By Compiled by Dan Shanoff
Page 2

EDITOR'S NOTE: Nothing reflects the sports virtue of Love like the physical and psychological lengths to which fans go on behalf of their teams. After an open call for entries from readers of the Daily Quickie, there was an overload of stories about road trips, ticket campouts and near-brawls with opposing fans. Here's a selection of some of the entries, from Page 2 staff, Page 2 readers and more.

I sat through it. The whole darn thing. Watched every last pitch of it. Yeah, I'd paid a couple hundred bucks for my ticket. But that wasn't why I stayed in my seat in Yankee Stadium last Oct. 20. I stayed because this was my team. The team I'd adored since birth, thanks to my father, who grew up just a few blocks away on the Grand Concourse. The team I'd stuck with, through thick and thin -- and it was mostly thin when I was growing up. I stayed, even though they were on the verge of the worst collapse in sports history. I stayed, because I never quite stopped believing they could come back -- until that last ground ball to second base. And then I lingered, and watched the enemy celebrate all over the field, trying to rub the tears, and disbelief, away. You know what they say. Only love will break your heart.
-- Kieran Darcy, Page 2

I missed my best friend's wedding rehearsal to go to the Final Four to cheer on my beloved Cardinals.
-- Brent, Louisville, Ky.

After sleeping through my 3:30 a.m. alarm for a U.S. World Cup '02 game, I went to work in a Cooperstown sports store. I labeled a brown paper bag (which I put on the television): "If you know the score of the World Cup game, don't reveal it. Thank you, The Management." I later watched the game during its re-air; when Clint Mathis scored, I was cashing out a customer and subsequently dropped his change and items purchased.
-- Ed McGrogan, Whitesboro, N.Y.

Who drives eight hours to party in below-zero temperatures? My buddy Phil and I, for the the Patriots-Titans playoff game in 2004. Coldest game in Patriots history. We drove from Virginia to Massachusetts on game day, tailgated for two hours (so cold the beer froze), then watched the game.
-- Matt Bennett, Alexandria, Va.

The lengths I've gone for love: Love can hurt, and sometimes itch for a few days ... My wife likes sports, but she's not overboard about it. On our honeymoon in Belize, we missed the water taxi into town for dinner. The Niners were in a playoff game that night. I was so desperate, I forced us to walk through the snake-, mosquito-, bat-infested jungle for more than two miles. "It's an adventure!" I kept trying to convince her. Once our bug-eaten, sweat-sopped selves rolled into the bar, which featured satellite TV, she discovered my motive. I got the roll of the eyes, the shake of her head and a look that might have wished malaria on me. Niners won; honeymoon a success.
-- Kurt Snibbe, Page 2

I had money put aside to buy a flight home to Boston from my college in Atlanta to spend Thanksgiving with my family. But instead, I used that money to fly home for one special day in October to see the Red Sox victory parade.
-- Drew Glaser, Atlanta

After the last game ever at Vet Stadium, two of my buddies and I tried to sneak in. We came upon three discarded workers' jumpsuits. We get in, run the bases. We fooled the cops who stopped us. Lastly, we get the field box seats with commemorative logos.
-- "Cheese," South Jersey

You mean, did I ever camp out for a seat at a Cal-Stanford game in Harmon Gym? Yes. Did I ever botch a date night by bringing my scorebook to the ballpark? Yes. Did I ever lie my way onto the field at the Rose Bowl after the USC-UCLA game by telling security I was Terry Donahue's nephew? Yes. Did I ever get sent to my room for spitting on my sister after she spilled a glass of milk on my Pete Rose autographed program? I'm afraid so.
-- Eric Neel, Page 2

Wore a shirt to the Rose Bowl this year that said, "I go to Texas, but I bleed blue" and sat in the Texas section. That didn't go over very well.
-- Jason Wells, Austin, Texas

It's Round 2 in Page 2's Battle for the Soul of Sports.

Shanoff: Love Stories
Shanoff: The Love List
Shanoff: The Quickie -- Love vs. Envy Edition
SportsNation: Who gets more love?
SportsNation: Who do you envy?

Sophomore year at Purdue, we're playing Ohio State. Brees heaves the long bomb to Morales to win 31-27, and I plant a big fat kiss on the complete stranger next to me, who happened to be this gorgeous girl, and we actually dated briefly.
-- Clint, Indianapolis

I screamed the phrase "what ... the ... [well, you know]" at least 200 consecutive times while watching my hometown Arizona Wildcats blow a 14-point lead to Illinois in this year's Elite Eight. I was hoarse the next day. My head hurt for a week. If that's not love, I don't know what is.
-- Patrick Hruby, Page 2

Four of us drove all night from Hartford to Raleigh to see the Carolina Hurricanes' first home Stanley Cup finals game. As lifelong Hartford Whalers fans, we said we'd be at the franchise's first [Cup] finals home game no matter what. Though I now live in N.C., bring back the Whale!
-- Ryan Connelly, Raleigh, N.C.

I got so irate over the Yankees blowing their three-game lead in last year's ALCS that I spent the morning of Game 7 in the hospital with stress-related kidney stones.
-- Henry Richmond, Orlando

I was on my first business trip and the Illinois/Iowa basketball game was on in Champaign. I got so frustrated at the no-call charge at the end of regulation that I picked up my chair and broke it in a couple of pieces in front of my boss and his boss and his boss. First impressions are so important!
-- Brent Stanley, Decatur, Ill.

It's 10 a.m. I am weepy. I am at a Starbucks. "Get a hold of yourself," I'm thinking, glancing, and still reading. Page after page. Hometown news, Washington Post. January 2004. I grew up with this team. I watched it get slaughtered at the hands of Staubach and Landry. And then, 42-10. Three rings. Dominance. Followed by 13 drought years. It hasn't rained in my town for awhile. But now. Storm and sun. The king, our king, Joe Gibbs, is returning. Hail victory. Go 'Skins. Gonna be a very good day.
-- Frank Golding, Asst. General Counsel, ESPN

I grew up in the state of Oregon. During Game 6 of the 1977 NBA Finals, I was convinced that I would jinx the Trail Blazers' chances against the 76ers, so I went outside for the last part of the fourth quarter. I sacrificed my own happiness so my team could be the champs. I was 11 years old.
-- Matt Cibula, Madison, Wis.

By the time the Mariners finally moved from the gray dankness of the Kingdome to flashy new Safeco Field in the middle of the 1999 season, I was no longer living in Seattle, having moved to Connecticut. When friends asked if I was coming back for the Safeco debut -- the game everyone in Seattle wanted to attend -- I told them I had no desire. I had to be at the last game in the Kingdome. Because that's what love is. Love isn't jumping on the bandwagon of a new ballpark or a big new free-agent signing. Love is sticking with your team through losing season after losing season, even though they played indoors on fake grass in a place as inviting as a Tupperware party at your Aunt Matilda's house. But it was my stadium, the place I'd been watching ball games since I was 8 years old. So I was there for the last game. And I even shed a tear or two.
-- David Schoenfield, Page 2

When the Vikings lost the NFC championship game in '98, I was supposed to propose to my girlfriend later that night. Instead, after the game, I was so mad that she kept saying, "What's the big deal?" So in turn, I broke up with her and haven't talked to her since.
-- Lamar, Neb.

In 1990, my two friends and I (we were 8 years old at the time) decided to dress up as the Nasty Boys for Halloween. There was a problem, though: We all wanted to be Rob Dibble. So we started fighting and arguing about who got to be Rob Dibble. So my mom decided to put the names in a hat. So I pick my piece of paper and I pull open just a little corner of it and see the letters N-O; and I freak out and throw the paper on the ground and run away crying. No offense to Norm Charlton, but he is no Rob Dibble. I am still mad at my mother for not fixing that drawing.
-- Scott, Dayton, Ohio

At U. Buffalo, we fixated on one bench basketball player so much that we took our support a step farther. Not only did we nickname him Moose, but we made hats with antlers and wore them to home games, head-butting each other when he so much as touched the ball!
-- Jonathan, Boston

I was such a big fan of the Hartford Whalers (and so distraught when they left for Carolina) that I chose a low-paying job out of college in Greensboro specifically for its proximity to the relocated Hurricanes (formerly the Whalers), suffering through lackluster regional fan support, just for the chance to root my team on against its historical rivals when they came down to Carolina.
-- Dean Cornelio,

I'm in the Air Force and a huge Sox fan. Stationed overseas last year, I was able to convince my boss to give me leave right in time for Game 5 of the ALCS. Thousands of dollars later for airfare and game tickets, I celebrated the WS win in Boston, a memory I'll never forget.
-- Dave, Tampa

When the Sox won it all last year, a large group of students at my school (name withheld) traveled down to the street to the president's house. He is a Cardinals fan. We trashed his lawn.
-- Matt, So. Portland, Maine

Here's the fight card for Page 2's Battle for the Soul of Sports:

Round 1: Pride vs. Humility
Pride beat Humility, 75 percent to 25 percent.

Round 2: Envy vs. Love
Love beat Envy, 54 to 46

Round 3: Anger vs. Kindness
Anger beat Kindness, 61 to 39

Round 4: Sloth vs. Diligence
Diligence beat Sloth, 77 to 23

Round 5: Greed vs. Charity
Greed beat Charity, 70 to 30

Tuesday, Aug. 9: Sports Gluttony vs. Sports Temperance
Wednesday, Aug. 10: Sports Lust vs. Sports Chastity
Thursday, Aug. 11: And the winner is ...

I'm sure you'll receive a million e-mails about diehard Red Sox fans. Yes, I'm one, but this is about being a Celtics fan. As the C's were making a playoff run and facing the Heat, I was at my local bar. Every bar had on the Sox game, a 10-1 blowout against Tampa Bay. I walked up and changed the channel on one television. I was booed and yelled at. Then someone told me that the C's were a nothing team. With my brother being a VP for the team, I quickly took on an entire bar in a fight. Not the smartest move; but after dropping one guy, I got to watch the game.
-- Matt Sullivan, Manchester, N.H.

I'm a big soccer fan, and this meant becoming nocturnal for the World Cup in 2002. While waiting for the U.S./Portugal game (I believe Russia was playing), the power went out over all of State College. No problem, I told my friends who were also eagerly anticipating the game. A gas-powered generator had magically appeared in my closet after a PSU tailgate a few months prior. We proceeded to fire the thing up (those things are loud) in my apartment and watch the game. The fumes in my studio apartment were so bad that my head hurt for a week, but at least I got to watch the U.S. pull off an unbelievable upset over heavily-favored Portugal in one of the greatest games in U.S. soccer history.
-- Anthony Bowser, Harrisburg, Pa.

I broke up with my four-year, live-in girlfriend on New Year's Eve because I wanted to attend the Patriots vs. Titans playoff game with the guys instead of having to bring her. It was either go with her or a Patriots-decorated van full of my friends. Smartest choice ever.
-- Jason, Lowell, Mass.

I've stood in biting wind-chill conditions to watch games. I've endured torrential downpours. I've arranged and rearranged work schedules, rising early and working late, to be able to attend games. I've awakened at the crack of dawn to brave single-digit temperatures. I've invested countless hours at games and practices. I've gone to these lengths and more ... to watch (and coach) my son and daughter as they've played soccer, basketball and baseball -- and played in a way that makes a dad proud.
-- Bruce Deckert,

I guess I'll see you in Hell, because for Game 7 of the 2003 ALCS (the Aaron Boone game), my friend and I couldn't get tickets. So instead, we purchased wheelchair seating just to get into the ballpark.
-- Barry, Philadelphia

Last year during Game 7, when the Yankees brought in Vazquez for relief and Damon hit a home run on the first pitch, I threw the beer bottle I had in my hand at my newly-purchased plasma big screen television. Sadly, warranty didn't cover such accidents!
-- Alex, N.Y.

I believe ditching my ex-girlfriend's birthday brunch with her family to attend a meaningless Panthers game vs. Detroit directly led to our breakup. I won.
-- Biff, Charlotte

1999 ALCS, Game 3. Pedro v. Clemens I. Stood in line for 14 hours. Talked with Gammons. Got two tickets ($150) on roof. Took a nap. Roommate turned off alarm. Missed game. (Pedro's 12Ks; Clemens, gone in the fourth.) Woke up. Punched wall. Shattered hand. Still won't watch highlights.
-- Big D, Boston

My wife Lori and I are such big Twins fans that we planned our family around Twins' World Series championships. That's right: My two boys were born in 1987 and 1991. I'm afraid the Twins are done winning World Series, because we are done having kids!
-- Pete Ericksen, Bottineau, N.D.

I've watched every Red Sox-Devil Rays game. Every one. The time I spent watching Boston in these games could have been used to graduate. I can imagine few more heroic things, save perhaps a Devil Rays' fan writing, "I've watched every Devil Rays-Royals game."
-- Sean, Warwick, R.I.

My junior year of college at Syracuse University, we all camped out in the blizzard snow for two days outside the Carrier Dome during March Madness to get our tickets to the Final Four in New Orleans. It was 10 below, and Carmelo and Warrick came down and brought us food, as we only had beer to keep us warm. Best month of college.
-- Adam Saltzman, N.Y.

In '96, the Bucs were still wearing orange, a team on the rise but not very good; and it was NOT cool to like them. A buddy and I decided we wanted to meet our favorite player, Ian Beckles. Figuring the best way to meet an O-lineman would be through his stomach, we went to One Buc Place at the end of practice and posed as Pizza deliverymen. It's amazing, the access you can get to places with a pizza in hand. Although a little put-off at first because he didn't order a pizza, Beckles was very cool -- posed for pics, and talked to us.
-- D. Baker, Tampa

As a Jets fan, I called my dad after Barton's late hit on Brees and a half-bottle bottle of Jack Daniels and yelled, "THIS IS YOUR FAULT. IF YOU RAISED ME A GIANT FAN I WOULDN'T NEED TO PUT UP WITH THIS!"
-- Eric, N.Y.

Back in the early '60s, I used to drive 100 miles each way to Monticello Raceway from Harpur College (now SUNY Binghamton) every night of the week (or, at least, every night it was open), which probably contributed to two things: 1) I was always broke. 2) I flunked out of school at the end of my junior year, mostly because I didn't take any finals at the end of my soph year (conflicted with the spring portion of the Monticello meet, when you could gather all kinds of useful information about the horses running there that year), and then I enjoyed the experience of not taking finals so much that I stepped it up in my junior year and didn't even bother attending classes at all. For some reason, the administration found this a bit much.
-- Jay Lovinger, Page 2

I posed as a paramedic and snuck into Qualcomm in hopes to watch Gwynn break his hit record. My buddy and I bought a tackle box, fake radios, and shirts from a Goodwill, and walked right past security. I ended up meeting Bochy and eating dinner off the locker-room spread. Good Times.
-- Sam, Phoenix

My then-girlfriend hated sports. She flew us down to Auburn University for the Georgia game (a birthday gift). When she realized my friend didn't come through on our tix, she bought two for $130 on the visitor's goal line. I married her a year later, and she loves sports.
-- Tom Smith, Ayer, Mass.

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• Tue: Kieran Darcy, 3 ET

I'm a huge Ohio State fan. So when my Buckeyes were making their title run a few years back and I had a crappy silver Olds, I decided to modify it by getting red, white and black electrical tape and turning my car into a rolling OSU helmet.
-- Matt Hager, Dayton, Ohio

I love the sport of rowing -- apparently, more than the World Series. With tickets to Games 1, 2, 6 and 7 of the 1998 World Series between the Yankees and Padres, I opted to head up to Boston for the famous Head of the Charles race with my then-girlfriend, a big Yankees fan. I figured that I'd sell the tickets to Games 1 and 2, but keep the far more exciting Games 6 and 7 for us, while still getting to go check out the weekend-long rowing event in Boston -- I would get to both have and eat my cake. Perhaps the better adapted cliché is about a bird in the hand beating the Padres twice in New York, then sweeping the next two in San Diego, thus making my tickets to Games 6 and 7 more valueless than priceless. I still love rowing, but will always regret the decision.
-- Dan Shanoff, Page 2

Having just moved to California from Connecticut, my first dinner with my girlfriend's parents happened to be on the eve of Game 7, Rangers-Devils, playoffs, 1994. They wanted me to turn the TV off and eat dinner with the family. The TV. Off. Game 7. Rangers. What are you, insane? They refused to let me have any food, but I refused to turn off the TV. So I sat on the couch, girlfriend seething at the dinner table, and watched that magical game and Matteau's heaven-sent goal. Priceless!
-- Timothy Wigder, Washington, D.C.

I'm a huge Steelers fan who, sadly, grew up in Utah (my parents are both from Pittsburgh), so my viewing experience was limited to NFL Direct Ticket every weekend. After moving to Connecticut for ESPN, I finally managed to get tickets to the Steelers-Ravens game on Dec. 26, 2004. I delayed my Christmas trip back home to Utah, drove seven hours from Bristol to Pittsburgh on Christmas Day, went to the game on the 26th in freezing (literally) temperatures and cheered them to victory; then drove the seven hours back home on the 27th and hopped on a flight to Utah on the 28th. All around, probably the best Christmas I've ever had.
-- Jason Logsdon,

Left Providence, R.I., to Boston, Mass., during the fifth inning of Game 4 of the World Series. Arrived top of the eighth inning, 20 blocks from Kenmore square. Parked illegally in employee parking. Sprinted to Fenway. Watched bottom of the ninth inning on street, on a TV through the window of a Pizzeria Uno. Went crazy till 4 a.m.. Had interview at 9 a.m. back in Rhode Island. Didn't get job.
-- Matthew Harrington, Haverhill, Mass.

I'm a huge Mets fan; and during Game 6 of the 1986 World Series, I went completely "Pete Townsend" on my favorite bass guitar, thinking the Red Sox were going to win it all. Well, we all know what happened, and I miss that guitar to this day.
-- Geoff West, Clearwater, Fla.

I'm a diehard New York Rangers fan, and I was thrilled when my girlfriend (now my wife) gave me tickets to a Rangers-Habs game in Montreal for Christmas. The weekend of the game, a brutal ice storm rocked New England and most of the province of Quebec. We heard the warnings, but with some persuasion on my part, we went anyway, through icy highways in northern Vermont and pitch-black back roads through Canadian farmland that were littered with tree trunks and huge blocks of ice that fell off bridges and stretched-out power lines. The only way into the city was through a tunnel, because all the bridges were closed. It was miracle we made it in there. Once we got to our hotel, the power was already out on the entire grid for that part of the city, and the hotel was running on emergency lighting and minimal heat. I had to steal a few candles from the lobby bar just so we had light in our room. The hotel was also completely out of food. We had to walk about 15-to-20 blocks in the middle of the night - dodging ice patches, huge icicles falling from the tops of buildings, and national guardsmen who were called in to help with the cleanup -- before we found a section of town that had power and a place to eat.

The next morning, the Rangers-Canadiens game scheduled for that night was canceled, of course, and the hotel informed all its guests that they had to leave because there would be no heat at all that night. So in a 48-hour span, we drove from Boston to Montreal and back in the worst storm the region had seen in years - all for nothing. To this day, I try to reason with my wife that it was still an amazing adventure. But judging from the looks she gives me, I think I'm lucky she didn't dump me right there in Montreal and drive home on her own.
-- Chris Marcucci,

I got engaged on the night Kentucky won the national championship in 1996 (which I was prepared to not do if they had lost), and swore to name my child after a Kentucky player if they won in 1998. When they did win, I named my daughter Camryn after Cameron Mills.
-- Matt Beck, N.Y.

In 2002, I took my infant daughter (five weeks old) to the Green and Orange game at the Orange Bowl. The highlight was a picture we got of the two of us sitting in the end zone, scoreboard high above us. I keep that picture on my desk!
-- Abe, Philadelphia

I had to give the student speech at a Notre Dame football rally. However, I had chipped my tailbone playing hockey the night before. So the day of the speech, I went to the doctor's office, had the chipped bone piece removed without being knocked out, got stitched up, and gave the speech in front of 10,000 people in the Joyce Center in pain and bleeding from the stitches. It was amazing! I then slept for 17 hours because of the pain.
-- Alex B., Rochester, N.Y.

I'm a diehard college hoops fan, but my alma mater hasn't been the greatest on the court ... until they went dancing this year. I was so excited about Ohio University's last-second MAC title game win (officially punching their dance card) that I fell to the floor in celebration -- pounding the floor and kicking and yelling with happiness. Until I popped my knee out of the socket and broke my left hand. Who says winning is painless. Go Bobcats!
-- Brian Coovert, Ohio

Last year for my bachelorette party, I got a Cubs tattoo (on my lower back, naturally). It was completely spur of the moment. When I came home, everyone thought it was a fake. I never thought I would get a tattoo, but never say never! Go Cubbies!!!!!
-- Kate Sweas, Chicago

Oct. 15, 2003. My lovely wife, AJ, in labor. Cubs vs. Marlins, Game 7. Cubs are losing in the bottom of the ninth. AJ walks calmly by me with her suitcase. After the final out of the game, I glanced at the clock: 9:59. We jump in the car and race across town to the hospital. Healthy, beautiful baby Addison is born at 10:20 p.m. after an exciting three minutes in the delivery room. "See, honey, I had it timed perfectly." (Spoken out of reach, of course.) Perfect ending to a terrible day. That's what we have done for sports.
-- Scott Johnson, Great Falls, Mont.

When Ron Dayne broke the rushing record, I painted myself gold and dressed up as the Heisman Trophy. While pumping up the crowd, I threw my gold Nerf football to a person in the first row (about 10 yards away). I got handcuffed and tossed for "throwing missiles." As I was led away, thousands chanted, "You can't kick out the Heisman." They didn't listen.
-- Ryan Rau, Milwaukee

Back in the seventh grade, our English teacher made us all keep a journal. It was terrific -- you could write about anything you wanted, as long as you wrote in your journal on a regular basis. I decided I would write about the Mets. And here's what I did, for love of that 1973 team: Beginning with the first game that was broadcast on radio early in spring training, I wrote hundreds of words about every game. I listened to every game; I watched the few times Lindsey Nelson, Bob Murphy, and Ralph Kiner appeared on Channel Nine during that spring. Then, when the regular season began, I continued on my own, even after the journal assignment was through. Every game, every pitch. I kept score, I followed John Milner and Jon Matlack (my two favorite players), George "The Stork" Theodore, Duffy Dyer, Tug McGraw and all the others without fail. I don't remember whether I continued my journal the rest of that otherwise memorable season, but I do know that I was completely besotted. That was love, seventh-grade style. Soon, I would only give that kind of daily, priority-one love to a member of the opposite sex.
-- Jeff Merron, Page 2

I am a S.F. Giants fan. Diehard. I was living in Torino, Italy, when the 2002 World Series was going on. I happened to be at a bar during Game 6 when all of a sudden, they were showing the game. At this point, it was like 3 in the morning. The bar shut down at about the sixth inning. I watched the next inning by hanging on to the bars on the window of the pub until they shut off the TV in the eighth. We got word of a bar open until 8 a.m. We ran down there, had them turn on the game in their basement, and I watched the Giants give away the World Series at 7 a.m. in the basement of a bar. I had no money, and the buses didn't start running for another two hours. We waited for the bus to come at 9 a.m., caught the longest route in the city, the 67, but caught it going the wrong way because another one was not coming in the other direction. We proceeded to fall asleep, miss our stop, and have to take the bus the full route twice. Got home at 11:30 a.m.
-- Paul Baiocchi, Newport Beach, Calif.

Denver wins Super Bowl XXXII, and I cried. Not just a one-tear-rolling-down-the-cheek thing, either. I cried. One of my friends turns to my fiancee and asks, "Is he crying?" Her horrified response was, "Yes, he has been waiting for this for 24 years." To this day, I tease my wife that I cried when Denver won its first Super Bowl, and not at our wedding.
-- Darin, Topeka, Kan.

On May 31, 1987, 10 days after my third birthday, my family decided to take a walk before Game 7 of the Stanley Cup Finals. My father, and now me, are diehard Flyers fans. I was riding my bike with training wheels and fell, hitting my face on the curb and suffering a laceration just above my left eye. I remember the emergency room, the stinging sponges wiping away the blood, the swelling, and my father, a doctor, yelling at everyone to hurry up because he did not want to miss the beginning of the game. He had his priorities right.
-- Sean Singer, Providence, R.I.

I grew up in southern Ohio. Reds country. I grew up with a big brother in southern Ohio. Big Reds' fan, my big brother was. Still is. Poor sap. My big brother wanted the Reds to himself; and, hey, he's the oldest, right? He had his ways. They were his team; I wasn't allowed to love them. That's the source of the river of my affection for the Braves. The Braves were G.O.O.D. They were so good, they could beat the Reds. My big brother's Reds. That's why I loved them. That's still why I love them. They're a kid brother's revenge.
-- Michael Knisley, Page 2

Dan Shanoff is a columnist for Page 2. His "Daily Quickie" commentary appears every weekday morning. You can chat with Dan every morning 9-10 ET on SportsNation.