I've been ramping up my Comedy Podcast Listenership lately, and one show I've been digging a lot is Comedy and Everything Else. Hosts Jimmy Dore and Stefane Zamorano interview funny people at length (often as long as two hours) about, well, comedy and everything else. I got turned on to it thanks to a two-part episode where they grill Paul F. Tompkins and Tom Scharpling. The total running time clocked in at close to four hours, and yet it still left me wanting more. I highly recommend checking it out, unless you hate hilarity.

So like everything else I discover, I'm trying to burn myself out on it as soon as possible by listening to as many episodes in as short a time as I can. Last week, I was listening to an installment with guest Jen Kirkman, and the conversation turned to the heady subject of 9-11 conspiracy theories. It then drifted briefly into the somewhat related territory of Pearl Harbor conspiracy theories. (If you're not familiar with them, long story short: some folks believe FDR knew the attack on Pearl Harbor would happen, but allowed it to occur because it would pull America into the war as an victim rather than an aggressor and pull the country out of the Depression.)

As this was discussed, my mind traveled, as it often does, to a terrible show I used to watch as a kid. In this case, Charles in Charge. Because I have a very vivid memory of seeing an episode of this show in which Pearl Harbor conspiracy theories are discussed in a class Charles is teaching. The reason I remembered this is because it was effing Charles in Charge, which had as much business broaching such a subject as Kim Kardashian does discussing the Goldman Sachs scandal.

Why did I see this show in the first place? Because it used to be on WPIX. If any show was run or rerun on WPIX or WNEW from roughly 1987 to 1994, I watched it. It didn't matter if it was terrible. It was on. That's why I have seen the entire series run of Charles in Charge. And Benson. And Good Times. And Small Wonder. And 21 Jump Street and What's Happening and The Brady Bunch and a dozen other shows. And I haven't even mentioned any of the hideous cartoons I slavishly watched as a kid.

So I asked online friends (via Facebook) if they remembered this. No one did, with several folks implying that I may have just imagined this. NO, NO, I insisted, THIS IS A THING THAT HAPPENED AND I CAN PROVE IT.

Luckily for me, the entire run of Charles in Charge is available via Netflix Instant. So I scanned episode descriptions on Wikipedia and found one that seemed to fit the bill: "Teacher's Pest", from the show's fifth and final season.

Netflix Instant (mostly) validated my memory. I originally thought Charles was teaching a high school class, but the episode in question had him substitute teaching a college history class (because colleges totally have substitute teachers). He convinces Mr. Powell, grandfather of the kids he watches and a World War II vet, to take his class for some reason. Of course, Grampa's new preoccupation with college life makes him "neglect" the grandkids, who are supposed to be teenagers and yet resent not being able to hang out with their elderly grandfather. So they beg Charles to fix this mess (despite the fact that they're all pushing 30 years old by this point in the series).

But the bigger issue is the class's textbook, which insists (in a way no textbook would) that FDR knew all about Pearl Harbor and let it happen. Mr. Powell is bothered by this assertion, and writes his paper for the class insisting otherwise. Charles--who seems neutral on the issue--asks that he rewrite the paper to reflect the textbook; otherwise, he has to give him a failing grade. Mr. Powell refuses to do so, as it would violate his principles.

The episode ends with Charles telling his class that the guy who wrote the book "needed glasses", and that it should have stuck to facts rather than "crackpot theories". Mr. Powell returns in full naval uniform to school the students on what really happened in World War II. Then Buddy Lembeck does something stupid. And, scene.

So I was more or less right, and briefly felt vindicated. But then I realized I was more or less right about a terrible syndicated TV show in which arch-conservative/reputed arsonist Scott Baio acted out some grudge against egghead professors. I don't think I can call this a victory any more than the nerds on Deadliest Warrior can can declare real victory over anything, except getting laid.

It reminds me of an old Foghorn Leghorn cartoon, where the old maid hen can't get Foghorn to give her the time of day. So the nameless dog who hates him offers to help the hen by dressing up as a rooster vying for her affection. Driven to jealousy, Foghorn bests his imaginary rival. The cartoon ends with Foghorn and the hen getting married, after which Foghorn leaps triumphantly in the air screaming, "I won! I won!"

Then he stops, rubs his chin and wonders, "There musta been some way I coulda lost..."

Game 17: Mets 7, Braves 4
The Fake Mets took an early 3-1 lead, thanks to a massive first inning two-run homer by Fake David Wright. But the Fake Braves tied the game with solo homers by Fake Troy Glaus and Martin Prado. After the Fake Mets blew a chance to get Fake Jason Bay home from third with one out in the bottom of the eighth, Fake Yunel Escoabr hit a home run off of Fake Bobby Parnell to put Atlanta up 4-3. Fake Billy Wagner came on to try to earn a save, but two hits and a Wright sac fly tied the game anew, and Fake Carlos Beltran clubbed a three-run home run to give the Fake Mets a walkoff win.

In real life: After John Maine fled the game with a mysterious ailment in his non-pitching arm, Ike Davis hit his first major league home run--a 450-foot bomb to the Shea Bridge--to tie the game at 1. As Hisanori Takashi turned in a brilliant relief performance, the Mets went ahead with two runs in the seventh, then got two more in the eighth thanks to Atlanta's unfamiliarity with the finer details of the infield fly rule. Frankie Rodriguez allowed two base runners but danced out of danger to preserve a 5-2 win.

Game 18: Braves 6, Mets 4
Fake Ollie Perez struggled in the first, giving up two-run homer to Fake Chipper Jones and solo shot to Fake Troy Glaus. The Fake Mets came right back with three runs in their half, the last two scoring on a long two-RBI double by Fake Daniel Murphy. Fake Ollie settled down for a while, but gave up another two-run longball in the top of the sixth, this one to Fake Nate McClouth. The Fake Mets scored another run on a wild pitch in the bottom of the eighth, but could not complete the comeback.

In real life: Jon Niese danced in and out of danger all day, allowing plenty of baserunners but somehow only one run (with the aid of some sloppy baserunning by Yunel Escobar). Jason Bay tied the game with a long RBI double in the bottom of the sixth, and an RBI triple by Jeff Francoeur and a sac fly by Henry Blanco in the seventh put the Mets up 3-1. Pedro Feliciano stranded two runners in the eighth, and Frankie Rodriguez lodged his third save in as many games.

Game 19: Mets 8, Braves 3
John Maine pitched seven solid innings; his line would have looked better, but for a potential double play grounder that inexplicably skipped past Fake Daniel Murphy, leading to a two-run inning (it literally zipped past his feet, at a range at which fielders usually reach down and catch balls with ease). But a three-run homer by Fake Carlos Beltran in the fourth opened up a big lead for the Fake Mets, and a pinch-hit three-run shot by Fake Angel Pagan in the seventh put the game out of reach.

Since I've bitched about how unfair this game can be, I should make note of one way in which the game hands the user an advantage: the computer's bullpen management is atrocious. Throughout this series, Fake Atlanta would bring in lefty relievers like Fake Eric O'Flaherty to face dangerous righty batters like Fake Wright and Bay, something not even the dumbest real life manager would do. Such AI incompetence allowed me to mount or extend many a rally. So thank you, dumb computer.

In real life: Mike Pelfrey somehow extended his scoreless streak, though it took him 106 pitches and a few double play grounders to negotiate his way through five innings on a raw, rainy night. Jose Reyes manufactured a run in the first by singling, stealing second, and dashing home on an errant throw by Chipper Jones. The rain came for good just as the game went official and gave the Mets a 1-0 win and a weather-aided series sweep.

Parallel Universe Fake Mets record: 7-12

Real Mets record: 10-9

Game 13: Mets 2, Cubs 1 (10)
The Fake Mets carried a 1-0 lead into the ninth, thanks to a stellar eight-inning performance by Fake Oliver Perez. But Fake Frankie Rodriguez gave up back-to-back doubles in the top of the ninth to tie the game. But the Fake Mets finally had some luck on their side. In the bottom of the tenth, Fake Daniel Murphy led off with a single, took second on a sac bunt, and advanced to third on a wild pitch. Then, Fake Omir Santos hit a lazy groundball in between first and second, just slow enough to allow Murphy to score and give the Fake Mets their first walkoff win of the season.

In real life: Jon Niese pitched a decent game and held the Cubs to one run, and the Chicago bullpen and defense handed the Mets a 5-run seventh inning to put them ahead by the eventual final score of 6-1. Ike Davis made his MLB debut and picked up his first hit and RBI.

Game 14: Cubs 10, Mets 1
Fake John Maine was clobbered for 10 hits, 7 runs, and two homers (by Fake Xavier Nady and Alfonso Soriano, who MLB10: The Show apparently mistakes for the Soriano of four years ago) in 4 1/3 innings. The Fake Mets could get nothing going against Fake Randy Wells and fell in a lopsided defeat.

In real life: Mike Pelfrey turned in another dominant start, going seven innings and giving up no runs and just three hits. Jose Reyes got on track with a four-hit night, and Fernando Tatis hit a pinch-hit two-run homer to put the game out of reach in the eighth inning. The bullpen made the 4-0 score stand up.

Game 15: Mets 4, Cubs 3
Fake Jon Niese had a decent outing, limiting the Fake Cubs to 3 runs. But the real star of this game was Fake Carlos Beltran, who clubbed two 2-run homers to account for all of the Fake Mets runs.

In real life: Oliver Perez came back to earth a bit, lasting just five innings and ceding 3 runs. Meanwhile, the Mets' bullpen became suddenly leaky and gave up 6 runs of its own, en route to a 9-3 defeat.

Game 16: Mets 4, Cubs 1
Fake Johan Santana went the distance to finally earn his first win of the year. Fake Jason Bay hit a two-run homer to get the Fake Mets on the board in the first inning. Picture included here so that Real Mets fans can finally get a glimpse of what Jason Bay homering looks like.

In real life: Johan Santana gritted his way through 6 and 1/3 innings, stranding runners all night and allowing just one earned run. The Cubs were undone by a four-run sixth inning in which two runs scored on a booted grounder by Mike Fontenot. With Chicago threatening in the eighth, Frankie Rodriguez was called on for a five-out save, which he somehow managed, and the Mets had a 5-2 victory and their first series win of the year.

Parallel Universe Fake Mets record: 5-11

Real Mets record: 7-9

You can't reform finance, man! Finance needs to live free and roam wild, like nature intended! You gotta let it grow, man, just like my head of luscious hippie hair. When you don't, you upset the delicate financial balance put in place by Mother Cash.

I know untamed finance can seem scary, but that's just the way we've been conditioned by this plastic modern society, man. If you look at it with open eyes, I mean really look at it, man, it's beautiful. Open up the Wall Street Journal and gaze at all these CEO's making boatloads of cash in bonuses while laying off hundreds of workers. Or a hedge fund manager setting up mortgage-backed securities he knew would fail, then betting against them to make a shitload of money when the economy went in the crapper. How can people do stuff like that and sleep at night? That's the wonderful mystery of finance, man!

The derivatives market is one of the last untouched financial wildernesses we have. You can't fence that in, man! Those derivatives need to be untamed, run around like maniacs, and send the economy on unpredictable spikes and troughs that cause millions of people to lose their jobs! Man, don't pave paradise and put up a parking lot!

The image below is a screengrab I took from Yahoo! Sports' front page yesterday. Peep the caption below Toby Gerhart's pic and see how long it takes you to get to a needle-pulled-across-the-record moment.

No, it's not the word "evaluator". No, it's not the words "downgrade" or "legitimate". It's those last two words. You know, the ones that have caused a lot of trouble in this country during its entire existence.

The article this links to, penned by Michael Silver, is slightly more provocative, as you might be able to tell from the title "Race Factors into Evaluation of Gerhart". And if that didn't clue you in, the teasers seen in this screengrab I took later the same day would surely clue you in.

The thrust of the article: Gerhart (fresh out of Stanford) is a very good running back who could go to some lucky team in the first round of the NFL draft--if only he were black! Instead, he can only dream of the tarnished glory of being a second-round pick at best. Curse this pasty visage!

To be fair, Silver does not arrive at this conclusion out of thin air. He has quotes from an anonymous scout who reached the same conclusion, and Gerhart shares his experience during a team interview that indicated race was a factor in their thought process. And he is far from the only writer to pen an article on this subject. A quick Google search reveals tons of articles about Gerhart The White Running Back.

Regardless, to say a white guy faces prejudice of any kind while also saying that black guys get all the breaks is, at best, touchy, and worst, foolishly ignorant of what consitutes prejudice. Gerhart isn't exactly being kept down by the lack of color of his skin. He finished second in Heisman voting this past year. He is highly regarded by many talent evaluators. (There are also some who question his ability to play as well in the NFL as he did in college, for reasons that have nothing to do with a lack of melanin.)

The question is not "Will he get picked at all?", but "Will he get picked in the first round?" Basically, it's a question of whether he gets ridiculous first round money or slightly less ridiculous second/third round money.

Is there a perception that white guys can't be running backs in the NFL? Yes. That's a stereotype, but it's not prejudice. Stereotyping is when you say something dumb and racist. Prejudice is when you won't let certain people move into your neighborhood. Words can be hurtful, but they don't compare to someone not allowing you basic human rights.

Gerhart will get a chance with some team. He'll get a very good chance, in fact, because he will likely be a high-round draft pick, which means both big bucks and high expectations. He won't have to play in a separate, all-white league. He won't have to move to another country where he can freely ply his trade as a running back. If he takes the field for an NFL team, he won't have garbage thrown at him and receive death threats against his family.

And if he fails? It will be because he just wasn't good enough, not because there was a vast conspiracy keeping him down. Oh, and he'll have a degree from Stanford to fall back on, which, last time I checked, was kind of a big deal.

Don't worry, sportswriters. No matter what happens with Gerhart, I think white guys will make it through okay.

In the wake of another disappointing weekend for the Mets (during which they could conceivably have swept the Cardinals but only managed one win, and that one a 20-inning purgatorial nightmare), the WFAN airwaves were rife with distraught fans declaring their disgust. But while most callers employed the harshest language radio would allow, one Mike Francesa listener had loftier thoughts on her mind.



Yes, you heard right. Kathy thinks the Mets need Jesus. And not Jesus as in "Jesus Christ, can't this team do anything right?!" No, she seems to honestly believe the Mets, as a team, need to accept Jesus Christ as their Lord and Savior. Why? "That team is horrible!" Because as we all know, only righteous, pious teams win championships. Just look at the Mets' last World Series-winning team. The 1986 Mets were a collection of clean-living souls who only played baseball in between their seminary studies and mission trips to Guatemala.

Let's give Kathy the benefit of the doubt. It's possible she was being hyperbolic or facetious, or perhaps she's really young and has no context on which to draw (ie, the hundreds of championship teams whose off-the-field behavior indicated they had very little use for religion). Or maybe she was actually being sincere and thinks born again-ing your team will lead to success on the field. She's entitled to that opinion (just as I am entitled to skewer it). Regardless, Francesa's response was more wackadoo than the question.

Granted, this is a touchy subject. If you're behind the mic, you don't want be overly dismissive and offend anyone, but you also don't want to open the floodgates to start a religious discussion on a sports talk show. Basically, you want this line of inquiry to disappear ASAP. If this was me, I'd be tempted to say, "Why should Jesus give a shit about a sports team?" But the safer response would be, "I'm not touching this with a ten foot pole."

Francesa, who has a few decades' worth of experience on the radio, clearly wants to go this route. But in so doing, he lets loose a brief, bizarre critique of this woman's statement. To wit: Why would Jesus choose the Mets over somebody else?

That's a fair assessment, Mike. Clearly the heavens have not turned their attention the Mets, unless it's some malevolent trickster god like Loki.

Game 10: Cardinals 4, Mets 2 (10)
Fake Jason Bay and Fake Ryan Ludwick each hit two solo homers to account for all the scoring in regulation, and Fake Carols Beltran made a leaping catch at the center field wall to rob Fake Albert Pujols of a round tripper. But Fake Kelvim Escobar surrendered a walkoff two-run dinger to Fake Colby Rasmus in the bottom of the tenth.

In real life: Oliver Perez turned in a stunningly good performance (given his history and the opponent), shutting out the Cardinals through six-plus innings. But when he walked the leadoff batter in the seventh, Jerry Manuel inexplicably turned to Fernando Nieve and Raul Valdes to protect the lead. One Felipe Lopez grand slam later, St. Louis had all the runs they needed. The Mets scratched out two runs in the ninth to make things interesting, but fell short.

Game 11: Cardinals 2, Mets 1 (12)
Fake Johan Santana limited the Fake Cardinals to one run in seven innings, while Fake Chris Carpenter took a no hitter into the seventh before surrendering leadoff single to Fake Jose Reyes and an RBI hit to Fake Carlos Beltran. The Fake Mets almost went ahead on a Fake Jason Bay double in the top of the tenth, but somehow Fake Beltran was thrown out trying to score from first (again, every opposing outfielder in this game has a cannon for an arm). For the second straight game, the fake Cardinals won on a walkoff hit, this time a Fake Jason LaRue RBI single.

In real life: In a game that may have set back baseball 100 years, a pitcher's duel between Johan Santana and Jaime Garcia devolved into a hitter's fail-off. The game remained scoreless for 18 innings, as the Cardinals turned aside numerous opportunities and the Mets failed to mount any. New York took a brief lead in the 19th inning on a Jeff Francoeur sac fly off of Joe Mather (a position player pulling a Matt Franco), then saw Frankie Rodriguez give it back up on a Yadier Molina RBI single (to be fair to K-Rod, he'd already thrown 100 (!) warmup pitches over the course of 10 innings). A Jose Reyes sac fly in the 20th gave the Mets another lead, and emergency closer Mike Pelfrey made it stand up. And for as much as I dislike Jerry Manuel, I have to concede I've never seen him commit managerial errors half as dumb as the crimes perpetrated by Tony "LOOK AT ME MANAGE" LaRussa in this game. (Although even he would not dare hit Matt Holliday in the leadoff spot, as his fake doppelganger does for some reason.)

Game 12: Cardinals 3, Mets 2 (12)
The Fake Mets broke through against Fake Adam Wainwright, thanks to RBI hist from Fake Jeff Francoeur and Fake Josh Thole. Fake Mike Pelfrey was masterful through the first 7 innings, striking out 11, until faltering in the eighth and giving up a run. Fake Francisco Rodriguez got the first two batters in the bottom of the ninth, then gave up three hits in a row to knot the game at 2. More futility followed on both sides, until some more two-out magic occurred in the bottom of the twelfth. Two singles were followed by a game-winning hit by fake Albert Pujols (his first in the series), and the Fake Mets had been swept in Fake St. Louis by three walkoff losses in a row.

In real life: The Mets somehow managed three runs off of Adam Wainwright, thanks to a bases loaded bloop and a throwing error. But John Maine labored through five torturous innings before giving up a three-run homer to Colby Rasmus, and Ryota Igarashi gave up a two-run homer to Ryan Ludwick on the first pitch he threw. Wainwright finished what he started, pitching a complete game on approximately 17 pitches.

Parallel Universe Fake Mets record: 2-10

Real Mets record: 4-8

It's Friday! Procrastinate and count down to happy hour with these lovely bits!

Do you love the Muppets? That's a trick question. Of course you do. After all, you're a human being with a sense of humor and a soul. Only an inhuman monster would not like the Muppets. I would not care to be in the same room or ever meet such a quote-unquote person.

Yesterday, the tweeting of Chunklet led me to this YouTube gem. It's a camera test for the first Muppet movie (aptly titled The Muppet Movie). I don't know who posted this, but I owe you a few beers. Words can not express how happy this video made me. In it, Kermit and Fozzie engage in an existential meta-conversation about what they are, exactly. Plus, Miss Piggy admits to a horrible, horrible crime.



There is another video from the same session, apparently, which is not quite as brilliant but still has some amazing dialogue in it. For instance, Fozzie wondering why the car he's riding in does not have a stove.



This next thing is not a video per se, but it's my damn site and I'll promote whatever the hell I want. The illustrious Paul F. Tompkins and Tom Scharpling appeared together on a special two-part edition of the podcast Comedy and Everything Else. It made for nearly four hours of non-stop hilarity. I particularly like Tom's reasoning for why he shouldn't have to sit through the Sarah McLachlan animal cruelty PSA's. Subscribe now and listen to it all. You won't be sorry.

Game 7: Rockies 6, Mets 2
Fake Mike Pelfrey gave up a leadoff homer to fake Carlos Gonzalez, then settled in to retire nine batters in a row. The fake Mets could do little against fake Aaron Cook, though they scratched out the tying run in the top of the third when fake Josh Thole reached second base on a throwing error, moved to third on a Pelfrey sac bunt, and scored on a fake Jose Reyes groundout. But the fake Rockies came right back with an RBI double from fake Todd Helton in the bottom of the third, and two more runs in the bottom of the sixth. Fake Pedro Feliciano gave up a two-run homer to fake Clint Barmes in the bottom of the eighth that put the game out of reach. The Fake Mets loaded the bases with no outs in the ninth, and much like their real counterparts, could do little with it. Fake Orlando Hudson had a pinch hit RBI, but with two outs, fake Fernando Tatis tried to score from second on a single up the middle. In the real world, he would've scored easily. In the fake world, Gonzalez gunned him down at the plate to end the game,

In real life: John Maine improved on his disappointing first start by turning in a complete shit-show, aided by some typically Mets-ian brainless baseball, en route to a 11-3 drubbing in Colorado.

Game 8: Rockies 7, Mets 4
The Fake Mets touched up Fake Jeff Francis for four runs in the top of the fourth, then decided to take the rest of the game off. Fake Good Ollie was seen at first, shutting down the Fake Rockies through the first four innings. Then Fake Bad Ollie made an appearance to give up four runs of his own, including a two-run bomb to Fake Todd Helton. Fake Chris Ianetta untied the game with a solo homer off of Ollie in the bottom of the sixth, and Helton put the final nail in the coffin with his second two-run homer in the eighth.

In real life: Jon Niese could not hold leads of 1-0 and 3-1. The Mets rallied late to tie the game at 5, but Jennry Mejia gave up a leadoff homer in the bottom of the tenth to Chris Iannetta, handing the Rockies a walkoff victory.

Game 9: Rockies 1, Mets 0
Fake John Maine pitched a complete game, scattering eight hits over eight innings. Unfortunately, one of those hits was an RBI single by Fake Troy Tulowitzki in the first, and that was the only run the Fake Rockies would need. Fake Jorge de la Rosa completely baffled the Fake Mets hitters, and they could only manage four hits as they were swept by fake Colorado.

In real life: The Mets salvaged their series in Denver with a 5-0 win over the real, much more hittable Jorge de la Rosa. Mike Pelfrey pitched seven great innings to overcome some weird base running mistakes and his teammates' continued inability to hit with runners in scoring position.

Parallel Universe Fake Mets record: 2-7

Real Mets record: 3-6

Perhaps you've heard of No Mas. They're an awesome apparel/art conglomco that focuses on the dark/weird side of sports. They first caught my eye many years ago, when an acquaintance of mine showed up at a local bar wearing this beauty. I enjoy their products because they clearly love sports, but they lack the unblinking reverence for athletes usually found in sporting media. Their favorite figures are guys like Mike Tyson and Doc Gooden, whose obvious and continued personal failings make them much more compelling than the stainless steel heroism of the Derek Jeters of the world.

Earlier this year, No Mas announced a design-a-t-shirt contest, and I immediately had what I thought was a brilliant idea. Many of No-Mas's t-shirts play on team logos, such as this one, which combines the Padres' horrid 1980s uni design with another horrid 80s product, Pablo Escoabar. I went a similar route, and decided to combine the cheesy White Sox logo of the mid-80s with the curious case of Moe Berg.

Moe Berg was a backup catcher with an up-and-down major league career in the 1930s. In an era when most ballplayers were nigh-illiterate farmboys, he was an Ivy League educated gentleman who knew several languages and traveled the world. But he's still remembered nowadays because at the same time he caught in the major leagues, he also worked as a spy for the Office of Strategic Services (OSS, the precursor of the CIA).

Berg even went on major league barnstorming trips to the Far East with superstars he had no business playing with, like Babe Ruth and Lou Gehrig, as a cover for him taking covert photos and film of the Tokyo cityscape. During World War II, his footage aided in planning Pacific bombing raids. He also parachuted behind enemy lines to aid Nazi resistance groups in Yugoslavia, and traveled Europe to interview physicists and convince them to join the American effort to build the atomic bomb.

That's a life and half right there. I find his story so fascinating that I used it for the jumping point to a novel that I SWEAR I'm going to finish some time this year (it does not actually involve Moe Berg in any way). I thought he deserved to be immortalized in t-shirt form. And he actually played for the White Sox, which made my idea vaguely appropriate.

I slaved over my design, employing all of my Photoshopping skills, and convinced myself that it HAD to win. Just like I convinced myself for every contest I ever entered as a kid. Unfortunately, I was so convinced of my victory that I never bothered to actually send in my entry. I totally forgot about it until the deadline had long since past, and only remembered when I found the files while scouring through my computer this week.

I present the design to you now, so that it may live in some form. In case you're wondering, Berg played in an era when most players did not have numbers, so the "34" refers to 1934, the year he took his second trip to Japan for spy photography purposes. My question is, if this was an actual t-shirt, would you buy it? If there's enough interest, I will look into making this an actual thing you can purchase and wear. Warning: The threshold for "enough interest" is probably "one dude".