Sports Karma's Top 10 Valentine's Songs...EVER

Valentine's Day is Thursday, in case you haven't noticed. And frankly, we at Sports Karma have no idea how you couldn't know that Valentine's was near. Unless you are a monk (and you're not getting any anyway, so what would you care?), live under a rock (ditto) or you're a deaf-mute blinded Helen Keller clone, Valentine's Day is as inescapable as death, taxes and Chuck Norris.

Equally as ubiquitious are the crappy Valentine's Day songs. February 14 is the one day out of the year where radio stations drudge up the absolutely most saccharine-sweet love songs. It's the one day of the year where Air Supply gets to fill out a 1040 Form. It's the one day of the year where we are reminded that Taylor Dayne may have had the single worst singing voice in the history of pop music.

Well, Sports Karma can't help you if you're sleeping on the Couch of Shame this Valentine's Day b/c you forgot to buy your significant other a priceless, guilt-driven trinket fueled by a Hallmark Holiday. But we can help you pick the tunes. We at Sports Karma have come up w/ the Top 10 Sports Karma Valentine Songs...EVER. The rules are actually quite simple.

1. It has to have a little grit to it. It can't be so sweet that it could be mistaken for the auditory equivalent of Mountain Dew. There has to be a little bit of an edge to it. The guys on this list are/were a bunch of whiskey-guzzling, chain smoking, occasionally drug-induced, rebellious types. Excluded from this would include Michael Bolton, Kenny G, every boy band that has ever existed and the ever-romantic, Pat Boone. Debby Boone, by the way, isn't up for consideration either.

2. Hair metal power ballads are excluded b/c as gritty as most of those guys were, frankly, the power ballad just tries a little too hard to be sweet. Excluded based on this rule are "More Than Words" by Extreme, "To Be With You" by Mr. Big, "Love Of A Lifetime" by Firehouse, "Is This Love?" by Whitesnake and "Without You" by Motley Crue.

And most importantly...

3. It has to be sincere. The following songs truly do say "I love you" without having to hand over their wallet, their dignity and their testicles. They are earnest and heartfelt, and it never seems like they're overextending themselves. That, to me, is the biggest problem w/ the hair metal power ballads. It seems like a contrived effort at being sweet to their special lady. As a result, it comes off as disingenuous.

Alright, that's enough foreplay. It's time to light some candles, pour the Chilean red wine, put Leo DiCaprio's Romeo & Juliet on the plasma screen, rock some Godiva chocolate, and put the Top 10 Sports Karma Valentine's Songs...EVER on the stereo.
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10. Dreams--Van Halen

It's like "Livin' On A Prayer," but w/ way better guitar solos. From the first Sammy Hagar
album, 5150, this is Van Halen's ode to the young couple with big dreams, trying to achieve the American dream. Oh, and Eddie's second solo is completely and totally bitchin'.



9. Calling You--Blue October

Romantic rock from one of Houston's greatest natives, not named Hakeem Olajuwon. This was Blue October's first major radio hit, and it's about the innocence and the unknowing of love. And this from a band that typically writes about how crappy life is, it's pretty remarkable how well they nail the beauty and poignancy of love.




8. I've Got You Under My Skin--Frank Sinatra

Bottom line is this: No one had more swagger, more cool and more class when singing a love song than Frank Sinatra. Period. I will not argue this point. In fact, I think I'll just shut up now before I say anything uncool that Frank would disapprove of.



7. We've Got Tonight--Bob Seger

Maybe the quietest song so far on the list, this is a beautiful song from one of the raspiest voices of rock, Detroit's Bob Seger. It's a tale of two lonely souls finding each other. Neither one want the night to end.



6. Angel--Aerosmith

I've long assumed this was a song about breaking up, not falling in love. But it's our damned list, and we'll do what we damned well want. This is before Aerosmith started writing power ballads permanently, and it's a touching song about getting back together with your special someone...before you make love to them in an elevator.



5. I Will--The Beatles (The DV and Sunday War Beatles pick)

My colleagues lean more to John and Paul, so this is their Beatles pick. Not that there's anything wrong w/ this White Album choice. At least they didn't go w/ "Helter Skelter" or "Why Don't We Do It In Road?"



4. Something--The Beatles (Tray's Beatles pick)

I've always been more of a George Harrison guy, hence why I went w/ this Abbey Road number. See, that's what love is. Sharing and compromise. But George is still cooler. One note, though. There's way too much Yoko in this clip. But I digress.



3. Thank You--Led Zeppelin

It's what every 80s power ballad wanted to be when it grew up. But very few came quite as close to greatness as this did.



2. Sweet Child O' Mine--Guns N' Roses

This would probably be number one on most lists. It's powerful yet restrained. Bold yet pleading. It's one of rock n' roll's greatest riffs, greatest solos and greatest endings. But Axl and Slash aren't #1. Wanna know why?



1. Walk The Line--Johnny Cash

Because they aren't Johnny Freakin' Cash, that's why. This is the song he wrote for June. This is the song that his biopic is based on. He's one of the greatest American singer-songwriters ever. God Bless Johnny Cash. And God Bless you and your special someone this Valentine's Day.

The Lost Pursuit of Perfection

After the Super Bowl, I went for a walk to think about what it all meant. Not that either scenario is terribly surprising, if you know me well. I go for a walk every night anyway, and I'm the same guy who picks up on metaphors for life through sports that no one else sees. I swore the Boise State-Oklahoma game was actually a metaphor for our U.S. military affairs (sometimes the biggest and the strongest don't always win, and presuming those attributes will lead you to victory can be costly).

After I left ESPN and had time to reflect on the 2004 Red Sox, and I swear my Grandpa Sheflott, a diehard Sox fan, was with me and used me like Moonlight Graham used Young Archie in Field of Dreams. I didn't think of it then, but I know now, my grandfather wanted to be there while I talked to Terry Francona and David Ortiz, a few of the guests that I booked when I was working in Bristol. I've already discussed the details of that time in The Origins of Sports Karma piece, so I won't go into heavy detail.

Maybe these metaphors are simply a figment of my own imagination, only to be seen by me. But just know this: I don't necessarily agree w/ my friend, DV. I'm not ripping his point of view, by any stretch. It's just that I don't agree w/ his sentiments. I don't hate Boston at all. In fact, if anything, I dislike New York City, a cold, cutthroat, expensive city w/ rude Yankees fans. Not that Boston's a helluva lot different, but for me, I know of two die-hard Patriots fans--my sister and my brother-in-law. My brother-in-law grew up 15 minutes from Foxboro. He suffered through Patsy the Patriot, the blood-red unis, grew up watching Victor Kiam the owner and Dick McPherson the coach embarrass themselves on a regular, practically routine, basis.

So, while I had no great rooting interest in Super Bowl XLII, I knew of two people that I love dearly who did. Not to mention, privately, I wanted to see the Patriots achieve perfection. 19-0 would have been perhaps the most impressive sports feat ever. Now instead of them being the '27 Yankees or the '96 Bulls, they are instead the '83 Houston Cougars or the '85 Georgetown Hoyas. They will never be remembered for setting an NFL record for victories in a season, or having the most prolific offense in history. Instead, they will be remembered for what they didn't do, mainly pull off perhaps the most difficult feat in modern team sports.

It is with all of this said that I wish to share w/ you the journey of last night's walk. It's not about where I went, but where my head went instead.

--A quarter-mile in I started to think about movie characters that could identify with the Patriots' fall from grace. Watching Bill Belichick coach this season was akin to Ed Harris (Christof) in The Truman Show. Besides the rather obvious penchant for cameras, Belichick had built a Perfect world where there could be no wrong, and it could only be what He created. He molded his players for his own liking, and everyone did just what the script said to do. Except when the script didn't follow. Eli was supposed to roll over and choke. Truman was supposed to be afraid of the water. And when neither one of these things happened, both lost their cool. Christof tried to drown Truman. Belichick tried to kill the Giants on 4th-and-13. Neither were successful, and both paid a steep price for their overconfidence. At the end of both the Super Bowl and the Truman Show, we are left to wonder what will happen not just w/ Eli and Truman, but also with Belichick and Christof. The worlds they created were ruined. Whether or not they can rebuild remains to be seen.

--About halfway through the walk I started thinking about Randy Moss. He, along with Tom Brady, were the catalysts for the greatest offense in NFL history. Brady threw for more touchdowns than anybody in one season. Moss caught more touchdowns than anybody in one season. Moss was also the catalyst for the second greatest offense in NFL history, the 1998 Minnesota Vikings. It has been well-documented that Moss was on his best behavior this season, a stark contrast to his demeanor both in Minnesota and Oakland, so it's really not worth belaboring. However, Moss reverted back to his old ways, allegedly, shortly before the AFC Championship game when he was accused of striking a woman. Maybe he did do this, maybe he didn't. I'm not passing judgment either way, but it's worth noting that Moss was the common denominator for both the most explosive offenses in history, AND those same teams were a part of historic collapses. Remember, the 1998 Vikings were 15-1, but lost in the NFC Championship game to an otherwise lackluster Falcons team that were summarily crushed by the Broncos. Am I blaming Moss for the demise of the Vikings and the Patriots? Probably not, but I find his involvement to be curious and not at all coincidental.

--About three-quarters of the way back to my apartment, I started thinking about Brady's ankle. Most in the sports media played off his injury as if it were nothing to be concerned about, like it wasn't even really a story. Tom Brady said it wouldn't be a factor, and the majority took him at his word. My question is this: If TMZ didn't feel the need to stoop high and low for a story, how many people would have even known that Brady had an injury? Remember, no one knew that Brady had an injury until those infamous photos were published with him in the walking boot. I'm not taking anything away from the Giants at all. They knew a high ankle sprain takes about a month, not two weeks, to fully recover from. In turn, they sent multiple blitz packages at Brady knowing he wasn't even close to his full mobility. They played it perfectly. However, I think it's rather grotesque that TMZ scooped everyone on the extent of Brady's injury, or the fact that he was even injured at all. TMZ, last time I checked, wasn't interested in anything other than the exploitation of the famous, and the continued seediness of just how far people and the paparazzi will go for dirt. Honestly, I think this year's NFL playoffs will be the tipping point for sports fans, and how much we're willing to tolerate. Between Tony Romo's Mexican getaway and Tom Brady's walking boot, sports media was transformed from a beacon of information and analysis into Entertainment Tonight with more testosterone. From a societal standpoint, I'd hate to think that sports is heading into the same exact gutter with Paris Hilton and Lindsay Lohan. From a sports fans' standpoint, I don't want to turn on Mike Ditka or Sean Salisbury breakdown gratitious video shot from some scumbag paparazzi. Sadly, though, the decline looks to be inevitable.

--At the end of the walk, I started think about Joe Motter. Joe was a kid I went to church with when I was 17. I'd like to think I was pretty moderate and laid back about my newfound faith, but Joe was Born Again. He was gung-ho, and every conversation I had with him seemed to center around Jesus. I knew that he had quite a prior reputation that he shared with the rest of us in our youth group. A few years prior, he was heavily into cocaine, and started stealing cars. But he swore that he gave it all up in Jesus' name. He was a good guy, but some people saw him at a glance and thought he was a phony. I never saw him as a phony, but something always disturbed me about Joe. He wasn't just that he was a Born Again. It's that he wanted to be perfect. While the rest of us loved God, we were still 17, and still enjoyed sneaking a nip of alcohol every now and again. A few of us, myself included, also found a cordial fondness for cigars. Not Joe, though. He was afraid of sin, afraid of doing the wrong thing, afraid of doing anything other than the exact thing that the Lord wanted him to do. Suffice to say, he put an enormous amount of pressure on himself, and everyone else around him.

A few years passed, and I reconnected with Joe during a college-age Praise and Worship group. During a group prayer, he tearfully confessed that he had relapsed into cocaine. That was the last time I ever saw Joe again. He died a few years later from a cocaine overdose. I don't know how old he was, but he was my age, so I'd say roughly 25 years old at the time.

Why was I thinking about Joe? Although the Patriots loss is nowhere near as devastating as the death of a struggling young man with so much promise, I think many of the lessons are the same. Both Joe and the Patriots had to be perfect. They could never allow themselves a mistake. They put so much pressure upon themselves that there was absolutely no room for error. Period. The weight became too much to bear, and they ultimately cracked. The Giants, like my friends, made mistakes throughout the season. They were far from perfect. So were we. But the Giants, and my friends, allowed themselves some room for error. We grew, we matured, and when daunting challenges faced us, we were ready for them. The Patriots, like Joe, were so focused on being perfect, that they never allowed themselves any room to grow. I hope for Brady and Belichick's sake that they enter the 2008 season willing to make a mistake, knowing that they can benefit from it later.

I returned back to my apartment complex, and stopped by my mailbox just to see if I had missed anything. There was nothing in there. I closed the door shut, and began to walk away. Above the mailbox was a handwritten note with a small white dog on it. It said, "MISSING! This dog is my 1 1/2 year old daughter's best friend! Please help! $$$ 512 XXX-XXXX" I didn't think much of it, and walked back to my apartment. As I climbed the steps, a small, white dog came up to greet me. He wanted his belly rubbed. I could only oblige. After awhile, I picked the dog up and carried him back over to the mailbox to retrieve the phone number in question. A very sleepy woman answered the phone.

"He-o?"
"Good evening, ma'am. Are you missing a dog?"
"Yes, I am. He got out during our Super Bowl party. I don't know where he is!" She started to cry.
"Well, I've got him right here. He's quite friendly."
"Oh my God, thank you so much! I cried myself to sleep tonight! I'll send my husband over right away!"

I told her where she could find me, right out at the mailboxes at the Churchil Crossing Apartments at the corner of Wells Branch and Thermal. Turns out the family in question was living right across the street from me in the neighboring apartments. I met the woman's husband. He strapped on the leash to the perky white dog, and offered me $10. I refused the money, and wished him a good night.

It was a night full of questions, and for some close to me, great sorrow as well. It was a night where my head was filled with metaphors perhaps only seen and understood by me. But I went to bed last night thinking about one more metaphor as well. I hope I'm not the only one who understands this.

I hope Patriots fans are able to find their dog again as well.

Pats will win, unless of course the Giants do.

Mike Greenberg, one half of the fearless duo "Mike and Mike in the Morning" on ESPN radio, recently rolled big, with a balls to the wall prediction. Paraphrasing of course, he stated that he was sticking with his year long prediction declaring the Patriots would go all the way, 19-0, 1.000, perfect perfection, winning the Super Bowl... but, he said he would not be surprised if the Giants won, in fact he said that had he not picked the Patriots so early in the season, he would have in reality, picked the Giants. Wow, so he's basically picking the Pats to be perfect, and yet coyly picking the Giants as well. It has recently turned a bit in-vogue to select our group of "deer staring at the headlights Giants". I will stick with that, more on that now…

Like I said in the preceding paragraph, I would rather not stoop to the levels of sports broadcasting that Greeny got to, so I will go out on the limb that Dr. Z has gone to and pick the Giants to win. GIANTS WILL WIN! 27-21. This isn't based on scouting reports, injuries, or even the fact that the Giants have a lot of momentum going for them. Oh no, not your friend DV, if you know my identity then you should know that making decisions based on rationale has never been my forte.

This is a decision based totally on hatred. Although you must realize first that I hate the Giants. I hate their whiny ways, I hate them with a deep passion, I don't hate them as much as the Eagles or Seahawks but pretty damn close. You may ask yourself, why would I pick the Giants if I hate them? Well, because I hate the Patriots even more.

Even deeper rooted is the fact that I'm getting sick of New England teams. I'm sick of Boston, period. They have been in recent years always in the discussion for championships. Then, to add fuel to the fire, I used to love reading Bill Simmons, part of his charm as a Pop Culture writer was that the Red Sox always lost, that he was the loveable loser. Now, they have two championships in three years and it's just not the same. If the Celtics make it to the Finals this year I'm giving up. I understand that they deserve some good karma for all the years of mediocrity and just plain mental retardation in sports, but enough is enough! Now we have to go from "The Curse of the Bambino" to "Perfect Patriots"? Now, instead of getting his good columns, we're getting "Which was the best Boston team? Oh, hell no.

And then there was this, just to add salt to an open wound, we get his fearless prediction for Super Bowl XLII,

"The Big Pick: Patriots 42, Giants 17.

Playoff record: 5-4-1
Regular Season: 118-129-9."

I mean, this guy's got balls declaring the Giants as 25 point dogs in the Super Bowl. Doesn't he know anything about history, doesn't he know anything about SPORTSKARMA! You would think a guy in his position would be more careful with randomness like this, especially when he has a losing Regular Season record and not a great Playoff Record as well. Finally, as most of his columns always end, the inevitable happens. In classic "Sports Guy" fashion, he references a movie/TV show/commercial/yadda yadda yadda. In this case, he goes with "The Perfect Storm". Naturally, the Patriots are the wave that crashes down on the hapless George Clooney and Mark Wahlberg, representing the Giants. Well, I got a couple of other movies perhaps you've seen Simmons, Rocky, Hoosiers, The Longest Yard, Rudy, Rocky II… Oh well, you get the point. I guess referencing a random movie because it fits your particular point of view is kind of retarded.

Anyway, I digress.

Thank God we have a Quarterback that just doesn't give a fuck and is ready to throw it up to a receiver that wants desperately to prove himself to the big boys of the NFL. Plaxico will win big. I mean, just look at this picture of Eli taken on Wednesday before the game. The man just wants to party, he just doesn't care!

Well, just remember, you heard it here first, Giants will win, just like that. And no, I'm not going to pull a Greeny, or pull this blog if I am publicly humiliated. It shall remain. DV out.