Monday October 1, 2001

Ryan Finley

You heard it here first: Arizona 31, Oregon 28 on Saturday. Just trust me ·

· Football owners are callous, indifferent bastards more in love with winning and the power that comes with it than fostering loyalty and trust.

And that's just the fantasy football league I play in.

Ah, yes, fantasy football, the sports draft-and-play league that some people think is tantamount to going to a Super Bowl.

Rotisserie football guys - those consistently arguing about who is better to have as a third-string tailback, Priest Holmes or Tyrone Wheatley - can be the most frustrating group of people in the world and, dare I say, pretty bad sports fans.

They think in terms of points rather than wins, yards rather than first downs and quarterback ratings more than last-minute drives. At least the guys I play with do. Not that it's such a bad thing - if anything, my fantasy football teams have allowed me to root for players that I normally wouldn't cross the street to watch (see Joe Horn) in a fun, competitive manner with my friends. It gives us something to talk about and argue over rather than the time-honored "greatest hitter of all time" squabble. By the way, it's Ted Williams.

But some people seem to take it pretty seriously. Case in point: I'm eating lunch with my roommate yesterday, and we're talking fantasy football.

He says something along the line of, "The only team I care about is my fantasy team." Keep in mind he likes the Bills and Lions, two teams that would probably lose to Salpointe Catholic at home.

I was irate. He had become "that guy," the one who wins the entire freaking league because he cares more than everybody else in the league.

I hate to sound like, well, any media member, but there is no loyalty in any sort of sport or game anymore. I, personally, am going to keep Doug Flutie, LaDanian Tomlinson and Freddie Jones and see what happens. Of course, I'll probably finish last ·

· Attention all Major League pitchers: you have six games to keep Barry Bonds from hitting two more home runs, and you know what you have to do. Walk him, pitch around him, or - my personal favorite - hit him between the 2 and the 5 on the back of his jersey.

Don't get me wrong - Bonds is a special athlete and a wonderful baseball player. But he's a jerk. His own teammates dislike him. He's in a contract year and will try to force the Giants in to a bidding war to keep him. Not to mention the fact that he has an ego the size of Cleveland. Nothing would make him happier - and more arrogant - than to break baseball's most cherished record.

Mark McGwire is baseball's home run king, for now. It's your job to keep it that way, before Barry "I'm going to the highest bidder at the end of the year, probably the New York Yankees, the team that buys championships like they're going out of style" Bonds poses and struts his way to a title ·

· Lost in the mix of the Bonds saga is the fact that Rickey Henderson, Cal Ripken and Tony Gwynn are on their farewell tours. Henderson, for one, hasn't formally announced he is on his way out the door, but he's thiiissss close to breaking Ty Cobb's all time runs scored record and getting 3,000 hits. Henderson, whose me-first attitude has turned off fans and media members in past years, should be the talk of baseball right now. But noooo ·

· Just about a month before one of my favorite seasons starts. The Icecats, UA's club ice hockey team, opens its home season on Oct. 26 against Arizona State at the Tucson Convention Center. I'm already trying to incorporate the word "suck" into every sentence I know. Anyone who has ever been to an Icecats game knows how it goes: you take a popular saying, incorporate the word suck into it (as in Icecat fans' popular "He shoots, he scores! Hey goalie, you suck!" chant) and enjoy! ·

The Sun Devils · suck. I've GOT to get better at that.