis, Lex Luger, Willis McGahee, Jim Otto, Clinton Portis, Ed Reed, Warren Sapp, Jeremy Shockey, Vinny Testaverde, Drew Rosenhaus and the immortal Trista Rehn of The Bachelorette. I think she ended up marrying one of those reality show stiffs, no? That's OK, it won't last -- it's just a matter of time until she's Trista Rehn-Rehm.

Bottom line: I was already leaning toward picking Miami ... then the 7th Floor Crew came along and removed all doubt.

As you surely know, several Miami players (referring to themselves as the "7th Floor Crew") recorded a rap song a couple of years ago, and it recently started making the rounds on the Internet. Athletics director Paul Dee describes the lyrics of the song as "unfortunate, inappropriate and demeaning." He went on to say, "Any students whose voices can be identified will be subject to appropriate discipline and/or counseling." Counseling? What they need is a recording contract.

You know this song brought a tear to Luther Campbell's eye. If he doesn't sign these guys, it will only be because he got outbid by Trick Daddy in the aftermath of the song's booming popularity. There are already a few tribute sites, which I can't endorse strongly enough. Some bright entrepreneur has even started selling T-shirts, which are the perfect stocking stuffer.

A couple of months ago, my longtime associate Iron Mike sent me a link to Tavares Gooden's bio, saying that his headshot rivals O.J. Jackson's. So you can imagine our glee when we heard Gooden (aka T-Good) doing the second verse. To be honest, I'm probably a better rapper than Tavares Gooden, but he's the face of the group. Kind of like Gwen Stefani, but completely untalented. Come to think of it, that makes him a lot like Gwen Stefani.

Overall, Dee is entirely correct in saying that the song is unfortunate, inappropriate and demeaning. It's also absolutely fantastic and should immediately become the new school fight song.

So there you have it. My Sunshine State team is officially the Hurricanes. And if Sly Stallone, Luther Campbell, Trick Daddy or -- most especially -- sweet Trista Rehn would like to get together, I'm ready to hang out on the 7th Floor whenever they are.

You know how I hate Dickie V? How I believe that he is quite possibly Satan's spawn, and should be classified as part of the Axis of Evil? That's how my dad feels about Brent Musburger. And as usual, my old man has a point.

Take today's Ohio State - Michigan game. The Buckeyes were driving for the game-winning score. When they got inside the Wolverines' 5-yard line, Musburger suggested that Michigan should just let OSU score so they could get the ball back. This was, of course, insane. With 29 seconds left, Michigan was better off trying to stop OSU and then hope for a bad snap or a botched hold or a shanked kick or a miracle block -- any of the myriad things that could go wrong on a pressure-packed, last-second field goal attempt.

The Buckeyes rendered this point moot by scoring a touchdown to go up 25-21. Then they lined up to go for two, which should make complete sense to anyone who has ever watched a football game. And yet Musberger chimed in with, "Now, help me out here. What's the difference between five and six points?"

If I were Gary Danielson, I would have started my response with, "Well, in football, there's this thing called a 'touchdown' ..."

The Buckeyes needed an extra point like Stevie Wonder needs binoculars. Regardless of whether you're up four or five with 24 seconds left, if your opponent returns the kickoff for a touchdown, you lose. At least if you're up six, your opponent has to get the TD and the extra point.

The odds of Michigan getting a miracle TD in the final 24 seconds but botching the extra point were slim, but one PAT had already been missed in the game. So OSU had nothing to lose and at least something small to gain by going for two. You would think that Musburger -- who has tormented my dad from the broadcast booth for three decades -- would know this.

Within the newsroom, Salinas was as mystified as I was. Rory suggested that Musburger may have been giving Danielson an opportunity to do some commentary. But I think The Reverend summed it up best:

"He's just a jerky, daddy."

Mmmmmm ... jerky.

On another note, my Tar Heels began their title defense tonight. Well, maybe a more accurate way of saying it is, "They tipped off the season that follows their latest national championship." Call me crazy, but I don't think they'll be repeating as champs. That's OK -- I plan on spending this entire season in afterglow (I know, I know -- ewwwww! ).

UNC started three freshmen tonight and needed David Noel's 3-pointer with 1.8 seconds left to beat mighty Gardner-Webb 83-80. The game wasn't on TV, but I hear that the ball bounced a few times on the rim before finally falling through. That's quite a shooter's touch for a guy who averaged 3.9 ppg last year. And he's our top returning scorer. Good times, good times.

Anyway, I'll take the win, and now I'm taking off. On to the night note:

Technical issues:

Sesame was slow for a brief period (ticket 184945), but the problem was rectified quickly.

College football videos weren't working. Johnny sent an email about it.

Home: Dodd on Penn State's win over Michigan State
Mini: Georgia wins SEC East, LSU atop West
Mini: Carl Edwards on the pole at Homestead
Promo Box: Judge's Peek at the Week

NBA: Mavs 119, Pistons 82

NHL: Flyers 6, Penguins 3

NCAA Football: Dodd on Penn State's win over Michigan State
Mini: Georgia wins SEC East, LSU atop West

NCAA Basketball: Doyel on Cincinnati's Andy Edwards
Mini: Doyel on Kentucky's defense

Autos: Card Edwards on the pole at Homestead

Tennis: Roger Federer advances to Masters Cup final

BANKED

Mini: Doyel on Cincinnati's Andy Edwards (9852821)

The origin of the word "fan" is unclear; it may or may not have stemmed from "fanatic." But as a fan of the Tar Heels, I've done some things that could be considered fanatical, both in victory and in defeat. Blue paint has been sprayed, furniture has been set ablaze. Last football season, I even told my longtime associate Iron Mike that I'd get a UNC tattoo if the Heels beat N.C. State. He graciously let me off the hook when Carolina pulled out an improbable (and highly controversial) victory. Still, I did vow to mutilate myself based on the outcome of a game.

But not like this. This guy is just nuts. (OK, poor choice of words ...)

I'm all for keeping promises, but not when being a man of your word requires you to become a eunuch of your word. I don't care how excited you are about your rugby team's big win; there's no good reason to ever utter the phrase, "So I started hacking away at my tackle."

In case you didn't click on the link -- or if you became violently ill before reaching the end of the article -- the final line is, "I can't have kids now but still want a family -- maybe I'll adopt."

I don't know much about the adoption process, but I assume that castrating oneself with wire cutters would be considered a strike against any applicant.

Speaking of intolerable agony, Dickie V is back, causing millions of college basketball fans to reflexively hit the mute button and/or search for sharp objects to jam into their ears. No lie, the first comment I heard him make tonight was, "You look at Duke, and they're loaded, baby!" This was at the start of the Wake Forest vs. Florida broadcast ... so naturally he was babbling about the Blue Devils instead of, you know, either of the teams that were actually playing.

On another note, you may recall my fascination with the term "sweet monkey pie," which was introduced to me by my longtime associate Daniel. I'm extremely pleased to report that Daniel is about to start his own blog, which will live at www.sweetmonkeypie.com. Props to his friend Brett, who had the foresight to register that URL. When the site launches, I predict it will quickly build a cult following, much like menwholooklikekennyrogers.com, mulletsgalore.com and, of course, meetaninmate.com.

It wouldn't surprise me in the least if sweetmonkeypie.com is the next Google. All it needs is a sucker ... I mean, visionary venture capitalist to come aboard. Which is why I've generated some meaningless corporate gibberish for the business plan. Here's a taste:

Sweetmonkeypie.com has refactored the concept of e-services. The impactful markets factor is subscriber-defined. We pride ourselves not only on our real-time feature set, but our easy administration. The macro-supply-chains factor is 24/7/365. Think cutting-edge. Think proactive. Think visionary. But don't think all three at the same time. If you recontextualize robustly, you may have to deliver interactively. The metrics for blog-based, efficient markets are more well-understood if they are not turn-key.

Wow. I might add some gibberish about leveraging synergies going forward (as if it's possible to go another direction, at least without a DeLorean). Otherwise, sweetmonkeypie.com appears well-positioned for an IPO in early 2007. I mean, it's really no more far-fetched than most dot-bombs that went public.

Just for kicks and giggles, I checked out what the corporate gibberish generator says if you type in CBS SportsLine.com ...

CBS SportsLine.com practically invented the term "mega-ultra-open-source action-items." Without preplanned platforms, user communities are forced to become strategic. Think value-added. If all of this seems stunning to you, that's because it is! Think ultra blog-based."

In other words, I will refer to this -- going forward, of course -- as the "Rehm of Consciousness Ultra Blog." I feel more proactive already.

On to the night note:

No technical issues

Home: Dodd Insider on Penn State
Mini: Prisco's Insider
Doyel's WCC Preview
Promo Box: Judge on NFL offensive trends

NHL: Hurricanes 5, Rangers 1

NCAA Football: Rivalry Week package
Mini: Dodd Insider on Penn State
Mini: Dodd's notebook

BANKED

Doyel on Kentucky (9049015) with cover (9049043) and mini (9049067)
NL West Do(s) and Don't(s) cover (9049170) and mini (9049398)

NEWSROOM

Prisco's Picks
Judge's Peek at the Week

As I might have mentioned once or twice before, America's Most Watched Network consistently brings into our homes -- and into our hearts -- the finest programming imaginable, especially in the genre of two-part disaster melodramas starring former Beverly Hills 90210 vixens.

And indeed, Part 2 of Category 7: The End of the World did not disappoint, except in this regard: Despite the impending apocalypse, there wasn't one gratuitous sex scene. I know, I know, it's network TV -- still, it's an absolute travesty that, as Hurricane Eduardo was about to hit, there wasn't a lecherous character who said, "Hey, if we're gonna die anyway ..."

Such a scene would have been perfect for Shannen Doherty, except her character was paired with Randy "Tommy Tornado" Quaid. Forget about the make-believe chaos caused by millions of people fleeing these Category 7 storms; if America had seen Brenda Walsh hooking up with Cousin Eddie, there would have been very real pandemonium, maybe even total anarchy.

So who should have been Doherty's romantic interest? Obviously, Luke Perry. For one thing, you KNOW he's available. More important, it would have been a ratings bonanza. Who could resist the most emotional reunion since Dean Martin came out and surprised Jerry Lewis during his telethon in '76? I certainly would have shed a tear.

And if The Powers That Be would consider making me the executive producer of Category 8: A Big Can O' Whoop Ass, I will make a solemn vow to exploit and/or objectify at least one B-list starlet who isn't quite desperate enough to pose for Playboy, but whose career needs a boost nonetheless.

Instead, all Category 7 had to offer was one dork who said, "Please tell me you're as brilliant as you are hot!" as he begged to be rescued. OK, it was cheesy, but at least for one shining moment we were heading in the right direction. But then he followed it up with, "God! I didn't mean that!"

See what the FCC has done to network television??? In the late '90s, you couldn't turn on the tube without seeing some skin on NYPD Blue. According to Wikipedia, no fewer than 15 cast members had nude scenes aired, and the only reason America was spared the sight of Gordon Clapp naked -- yes, Gordon Clapp! -- was because our society was still reeling from its glimpse of Janet Jackson's nipple.

Less than two years later, a guy caught in a Category 7 storm can't even use an awkward pick-up line without apologizing immediately. (And still, wherever he is, John Ashcroft is probably ticked off that married couples on TV aren't sleeping in separate beds anymore, a la The Dick Van Dyke Show.)

If we really want to confront obscenity on TV, all we need to do is keep the Minnesota Vikings off the air. Not because of their "Love Boat on Lake Minnetonka" controversy. As R. Kelly opined, "Players gotta play, ballers gotta ball." The only thing that upsets me about that whole situation is that I wasn't invited.

No, I say the Vikings should be banned from television due to their obscene fantasy performances. Remember all of the experts who said, "Great trade! The Vikings will be better without Randy Moss! Now Daunte Culpepper can spread the ball around more!" Oops. "Hootie" is my new nickname for Culpepper, because his career tanked faster than Darius Rucker's.

Then there's the mess that is the Minnesota backfield, where even the slightest glimmer of hope sends fantasy owners into a tizzy.

Case in point: Somebody recently tried to trade me Mewelde Moore straight-up for Randy Moss. Mewelde Moore, who has rushed for 368 yards in nine games. Mewelde Moore, who has one touchdown all season. That's the worst trade I've ever heard that doesn't involve beads and smallpox-infected blankets.

Which brings us to the Vikings' wideouts. Unlike any cornerback in NFL history, I've been burned by Travis Taylor before. But I thought that he might benefit from having Hootie under center instead of Kyle Boller, so I took a late-round flier on him in this year's draft. He rewarded me with 11 points in Week 2 and a stunning 17 points in Week 3. That must have been his fantasy quota for the season, because Taylor has accounted for just 16 points over the past five weeks.

His downward spiral culminated with a one-point outing on Sunday that left me so disgusted, I asked Flood if -- as commissioner -- he'd let me cut Taylor in the middle of the game. I just felt the need to send a message to the rest of my team.

It would have been the fantasy equivalent of the Marlins telling A.J. Burnett, you know what -- there's no need to finish the season. Just pack up your stuff and go home.

Which reminds me, I have a theory that nothing good ever follows any of these phrases:

1. You know what? It's been my experience that this is the set-up for "... I've had just about enough of your &#%@!" Nobody ever gets exasperated and says, "You know what? I'm going to give you a big raise." Or, "You know what? I don't want these courtside seats -- you can have them." Never happens.

2. SIR ... As in, "SIR, please lower your voice" or "SIR, I'm going to have to ask you to leave." Occasionally even, "SIR, that is NOT a urinal."

3. Don't hate me/don't get mad, but ... If you start off a conversation with either of these phrases, I don't even need to hear the next part where you explain how you crashed my car or hooked up with your yoga instructor. I already hate you and I'm already mad.

4. I was young and I needed the money ... Let's move on.

My longtime associate Daniel also suggests these. Take it away, Daniel!

5. Look here ... (Ed. note - Personally, I think this is just a Southern version of, "You know what?")

6. Bless his/her heart ... As in, "Bless his heart, but Marcus Stone might be the worst starting quarterback in the ACC who doesn't live in Tallahassee."

7. I'm not trying to be critical, but ... As in, "I'm not trying to be critical, but one of Ralph Friedgen's chins has a chin of its own." (Ed. note -- Same goes for, "Don't take this the wrong way, but ...")

8. I hope you're sitting down ... Stacey just called me to say, "I hope you're sitting down for this, because (our dog) Dixie's surgery tomorrow will cost $600."

9. OK, the good news is ... You're not even listening to the good news, because you're bracing for the bad news.

10. I want your honest opinion about this ... When an honest opinion is probably the last thing she wants to hear ...

(As always, let's have a nice hand for Daniel ...)

Anyway, what Taylor basically tells me, week after week is, "Matt, don't get mad, but I had one catch this week. I hope you're sitting down, because it was only for 12 yards. I promise, it will never happen again. We can work this out. Just give me another chance."

And then I think back to that day when he had seven catches for 75 yards at Cincinnati, a performance that made me think he'd actually be involved in Minnesota's offense. Or the pair of touchdowns against New Orleans. Those were good times. Travis and me, just a couple of crazy, happy-go-lucky kids without a care in the world, winning fantasy games together.

Those days are gone, and so is Taylor. I am done with him forever. And this isn't one of those situations where I say I'm done with somebody, then six months later they show up drunk at my house and the next morning I'm staring in the bathroom mirror, wondering where my self-respect went.

No, this time I mean it. From now on, I'll draft Opie Taylor before Travis Taylor.

Bear in mind, Terrell Owens is also on my roster, and I'm disgusted with him too, just like everybody else in the free world. But at least he gave me almost 20 points per game before his entirely foreseeable suspension.

Having T.O. on your fantasy team is like dating a stripper. You know it's a terrible idea. All of your friends tell you it's going to end badly. Still, you can't help yourself because it's just so good ... right up until he becomes a full-blown locker room cancer and gets booted off the team/she steals everything in your house to feed her coke habit and gives you gonorrhea.

Well, I won't be a victim anymore. Travis Taylor is dead to me. As for T.O., the only way he's getting on my fantasy team again is if the draft is held in the middle of a Category 7 storm. In that case, I'll probably say, "Hey, if we're gonna die anyway ..."

Tonight's shift began on an alarming note, as newsroom honcho Swanny proclaimed, "You gotta see this -- E-Mack and I are gonna do Flood!"

I just hope our health care plan will cover the years and years of therapy required to erase that image from my mind.

But I digress.

Much to my relief, Swanny meant that he and E-Mack were going to have a contest to see who does the best impression of Flood.

Remember when I said the newsroom will beat any SportsLine department in beer pong any time, any place? Apparently, the same goes for imitating Flood. Swanny boldly marched into the fantasy (sorry, "Fantasy") department and took a unanimous decision over E-Mack, who hasn't quite captured Flood's essence (ewwww!) but has accidentally stumbled upon a great Rodney Dangerfield impression.

Speaking of Flood (because, you know, I never do that), he was happy to learn that my self-imposed TV exile has ended.

"Welcome back to society," he said.

As I mentioned last month, I enjoyed being one of those insufferably pompous people who -- when someone made a reference to a television show -- would roll their eyes, make a loud scoffing sound and say, "I don't even own a TV." That was fun for a while, but let's be real -- I gotta have a television, if for no other reason than to see the many fine shows brought to us by America's Most Watched Network.

So I got a TV -- and just in the nick of time. The first night I had it, I saw R. Kelly doing an a cappella performance of a tune called The Zoo, which included the line, "It's like Jurassic Park, and I'm your sexasaurus ." I'm pretty sure he stole that from my longtime associate Russell, who has been known to spot an attractive girl and exclaim, "Treatasaurus rex! I thought they were extinct!"

Then today, I was flipping around the channels and came across Pat Robertson's show. I was hoping he'd offer more warnings about the residents of Dover, Pa., being smote by a vengeful God. Instead, he was talking about -- of all things -- protein shakes.

In fact, a canister of protein powder sat in front of him, and he was advising his followers to drink a shake each night before going to bed. Of course, this is like buying a one-way ticket to Chunkytown, because your metabolism grinds to a halt when you fall asleep. You might as well freebase Crisco. But hey, if the Lord is telling Pat to pimp the bedtime protein, so be it.

I continued watching, in hopes of seeing some combination of Chuck Norris, Kirk Cameron and/or the guy who played "Bubba" on In the Heat of the Night, as they make frequent appearances on the televangelist channel. (I think the "Bubba" actor briefly played in the NFL -- see, this IS about sports.)

Instead, the next show began with a very solemn preacher from San Antonio saying, "I want you to watch every minute of today's program. It might be the most important telecast you ever see!"

Wow, I thought. More important than Category 7: The End of the World? This I gotta see.

"Today, we're going to reveal how Harry Potter is exposing your children to witchcraft ..."

Sigh.

Click

So why aren't I watching sports? Because the best sports action isn't on TV. I'm referring, of course, to whatever happened between those Carolina Panthers cheerleaders in the bathroom stall at Banana Joe's Bar (and at the Robinson High School 20th reunion, which the cheerleaders crashed).

As I may have mentioned once or twice before, I am a very proud North Carolinian. When my inevitable midlife crisis hits, I'll probably get the University of North Carolina's interlocking "NC" logo tattooed on my shoulder. (Or, in an homage to Rashad McCants, I'll get "Born to be hated" on one arm and "Dying to be loved" on the other.)

Never has my pride in the Tar Heel State been greater than when I first saw this story, which I could barely read through my tears of joy. Not to go all Stephen A. Smith here, but QUITE FRANKLY, I don't even understand why these ladies were charged with anything. If NFL cheerleaders allegedly having sex in public bathrooms and starting bar brawls is wrong, by God, I don't wanna be right.

And for the record, I certainly don't want to see these scandalous cheerleaders get handcuffed and taken to a women's prison, where they find themselves surrounded by other naughty inmates (all of whom desperately need pen pals). Nope, don't want to see that at all, and I DEFINITELY don't want Cinemax to produce a movie about it -- possibly starring Saved By the Bell alumnae Elizabeth Berkeley and Tiffani-Amber Thiessen as the lonely cheerleaders behind bars, and maybe the immortal Shannon Tweed as the tough-as-nails warden. At least, I don't want this to happen until I can get ahold of a TiVo.

I would elaborate on this point, except (1) it's well past 4 a.m., (2) the air conditioning doesn't seem to be working tonight in the newsroom (3) I already sound like a perv and (4) this whole TopCats Gone Wild topic is fraught with peril for a guy who tries to run a PG-rated blog. Let's move on to the night note while I'm still employed:

No technical issues

Home: Dodd's Weekend Watch List
Mini: Judge's Peek at the Week
Mini: Doyel on Bob Knight
Promo Box: Ratto on NFL's return to L.A.

NFL: Judge's Peek at the Week
Mini: Judge on Trent Green
Mini: Midseason awards

NHL: Goldstein on the Rangers

MLB: AL East do(s) and don't(s)
Mini: Miller on young GMs

Tennis: Pierce reaches WTA Championships semis

I don't often break into a Jerry Seinfeld shtick, but ... what is the DEAL with these idiotic simulated press conferences on SportsCenter? I mean, have you SEEN these things? Hey, I have an idea -- how about if they simulate being JOURNALISTS for a change?

OK, that's enough pseudo-Seinfeld ... but honestly, haven't the folks in Bristol heard about the War of the Worlds fiasco (I mean the hysteria caused by Orson Welles' simulated radio reports, not Tom Cruise going insane while promoting the movie)?

Real news is usually stranger than fake news, anyway. Did you see Pat Robertson's comments about the recent school board election in Dover, Pa.?

"I'd like to say to the good citizens of Dover: if there is a disaster in your area, don't turn to God, you just rejected Him from your city ... And don't wonder why He hasn't helped you when problems begin, if they begin. I'm not saying they will, but if they do, just remember, you just voted God out of your city. And if that's the case, don't ask for His help because He might not be there."

Robertson's revelation would concern me, except I live in Florida, which was a red state in both 2000 and 2004. Therefore, we should be completely safe from God's wrath. And yet, everybody in the newsroom tonight is wearing CBS Digital Media "I Survived Wilma" T-shirts.

In addition to this handsome addition to my wardrobe, The Powers That Be also generously provided lunch today. Of course, for those of us on the night shift, events at noon might as well be held on the moon or in a hot air balloon over Cancun or on a pontoon off the coast of Cameroon, because there's no way we'll be there.

Case in point: At noon today, I had been asleep for about six hours and was in the middle of a nightmare about Bob Knight inevitably breaking Dean Smith's record for career victories. OK, that's not true. The record will be broken so soon -- and so many times -- it's not even worth worrying about. College basketball has changed dramatically over the past four decades. Coach Smith's first team played just 17 games; teams today often play twice that many. So I certainly won't be happy when Bob Knight passes Coach Smith (and when Mike Krzyzewski and probably Bill Self follow suit), but I'm not going to lose any sleep over it.

Still, I highly recommend today's column by Gregg Doyel, who writes:

"Look at it this way: Smith won 879 games in 36 years, all at North Carolina, and did it with 11 future NBA All-Stars. While it's true that Knight has coached four more seasons than Smith, keep in mind that he spent six years at Army, and now five at Texas Tech. These are not basketball schools. And Knight has had just one NBA All-Star (Isiah Thomas).

"And look deeper. Smith followed Hall of Fame coach Frank McGuire, whose last five teams went 126-27. Knight replaced someone named Lou Watson, inheriting a program that had gone 55-66 in the five previous years."

Gregg's point about the NBA talent is true -- of course, another way of looking at it is that Coach Smith helped 11 promising youngsters fully realize their potential and develop into NBA All-Stars, whereas Bob Knight didn't. You can't tell me that Indiana University didn't attract its share of talented prospects. Why didn't the Hoosiers achieve the same level of NBA success as their UNC counterparts? I don't know, but the fact that Coach Smith was an effective teacher shouldn't be some sort of knock against him.

And while Texas Tech surely isn't a traditional powerhouse in basketball, Knight wouldn't be there had he not choked Neil Reed, thrown a chair onto the court, said "if rape is inevitable, relax and enjoy it," assaulted a police officer in Puerto Rico, hurled a potted plant at a secretary, pretended to use a bullwhip on Calbert Cheaney and on and on and on. If Knight's career was somehow hindered as a result, I have a hard time giving him credit for self-inflicted damage.

Also, it's true that McGuire's last five teams went 126-27. But McGuire left the program crippled by scandals before he skipped town. In A Coach's Life, Coach Smith wrote about receiving a phone call from Adolph Rupp:

"After I got off the phone, I went to Chuck Erickson and told him that Rupp had called to schedule a ten-year series between Carolina and Kentucky. Chuck said, 'Oh, everybody's calling and trying to schedule us now. We're center cut. We've got a good name and no team."

So while Knight may not have inherited a powerhouse, let's not pretend that McGuire left a fully-stocked cupboard for Coach Smith.

And I'm not saying Knight isn't a great coach; he most definitely is. In the final analysis, though, I don't think winning a handful more games over a longer period of time makes Knight a better coach than Dean Smith. Over 96 percent of Smith's lettermen graduated, and as far as I know, he didn't choke or mock-bullwhip any of them. That has to count for something.

Two more random thoughts before I get out of here:

1. Great work by the Associated Press at last night's Magic - Hornets game. Their story said, "NBA commissioner David Stern attended the game and praised Oklahoma City for its response to the Hornets' move. He stayed neutral on the game's outcome. 'I'm a basketball fan,' he said."

Well, duh. Can you believe somebody actually asked the commish, "Hey, who are you cheering for?" What did the reporter expect him to say?

"Go Hornets," said Stern, sporting a Kelly Tripucka throwback jersey. "I can't stand the #&$@! Magic! And if these refs don't want to end up on the next bus to the NBDL -- or, so help me, the WNBA -- they'll call the game accordingly."

2. I've been trying to catch up with my associate Marc, who recently got a taste of professional wrestling. As I previously mentioned, he was going to play the role of a taunting fan who gets beaten up by Abdullah the Butcher. Well, I got this voicemail from him a couple of nights ago:

"Sorry I missed your call. I was watching "The Devil's Rejects." I'm a huge fan of Captain Spaulding, but it kind of freaked me out, so I just laid in the fetal position, soaking in the tub, praying for death. Anyway, the wrestling ... it was more with Hugh Morrus than Abdullah ... thank God ... but I took an #&$@!-whipping with a popcorn box and ... yeah, I think I got all of that out of my system."

I suspect that his beating somehow involved a popcorn machine rather than a popcorn box, but I don't know. Anything is possible with Marc. I hope to pass along more details soon. In the meantime, here's the night note:

No technical issues

Home: Dodd's Insider on Alabama
Mini: Doyel's Missouri Valley Conference preview
Mini: Chris Carpenter wins NL Cy Young
Promo Box: Miller on young baseball GMs

NHL: Rangers 5, Lightning 2
Mini: Goldstein's Power Rankings

MLB: Chris Carpenter wins NL Cy Young
Mini: Miller on young baseball GMs

Tennis: Sharapova, Davenport advance in WTA Championships

NEWSROOM

Dodd's Weekend Watch List
Prisco's Picks

SLOT

Mejia's 25 Questions (2 reads)

BANKED

Doyel on Bob Knight: column: 9035497, cover: 9035684, mini: 9036082

Sorry for the lack of bloggage over the past week. Those of us in South Florida have been dealing with the aftermath of Hurricane Wilma. In an unrelated crisis, my computer went on strike and -- like Dick Vitale gushing that Duke's Jason Williams and Chris Duhon were the "best backcourt in the history of college basketball" -- it simply would not listen to reason.

Power has been restored in the office as well as my house, and my computer is playing nice again, so I'm back -- albeit a couple of pounds heavier. In the week after Wilma, The Powers That Be at SportsLine generously kept the newsroom stocked with chips, Twizzlers, Gatorade, pudding cups, granola bars, trail mix, and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Another week of that diet and I'd start looking like Rosie O'Donnell, only slightly less masculine.

As life after Wilma gradually returns to normal, it's an ideal time to gather around the television with your loved ones and enjoy the quality programming brought to you by America's Most Watched Network. I'm referring to Category 7: The End of the World (Nov. 6 and Nov. 13, 9 p.m. ET/PT).

I'll concede that the willing suspension of disbelief is an essential element of any dramatic work, but this flick should make Spring Break Shark Attack look like a National Geographic documentary.

The ensemble cast is a murderer's row of B-list celebrities. James Brolin and Robert Wagner are on board. Randy Quaid (as "storm chaser Tommy Tornado") has been paired with Shannen Doherty (as a "beautiful, discredited scientist"). Meanwhile, the immortal Tom Skerritt has been paired with his breathtaking mustache in the role of a pilot who "flies high above the storm to try to find what in the atmosphere is causing the storms." While he's up there, maybe he can also find the cause of that awkward sentence.

And then we have Gina Gershon as the director of FEMA. Sure, it sounds absurd at first, but FEMA has done worse.

Bottom line, Category 7: The End of the World promises to be a much more enjoyable experience than any actual hurricane. Then again, the night Wilma hit was perhaps the most fun I've ever had in the workplace:

8:30 p.m.: I'm informed by a high-ranking official that buying beer for the newsroom "would be entirely appropriate."

8:39 p.m.: I'm at 7-Eleven.

10:07 p.m.: Anticipating a late-night game of beer pong, my esteemed colleague Brian Flood retrieves ping-pong balls from the darkened rec room, where people are trying to sleep on couches. He is selected for this covert operation because of his striking resemblance to Tom Cruise in Mission: Impossible!

12:14 a.m.: My longtime associate Jodi calls to talk about her trip to New York. "Oh my God, I've never seen so many guys in track suits! You can never smoke or drink too much for them -- and, believe me, they are ready for all this jelly!"

12:20 a.m.: Happiness is a zero-sum game for Jodi and me. If one of us is having a great day, the other one is invariably miserable about something. Judging by the glee in Jodi's voice, I'm pretty sure Wilma will blow my house halfway to Bermuda.

1 a.m.: Shift's over.

1:00.01 a.m.: First beer is opened.

1:04 a.m.: Cryptic text message from my lovely associate Meghan: "I HAVE MILLIBARS!!!"

1:05 a.m.: Momentarily confused, I think millibars (which indicate a storm's barometric pressure) are some sort of candy, like mallomars.

1:09 a.m.: I stake out a position on the fourth floor and inflate my air mattress, choosing an office with several windows so I'll have a good view when the storm hits at daybreak. In retrospect, it's not the best criterion for selecting a safe place to ride out a hurricane.

1:21 a.m.: Waiting for Flood's shift to end. Kill time by visiting one of my favorite sites: www.meetaninmate.com.

1:59 a.m.: Contemplate trip to California to visit female inmate named "Passhaun."

2 a.m.: Flood's shift is over.

2:06 a.m.: We bring a folding table into the newsroom. Let the beer pong commence!

2:18 a.m.: I pull a muscle in my lower back while bending over to pick up the beer pong ball. Sweet Jesus, I'm old.

2:24 a.m.: My beer is noticeably crunchy, as Flood conveniently "forgets" to rinse off the ball after it hits the floor. In other words, this game just got personal.

2:26 a.m.: Flood and I are down to one cup each. He nails his shot but generously gives me a chance to match it and extend the game to sudden death. With Robert Horry-like coolness under pressure, I drain it.

2:31 a.m.: I have only delayed the inevitable. Flood, a beer pong force to be reckoned with, pulls out an emotional victory.

2:47 p.m.: We investigate the situation outside. Should have taken my visor off first, as the wind rips it off my head. Unable to bend down due to my beer pong injury, I spend the next few minutes hobbling around the parking lot while Flood and Buzz cackle hysterically.

3:13 a.m.: Flood builds an unprecedented 6-0 beer pong lead on Buzz. This has the potential to be the biggest blowout since Kentucky demolished Wake Forest in the '93 NCAA Tournament. (UK won 103-69, but I seem to remember the Wildcats jumped out to a ridiculous lead, like 32-5. Or maybe I should make a more obscure reference, like something that happened in one of my childhood soccer games.)

3:14 a.m.: By the way, the fact that I bothered to watch that Kentucky-Wake Forest game is sadder than you know. This was my sophomore year in college. I was in a hotel room in Virginia Beach with an honest-to-God female. And I couldn't take my eyes off a blowout involving two teams I hate. Smoooooooth.

3:15 a.m.: Amazed at his own beer pong prowess, Flood gushes, "I've never been this good at anything."

3:18 a.m.: Party foul: Flood steps on the beer pong ball. Fortunately, we have a spare.

3:21 a.m.: Talk of a shutout ceases as Buzz gets on the board.

3:29 a.m.: Flood wraps up an emotional 10-4 win and says, "I feel like I've finally accomplished something."

3:40 a.m.: The wind is picking up outside. We have a Nerf football. Game on!

3:43 a.m.: On our first attempt, Flood hits me in stride on a fly pattern, fooling us into thinking this would be easy. It's our last completion of the night.

3:57 a.m.: I throw a bomb in Buzz's general direction. Though it falls incomplete, I pace it off at roughly 50 yards. This indicates how hard the wind was blowing, because I have an arm like the love child of Chad Pennington and Danny Wuerffel.

4:02 a.m.: Buzz airs one out in my general direction -- it goes at least 15 yards beyond my throw. Dammit.

4:03 a.m.: My stomach is less than pleased with my decision to run sprints after playing beer pong.

4:04 a.m.: Lights go out in the parking lot. Game off!

4:05 a.m.: No electricity means no elevators. We take the stairs back to the newsroom. Flood may need oxygen.

4:17 a.m.: The elbow on my throwing arm is throbbing. I may need Tommy John surgery.

4:18 a.m.: I'd like to reiterate, I have now been injured tonight while playing beer pong and Nerf football. Who knew being a copy editor could be so dangerous?

4:30 a.m.: The 1981 national championship game is officially water under the bridge as Indiana's Johnny Roast Beef and I, a proud UNC alumnus, team up in a beer pong showdown against Flood and Lyle, the pride of Northeastern and Western Washington.

4:48 a.m.: Johnny nails the game-winner, capping a surprisingly easy victory for the team of Rosenstein-Rehm.

4:51 a.m.: The guys in the production truck queue up One Shining Moment

4:53 a.m.: I'll go on record as saying the newsroom can beat any other SportsLine department in beer pong. Any time, any place.

4:58 a.m.: Rethink that last statement when I remember that Flood is transferring to the Fantasy department. You saw what happened to the Lakers after Shaq's departure? That's the sort of loss the newsroom now faces.

5:10 a.m.: Opting to go out on top, I retire to my penthouse suite (OK, the fourth-floor office where I'm camped out).

5:11 a.m.: Wish I had brought some silk pajamas, so I could look like Hugh Hefner when I stroll into the newsroom later.

8:02 a.m.: Windows are rattling violently. For once, this is caused by a hurricane, not Flood's notoriously volatile gastrointestinal system.

Noon: Alarm clock on cell phone goes off. Take one look out the window and realize there's absolutely no reason to get up.

2:45 p.m.: Rise and shine!

2:50 p.m.: Flood, who spent a miserable night "wrapped up like a pita" in a comforter on the floor of a conference room, asks how I slept. "Faaaaantastic!," I say. "That air mattress is GREAT!"

2:50.05 p.m.: The normally-chipper Flood suggests that I do something that is both physically impossible and completely inappropriate for a family-friendly blog.

3 p.m.: Decide to see if my house still has a roof.

3:40 p.m.: The roof is OK, so despite losing a couple of awnings, I'm very lucky.

3:49 p.m.: My longtime associate (and new roommate) Rory calls. He's exiting I-95, concluding his cross-country trek from San Diego. Welcome to South Florida! If you don't like electricity, it's the place for you!

Our power ended up being out for five days, a far shorter outage than I expected. So, all's well that ends well. Speaking of endings, let's move on to the night note:

No technical issues

Home: Mejia on Pacers' win over Heat
Mini: Prisco's NFL Insider
Mini: Doyel's Big Ten preview
Promo Box: Dodd's College Football Insider

NBA: Mejia on Pacers' win over Heat

NHL: Sidney Crosby scores twice in Penguins win

Tennis: Andy Roddick reaches Paris Masters quarterfinals

BANKED

Doyel's top 25 games (9021434) with cover (9021436) and mini (9021611)

Judge's Peek at the Week (9022071) with cover (9022147) and mini (9022225)

Note: Peek still needs scouting report (will be furnished in the morning), photoset and game preview links

NEWSROOM

Dodd's weekend watch list
Prisco's picks