Well, last week’s picks could have been better. Thanks to the incompetence of a few key people, I nailed Carolina (thank you, Ryan Lindley!), Indy (thank you, Andy Dalton!), and Dallas (thank you, NFL referees!)—but I missed on Baltimore. And while I missed the Indy-Cincy score by just two Colts points, most of my other calls weren’t particularly close. Why is that? Because I don’t know dick about football! So why are you even reading this? I don’t know! Let’s make some more picks!
Baltimore at New England
If I was a Patriots fan, I would be terrified of this game. Baltimore has played three playoff games in New England in the last decade; the Ravens won two of those games, and only l0st the third after a dropped pass in the end zone and a missed chip shot field goal. All of the Ravens’ key guys have playoff experience, and they have a Harbaugh for a coach.
You shouldn’t fire a coach named Harbaugh
More than that, while you’d think that the Pats would be able to expose Baltimore’s wretched secondary, if Elvis Dumervil and Terrell Suggs can approximate what they did against Pittsburgh, Tom Brady won’t have time to get the ball out. Plus, if there’s one thing the NFL deserves karmically after this cynical, depressing season, it’s for Ray Rice’s team to go on a deep playoff run and force Roger Goodell to have to stand in front of reporters and answer more Ray Rice questions. I will probably regret this pick on Monday, but you know there’s always an upset in the Divisional Round, and I’m taking B-More. Ravens 26, Patriots 24.
Peyton Manning is and forever will be a playoff choker. Let’s just bask in this play, one that I watched from a bar on Bourbon Street in New Orleans and that turned into one of the funnest moments of my whole life:
What’s more, Andrew Luck is not only the future, but also the present: I think Luck is the best player who will be involved in this game. Unfortunately for Luck and for Indy, the next 15 best guys who will be involved in this game play for Denver. Broncos 35, Colts 21.
Carolina at Seattle
A team that went under .500 this year is going into Seattle to play the hottest team in the league, a team that’s basically invincible at home. I’m not sure what I’ll be doing Saturday night, but I’m sure I won’t be watching this game. Seabitches 30, Panthers 6.
Dallas at Green Bay
The Ice Bowl, Redux
This one’s gonna be fun. An Ice Bowl rematch? Two of the most obnoxious teams/fanbases in all of sports? Aaron Rodgers (who Grantland compared to Joe Montana this week in an article that made me want to kill myself about 75 different times) going up against Dallas’s horrendous defense? Tony Romo’s continued quest for redemption that is destined to end in a backbreaking fourth quarter pick-six?
God bless whoever made this
Yeah, that really is destiny. Packers 38, Cowboys 24, with the final margin coming on said Romo pick-six.
The sadness of Cowboys fans is the only thing that can bring me joy in these playoffs.
With the Niners flushing their season (and most likely their hopes for the next decade) down the toilet over the past month, this is the least invested I’ve been in football in about five years. This weekend’s slate of games is so meh that I would totally skip it, except I’ll be on a cross-country flight on Sunday afternoon, which will at least trap me into watching the Cowboys game (let’s hope the weight of my hatred doesn’t bring the plane down).
Still, it’s a tradition for me to write a picks column, and even though both people who read this blog are also Niners fans and have also checked out on this season, I figured I owe it to them to put my stupid, uneducated guesses on record. So here goes.
Cincinnati at Indianapolis
The Colts have looked horrible over the last month … but Andy Dalton is still the Bengals’ quarterback.
Eye of the Tiger?
Andy Dalton, who has never won a playoff game, and who singlehandedly lost Cincy their first-round matchup last year, is still the Bengals’ quarterback. Andy Dalton will be going on the road, to play inside a dome, in a playoff game. Meanwhile, the Colts have Andrew Luck, the best young quarterback in the NFL—maybe just the best quarterback overall other than Aaron Rodgers—who singlehandedly won an epic comeback game at home last year. The Bengals, in case I hadn’t mentioned this, will be starting Andy Dalton. Sometimes, this isn’t that hard. Colts 24, Bengals 10.
Baltimore at Pittsburgh
This should be fun: a matchup between blood rivals who have played some of the NFL’s most violent, intense football games over the last decade. I’ve always picked against the Ravens during the Joe Flacco era, and they made me pay for it, dearly, by beating the Niners two years ago in a Super Bowl that I will never be able to scrub from my memory. Even when this team is playing well, they never look that impressive doing it. And make no mistake, the Ravens haven’t played well over the last month—they suffered a heartbreaking come-from-ahead loss to the Chargers, got destroyed by the Texans, and barely beat the Jags and Browns. Meanwhile, Pittsburgh has looked really solid over the last month, and while the Steelers probably won’t have stud running back Le’Veon Bell in this game, they do have the decided edge in a major matchup: The thing the Steelers are the best at is throwing the ball, with Ben Roethlisberger—who may be a fat sexual offender, but who is pretty good at football—chucking it to dynamic receivers Antonio Brown and Martavus Bryant. Baltimore will be trying to defend that passing attack with a secondary so banged-up and patched together that a few weeks ago Bill Barnwell and Robert Mays at Grantland played a game in which they threw out names and tried to guess whether guys were Ravens defensive backs or actor from The Wire. They couldn’t do it. Hell, the Ravens might want to consider signing Bodie Broadus this week.
Baltimore is going to get stuck holding their Charles Dickens. Steelers 31, Ravens 20.
Arizona at Carolina
The big question about this game is, will anyone in America actually watch it? I’m so disinterested in this game, I’m not even gonna bother looking up a photo to go with this pick. Anyway, the Cardinals looked great for the first half of the season, and then injuries destroyed them at quarterback, leaving them starting execrable third-stringer Ryan Lindley on Sunday. Meanwhile, the Panthers became just the second team in NFL history to qualify for the playoffs with a losing record, as they rallied to win the horror show that was the NFC South by blowing out the Saints and the Falcons in the last two weeks of the season. Those two teams are terrible, but Carolina looked great in both of those games, and while Arizona has a great defense, I’m betting Cam Newton will sneak out one or two big plays to put the Panthers over the top. Let’s say Panthers 13, Cardinals 9.
Detroit at Dallas
Would someone explain to me how the Niners fucking destroyed the Cowboys in Dallas in Week One (a game I rather enjoyed) and ended up tanking the season and firing their coach, while Dallas went 12-4 and won their division? I don’t understand football.
I’m just gonna watch that .gif on repeat until I curl up into the fetal position and start bawling, because that play was pretty much the last awesome thing Colin Kaepernick or Vernon Davis did this season. God, I hate everything.
Anyway, I’m loathe to pick Dallas, the team I hate most in all of sports, in this game, but does anyone see Detroit winning this? The Lions have been terrible on offense all season, and while I could see Megatron having a big day against an underwhelming Dallas secondary, does anyone believe that Matthew Stafford is going to be able to deliver in the playoffs? Detroit’s biggest advantage in any game is typically their powerful defensive line, but Dallas should be able to neutralize that with their dominant offensive line. It is Tony Romo’s destiny to destroy all Cowboys fans’ will to live with a crushing fourth-quarter pick six at some point in these playoffs, but I don’t think it happens this week. Cowboys 37, Lions 21.
Ugh
The Jerry Joneses are going to the Divisional Round. Happy Fucking New Year.
It’s been five years since I last saw you on your birthday. You were turning thirty. We’d broken up a few weeks before, but it was a big milestone, and I wanted to celebrate it with you, at least in a small way, so we met for breakfast at a diner in Danville. It was sad sitting at that table with you, not being a part of your life in the same way that I had been for so long, but it was nice to be with you, if only for an hour, on a day that so many people, including the doctors who diagnosed you with CF as a baby, said you wouldn’t see. Of course, when I said that to you on that morning, you replied, “I always thought I would make it this far.”
Today would have been your thirty-fifth birthday. You didn’t make it this far.
In the half decade since our last birthday brunch, I’ve seen a lot of lows. There was my failed first attempt at living in New York, the still-unpublished status of my novel, the succession of jobs that ate away at my soul and kept me broke at the same time … and all of that paled next to May 6, 2011, the day we lost you.
But that’s not what I’m writing to tell you about. You always hated it when I got down on myself or depressed, and today I don’t want to let the hard times rule my mind.
Instead, I’m writing because I want to tell you about how my life has somehow, miraculously, gotten better.
It started in August of last year, when I got my current job, as the managing editor of a couple of magazines. The job isn’t perfect—every day I wonder how I became a managing editor—but it’s the best one I’ve ever had. It enabled me to stay in New York, and this year it gave me the opportunity to write stories that thousands of people have read—including a couple of big travel features and a cover interview with Robert De Niro. (I can imagine you saying “You talkin’ to me?” as I type that.) I can’t fucking believe I’m saying this, but I actually have a career now.
If that’s not crazy enough, check this out: I’m kind of sort of a musician now. I play guitar at Sunny’s Bar on most Saturday nights, and I’ve mostly been accepted by the amazing players at the jam there. The people in the audience seem to like the songs that I do—I’ve had more than one person call me “talented,” which is not a compliment I am at all capable of wrapping my head around. I’m pretty sure you would not have believed any of this would come to pass back when Anton took us to Sunny’s back in 2009.
That’s an old school Sunny’s selfie
And it gets better! I play in a rock band with three really cool dudes here in Brooklyn. I get along with the guys really well, and we play gigs in Brooklyn and Manhattan. We’ve even gotten paid for a couple of them. I think that makes me a professional musician! In New York City! Here’s a clip from one of our shows (it’s pretty grungy, but I think you would have liked it):
You definitely wouldn’t have believed I’d be doing all this when you got stuck listening to me learn guitar ten years ago. I still don’t really believe it myself.
I also got to do some pretty cool traveling this year: trips to Chile (I finally made it to South America!), New Orleans, Las Vegas, Portland, and of course San Francisco for Hardly Strictly Bluegrass (you know how it’s my favorite weekend of the year in SF).
From the first time we went to HSBG, in 2007. I still have that jacket, and the Allman Bros T-shirt.
Speaking of San Francisco, I got to watch the Giants win the World Series for the third time in five years. I know dealing with me when I get stupid drunk was about your least favorite pastime, but I think you would have enjoyed the extreme level of silly, drunken joy I experienced after Game Seven of the World Series.
It hasn’t all been perfect, of course. Sasha died a couple of months ago, and you know how much I loved her. But I like to think that wherever you are, she walked up to you just now and laid her head in your lap.
I’m sure you’re snuggling right now
I haven’t done a ton of writing this year—outside of work, anyway—which is a bit of a disappointment. But I did get an essay that I wrote a couple of years ago published in a book that came out earlier this month. It’s the first piece of mine that’s in a real book.
Pretty cool cover, huh?
The essay was about me, but it was also, in part, about you. Almost everything I write is at least a little bit about you.
It’s a little awkward to say this to you, but I’ve dated a few girls this year. I haven’t exactly settled down yet, but for the first time since we broke up, there’s a part of me that believes I’ll meet someone I could be be happy with, that I didn’t cost myself my only shot at that by fucking things up with you. I think you’d be happy to hear me say that. It would have been hard for me to see you go out with someone else, but eventually I would have wanted you to find someone. It makes me sad that I never got the chance to face that test.
Maybe the biggest thing for me is that I still live in New York—which you know is where I always wanted to be—and for the first time I don’t feel the restless urge to pick up and move somewhere else. I have friends, family, a job, a band … I actually feel at home here.
It’s crazy to say, but, all things considered, 2014 has been the best year of my life. And I’m even (cautiously) optimistic that things will keep getting better in 2015. Me, optimistic—can you believe that?
There’s one more thing I want to tell you. Yesterday I was on the 101 headed down to LA, and I stopped in Santa Barbara. Of course, I went to Sands Beach, to dip my feet in the ocean where we scattered your ashes and to spend a little time thinking about you. As I was driving into IV, I put some Tom Petty on the radio for you, but for some reason my iPod was acting up, and instead of the song that I meant to listen to, when I pulled up to the end of DP to park the car, it was “Time to Move On” that was playing.
I hummed the tune as I walked along the cliff, but I didn’t even realize the symbolism until my feet touched the water. You know I don’t believe in this sort of coincidence meaning anything—it really wasn’t you that was messing with my iPod, was it?—but I was struck by the moment all the same. Because in a way, it is time to move on.
That doesn’t mean I don’t still miss you, or that you won’t always be in my heart. It doesn’t mean I’m not sad today. I wish I could sit down with you today, have some pancakes, and talk face to face. Because no matter how good things are, they’d be so much better if you were here. But as much as it still hurts that you’re gone, I’ve stopped feeling guilty that I’m here and you’re not. I’ve stopped letting what happened between us, and your death, keep me from trying to be happy. And I think you’d be glad to hear me say that.
I cared less about Sunday’s game than I have any Niners game since Jim Tomsula (our presumed coach-in-waiting) last was head coach (the final game of the 2010 season, another meaningless contest that the Niners won). I honestly don’t have much to say about it, but I feel obligated to write something because I was at a party back home in the Bay on Saturday and a bunch of people told me these posts have helped them get through this sucky season. So, this one’s for you guys.
The Frank Gore Award (Best Niners Offensive Player of the Last 15 Years): Frank Gore
My attorney invented this award last week, and I think Gore earned it again in Week Seventeen with a 25 carry, 144 yard performance that put him over the 1,000 yard mark for the season and over the 11,000 yard mark for his career. This was probably Gore’s final game with the Niners, and No. 21 went out with the same sort of warrior-like effort that has earned him a special place in the hearts of Niner fans everywhere. It’s not just fans either: In the locker room after the game, Jim Harbaugh told Gore’s kids “Your dad’s the best.”
I’m looking forward to seeing what Carlos Hyde can do as the starter next year, but today let’s give it up for Frank Gore, the best running back in San Francisco 49ers history. I just wish we had won a Super Bowl with him (which maybe we would have if we’d handed him the fucking ball at the end of the Super Bowl XLVII).
The Jekyll and Hyde Award: Colin Kaepernick
Colin Kaepernick did not have a great year. I don’t think we particularly need to rehash the problems he’s had (it’s been done on this blog and by pretty much the entire sports-entertainment-media complex at this point). But today was the sort of effort that gives you hope that he can get his shit together. His numbers weren’t spectacular (15-for-26, 204 yards, 2 TDs), and he ran his way into an insanely stupid sack in the fourth quarter, but for the most part he looked confident, and he ran around (7 carries for 63 yards) and made a bunch of super athletic plays. In short, he looked like Colin freaking Kaepernick. Where was that all season?
I was talking to my attorney during the game today, and he made the point that you don’t fire Harbaugh or cut Kaepernick unless you can find somebody better. If you can get Andrew Luck? Sure, go for it. But I’m pretty sure the Colts aren’t about to give Luck away. And one note for the haters: Kaepernick finished the year with a QBR of 54.1, which ranked 22nd in the league. Not great, but you know who ranked 23rd, with a QBR of 49.4?
Hello, old friend
That’s right, the guy who managed to get through an entire season without throwing a TD pass to a wide receiver. People who think that the Niners would have been better with Alex Smith this year are idiots.
And let’s be real: Shit could be a lot worse…
The Adam Walker Award (Player Most Responsible for the Loss): Ryan Lindley
Everyone who’s ready to ditch Kaepernick needs to get a little perspective: He could be Ryan Lindley. Lindley’s numbers don’t look all that bad (23-for-39, 316 yards, 2 TDs), but he threw three TERRIBLE picks, and looked awful on many of his throws, despite the fact that the Niners’ defense was composed almost entirely of second- and third-stringers and got almost no pressure on him all day.
I actually feel bad for the Cardinals. They have a really good defense, and they have some good weapons on offense, but they fell apart and lost the division to Seattle, and now they have to go on the road for their first round playoff game, which they’re probably going to lose to the under-.500 Carolina Panthers, all because their quarterbacks were decimated by injuries. All because they got stuck starting Ryan Lindley.
The Ralph Ellison Award (For an Invisible Man): Aldon Smith
Hello? Aldon? Are you there?
The Al Davis Award (For a Dysfunctional Franchise): The Santa Clara Raiders
Yeah, we won the game yesterday. Yeah, we got to 8-8, avoiding a losing record for Harbaugh’s last season. Whoop-de-fuckin’-do. So now we’ll be picking lower in the draft (15th), and oh yeah, we also lost the coach who turned this franchise around four years ago, for the simple reason that the coach, owner, and GM can’t play nice with each other. Ladies and gentlemen, your Santa Clara Raiders!
Overall Rating For This Game (On a scale of Zero to Twelve Anchors, in honor of San Francisco’s favorite beverage): 0 Anchors
Between the Aldon Smith and Ray McDonald sagas, the front office drama, the shitty offensive gameplans, Kaepernick’s regression, the unconscionable second half collapses, and the injuries, this has been the most miserable season ever. I have watched worse Niners teams than this one, but I don’t think I’ve ever hated a Niners team more than I hate this one. For Christmas, my sister handmade a 49ers blanket for me:
My sister is talented
It’s a great gift, right? But it only brought me sadness, as I had to tell my sister that I would be using it to swaddle my shivering, huddled form while I watch the Niners underachieve and go 2-14 next year. Congratulations, Jed York: I award you zero Anchors, and may Bumgarner have mercy on your soul.
Editor’s Note: I refused to allow this shitty team to ruin my Saturday night, so I passed the recap responsibilities to my attorney, former guest blogger, basketball nemesis, and fellow suffering Niners fan Josh. I don’t want to steal his thunder, so let’s get right to it.
Merry Christmas from your Santa Clara Raiders! Last weekend, they prayed to Santa Claus and his earthly representative and only begotten son, Jesus the Magic Elf, to lead his donkey sleigh through Mordor to drop this steaming load in your stocking: a 28-7 halftime lead that the Niners turned into a 38-35 overtime loss to the Chargers.
Feigning injury to avoid the pain of this recap, Justin has summoned me off the bench once more, the Borland to his Bowman, to write this week’s requiem for a team.
Sadly, Josh and I both have hairlines that resemble Borland’s
The Frank Gore Award (Best Niners Offensive Player of the Last 15 Years): Frank Gore
Let’s start with the good. In what may be his penultimate game as a Niner, Frank Gore exploded for 129 yards on 14 carries in the first half. In the second half, he went back to being old. But it was awesome to get that brief throwback performance from the best running back in Niners history.
It’s a shame that his best years were wasted in the dark ages of Nolan and Singletary.
I think he should end up in the Hall of Fame. Plus, what a name. Frank fucking Gore. This guy was born to play football.
Perhaps if Gore had been given the ball on one of the final four plays of the 2013 Super Bowl, the Niners would be in an entirely different position right now. Thanks Greg Roman! Best of luck coaching pee wee football next year, you fat Jeb Bush.
Roman
Jeb. Well met, sir
The Merton Hanks Award (Awesome Safety Play): Antoine Bethea
Bethea is a fucking ninja. He completely gamed Phillip Rivers on one play, duping him into throwing a pick that Bethea took to the house.
When the Niners brought in Bethea last offseason, I wasn’t too fired up. I was fine with letting Donte Whitner go, but I barely knew who Bethea was, and it seemed that the Niners could have gotten a bigger name without spending too much more. But Bethea has been the clear team MVP this season, and the only Niner worthy of All-Pro consideration to my mind. I knew that he was decent in coverage, but I didn’t know how good of a hitter he was. That all changed when he leveled Dez Bryant in the first game of the season. Over the course of the season, he made several huge plays in the run and pass game, including almost single-handedly winning the Eagles game. He has played every defensive snap, anchoring a secondary that far exceeded expectations despite a rash of injuries.
The Brett Favre (pre-dick pic) Award (Opposing Quarterback Who I Respect): Philip Rivers
Longtime readers know how this blog feels about Phil Rivers. He is a golden god
How many times did Brett Favre burn the Niners in the ’90s? He was directly responsible for Steve Young not getting a second Super Bowl. And he burned us one more time with the Minnesota Vikings when he threw an impossible last second touchdown to beat us in 2009. (Editor’s Note: I was watching that game by myself in a bar in Oakland, surrounded by Raiders fans who heckled me mercilessly after Favre’s TD pass. It was the lowest moment of the Singletary era for me.) Then he started texting pictures of his dick to sideline reporters.
Philip Rivers gave us the Favre (football) treatment Saturday night. Rivers is what you would get if you fertilized Dolly Parton with the combined sperm of Dan Marino, John Denver, and Han Solo. He of the gold and mother-of-pearl bolo tie and rattlesnake skin boots. The man who doesn’t give a fuck if he threw multiple Ryan Leaf-type interceptions, who could care less if you’ve got perfect coverage and he can’t move his decaying body and you are about to sack him on third and long. He’s going for the win on every play goddamnit. He is America.
We were treated to vintage Rivers moonshine Saturday. Without a running game or his top receiver, he threw for 356 yards and four TDs, including one to tie the game with 30 seconds left. Play on, playa.
I don’t really fault the defense. They were good this season up until the wheels fell off on Thanksgiving. They’ve suffered so many injuries, they were forced to play practice squaders with names that sound like football players we know—Marcus Cromartie and Leon McFadden—with predictable results. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.
The Young Steve Young Award (Talented Quarterback Who Needs to Get His Shit Together): Colin Kaepernick
Before he became a Super Bowl MVP and Hall of Famer, Steve Young was a bust with the Buccaneers, and struggled at first when he took over for Joe Montana. Early on, Young was too reliant on his athleticism, but when he finally put it all together, he was the best quarterback in the league.
Kaepernick is the bionic quarterback, but will he ever get it together? It’s somewhat hard to judge him this year because everyone on offense was noticeably worse this year (Boldin and Crabtree are tied for second in the NFC in drops, por ejemplo), the coaching staff had a foot out the door, and the front office was a mess.
With the exception of the Seattle games, I think that, in spite of the offense’s overall decline, Kaep has improved his play from the pocket. That said, he has looked lost at times and is basically guaranteed to make at least one bafflingly stupid play every game. He’s made far too many unforced errors, missing open receivers and getting frantic and running into sacks.
The full Kaepernick spectrum was on display against the Chargers. He looked great in the first half, making plays with his feet and arm. In the second half, a wild sequence of plays showed how sublime and infuriating he can be. He rifled a breathtaking 30 yard pass to Vernon Davis for what would have been a 62 yard touchdown and one of the best highlights of the year, but it was called back because of a Frank Gore chop block. The next play, Kaepernick showed terrible pocket awareness and ball security, getting strip sacked, with the Chargers recovering for a touchdown that brought the score to within seven. A couple of plays later, Kaep narrowly evaded pressure and shot into the open field for a 90 yard touchdown, the second longest run by a quarterback in NFL history.
Whither big runs this year?
As the Niners’ run game disappeared in the second half, Kaep was faced with several third and longs, and converted only one. (Boldin added a brutal drop on a beautiful 20 yard throw.) Then, with just under 4 minutes left, the Niners called a designed run on third down that went nowhere. Kaep avoided the hit and ran out of bounds. OUT OF BOUNDS!!! WTF?!? HAVE YOU EVER PLAYED MADDEN, BRO?!? YOU DON’T DO THAT WITH FOUR MINUTES LEFT!!! Joe Staley threw his hands up in disgust. On the ensuing drive, the Chargers tied the game with less than 30 seconds left.
At this point, Kaepernick is like a Rorschach test—he’s basically whatever you want him to be. He can make all the throws and reads. But he can also flub some of the seemingly rudimentary aspects of his job. Perhaps this level of inconsistency is all we need to know about him. But if Steve Young got a decade to get it right and Alex Smith got almost that much time, I say Kaep deserves another year or two at least.
The Spud from Trainspotting Award (For Completely Shitting the Bed): Your Santa Clara Raiders!
The first half of this game was unreality, a portal to a better universe where the Niners’ offensive line was overpowering, Frank Gore unstoppable, and Colin Kaepernick dynamic and decisive. It’s a universe where Kyle Williams can hold onto an oblong leather ball, where Joe Flacco made no deal with the Prince of Darkness, and Kaep’s final throw last year was a foot to the right. (Of course in this universe, there’s an even better universe where we drafted Aaron Rodgers, but I will settle for any universe other than my own.) (Editor’s note: That paragraph made me want to kill myself.)
The Niners managed to fumble away their best rushing performance in franchise history: Bruce Miller on the goal line; Kaep getting strip-sacked; and the coup de grace, Quinton Patton on a reverse in overtime.
The best explanation for this season is that we’ve entered the absurdist period of the Jim Harbaugh era. Fed up with shitbag Jed York, he decided to ruin Levi’s Stadium’s maiden season by finding creative new ways for the Niners to inflict excruciating losses on the petulant little trust fund scion. The Niners have squandered halftime leads against the Bears, Cardinals, Raiders, Seahawks, and now the Chargers. They’ve lost in the most brutal ways conceivable: the Kaepernick multi-turnover meltdown against the Bears; Kaep fumbling what would have been a game-winning sneak for a touchdown against the Rams; they even lost to the Raiders. But this loss was a tour de force. Bravo.
Now I’m in the horrible position of hoping the Cowboys keep the Seabitches from repeating. Nietzsche was right: God is dead.
(Editor’s note: A Dallas-Seattle NFC Championship Game plays on a loop in the sports bar in hell.)
Overall Rating For This Game (On a scale of Zero to Twelve Anchors, in honor of San Francisco’s favorite beverage): 6 Anchors, barfed on the floor
We’ve been reduced to this
Objectively, this was a really entertaining game and would probably earn at least a six pack from a neutral observer. And even though the cold-hearted rationalist in me knows it’s better for the Niners to lose and improve their draft position, this loss was sickening enough to make me want to puke up that six pack. I award no Anchors, and may Santa Claus have mercy on our souls. Happy birthday, Jesus!
Editor’s note: Since I couldn’t bear to watch the inevitable bloodbath that was last Sunday’s 49ers trip to Seattle (apparently it wasn’t that bad, but still), I called in another guest blogger: my buddy Matt. He’s my freshman year college roommate, my brother in baldness, and my fellow lover of all things Niners and all things distilled in Kentucky. He’s also the most rageful person I know (and yes, I just invented a word to describe how full of rage he is). At first, he was hesitant to do this write-up, telling me that all his anger had been snuffed out by the Niners’ Thanksgiving loss to the Seahawks. That prompted this exchange:
And yet, invoking the miserable ends of the last three seasons didn’t cause Matt anger. Instead, he proffered something far worse: hopelessness. This, my friends, is the 2014 Niners season.
This really isn’t a game recap. I’m not qualified to do that. I don’t know anything about football. I do know that when the opposing quarterback hurts your best linebacker, you’re circling the toilet bowl. I take that back: considering Thanksgiving, the Niners cruised into Seattle soaking in the septic tank.
The 2011-12 Los Angeles Lakers Award (Editor’s note: This hurts my soul so much): The Santa Clara Raiders
A team with so many talented players that just can’t get it together to win games? Phil Jackson would have quit Harbaugh’s job last February. Instead, Harbaugh stuck around to learn the consequences of being an asshole. I don’t remember the guillotine being wheeled out so quickly for Mariucci when he helmed a 4-12 team that ended the Niners’ 16-season streak of double-digit wins.
The Alex Smith Award (Shaky Play from a Quarterback Who May Not Be the Long-Term Solution ): Colin Kaepernick
Colin Kaepernick was supposed to be the Buster Posey of football and deliver us from a decade of terror. Instead, he’s the most sacked quarterback in the NFL. Early in the season, one could tell that the offensive line was terrible. I, for one, was happy to blame the line instead of our GOLDEN GOD. As the season progressed, Kaepernick’s elusiveness has been elusive. For a player so fleet of foot, you’d think he could do better than spending the season doing his best Jay Cutler impression, all the while showing an ability to read the field akin to JaMarcus Russell’s. He looks lost out there, and scared.
Further proof we have become the Raiders
The Emmitt Smith Award (Most Hated Opponent): The Mirror
This season it didn’t matter who the Niners played, because they had no trouble beating themselves. Off the field, distractions ruled. On the field, the offense looked like it was run by a high school football coach.
Harbaugh’s job was a subject of much conversation before the Niners even lost a game. Sure, everyone in the organization hates him, because he’s a dickhead. Look at him throwing tantrums on the sideline the whole game. Now imagine working with him daily. The man is no Seifert. Instead, he’s an arrogant ass who made the 49ers the best team in football.
York and Baalke did nothing to end this rift. If they had just thrown a bigger contract at Harbaugh, this all would have been over. Instead they seemed intent on crashing this plane … with no survivors!
Now we turn to our criminals. Who knew that a sack against Russell Wilson would mark the end of Rape McDonald’s 49ers career? Ladies don’t false accuse it, folks. We also spent more than half the season waiting for Aldon, mostly because the NFL punished him for obscuring the truth about Ray Rice’s assault and then covering it up. When did Aldon see the video?
On the field, the offense was just garbage, like last season! Last year, Kaepernick had nobody to throw to for half the season because his receivers were hurt. This season, he had nobody to protect him while he looked downfield, hoping that the zombie corpses of Vernon Davis and Michael Crabtree could get open. They couldn’t. Only Anquan Boldin could be counted on (editor’s note: until he got a case of the drops, anyway), and go figure, the wizard defensive coordinators on other teams seemed to notice that. To top it off, along the way Kaepernick forgot that he’s Randall Cunningham. JUST RUN!
Overall Rating For This Game (On a scale of Zero to Twelve Anchors, in honor of San Francisco’s favorite beverage): 0 Anchors
No Anchor Steam. I’ll save that for MLB Opening Day. Instead, I’m drinking a single malt from Westland Distillery in the heart of Seattle.
With the possibility of a playoff berth looking remote, the Niners had one mission left this season: Do not publicly embarrass yourselves by losing to your pathetic, 1-11 cross-Bay rivals. Sadly, they couldn’t even manage to pull this off, falling 24-13 to the Raiders at the Oakland Coliseum. How did they manage to do this? By becoming the very opponent they sought to defeat.
The Al Davis Award (Dysfunctional Football Team): The Santa Clara Raiders
It’s been a running gag this season for me to recount the poor, sloppy, self-defeating plays the Niners have made in their various games by handing out this award. It started out mostly as my protest against the move to Santa Clara, and as a way to complain about how the team fell apart in its first game there, but I had no idea just how prescient this award would become. The Niners’ franchise is in utter disarray. The front office is openly at war with the coach, and everyone knows Harbaugh is getting canned at the end of the season, yet no one will talk about it. The coach is his usual evasive self, the GM never talks to the media, and the owner confines his comments to ominous tweets.
Thank you #49ersfaithful for coming out strong tonight. This performance wasn't acceptable. I apologize for that
The quarterback is a head case, immature off the field and incompetent on it. There have been high profile off-the-field problems—from the legal issues that got Aldon Smith suspended for nine games to the Ray McDonald investigation that led some to question if the team had an inappropriate relationship with the San Jose Police Department—and then there have been the on-field problems, ranging from the stagnant offense to the injuries to defensive stalwarts Patrick Willis and NaVorro Bowman. Fans have been calling for the offensive coordinator’s head for weeks. The stadium looks half-empty most of the time.
Now, what other NFL franchise does that sound like? I don’t even have to say it, do I? As my buddy Matt wrote during the fourth quarter: “To become the Raiders, you must lose to the 1-11 Raiders.”
Since I’m at a loss to explain how we’ve managed to out-Raiders the Raiders, here are some choice quotes friends offered before and after the game.
My friend and former guest blogger Tierney: “If you can’t beat the Raiders, you don’t deserve to make the playoffs.”
My attorney and former guest blogger Josh: “I’m pretty sure the NFL season stopped after the Niners-Cowboys game. The season was a huge success for the Niners.”
My buddy Alex: “My fantasy team sucks. The Niners suck. I’m going to switch to hockey or something for the remainder of the football season.”
My buddy Curtis: “Forget the score. This is the worst loss in Niner history.”
And, for some extra fun, I’ll pass the mic to a couple of friends who are Raiders fans for their thoughts.
My high school buddy and basketball nemesis James: “The Raiders have been playing well most of the season, they just can’t win. The 49ers have been playing like shit, but kept winning. I called this game a Raiders win back in Week 4. I don’t hate the Niners, but sometimes a little humility can help a team. With that being said, here’s a huge dose of it served up by my fuckin’ 2-11 Raiders.”
James also sent me this
And from my fellow writer and blogsmith Juan (check out his work here): Before today’s game, although there was zero doubt I would root for my Raiders, I was torn about what I was rooting for. In theory, for the long-term, a loss was better for us because it would help ensure our shot at the top pick in next year’s draft, but then a win against the Niners would be exultant. Seattle tossed the Niners’ twitching body in the grave last week, and it would be sweet for us to toss the dirt over the rotting corpse, which is what happened in Oakland. Christmas came early for me, but then I saw Harbaugh’s postgame interview. He sounded like his family dog got killed. It was fucking sad, man. Just last year the Niners were inches away from winning the NFC Championship on CenturyLink Field (I don’t think they would’ve beat the Broncos, but I think they would have beat the Patriots in ’12), and now they lost to a 2-11 team that got shellacked by the Rams 52-0 last week? Only peregrine falcons dive faster than that.
Juan did allude to one very Raiders-y thing that Oakland managed to do in this game: Winning on Sunday dropped them from the number one slot in next year’s draft to number five (assuming everyone loses out). The Raiders can’t even get losing right.
The Alex Smith Award (Shaky Play from a Quarterback Who May Not Be the Long-Term Solution ): Colin Kaepernick
This pretty much sums it up
I’ve written so many words in defense of Colin Kaepernick on this blog that there’s no point in linking to all of them. Just search “Kaepernick” and you’ll find me writing something glowing about the guy. But right now, I’m pretty close to done. His numbers—18 for 33, 174 yards, 1 TD, 2 INTS—were Andy Dalton-esque, and they don’t even do justice to the hopelessness of his performance. He looked confused and out of control on the field. Yeah, the offensive line sucks, but both the picks he threw were TERRIBLE, especially the one on the first play from scrimmage, when he rolled left and spun and threw a ball straight to Raiders safety Brandian Ross.
In truth, it’s unfair to name this award after Alex Smith. The player Kaep has most resembled this season is former Saints and, yes, Raiders quarterback Aaron Brooks. For those who don’t remember, Brooks was a super-athletic, exciting player who had playoff success early in his career but was derailed by a lack of accuracy and a tendency to throw backbreaking interceptions. Read that sentence again.
To make matters worse, Kaepernick has kind of come off like a dick this year. He’s gone from being passive-aggressive toward local media to being openly hostile. Just read this. He acts like a spoiled little kid, not a team leader. Name me one great quarterback who has acted the way Kaepernick does. Job number one for the Niners’ next coach—whoever that is—will be to make Kaep get his shit together. Otherwise you can kiss the rest of this decade goodbye.
The Emmitt Smith Award (Most Hated Opponent): Derek Carr
I knew so little about the Raiders coming into this game that I was shocked and excited to see that their punter is a black dude.
Is that a unicorn?
As such, I came into this game without any opinion on Derek Carr, except for a general lack of trust in quarterbacks from the Carr family. But in this game, he sure looked good: 22 for 28, 254 yards, 3 TDs, 0 INTs. Carr was poised in the pocket—he had way more time than Kaepernick, as the Niners didn’t get any pass rush all day—and he showed off a strong, accurate arm. It was the sort of A-game performance you’d want to bring to the table if you were, say, auditioning for a renowned quarterback guru who was standing on the opposite sideline and who might be your coach next year.
What I’m trying to say here is, Fuck you, Derek Carr. Harbaugh’s ours, at least until Jed York fires him this next week.
The Al Davis Award (Dysfunctional Football Team), Part 2, and The Emmitt Smith Award (Most Hated Opponent), Part 2: Al Davis
Why does it pain me so much that the Niners have turned into the Raiders? It’s not just because the Raiders have been the saddest-sack franchise in pro sports for the last 10 years. No, I particularly hate their former owner, Al Davis. Davis moved the team from Oakland to LA in the early ’80s. Then, when the city of LA wouldn’t build him a new stadium, he moved back to the Bay. He conned the city of Oakland into paying hundreds of millions of dollars to build the monstrosity that’s known as Mount Davis in centerfield at the Oakland Coliseum. A place where I had many happy childhood memories, that used to be a pleasant place to watch a baseball game, that once looked like this:
What the Oakland Coliseum used to be
Now looks like this:
What Al Davis, and then the A’s idiot owners, did to it
Aside from wrecking the Coliseum for baseball, the onerous deal poisoned any chance another team could get public money or will to build a stadium in Oakland (not that I think any city should give any team money for a stadium, but that’s another discussion). The A’s have spent at least the last five years longing for Silicon Valley, the Warriors are working on building a waterfront stadium in San Francisco, and there’s a chance that the Raiders, just 20 years later and now being run by Davis’s son, may move back to LA again. It’s an oversimplification to say that Al Davis may have killed pro sports in Oakland … but Al Davis may have killed pro sports in Oakland. As a former Oakland resident and someone who spent a big chunk of my youth in the East Bay, allow me to say, Fuck Al Davis. And Fuck the Raiders.
Overall Rating For This Game (On a scale of Zero to Twelve Anchors, in honor of San Francisco’s favorite beverage): 0 Anchors
Needless to say, that performance gets zero Anchors. Not even Chris Borland (who had 14 tackles and is still awesome) could save us.
Instead of an Anchor Steam, I’ll pour myself a pint of the delicious California Common lager (a steam beer that can’t be called a steam beer because the Anchor Brewery trademarked the term) from Oakland’s Linden Street Brewery and sit and quietly drink and contemplate a lost season.
Congratulations, Oakland. You’ve staked your claim—not for the last time, I’m sure—to Bay Area superiority.
This one’s gonna be short. In fact, I’m only handing out one award this week.
The Al Davis Award (Dysfunctional Football Team): The Santa Clara Raiders
In a season in which my once proud San Francisco 49ers have gradually devolved into the Santa Clara Raiders, this game was the nail in the coffin. Utterly dominated in their new home stadium, in a must-win game, by a hated rival. My buddy Luke and I left a lovely Thanksgiving gathering in order to go to a bar to watch the game, and all we could think to say after that pathetic performance was, “We left to watch that?”
Honestly, I don’t even want to write about this game. Let me give you a sampling of what some of my friends texted me during the game:
My buddy Matt: “I hate football. Bumgarner.”
My buddy Dan: “Before Stanford, Roman was a HS O-coordinator.”
My buddy Curtis: “Well, that was a big ol’ steaming turd of a game. … Fuck this team.”
My friend Jasmine:
My attorney and former guest blogger Josh: “If football is my religion, this game is my Book of Job.”
My friend and former guest blogger Tierney: Actually, I haven’t heard from Tierney yet. I hope she’s okay.
Overall Rating For This Game (On a scale of Zero to Twelve Anchors, in honor of San Francisco’s favorite beverage): 0 Anchors
Season over. Harbaugh era over. Thanksgiving ruined. Thanks a lot, Santa Clara Raiders.
Editor’s note: I was out of pocket this weekend, so I recruited the biggest Niners fan I know, my friend Tierney, to write the recap. She killed it—to the tune of 2,000 words! I hope y’all enjoy reading this as much as I did.
Hello fellow 49ers fans! Justin couldn’t make this week’s edition of “Breaking Down How the Niners Continue to Barely Pull Out Games They Should Be Dominating From Start To Finish” because he was out searching for a whiskey advent calendar (or so I like to believe) (Editor’s note: Sadly, no), so I get to step in and provide all the expert football analysis and witty banter you’ve come to know and expect. If you’ve been following this blog for a while you may recognize me as the girl who’s alongside Justin in all his Finnerty’s endeavors, including the 49ers’ “The Faithful” docuseries, and also a former winner of the “Justin Smith Award (Big Guys Who Break Things)”. For the record, I’m a 5’1″ girl who weighs about a buck-thirty—so I’m pretty proud of that last one.
That’s Tierney in the Vernon Davis jersey
So let’s jump right in! First things first, I will not be saying the team name of this week’s opponent, as I am a person with common sense (occasionally) and decency (most the time) who does not use racial slurs (ever). For the purpose of this blog, this week’s opponent will simply be called the “Washington DC Football Team.” Which leads me into the first award:
The Emmitt Smith Award (Most Hated Opponent): Dan Snyder
This one is so easy: It’s obviously Dan Snyder. What can I say about Dan Snyder that hasn’t already been so brilliantly, and eloquently stated? The guy is a fucking tool. Snyder took over control of the Washington DC Football Team in 1999, and it’s been a hot mess ever since. In 15 seasons as an owner, his team has only made the playoffs four times and have gone through seven head coaches. Among team owners of 10 years or more, he’s got a winning percentage of just .433; only beating Buffalo’s Ralph Wilson (RIP), Houston’ Robert McNair, Arizona’s Bill Bidwill, and Detroit’s William Clay Ford (RIP). He’s essentially bought off the media in the DC area to avoid any criticism or coverage that’s less than favorable, going so far as acquiring and outright shutting down all independent team fanzines and newsletters. And by all accounts he’s an awful guy to work for. But being the bleeding heart liberal that I am, I am going to focus on how batshit insane it is that he continues to not only defend, but praise the horribly insensitive, flat out racist team name.
One year ago today I attended the 49ers/Washington DC Football Team Monday Night Football Game in DC. As you’re all aware, the NFL salutes veterans and military service in the month of November, having special services, awards, and all around heartwarming moments during every game in November. It’s a wonderful gesture to applaud and give back to those who serve. So, being that this game was in the month of November, and it was MNF (the biggest game of the week, and nationally televised) what did Snyder do to honor the vets and make a shameless PR stunt? He brought out World War II Navajo Code Talkers and had them wearing Washington DC Football Team apparel. I cannot begin to describe how cringe-inducing it was to see this live, nor how uncomfortable the energy in the stadium was during and immediately after the spectacle. There is no defending the team name, and yet Snyder continues to double down on it. Nearly every home game is met with protests of groups denouncing and demanding he change the team name. And I’m proud to see that tradition was carried over to yesterday’s game in Santa Clara.
Representin’ in DC
Look, I am one of the biggest and most passionate 49ers fans out there. I chose going to the 49ers/Patriots Sunday Night Football game in December 2013 OVER my job. And then went to New Orleans and attended the Super Bowl in February 2013 while unemployed, after losing said job in December. (Financially responsible? Not so much. But I’m a diehard.) But if my team name was as historically ugly and damaging as the Washington DC Football Team’s, I would demand that Jed York change it immediately. There’s no pride or joy to be had supporting a team that you love if it comes at the expense of a group of people who have been abused and institutionally marginalized since we stole this country from them.
But enough about that, onto the good stuff!
The Jerry Rice Award (Most Dominant Player on the Field): Anquan Boldin
I’m not a historian, but I’m pretty sure the 49ers trade of a sixth-round draft pick for Anquan Boldin in 2013 will go down as one of the best in NFL history. (Also: Fuck the Ravens. Yes, I’m still bitter about the Super Bowl, and I always will be) I’ve been so impressed with him the last season and a half—this guy comes to play. I love big, physical receivers who use their entire body to catch the ball, and therefore I adore Boldin. He routinely catches passes that seem impossible for mere mortals. So I’ve been ever so slightly worried this season because Boldin hasn’t been looking like his usual self: He’s dropped passes as of late, and there was the bullshit headbutt penalty against the Cardinals back in September, which, sad to say, lost us that game. But Boldin showed up in a big way yesterday. He had nine receptions for 137 yards, a touchdown, and most importantly set up the game-winning touchdown by Carlos Hyde. In the 4th quarter Boldin had a beautiful 29 yard catch, with an additional 15 yards added on thanks to a personal foul from Washington’s Ryan Clark.
Boldin later had words on the sideline with Washington’s defensive coordinator, Jim Haslett, after a late hit. When asked about it after the game, Boldin said of Haslett, “He’s irrelevant.” Oh yeah, another one of my favorite parts of Boldin is the guy can talk trash … and back it up.
The Justin Smith Award (Big Guy Who Break Things): The Smith Brothers
You guys, I am SO happy that Aldon Smith is back. While he may not be the brightest guy off the field (Editor’s Note: That’s the understatement of the day), on the field he is a beast. You can see quarterbacks quiver in fear when he’s on the line, because he WILL find a way to get them. My individual love for Aldon is only matched by the delight I feel when he and his Smith Brother, Justin Smith, get to tag team the opponent’s offense together. These two would appear to be the quintessential odd couple, but don’t judge these books by their covers. Over the past three seasons, Justin’s combination of ungodly strength and athleticism set Aldon up as the fastest player to record 30 sacks (in 27 games) in league history. And you can see how much they compliment each other by what goes on when one of them is gone (as when Justin was out with a torn tricep in 2012). But they’re reunited once again, and boy does it feel good!
Justin and Aldon combined for three of the Niners’ five sacks of RGIII yesterday. Aldon recorded not only his first but second sack of the season, and did I mention it was only his second game back? Even better, Aldon’s first sack came on just the second play of the game. Seeing Aldon standing over RGIII gave me warm tingly feelings and flashbacks to his performance against the crippled quarterback one year ago. But it was Justin Smith that came through with the play that sealed the game for the Niners. The Washington DC Football Team, down by four after a beautiful touchdown by Carlos Hyde (set up by Boldin), got the ball back with 1 minute and 40 seconds left in the game. On 3rd and 8 with 55 seconds remaining, Justin had a glorious sack on RGIII, forcing a fumble that fellow former “Justin Smith Award” recipient Ahmad Brooks recovered to end the game.
The Al Davis Award (Dysfunctional Football Team): The Santa Clara Raiders
First off, I have to tip my hat to Justin for coining this phrase (Editor’s note: Yeah, I’m pretty witty), because it really couldn’t be more true. I love this team, and with the exception of Greg Roman and Chris Culliver, I would hate to see any of these guys go (especially Harbaugh); but this team has REALLY got to get it together. For the first time in my adult life I went into this season feeling very confident in our offense’s abilities and worried about our defense, due to the absences of Bowman and Aldon. But the defense has been strong, key guys like Wilhoite and Borland (holy shit is that guy a beast!) have stepped up, and every win the Niners have this season has been in large part due to the defense’s performance. But the offense has to improve. Did you know the Niners first-team offense had it’s FIRST 4th quarter touchdown during yesterday’s game? People, we are doing the WEEK TWELVE awards here. We still haven’t figured out responsible time management. I would love to peek inside Roman’s mind to try and understand his reasoning on most play calls he makes. And Kap, I need you to be more consistent. I need you to be the Kaepernick who shows up against the Packers in the playoffs—but for every game, kthanks.
Overall Rating For This Game (On a scale of Zero to Twelve Anchors, in honor of San Francisco’s favorite beverage): 4 Anchors
Like so many other games this season, I’m giving this week 4 Anchors. The offense had bouts of pretty play, but mostly looked ugly. The game was won by a great defensive performance (what’s new?) but left me feeling less than confident about our overall ability to finish this season as a playoff team. (I mean, I’m like 80% sure we are.) In other news, Seattle beat Arizona yesterday, leaving the NFC West up for grabs, and we face those two teams for a combined three games in the last five weeks of the regular season. Literally anything could happen. Which leaves us with…
Next Up: Fried Bird For Thanksgiving Dinner
Now let me start this off by saying I am 100% not objective and am completely biased when it comes to the Seattle Seahawks. (Editor’s note: All instances of “Seahawks” have been changed to the team’s proper name: Seabitches.) I attended college and lived in Seattle for 4 years, so this “rivalry” is especially personal. Please note the quotation marks around the word rivalry, because as a lifelong 49ers fan, a rivalry takes years, decades even, to build. The Cowboys? That’s a 49ers rivalry. The Packers? That’s a 49ers rivalry. Seattle, you don’t get that nomenclature just yet. You haven’t been relevant long enough to deserve it. So while hating everything San Francisco might constitute a rivalry for you, you can’t sit with us just yet (Mean Girls and football—that’s all I know, people). Thursday’s game is going to be big. But since it’s Thanksgiving, it’s only appropriate to be serving up fried bird, and that’s what I want and will be thankful for. I want Aldon to sack Russell Wilson. I want Gore to run all over the Seabitches’ less-than-stellar-this-year pass rush. And in poetic justice, I want Crabtree to pwn Richard Sherman. (P.S., am I the only one who thinks Crabtree fucked Sherman’s Mom and never called her again? Because that guy cannot get over Crabtree and won’t shut up about him.) It’s going to be a tough game. Both teams are good, but have struggled this season. I take solace in the fact that Seattle is pretty shitty on the road, but to be honest, the Niners have not been good at Levi’s Stadium. It’s going to be a battle, but we have the gluttonous, bird-murdering holiday on our side.
The continuing gentrification of San Francisco recently claimed another victim, one that’s near and dear to my heart: The Elbo Room, a longtime dive bar and music venue on Valencia Street in the Mission, will be closing, as the owners are converting the building into condos. I had my 25th birthday at the delightfully grungy bar, which I’ve always considered one of my all-time favorites. On the occasion of the Elbo’s closing—and after having this topic come up during my recent trip to New Orleans—I thought I’d compile the list (you know how I love lists) of my all-time favorite bars.
What criteria did I use to make this ranking? An entirely subjective one. To me, what makes a bar great is the stories you have from there. It can be a memory, a person you met, a crazy hook-up, or just a moment in time when you felt things click together and be, however fleetingly, beautiful. My list—which, ironically, ended up not including the Elbo Room—won’t be the same as anyone else’s, and that’s kind of the point. So here are the bars where I’ve had the craziest nights and felt most at home. Here are their stories.
10. The Page, San Francisco
I always think of the Page’s neon sign
On the corner of Divisadero and Page, at the border of the Lower Haight and NOPA, stands perhaps San Francisco’s best neighborhood bar. It’s a split level joint, with the bar and booths up front, a pool table in the middle, and then some stairs that take you down to a lower level with another pool table. The jukebox is great—someone’s ALWAYS blasting Zeppelin—and the bartenders are the right mix of friendly and gritty. And this place seriously knows its whiskey: when I lived in the neighborhood, they still carried Pappy Van Winkle, aka the greatest alcohol in the universe. Once I found out they had Pappy, it didn’t stay in stock for long.
9. Paradise Cafe, Santa Barbara
Key Largo—am I right?
While it’s not only a bar—the Paradise has a lovely cafe restaurant with outdoor seating for those perfect Santa Barbara days—when my college buddies and I talk about “the Paradise,” we’re talking about the bar, which is inside and downstairs, separate from the majority of the dining space. The smoked glass, the stuffed marlin on the wall, the Art Deco details, even the Aztec mural on the wall, make the Paradise feel plucked from an old LA noir film (or, as I have always said, make it look like the hotel lobby from Key Largo). It’s the coolest place in Santa Barbara, and along with Sands Beach, the one place I always visit when I have the rare opportunity to travel through SB.
8. The Toronado, San Francisco
Note the beer list in the back and the many, many taps on the right
The godfather of San Francisco beer bars, this small Lower Haight spot is a true dive with a punk rock aesthetic that also happens to boast a list of about 30 to 40 beers—some Belgian and German, but mostly California microbrews. The Toronado opened in the early ’90s, long before craft brewing became a fad, and its owners are held in almost worshipful esteem by the rest of the Northern California beer community. When you need something to soak up all those microbrews, the original Rosamunde sausages is right next door, and the legendary Tamale Lady often came through late at night (before she got shut down). Oh, and it’s also home to the surliest collection of bartenders you’ll ever met: I’ve seen a bartender literally pick up a drunk guy and throw him out of the bar, and I once saw a different bartender take a credit card that a customer had handed him and fling it out the window (needless to say, cash only). I consider it a badge of honor that the staff would sometimes buy me back rounds. (I went there a lot when I lived in the hood.)
7. The Latin American Club, San Francisco
Do not trifle with the Latin American Club’s margaritas
Most people would probably scratch this off as just another Mission dive full of hipsters, and one with a sadly ironic name, since you don’t really see any Latinos in the place. But, what can I tell you, I’ve always loved the bar. From the piñatas that hang from the ceiling, to the bathroom line where a friend of mine once hilariously made out with two girls at the same time, to the music—always Exile on Main Street or The Velvet Underground and Nico in my memory—this place has always felt like home to me. It’s also the rare bar where I have stories of actual success with women—although the credit for that mostly goes to the pint-sized, poisonously strong margaritas, perhaps the most notorious cocktails in all of San Francisco.
6. Kennedy’s, San Francisco
Where do I start with this North Beach institution? It’s an Irish bar/Indian restaurant, with multiple pool tables, lots of room to sit, and a great beer selection. It’s open late, and pretty much anything goes. An old crackhead once called me a “cracka-ass mothfucka” there. Every time my buddy Sam or I go there, we make sure to text each other that we’re at KENNEDY’S!!!
But let’s get to the best story. One time I was housesitting for friends who lived a couple of blocks away, and I was in Kennedy’s with a few friends late on a Saturday night, and a pretty impressively hot chick—named, I am not kidding, Angel—walked up to me and started running her finger up and down my chest. I chatted with her for a few minutes, and then she told me I was blowing it, implied that I might be gay, and walked out. (Still got it, y’all!) A few minutes later, the cops showed up. It turned out that right after she walked out, she pulled a knife on a guy in front of the bar. This didn’t really faze me, because by that time I had moved on to competing with my two buddies for the affections of a girl who was there, with her brother, from Virginia. They came back to the house for a few more drinks with us, and one of the guys, bless his heart, tried to get the brother distracted/drunk enough that one of us would have a better chance with the girl, but there were no dice. To this day, I don’t know what that girl’s name was, but she’ll always be Sweet Virginia to me.
My favorite part of this whole story is, I went back to Kennedy’s the following afternoon to shoot a game of pool, and the girl with the knife, Angel, was chillin’ there like nothing had happened. I don’t think there’s much of a moral to this story, except that I’m a drunken idiot. But it’s one of my favorite random drinking nights ever.
5. Lafitte’s Blacksmith Shop, New Orleans
The oldest bar in America
I’ve only been to New Orleans three times, and to Lafitte’s twice, but both times made quite an impression on me. This shack, which dates back to the early 18th century, is the oldest structure that houses a bar in America. It’s found on Bourbon Street, a few short blocks past the epicenter of the French Quarter’s craziness, and it’s home to some of my fondest New Orleans memories. In particular, a couple of weeks ago, I spent Sunday afternoon at the Superdome watching the Niners beat the Saints, then had an absurdly delicious meal at the Acme Oyster Company, then barhopped my way over to Lafitte’s. There’s a piano in the back of the bar, and my friends and I sat around that piano, which was manned by a woman who seemed nearly as old as the bar itself but who churned out all manner of singalong tunes, from When the Saints Go Marching In to Tiny Dancer, and we pounded down sazeracs and sang along and made friends with everyone else at the bar. It’s easy to get hyperbolic with a drunken memory, but I don’t feel like I’m exaggerating when I say it was one of the funnest nights of my life. When we were recounting the events of the night the following day, I said to my buddy Matt that I was pretty sure Lafitte’s was one of my ten favorite bars of all time. He said it would be on his list as well—and that night had been his first time there.
4. Freddy’s, Brooklyn
Freddy’s is one of the most storied bars in Brooklyn. In its original location, on Dean Street in Prospect Heights, it was renowned as the borough’s best dive bar, and made Esquire‘s list of the 100 best bars in America. But, speaking of gentrification, the building was eminent domained as part of the Atlantic Yards development (so Bruce Ratner could build a basketball stadium and a bunch of expensive condos). Freddy’s fought like hell against the decision, going so far as to put chains around the bar, but “progress” won out.
Here’s the funny thing: I never went to the original Freddy’s. But the bar reopened in South Slope shortly after I moved to Brooklyn, and it became the go-to spot for me and my buddy Luke to meet up and complain about our lack of employment and/or financial solvency during our first year in New York. Freddy’s has a great happy hour, excellent greasy bar food, cool bartenders, weird video art playing on the TVs, and yes, the same bar from the original Freddy’s, complete with chains.
As a bonus, this is the only bar on the list where my band has played a gig.
3. Finnerty’s, New York
I’ve written about Finn’s before, but as far as memories go, it’s hard to top this place: I watched the Giants win the World Series at this place in 2010 and 2014, both times getting a champagne bath as I jumped around deliriously with hundreds of other Giants fans. I’ve spent so much time here, the bartenders (“FinnFam” to the regulars) reserve me a seat for Sunday football.
The Sunday Niners crew
The bar has become so renowned as New York’s resident Bay Area Sports bar that the 49ers’ website made a documentary about it. If you watch close, I pop up a couple of times during the second half of the doc.
2. Vesuvio, San Francisco
Vesuvio’s lovely storefront
I’ve written about Vesuvio before, but in a nutshell, this former Beat hangout is my favorite place in San Francisco. Every time I’m in the Bay, I make a point to buy a book at City Lights, take it across Kerouac Alley, and go sit upstairs at Vesuvio and read, write, and people-watch the freakshow on Columbus Avenue. And I’ve also got personal history here: I had my 23rd birthday party at Vesuvio, and it happens that I introduced my best friend to his wife that night (after we’d all had about ten car bombs). It’s also the place where my good buddy and fellow blogsmith Juanito (who wrote his own Top 10 Bars his list here) and I meet up for drinks whenever I’m in town.
1. Sunny’s, Brooklyn
Ah, Sunny’s
As I explained here, Sunny’s is more than just the home of my Saturday night jam; it’s my spiritual home, and perhaps the biggest reason I moved back to New York from California. Though it too faces existential threats, first from Hurricane Sandy and then from the same sort of “progress” that killed the Elbo Room and the original Freddy’s, this ramshackle former longshoreman’s bar, later a nautical-themed artist hangout, stands as a lonely sentinel at the edge of Red Hook, perhaps the last bastion of unselfconscious cool in Brooklyn. It takes some work to get here, but everyone I’ve ever brought through its doors loves it dearly. Sunny’s is the best bar in Brooklyn, New York City, the United States, and the world.
Honorable Mentions: Little Branch (New York), The Warehouse Cafe (Port Costa), Skylark (Brooklyn), The Stork Club (Oakland), The Alley (Oakland), The Dram Shop (Brooklyn), The Kennedy School (Portland), The Lone Palm (San Francisco), Zeitgeist (San Francisco), The Elbo Room (San Francisco), Aub Zam Zam (San Francisco), The 500 Club (San Francisco), The Albatross (Berkeley), Bar The Clinic (Santiago), Earnestine & Hazel’s (Memphis), The Little Shamrock (San Francisco), and the unnamed place in Rosarito, Mexico, where I once drank mezcal out of a water jug that had a huge, dead rattlesnake floating in it.
From a Brooklyn Basement 
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