Ratto: Forget 'Torture, Fear the Beard, the Rally Thong'


Ratto: Forget 'Torture, Fear the Beard, the Rally Thong'


SAN FRANCISCO -- This has nothing to do with the players. It has everything to do with you. So pay attention.

The pom poms are played out. So are the rally rags, Aubrey Huffs thong, the stupid "Fear the Beard," and the word Torture.

Youre superstitious, you believe in the power of marketing to set you free, and we dont want to disabuse you of any notions you might hold near or dear at this point.

But Im telling you, theyre played out. They may have gotten you this far in your mind, but now its time for something else. Something new. Something that hasnt been done before, so that people wont confuse you with nerds, geeks or sheep. You go to such lengths to act like youre cooler than everyone else, and then you do the same stuff in the stands everyone else does? Please. If youre better than all that, prove it.

And were to help you.

First off, torture. This isnt torture, not any more. Being a Phillies fan is torture. Being a Yankee fan is torture. Being a 49er fans is particularly exquisite torture, since your team has just been deported and forced to play the Denver Broncos in front of people who were once our allies. Now how the hell does that enhance our standing in the world community? Whats next, spent nuclear materials hidden inside Easy-Bake Ovens?

What this is, if it has a name, is the blind pig finding the acorn, over and over again. The guy at Fishermans Wharf who pops out from behind bushes and scares the tourists. This is hitting on 18 and pulling nothing but deuces and treys.

There. Theres your battle cry. We Hit On 18. And for those of you know you wont be around children or the faint of heart, you can still have the Lincecum motto, ---- Yeah, Shut Up. Or, if you go for acronyms, FYSU. People will figure it out. And it looks good on a T-shirt.

Besides, it's about the only time they hit.

Next, the thong. Huff has worked that visual as long as he can, and the Brian Wilson references to The Machine, too. Now its time for something else, Wed go with the same theme to honor the players promotional gifts, but you cant show a thong in its natural state on television, and an orange submissives outfit really doesnt work as an effective ensemble, especially in high definition. But a tasteful 175 hoodie that looks like one . . . well, you cant blame a dodgy entrepreneur for trying.

Or how about a simple ski mask -- orange, again, so the cops dont think youre going to hold up a garlic fries stand. Sure, orange isnt much to hang your hat on, but the Giants started this nonsense again in 1947 after going red-white-blue during World War II, so youll just have to with it.

Now youll get grief about any Barry Bonds stuff you wear, and deservedly, but if youre going to go that route, go proudly. A simple T-shirtsweatshirt elegant legend, like Yeah, But The 586 Homers Help Dull The Pain.

And finally, theme music. Tony Bennetts still good when the crowd is filing out, but something to identify this team, these players is still sadly lacking from an otherwise clever and creative music department at the ballpark. We recommend (and highly) Mister Bad Example, by Warren Zevon. Upbeat, kicky, and with inspirational lyrics like these:

Im very well acquainted with the seven deadly sins,

I keep a busy schedule trying to fit them in,

Im proud to be a glutton and I dont have time for sloth,

Im greedy and Im angry and I dont care who I cross


Im Mr. Bad Example, intruder in the dirt,

I like to have a good time, and I dont care who gets hurt,

Im Mr. Bad Example, take a look at me,

Ill live to be a hundred and go down in infamy.

Now who wouldnt to take the field to that? Or care about a team who would? It sure as hell beats Sweet Caroline. Hell, they played that one at Guantanamo.

OK, weve done as much as we can for you. Now were going back to baseball, and leave us alone.

Internet immediately goes to DefCon1 on Chip Kelly-to-Cal


Internet immediately goes to DefCon1 on Chip Kelly-to-Cal

In what can be considered your standard bolt out of the blue, California head football coach Sonny Dykes has reportedly been fired.

In what can be considered your standard spur-of-the-Internet-moment-connect-the-dots inspiration, the Internet went immediately to DefCon1 on Chip Kelly-to-Cal rumors.

The logic, of course, is impeccable. Dykes never really snapped the Cal program around, taking a bad program and making it, well, mediocre, and he has spent much of the past two years aggressively seeking out other jobs, so one can assume there was at least some trouble in paradise, even if you want to make the case that Cal football and paradise are somehow connected.

And Kelly just got canned by the 49ers as part of Jed York’s latest I-will-not-be-made-to-look-ridiculous twitch, so he could sign a properly modest contract at Berkeley and still get his full $6 million with the offset from the three years left on his Jed deal.

So it makes perfect sense . . . which is why it should be judged with considerable skepticism.

For one, Kelly can almost surely do better in the college job diaspora. Cal is a big name with modest ambitions due in part to constant budget constraints, and there are better jobs out there even if he sits for a year.

For two, Cal and Kelly are an odd fit, given the persistent tensions between academia and athletica at Berkeley.

For three, the job comes with massive roadblocks, including Stanford, USC, Washington and (potentially) a resuscitation of the Oregon he left behind. Success will not come easy, if it does at all.

For four, Cal just finished four years of gimmick offense and overburdened defense, and Kelly would provide a more successful version of the same.

And for five, this is too easy, too simple, too convenient. Something about this scenario must be wrong somewhere. When people hit the Internet with photoshopped Kelly-in-Cal-costumes within minutes of the Dykes announcement, you know this is too obvious to actually come to fruition.

Why? Because we don’t live that well, that’s why.

The beauty of a triumphant Kelly at Cal glowering down at the charred ruin in Santa Clara seems more appealing than it actually is, because try as they might, Cal fans will never be backing the more popular horse here, and Kelly won’t win that battle unless he takes Cal to the Rose Bowl while the 49ers are still grappling over draft positions.

In that way, reality sucks. The idea that Jed York could be mocked in collegial absentia by his two biggest coaching hires is delicious but almost surely illusory.

But until we get more on why Dykes got canned 43 days after the team’s last game – recruiting, academic issues, legal issues, photocopier problems from him sending his resume out so often – all we have is the Chip Kelly rumor-ette to keep us intrigued.

Okay, to keep us amused.

Okay, to keep us from falling over in a coma. Cal should matter more than it does, but it’s been 13 years since the Holiday Bowl zenith of the Jeff Tedford Era, and 25 since Bruce Snyder took the Ursines to the Citrus Bowl. The evidence since 1990 is of a team with bigger dreams than means that is slightly below .500 (160-164). Sonny Dykes leaving means one more coach who didn’t make an impact unless his departure leads to either reassessment of the program’s standards, internal or external sanctions . . .

. . . or what the hell, Chip Kelly. Let’s face it – in these dismal days for wacked-out rumormongering, this is pretty intoxicating stuff.

Warriors are most geographically vague team in history of American sports


Warriors are most geographically vague team in history of American sports

The Philadelphia/San Francisco/Golden State Warriors have always had a casual attitude about their home court, even by the once-flexible standards of the National Basketball Association.

Thus, it should be only slightly amusing but not actually surprising that Warriors chief arenologist Rick Welts is now waffling a bit (courtesy Comrade Poole) on whether the team will change its name to San Francisco Warriors when it moves across the pond in 2019-20, or retain its current geographic association with Narnia.

I mean Golden State. I often confuse utterly fictional locales – when I can be bothered to give a toss either way.

But the Warriors, whether they play in Oakland, San Francisco, Pier 30, Pier 32, Westeros, Hobbiton, the Duchy of Grand Fenwick, Curryvania, the Klingon Empire, the Death Star or Planet Nine, are relocating, and once they break the seal on the earth in 12 days, Welts and his fellow elves will almost surely play the team’s future name as a mildly tedious cliffhanger.

Hey, fun is where you find it.

The matter of the team’s relocation will be a sore subject among lifelong East Bay residents, who have put up with the Warriors for 45 years in various stages of development, including the current “We Almost Never Lose” stage. They regard the Warriors’ transplantation to San Francisco to be an unspeakable crime given the high level of fan allegiance afforded them in Oakland.

And yes, they regard Oakland and San Francisco as very real places, as opposed to Golden State, Freedonia, Vulgaria or the Nexus of All Realities.

It is not yet fully known what San Franciscans think of this development, but that’s the nature of the gamble here. They may embrace the Warriors as the new toy in town and then lose interest, and frankly, neither Welts nor anyone else knows the answer to that.

Either way, their die is cast, and Joe Lacob and Peter Guber are now future former Oakland fixtures. Yes, they are quite fond of the exciting new real estate values and their exciting new unobstructed view of the bay, but it has long been assumed that the move would also entail changing the name back to “San Francisco” for the snob appeal.

Now Welts, who has overseen both arena projects (including the one at Piers 30 and 32 which ended up with the piers beating the Warriors in a rout), tells Comrade Poole that the San Francisco Warriors might not end up as the San Francisco Warriors after all.

“Four years ago, I think the conventional wisdom in our building here in Oakland was that yes, we should attach a city name to the team, then it becomes a more global franchise,” Welts marketing-gobbledy-gooked. “There was a lot of head-scratching four years ago about where the Golden State Warriors even played, in other parts of the world. What’s happened with the team over the course of the ensuing years, until today, has made the Warriors if not the preeminent, at least among the three best-known NBA franchises around the world. And everybody who didn’t know where the Golden State Warriors were four years ago, if you’re a fan today, anywhere in the world, you know where the Golden State Warriors are.”

In Oakland.

Now, the mic drop.

“The team’s success has caused us to really rethink whether or not that’s something we should or want to do,” he added. “I guess it’s fair to say there’s been no final decision made. But if you were a betting man, I think you would probably want to wager that the name might remain the same.”

Of course. Why not stay fictional when specificity might move fewer hoodies?

Then again, this is a team that in its 70 years has played home games in Philadelphia (the Arena, the Civic Center, Lincoln High School and Convention Hall), Hershey and Bethlehem PA, Atlantic City, Trenton, Collingswood and Camden NJ, and Saratoga Springs NY . . .

(a moment’s rest here to catch our breaths)

. . . and then after moving west in 1962, the Cow Palace, San Francisco Civic Auditorium and USF’s Memorial Gym, the Oakland Auditorium, San Jose Civic Auditorium, San Jose Arena, Richmond Auditorium, then Sacramento, Bakersfield, Fresno, San Diego, Eugene, Seattle, Phoenix and Salt Lake City.

In fact, and you can swindle the gullible at your neighborhood tavern with this one, the Warriors’ first game in San Francisco occurred almost three years before the team left Philadelphia. The Warriors played the visitors to the Minneapolis Lakers, who moved to Los Angeles a year later and had already played a regular season game at the Cow Palace earlier in the year, so this game, January 31, 1960, could have been considered a civic scouting trip for both teams as they sought new homes.

In other words, the Warriors are almost surely the most geographically vague team in the history of North American sports. Moreover, they are about to become the first team in sports history to go home for the third time under three different city names – Philadelphia, San Francisco and Krypton, or whatever the hell they want to call themselves this time.