Guess the location.

Here’s a clear shot from the daily Ice Machine, with crystal blue linkage of stories that will refresh you during your lunch break (since this isn’t likely to be a morning feature for the next two weeks):

Normally, we provide multiple links in this space, providing a bit of a pick-me-up/simple distraction.  However, we can only think of one topic today, so we beg your indulgence: Doug Collins is the new head coach of the Chicago Bulls, according to the Chicago Tribune.  Yes, he’s also the old head coach before Jordan forced him out.  

We have come to a deeply disheartening view of the Bulls and of all Chicago sports we wish to share with you now.  We highly recommend sitting down and consuming a calming beverage of your choice before continuing.

To wit: The Chicago Blackhawks are the most innovative sports franchise in Chicago today.

The Chicago Bulls have selected two high-strung defensive-minded coaches with short coaching life spans in a row.  They will select Michael Beasley in the draft because big men are always drafted when possible because That’s the Way It Is.  There will be grit and determination and heart and Derrick Rose will become the second point guard to leave Chicago and become a star in Miami.  (Star Jones has cleared her schedule in 2011.)

The Chicago Cubs installed Jim Edmonds in center field.  Their business innovations have involved allowing their head of marketing to be stolen by the Blackhawks (along with his key lieutenants) while trying to sell the naming rights to Wrigley Field, which is an incredibly old and played-out idea.  Their drafts have been unremarkable, highlighted by an attempt to draft a Notre Dame wide receiver because he throws so darned hard and isn’t that sexy?

The most creative thought held by a Cubs official in the last few years has been to try to sell Wrigley Field to the state to handle all the upgrades.  However, “highway robbery” has a long tradition unto itself.

The Chicago White Sox had a case to move to the head of the class in 2005 and possibly 2006, but now they are repeating the same mistakes in the draft and on the field without any self-awareness.  They would still win this anemic competition for their Carlos Quentin fixation last winter, which showed the ability to project past the problems and towards the solutions.

The Chicago Bears… if anyone has broken the key and deduced their plan involving building an offense or keeping an aging defense functional, please contact us by calling the station.  Thanks for your time.  (Also, we liked their recent draft, but we don’t know if we’d call it mold-breaking.  Their marketing has been yeoman-like but not exceptional.  They’re just… y’know… there.)

However, the Chicago Blackhawks have truly stepped forward in the last 12-18 months into solid competency.  The on-ice product has improved and shows signs of continuing to do so.  The off-ice marketing has proved at least interesting, with cross-sport promotion between the baseball teams in town and the Blackhawks.  Their games are on television, for crying out loud.  The new commercials have been well-focused and thoughtfully positioned.  They’re the only franchise in the city with organic buzz not built from getting really really lucky with ping-pong balls in a way that doesn’t involve Winona Ryder.

We could also argue the Chicago Fire have shown better innovation, especially with the Blanco signing, but their front office disarray and loss of goalkeepers leaves us uncertain at the moment.  Consider this an incomplete grade.

Therefore, we can only conclude the Wirtz-led franchise leads the pack in innovation.  The other franchises may succeed with their actions, but it will not be because they chose the right path after carefully considering many thoughtful and/or pioneering options.  It will be because they worked the checklist of What Should Be Done pathologically and got lucky.  That’s as entertaining as trainspotting.  (No, not that kind.)

Our Question of the Day should be obvious by now: What’s your choice for the most innovative sports franchise in Chicago today?

But then we saw what Lady… SA purchased this week…

(We assume this is the page 72-73 spread.)

Goodness gracious.  ”Don’t think; have fun” indeed.

We love Curtis Granderson’s quick bat, flashy leather, huge smile, and local roots as much as the next person, but… my my my.  This really just comes out and says it, doesn’t it?  ”For those of you too ashamed to buy porn with men in it, we now give you ‘men’s magazines’.  Please feel free to explain to your friends that you were looking for gift ideas for your boyfriend or a new protein shake for your workouts.  Just keep the pages clean and no one will know.”

There’s more pictures at SA’s blog; they should keep some of you busy through the holiday weekend.  We’ll be back on Tuesday.  No podcast today or Tuesday due to holiday obligations (read: booze).  We might post between now and then but no promises.  And hey, let’s be careful out there this weekend.

[youtube:http://youtube.com/watch?v=VmtJV8IRKgE]

[youtube:http://youtube.com/watch?v=6Dddvr9YJI8]

Actually, this is an excuse to shill for the Treehouse Fort tonight (8 pm ET) and mention that we’ve got a bit in this week’s Voodoo Sabernomics on Babes Love Baseball again.  Ken Griffey, Jr. is poked with pins until he ‘asplodes.

UPDATE: Camp Tiger Claw is on my list.  He knows what he did.  

Matt Murton. 

Ma… yes, I used to play for you.  

No, not in Tampa.  In Chicago.  Remember me from spring training?

Yes, the ginger kid.  Anyway, I just wanted to check in with you and see if you needed my help for anything around the Cubs this week.

Oh, no reason, except I heard you just hired a dead man to start in the outfield for the Cubs.  I thought maybe you forgot about us down he…

No no, sir!  No, sir.  He’s not really dead.  It’s just… he’s not very good anymore.  He hasn’t hit for years and I think his defensive range can be measured by the specs on his Rascal.

No, of course not, sir.  I mean him no offense at all.  (none, obviously.)

What?  Nothing, sir.  It’s just that I’m down here in Triple-A and I’m available to play in center or left or, y’know, whatever you need up there in Chicago.  So if you wanted a baseball player instead of an assistant coach…

… no, sir, I’m not left-handed.

Yes, I know he’s left-handed.  Sir, if you want me to be left-handed and hit as well as him, I can do that.  I can even borrow Jim Abbott’s glove if you want me to catch lefty.  

Yes, sir; I’m sorry.  That was in bad taste.  It’s just that… what do we guys down here in the minors have to do to get on the team?  You’re sending Felix back again after one bad month of being jerked around and Sean’s only back up in the rotation because Rich Hill imploded and you only played Soto last year after Michael Barrett tried to drop kick your new puppy into the broadcast booth.

Yes, sir.  

Yes, sir.

Yes, sir.

Thank you, Mr. Piniella, sir.  I look forward to hearing from you.

Pictured here is one Nicolas Swisher, getting his fuzzy friend painted for Mother’s Day.  (Hey, we’re not here to judge.)  However, we wanted to take a moment to point out the bill of his cap.  He’s used some kind of gel pen to draw a cross and “D.30″ on it.  The latter is apparently short for “Dirty 30″, his self-styled nickname. 

People, this is why we are in charge of nicknames around here.  First, it’s not cool to assign yourself a nickname.  Second, when you do assign yourself a nickname, you give yourselves crappy ones like “Dirty 30″.  Honestly, “Dirty 30″ next to a cross may be the worst cross-promotional idea since G.I. Joe dated Barbie.

As the master of nicknames, Mr. Swisher, we will take care of giving you a new name.  Your new name shall now be… “Nick Swisher”.  Because you’re in the penalty box for awhile.  No nicknames for you until you’ve learned your lesson about self-naming.  You’re cut off.  

(Like that pink abomination on your chin.  We appreciate it’s for a good cause and all, but the last time we had something like that on our face… well, that was the one and only time we’ll ever attend a bachelorette party.)

A backdrop to the Marlins beating the Padres, 6-4, on Friday night was the shooting of a scene for the upcoming movie “Marley & Me,” starring Jennifer Aniston and Owen Wilson.

They shot scenes in the stands:

[youtube:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SD3D3_aE_G0]

(H/t: Bugs and Cranks)

They shot scenes on the field:

[youtube:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hHi7VQyMqhQ]

Quoting again:

Players were leaving and entering the field but momentarily stopped as the two actors finally grabbed the dog and were whisked away. The segment lasted about a minute and didn’t interrupt the game.

Yes! Yes, it did! I was at a movie and a baseball game broke out!

As you already know, this isn’t the first time this has happened. “Fever Pitch” already embarrassed the Boston Red Sox with its jaunts through the field in the regular season and then this:

Which just goes on to prove the point: Jeffrey Loria is not just a shameless hussy, he’s a completely unoriginal shameless hussy.

Look, it’s just baseball. I get that. It’s not the sacred ground that will cause Scooby-Doo and his friends to run into gh-gh-gh-gh-ghosts! when it’s violated. But isn’t it enough that it’s baseball? Do we need fatass cheerleaders or DJs, Loria?

When the Japanese create incessant noise or even have cheerleaders, it seems to be in celebration of the game. When Jeffrey Loria does it, it seems to be in apology for having to sit through the game. To which I humbly reply: jam it up your ass, sir. Jam it until it tickles your spleen.