Hoffman

I'd like to think that the Undertaker-Lesnar finish went down because the timekeeper, after years and years of enduring blown calls, missed spots, and just poor refereeing in general, finally snapped after the Cena-Rollins-Stewart shenanigans and decided from there on out, he'd have to take matters into his own hands. Fortuitously, he found his opening when Undertaker tapped and tried to end the match right there. He was sadly browbeated back to reality by Charles Robinson who, being a veteran referee, has become lazy and surly (on top of learning the Ric Flair ways of manipulation). It could have been the WWE equivalent of the person rising up against the bullies/bosses/etc. only to realize it was just a dream sequence. Of course, the idea's ruined because the timekeeper couldn't have seen the tap anyway, but hey, all part of the dream sequence.

The movie stars a Brit as an American, an American as a Russian, a Swede as a German, and an Australian as an Italian. The only parts I really liked featured Hugh Grant, and he was pretty much phoning it in. Not the worst I've seen this year, but hardly captivating.

In keeping with the great Blues tradition of their big name players and coaches winning the Cup soon after leaving St. Louis, I'll just put all my money behind the Capitals winning it all next season.

I loved Inside Out. It’s visually beautiful, it’s witty and inventive. Here’s the thing: walking out of the movie, I was thinking it was good and sweet, but not quite phenomenal. But the more I think about it, the more everything hits me. It’s superb. It tugged at my heartstrings, though not at all like I thought it would. You know, the usual Pixar way of giving me enough emotional punches in the gut till the waterworks start pouring. Inside Out gave me a warm and fuzzy feeling, throwing my mind back to my childhood. Everyone has those feelings, those emotions, those events happen to them one way or another. As awkward, silly, or obnoxious as they could be, those feelings aren’t something I want to forget. Rather than reach my adult emotions, Inside Out spoke to the kid in me. And I’m thus reassured that, yes, there still is some of that silly little kid in me.

In the 1980s, the Cardinals were all about stealing bases. Now they're all about stealing databases. It's just Whiteyball for the modern era. All that's left is for everyone in the organization to grow Rollie Fingers-style mustaches for the purposes of twirling them while cackling maniacally.

St. Louis Cardinals Investigated by F.B.I. for Hacking Astros: http://www.nytimes.com/2015/06/17/sports/baseball/st-louis-cardinals-hack-astros-fbi.html?_r=0 Now more than ever, I'm proud to be a Cardinals fan. But seriously, heads are gonna roll here.

Young'uns these days with their arguments and instant replays holding things up. This is what passed for chesty on-field interruptions back in our day.

All is well in Cardinal Nation. Nothing to see here, folks. Hey, the last time Wainwright was out for the year, the Cardinals won the World Series. Time once again to unleash that classy brand of scrappiness.

They're the Blues. Just making the playoffs has been good enough for them all these years, then they finish themselves off. I love them dearly, but that's what they do.

It's opening day in St. Louis - everyone from Wainwright and Molina to Kozma and Villanueva ride out on a parade of convertibles, majestic Clydesdales casually relieve themselves on the warning track, and behold! The Best Scorecard in Baseball! I'm pretty sure my mission now is to fully immerse myself in scoring the Cardinal Way, lest Fredbird maul me when I'm not paying attention to the Cardinals Hat Dance between innings. Also, I'm glad to see that with the Astros in the A.L. West, the Cardinals have dropped that whole "division co-champion" nonsense from 2001. Now it's full division champion status even though the Cards were the wild card team that year. Being a fan of such a hateable team is fun, I have to admit.

Mike Keenan arriving in St. Louis was a fascinating trainwreck from the get go. If they had somehow managed to keep it together, all that ego still would have blown up at some point. Also, even after Keenan's departure, it's not like Brett Hull was thrilled with Joel Quenneville. The Blues find a way to blow it, and I think what bugs me most is that it's almost always with a whimper. The Monday Night Miracle in '86 and Game 7 double-OT against Detroit in '96, those were the exciting exceptions. At this point, though, I consider it a major success if they make it to the second round.

The Blues will find a way to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory. They always do. I'm already prepared for it.

Looks like the Ducks got it based on having one more regulation/overtime win than the Blues (43-42).

Ah, this game is why I love baseball.

I guess I'm not a big picture guy when it comes to my votes. I'm always remembering one tiny aspect, or something seemingly insignificant, from any given wrestler's past twelve months. In this case, it was Dean's work-of-art reaction when Rollins gave Reigns the chairshot. One of the best responses to a heel turn I've ever seen, ranks right up there with the Sportatorium fans going nuts when Chris Adams superkicked Kevin Von Erich. His actions and reactions make Dean Ambrose tough to beat.

I don't care if he fell off the face of the Earth for months afterward, Cesaro bodyslamming Big Show out of the Andre the Giant battle royale was enough for me to throw a vote his way.

I think it was in one of Heenan's books that he once asked Linda about Vince's sartorial splendor, and her only reply was, "Vince likes colors."

I'm one of those types who only votes for the guys I've heard of, but I had to go with Dave Mastiff here. How could I not vote for a guy with such a charming beard and who proudly displays his own bastard percentage on his wrestling attire?

All I'll pick is this: Central Division champion Cardinals versus wild-card Cubs in the NLCS. The Cubs lead going into the bottom of the ninth of Game 7. And then, reality strikes.

I can definitely picture Larry "Bud" Melman as an ineffectual and slightly frightened NWA representative announcing an unpopular ruling, followed by him very slowly getting out of the way after the resulting fight breaks out at the boardroom table.

Dean Ambrose likes to wind people up. Out of the current singles champs, Barrett's reactions to such a winding up are the most fun, and Dean knows that between Barrett, Rusev, and Lesnar, Barrett has to be the least likely to respond by killing him. Perhaps most importantly, championship belts are just so shiny and mesmerizing. That explains Dean's interest in the IC belt to me.

All this proves is that nothing good will come of a Chicago baseball team making it to a World Series of any sort on any level, so it's best to never let it happen again.

As long as Julio Franco is still getting paid to play baseball somewhere in this world, the "we are all still young" category hasn't completely shut down.

It's a small thing, but what I love most about that Arn vs. Ric match is that Arn didn't even have to hook Ric's leg for the pinfall. Sure, Brian Pillman interfered, but his punch and kick were minor distractions instead of pain-causing. Arn Anderson's DDT was so powerful and decisive that not even Ric Flair himself could muster any strength to kick out.