Eddie "Sez": Do The Right Thing Yanks

Tough season in Yankeeland. We lost long time Public Address announcer Bob Sheppard- the Voice of God who only happened to introduce every Yankee Great (and not so great) from the Mantle/DiMaggio era through the Jeter days. Immediately following Mr. Sheppard, George M. Steinbrenner III - he who's made all of this possible - passed away as well. For good measure, a few weeks later Ralph Houk, immortalized by the dude who played D-Day in Animal House in 61* also died. After the extravagant memorials and remembrances for Sheppard and the Boss, the Yanks really had no choice but to throw a black armband on the sleeve for Houk. (But where was the love for Oscar Azocar?)

And just this week, while the pinstripes are trying to figure out how to hit Cliff Lee (or hit anything for that matter) as their World Series title defense is about to come to an untimely end if things don't turn around quickly, we learn of the passing of Freddy Schuman, better known across Yankees Universe (and anyone that's ever seen the "Jump Around" video) as "Freddy Sez". 

Each death impacted the franchise and fans in it's own way. None was easier to absorb than any other (OK, sorry, I can't keep pretending Houk's was the equivalent of the other men, armband or no armband). But there's something about Freddy's passing that touched me, and many others. 

We heard Sheppard. His voice was comforting. It brought us back to our earliest visits to The Stadium, a stadium that doesn't exist anymore. 

We appreciated Steinbrenner. Depending on your age, you either marveled at his transformation from tyrant to patriarch, or you've only known him as the latter. 

But we knew Freddy. Everybody's got a story about "banging Freddy's pan", meeting Freddy in the upper deck, taking a picture with him, or countless other types of memories. I myself have more than I can count at the moment. Freddy was us. Devoted. Knowledgeable. Determined.

It's no secret that over past decade and a half, the Yankees have grown into a global empire: a corporate beast that prints money and fields a competitive, championship caliber team year in and year out. For the most part, we accept it and we like it. If you're over 30 years old, you remember a much bleaker time - the Stump Merrill Days of Andy Hawkins and Wayne Tolleson and a whole bunch of mismatched parts fighting to win 70 games. You much prefer the Empire. 

The trade-off though lies in what we sacrifice. The Old Stadium, where in 1996, you could drive up the day of the game and purchase a Main Outfield seat for $18 has been replaced by an extravagant, magnificent Taj Mahal across the street, where $18 doesn't even get you a parking spot six blocks away. Unless you're doing extremely well for yourself, you're not sitting too close to the action. More than likely, you need a Sherpa to bring you to your seats. A generation of kids from working class families have no shot to watch batting practice and collect autographs, as I did from the likes of Joel Skinner and Mike Pagliarulo. (And David Cone but jeez, looking back I was probably too old to be doing that).

I love the new Stadium. It's fascinating. I think it's an architectural achievement. I think it does a fantastic job blending tradition and modernity. I think it's a welcome escape from the 15 or so new ballparks with generic green walls and seats that tried to replicate Camden Yards and in the process made the retro-park a more aesthetically pleasing version of the 70's dual-use cookie cutter. But it's not my stadium. This stadium, and all that it offers, belongs to the fat cats. 

And that's why  Freddy was so important in these first two seasons of the new joint. Freddy was ours. Our spiritual leader. Our icon. Our memories. Most of all, he knew no income limitations. As Freddy himself said on his own website, "The first three innings I start in the Upper Deck because the fans are so enthusiastic up there."

For Game 3 of the 2010 American League Championship Series - the first home game since Freddy passed away, the Yankees honored him by displaying his pan & spoon, and observing a moment of silence before the first pitch. True class from an organization that is rarely anything but. However, the franchise should take it one step further. Freddy "Sez" Schuman should be honored with a plaque in Monument Park, as a tribute to not only his devotion and loyalty, but as a tribute to all Yankee fans, whom without our financial support and emotional investment, the Yankees would not exist. George Steinbrenner himself had said so on many occasions.

Make no mistake: It doesn't cheapen the legacy of any of the great men in Monument Park if the Yankees do right by Mr. Schuman and dedicate a plaque to him. Aside from the men who have taken the field in pinstripes, there are dedications to Mr. Sheppard, Steinbrenner, owner Jacob Rupert, and broadcaster Mel Allen. 

On top of that, three Popes who have said Mass at all three incarnations of The Stadium are memorialized. 

What's one more Spiritual Leader?

The Legacy of "Freddy Sez" should die with this current generation of fans. If the Yankees can sell a #4 T-Shirt with "S.Carter" on the back to commemorate a recent Jay-Z concert, surely they can find room in their cherished legacy to represent their greatest fan of all time.

-Ed

Let's make sure we get him 1 last ticket.

Imagine

Don't you ever wonder,
Maybe if things had been slightly different
You could be somebody else
Don't you wonder, maybe...
If you took a left turn instead of taking a right, You could be somebody different
-Dave Matthews Band

 Because I can be quite the downer, I just spent the better part of the last hour going through some emails I have filed away from nine years ago. Well, nine years and a day. There was nothing surprising in the folder. The messages basically cover all the necessary stages, from "What the hell is going on?" to "Are you OK?" to "Payback's gonna be a bitch?" to "Are they really canceling football this weekend?" 

What did strike me though, was some of the remarks at the time about The President. You all remember who was President on 9/11. The guy reading "My Pet Goat" with pee dribbling down his leg. Anyway, the people with whom I was exchanging mass-emails with that day, roughly 50-60 different folks on 3 or 4 different chains, they didn't vote for Bush. Didn't like him. Thought he stole it. Thought he was an idiot. Didn't trust him. Like me. And tens of millions others. 

However, on that day, when Bush was mentioned, it was along the lines of "Well, we have to stand behind President Bush now" or "Bush needs to be strong" or "Pray for the President". Generic platitudes. But positive nonetheless. 

Beyond that, I remember the conversations and the official statements. I remember the attitudes. Bush had a 92% approval rating that week (I wear my badge as a Proud Eight Percenter with honor - but not because I automatically distrusted him. No, he lost me with "Dead or Alive"). I remember how the Patriot Act passed the Senate by a 99-1 margin.

Then I started thinking about two separate, but very similar hypothetical situations. What if the Supreme Court had ruled to allow the votes to be counted, and Al Gore was President that day? Or, what if the attack happened in September 2009 instead, under Barack Obama. (Granted, that's a stretch because the events of 9/11 directly led to Obama's rise). But the point is - if the President during the attacks was a Democrat, would The Heartland, The Deep South, and The Republican Party stand so firmly behind the President in a time of such crisis? 

Sadly I believe -nay, I know - it wouldn't be the case. After 2 FAILED terrorist attacks last winter, Obama was accused of being soft on terrorism. Even though the towers fell on their watch, and even though they grossly and criminally mishandled the response to the attack, for some reason, these chicken-hawks think that they own the copyright on national security. They think they own it on the economy too, and they're track record is equally as disastrous there. So delusions of grandeur seem to be a necessary character trait for aspiring conservative leaders. 

Keep this in mind the next time some asshole like Glenn Beck or Sarah Palin talks about "Restoring" honor or dignity or patriotism - three qualities that they stand in direct opposition to. These people only care about their version of America. They stand behind the President only when it's the guy they voted for. They don't, have never, care about more than the bare minimum amount of Americans: however many it takes to get to 271 Electoral votes and/or House Districts.  

It's a well known, indisputable fact that Bush had a globe's worth of goodwill and unheard of levels of domestic support and he squandered it. But they don't care about that, because they don't care about you, or the globe, or the World Trade Center. Just their psychotic agenda, and nothing more. It's sad that 9 years later, on September 10th (or as it's known in the Giuliani household, "Christmas Eve") that this agenda, despite failing so obviously and in such a visible manner, is not only still breathing, but on the brink of a return. 

A mildly retarded man once said "fool me once, shame on — shame on you. Fool me — you can't get fooled again" 

Not the case.

Tony Dungy: Liberty & Justice For Some

I've never been a big fan of the New York tabloid media critics. Always seemed rather senseless to me growing up. I didn't need Phil Mushnick to tell me that Mike Francesa was arrogant or Ralph Kiner was senile. Every time I catch an interesting headline from them these days and see what they have to say, I usually feel the need to shower afterward. Except this time. I caught a piece where Bob Raissman (who looks like he's trying to sell me tickets to a 1932 circus in the dust bowl) calling out Tony Dungy in response to a little quarrel Dungy's having with a local blowhard. Raissman points out:

Dungy has a history of passing judgment on others and criticizing their life-styles. In 2007, the then-Colts coach came out against same-sex marriage, supporting the Indiana Family Institute, which sought to make gay marriage illegal in the state.


Back then, in an interview with USA Today, Dungy claimed he wasn't "anti-anything." He said: "We're not trying to downgrade anyone else. But we're trying to promote the family - family values the Lord's way....I'm on the Lord's side."

Personally, I think marriage equality is the defining civil rights issue of our day. I also believe it's inevitable. Conversely, I believe in this novel concept that people can worship whatever or whoever they want equally. Whether it's a distorted and manipulated version of Jesus that apparently hates gays even though he spent his last three years in the company of men, or some prophet while you're chilaxin in a former Burlington Coat Factory in lower Manhattan. Seriously, worship whatever the hell you like, just don't shove it down my throat (and tone down the bumper stickers too while you're at it).

Having said all that, it's 2010. It's allegedly an age of not only accountability, but (often over the top) political correctness. A few years back, ESPN kicked Rush Limbaugh and his drug abusing fat ass to the curb for inappropriate comments about quote-un-quote-black quarterbacks. Conversely, NBC's decided to prominently feature Dungy, who had the remarkable skill to win one lone Super Bowl with arguably the greatest QB of all time in his prime, as a key analyst in their crowded NFL studio show.

Yes, I realize that this happened almost 3 full years ago. Yes, I realize the whole point of the article is Dungy's ridiculous complaints about a coach using naughty words. Yes, I realize that for reasons unbeknown to me, certain sects of Christianity do more to combat homosexuality than they do child molestation. But just because this slipped under the radar doesn't mean it should be swept under the rug.

What Dungy was arguing for in 2007 was a law to actually prohibit individual freedoms. And they were freedoms enjoyed by every other slice of the electorate. We're not talking about the right to indulge in crystal meth. We're not talking about the right to drink and drive. We're talking about a basic fundamental human right enjoyed by hundreds of millions Americans - that harms absolutely no one . But Tony Dungy's Lord says no.

And that's great. I'm glad Dungy has a direct line to his Lord and knows what side he's on. He may believe that he's doing the Lord's work but he's got to keep in mind, 60 years ago, people who fought tooth in nail believed that they were doing the Lord's work in an attempt to prevent Dungy's relatives from marrying white people.

For what it's worth, a decade ago, CBS knew enough to withdraw their NFL Coverage contract offer to another bigot hiding behind "The Lord" when he made equally offensive statements about gays and lesbians. 

I don't think Tony Dungy should lose his job. I didn't think Don Imus should have either. We're too quick to call for resignations these days. Freedom of Speech (and if you want to call bigotry "Freedom of Religion" fine) is not only meant for comfortable speech. It's up to the people to view who they want to view, listen to who they want to listen too. Plus, who the hell am I, just some clown with an opinion. I just don't think people really know the real Tony Dungy. They know how adherent he is to his faith, but maybe that's the bigger issue. Maybe we should focus less on what's being taught at a Madras in Indonesia and more on what's being preached in our own zip codes. 

The popular perception of Dungy is this wholesome, do-good, compassionate man and I believe in his heart that he is. He's mentored some of the NFL's problem children. He's counseled  prisoners and the downtrodden and that genuinely is good work and he's an example in that respect that you and I can learn from. But his views on equality and a truly More Perfect Union with Liberty and Justice for All is dropped pass in the end zone. It's not something we should elevate. It's not something worthy of celebration. And it's certainly not something we should consider compassionate.

Riddle Me This: Barack and Christlam

On the way to work this morning, for no reason whatsoever, I started to think about the countless questions that I have - many for some time now - that remain completely unanswered. At least in a satisfactory way. I remember as a youngling, when I found myself puzzled, I could do one of two things: ask somebody, or go to the library. 

Being raised in a Catholic home and having attended a Catholic grammar school, ask someone inevitably meant bracing for the response "Because that's the way God wants it". Looking it up usually meant referring to either my father's Encyclopedia collection (that, no lie, when listing the Presidents, had "John Fitzgerald Kennedy: 1961 -" and well, didn't refer to African-Americans in a way I'm comfortable repeating on the internet) or going to a slightly (not by much) more updated library. 

But the internet changed all that. Or, at least it was supposed to. Still, things remain that not even Google will answer. I'm not talking about the philosophical ("Why are we here?") or the conspiratorial ("Who killed Kennedy?"). Simple questions that nobody has taken the time to answer for me, despite my ranting, and what I believe to be sensible queries into the times we live in. 

So, in borrowing a phrase from my favorite villain on my favorite horrible TV show as a kid,  I ask you, The Internet.... 

Riddle Me This: How can the same people who decried Barack Obama's Christian Pastor Jeremiah Wright now say with a straight face that they believe Obama is a Mulsim? 

I'm serious. For years my wife's favorite gripe about BushCheneyCo was "their inability to hold an opposing thoughts". Well my dear, the right wing has finally taken "holding opposing thoughts" to the extreme.

They spent the better part of 2008 screaming about "Black Liberation Theology" that allegedly took place at these Christian churches in the inner city. Now, 33% of Republicans think that the President is a Muslim. 

I'm not stupid. I know these people treat Muslim as a derogatory slur that they're somehow - in ways that they're too feeble-minded to understand - allowed to say in public (as opposed to what you and I absolutely know they call him behind closed doors). It's part of the klan-sans-sheets nature of the Tea Party. But I would think that even these simpletons could think back to their outrage at Reverend Wright and realize "Hey? Didn't I kill this guy for baptizing his children in the fucking name of Christ Jesus in this man's church?" 

Obviously we're dealing with some low-dangling fruit here. The same folks don't believe he was born in the United States. And I get that there's some backlash because they may feel we disrespected their President who broke the whole world and all. But I don't ever recall anybody on the left ever saying "George Bush is a Genius" after years of saying the complete opposite. 

So "cowboy up" teabaggers. How can one man be simultaneously be a Muslim and a White-Hatin' Christian? 

At least one inquiring mind wants to know.

A Touch of Gray: The RFFL @ 10

An organization near and dear to me celebrates it's 10th birthday this Saturday. While it's hardly as important as the Red Cross, not nearly as influential as the Freemasons or as popular  as AARP, it's all three and then some to me. Happy First Decade to the Rimmers Fantasy Football League.

Sure, it may sound petty on the surface. Millions of Americans play fantasy sports every year, and millions more may belong to organizations or collectives that have a much greater and hopefully positive impact on humanity. What makes this any different? Or any better? Isn't it just an excuse for 10 guys to get together once a year, get blind drunk and communicate every Sunday morning? Well, the short answer would be: Absolutely.

But I'm normally not one for short answers, and this isn't any different.

The RFFL began 10 years ago at a cross-roads of my life of sorts. I was a full year out of college but maintained a link to the glory days as a handful of my friends remained there for one more year. For that brief period, I had the best of both worlds - a full time job and salary, with unfettered access to the carefree college lifestyle that I had grown to love so much. But like all great things, that was coming to an end.

Among other hobbies like beer pong, video games and the tossing of lunchmeat on the faces of unsuspecting, passed out individuals, fantasy football was one of the activities that my friends I partook in. Some of us had pre-college experience, some none, but all fell in love. The 1999 season was a special one for me. My team, The Whiskey Dicks (a name which I rather not get into at the moment) pulled off the upset of all upsets against the juggernaut Salty Dogs, thanks in part to an unnecessary 2 point conversion from Kerry Collins when the Giants were getting obliterated by Kurt Warner's Rams. The Dicks were champions, and I was hooked. And I wanted Kerry Collins as my QB for life.

Not long after that, I started tossing the idea of a "Keeper" league around (where you keep certain players each year). Reaction was lukewarm league-wide at first, but thanks to my brother Sean, my high school freshman lab partner Brian, and John, of my college roommates who dared to dream, we had an interested core, and we spent the summer drawing up guidelines and working the existing members of our league to the point where, by August 2000, we had 8 men around John's kitchen table in Suffern, New York on hand to hear Brian's stepfather Gary announce that Peyton Manning was the first ever player selected in the Rimmers Fantasy Football League. I had no idea what impact this moment would have on my life at the time.

After tinkering the next two seasons with expansion and replacements, for the 2002 season, we had a lineup of 10 men that hasn't changed. And that is precisely why I'm celebrating this birthday.

These 10 men, these 10 friends, this intoxicating band of brothers, finds a way every Second Saturday of August to blow off all obligations and make it up to my deck for the festivities. And therein lies the glory of what the RFFL really is. We're all north of thirty now (Not naming names, but one of us is north of fifty too). We used to hit up bars every weekend. We used to have an annual Christmas Party. We used to have a Halloween Party. We used to BBQ a couple times every summer. We used to hit up a bunch of Yankee games. We used to pack 3 or 4 hotel rooms for concerts all over the northeast. We don't really do any of that too often anymore.

And that's why I'm celebrating this birthday.

That Sacred Saturday is the one defined time out of the year to get together and catch up on these milestones, good and bad. Maybe it's a new car. Maybe it's a sick parent. Maybe a baby's first step. Maybe a job hanging on by a thread. From a selfish perspective, I spend the day with my 5 best friends from college, my brother, my brother-in-law, my friend of 20 years and the man who took us out for our 21st birthdays a long time ago (again, no details shared for the good of all). Who could ask for anything more?

Because it's more than just touchdowns and draft picks. Since that first draft, six of us have gotten married and seventh will this October. We've welcomed four children: Maya, Quinn, Ella and Dylan (And one grandson). We've welcomed nieces and nephews. We secured millions of dollars worth of sub-prime mortgages.

Our lives have shifted from happy hours to property taxes. From tailgates to college funds and we've all gone through it together. My brother in law moved to Jacksonville 5 years ago. He hasn't missed a draft since. That's why I'm celebrating this birthday.

On top of all of this, the Draft - the League - has given us enough memories to last a lifetime. Whether it's Brian's 10 year old step brother asking how to spell "Crusty Beuerline" back in 2000, Anthony Becht needing 1 point and failing on the last Monday Night of the 2004 season to get Mark's team into the playoffs for the first time, Gary walking his cooler down Teaneck Road at 2 in the morning, Sean attempting to eat 100 chicken McNuggets after he and Travis forgot to go to sleep at the 06 Draft, or the improbable anti-perfect season that John's Stoagies managed in 2004, an 0-13 season that we still can't comprehend  to this day, there's little doubt that our lives have been enriched by the league's existence. And that's why I'm celebrating this birthday.

Life gets in the way - there's no mistaking that. Maybe when we started we were naive or oblivious to what lied ahead as our twenties expired and the dawn of thirtyhood was on the horizon. Maybe we refused to believe it. Maybe we knew it all along. In the name of progress and maturity, we've grown up. We pay our bills. Lots of them. We're all better people for it. We boast three dedicated fathers and eight men who would jump into the pits of hell for their wives. But once a year, it's that Suffern Kitchen Table all over again. And that's why I'm celebrating this birthday.

It would be criminally negligent if I didn't thank the unsung hero of the draft in my selfish opinion: My wife. I find it hard to believe that she (our any or our wives) understands what we do, or why we do it, or what it means. But year after year, she helps me prepare for it, helps me get the house in order, and never rarely complains about the shape she finds me in the next day.

I raise a glass (or more likely, a plastic 16 oz red solo cup) and salute my 9 fellow league members: Gary Burmeister, our current champion  Eric Couillard, Sean Hanratty, Joaquim Johnson, Erik Peterson, Travis, Mark Sprengel Brian Thompson and Michael Woods. I salute you for the memories, the experience, and the many good years and decades ahead. We may have added a Touch of Gray, but we're Built To Last.

The Dylan Canon

Over the past 48 hours I've been on an inexplicable Bob Dylan kick. Not that it's completely out of the ordinary, after all, I friggin love the man. But this kick is stronger than usual and the only reason I can possibly point to is. with the recent passings of George Steinbrenner and Bob Sheppard, Bob Dylan clearly becomes my favorite Senior Citizen.

Unless Bill Clinton is 65 yet, but even then, I have a Love/Hate thing with Bill. Hate him when speaking with fellow progressives because really, he was just a centrist who didn't really advance an agenda, but love him when talking to conservatives, if only to drive the point home that he was far and away better than the two shitsticks that sandwiched him.

Political tangent done.

So I'm going with the theory that Dylan is officially now my favorite living legend, and hell, maybe he was when George was alive, I never really compared the two. To satisfy the Dylan urge, I put together a list of what I consider The Dylan Canon: Seventy vital Dylan tunes, to celebrate Dylan's 70th year on earth, which began in late May. Also, I needed a more defined Dylan playlist on the iPod for when I wanted to hear a Dylan mix but didn't want to stumble upon Born Again Bob or some live tracks. I guess the alternate title of The Canon would be "The Unskippale Bob Dylan".

Funny part about Bob approaching 70 - I remember seeing Dylan with a bunch of friends when he played at William Paterson University's gym in 1997, and at the Garden State Arts Center later that summer, under the guise of "We have to see him now while he's still alive".

Dude was only 57. Oh to be 20 again and have no real perspective on aging and mortality. But I was so much older then, I'm younger than that now.

Bringing it all back home, these are not in order, nor are they intended to be ranked. They're just one man's humble opinion of the 70 most vital Dylan songs, and for what it's worth, this list could be 100, 125 or 150 with very little additional effort. We're talking about Bob Fucking Dylan here.

All Along The Watchtower
All I Really Want To Do
Ballad Of A Thin Man
Blowin' In The Wind
Changing Of The Guards
Chimes Of Freedom
Corrina, Corrina
Days Of 49
Desolation Row
Don't Think Twice, It's All Right
Forever Young
Gates Of Eden
Girl From The North Country
A Hard Rain's A-Gonna Fall
Highway 61 Revisited
Hurricane
I'll Be Your Baby Tonight
I Don't Believe You (She Acts Like We Never Have Met)
I Shall Be Free
I Shall Be Released
I Want You
Idiot Wind
If Not For You
Isis
It's All Over Now, Baby Blue
It's Alright Ma (I'm Only Bleeding)
It Ain't Me Babe
It Takes A Lot To Laugh, It Takes A Train To Cry
Joey
Just Like A Woman
Just Like Tom Thumb's Blues
Knockin' On Heaven's Door
Lay Lady Lay
The Levee's Gonna Break
Like A Rolling Stone
Lily, Rosemary And The Jack Of Hearts
Lonesome Death Of Hattie Carroll
Love Minus Zero/No Limit
Maggie's Farm
Make You Feel My Love
Masters Of War
Most Likely You Go Your Way And I'll Go Mine
Mr. Tambourine Man
My Back Pages
Not Dark Yet
Oh, Sister
One More Cup Of Coffee
One Of Us Must Know (Sooner Or Later)
Oxford Town
Peggy Day
Positively 4th Street
Queen Jane Approximately
Quinn The Eskimo
Rainy Day Women #12 & 35
Sad Eyed Lady Of The Lowlands
Señor (Tales Of Yankee Power)
Shelter From The Storm
Simple Twist Of Fate
Spanish Harlem Incident
Stuck Inside Of Mobile With The Memphis Blues Again
Subterranean Homesick Blues
Tangled Up In Blue
The Times They Are A-Changin'
To Ramona
Tombstone Blues
Tonight I'll Be Staying Here With You
Trying To Get To Heaven
Visions Of Johanna
You're A Big Girl
You're Gonna Make Me Lonesome When You Go

Music Madness: Charlottesville Sweet 16

Slowly, slowly, slowly getting through this. The end is near. Not really, but it's that much closer. And it shall be even closer after I blow through these two interesting matchups.

Box Score Keys: EC (Entire Collection - 3 pts), DA (Defining Album - 2), PC (Personal Connection - 2), DS (Defining Song -1), HI (Historical Impact -1)

(1) Dave Matthews Band v (5) Billy Joel

How They Got Here:
DMB: def (16) Queen 8-1, (8) Elvis Presley 8-1
BJ: def (12) Rage Against the Machine 6-3, (4) U2 5-4
Box Score:
EC: Admittedly a strong case could be made for either. Billy Joel cut his last new album (River of Dreams) within months of DMB's first (Remember Two Things). In the last 5 years, I've drank overpriced beer in the presence of both. However, there are so few chinks in Matthews' armor, and they've kept on keepin on for so long now that despite the tough competition, this one goes their way. ADV: DMB
PC: I got my first Billy Joel album, Storm Front, for Christmas in 1989. Early in 1990, I bought the double-cassette Greatest Hits Volumes 1 & 2. Remember those bulky motherfuckers? They wouldn't fit in a standard cassette holder/case unless it had a few slots specifically defined for them, hence making it impossible to sort your collection in any semblance of order? Reason #175 why I prefer digital music collections. Back to the point. Billy carried on through high school and college, the collection of impacting tunes litters my memory: "Piano Man", "Goodnight Saigon", "Scenes from an Italian Restaurant", "Only the Good Die Young", "Downeaster Alexa" and so on and so forth. But Matthews is something different. Something spiritual. I'll explain in the next round, because by taking this  category, he's already advanced. 
ADV: DMB 
DA: In the list of Sweet 16 defining albums, The Stranger checks in at  14. Crash makes the Top 5. ADV: DMB
DS: "Piano Man" may not be my favorite BJ tune, but as I had previously mentioned, sometimes the song picks the artist. He's known as The Piano Man for Christ's sake. An artist like DMB, there's more latitude - which isn't always a good thing because trying to come up with one is a recipe for spending $5 on a bottle of Excedrin. I went with "Two Step", and it checks in at #4. 11 spots ahead of "Piano Man" ADV: DMB
HI: DMB's yet to win this and this is their best chance yet. However, stepping away from my bias, Billy Joel ranks among the best of the singer/songwriters that defined much of the 1970s. Actually, he is THE best. The Piano Man avoids the shutout. ADV: Billy Joel
 
FINAL SCORE: DAVE MATTHEWS BAND 8 - BILLY JOEL 1
 
 

(2) The Doors v (3) Pink Floyd

HOW THEY GOT HERE:
DOORS: def (15) Dropkick Murphys 9-0, (10) Jay-Z 5-4
FLOYD: def (14) Arctic Monkeys 9-0, (6) Phish 9-0
 
EC: What a battle of heavyweights we got going on here. Starting with this category and extending all the way through, these are almost as close as you can get - nothing comes easy. Obviously neither is contributing to their collections anymore (or recently for that matter) but there's no way to over-state how stellar both are. The Wall. L.A. Woman. Dark Side of the Moon. The Soft Parade. Wish You Were Here. The Doors. Animals. How do you pick a winner here? I'm going Doors but if you disagree, I don't blame you. Tomorrow I could say Floyd. I just think every single Doors album is a masterpiece. Then again, most Floyd is too.
ADV: Doors
DA: Another one that's  very close. I have Dark Side of the Moon three spots ahead of The Doors. And I feel dirty about picking against either.
ADV: Pink Floyd
PC: Oh I don't know how strongly I can go into my personal connection to Pink Floyd, this being the Internets and all. Just take my word for it. Especially if you ever spent 6 hours sitting in a Pine Hall bathroom with the black light on listening to Pulse. The Doors, different story. It was actually the Oliver Stone 1990 movie that turned me on to them. For the first time ever, I was seeking out music that wasn't played on Z-100 or Power 95. I was chastised by nuns for making Jim Morrison the centerpiece of an art project. Fucking nunts. I'm not saying they're the most influential band of my life, but they were personal pioneers. They take this down, and with it, they move on.
ADV: Doors
DS: Just as close as personal connection. I barely, barely, barely have "The End" edging out "Shine On You Crazy Diamond". So barely. If it were anymore bare, it would be arrested for indecent exposure.
HI: Yet another tight one. And really, I feel horrible for Pink Floyd because they're coming up short in the box score but each category was so close. I think the Doors were the first ever "Fuck You" band. And I like that. ADV: Doors
 
FINAL SCORE: THE DOORS 7 - PINK FLOYD 2