Ave Syndicate Members,
In nominee Patri et fillii et Spiritus Santci, it’s my divine pleasure to welcome to a new Syndicate installment of “Pope-a-Palooza”. We still have, and most assuredly shall discuss some baseball lines. Before arriving at those, however we must present the official odds for the upcoming Papal Conclave. Our rotten luck persists. First, the original writings from the 2005 Conclave were lost to the Sands of Time. Damn flimsy 3.5 Floppy Disks! Then Ratzinger became the first pontiff to voluntarily resign in over 700 years. Finally, the College of Cardinals elected to move up the date of the conclave in open defiance of JP II’s will. A bookie more inclined to believe in fate might conclude that God himself continuously intervened in a deliberate effort to stymie his sacrilege writing.
Not this bookie. The only gospel song he genuinely loves
happens to be the secular one written by Tom Waits. The closest he comes to
allowing himself to be elevated by a spiritual hymn takes place when Dishwalla
comes over the P.A. during an evening shift at the Drugstore. One may have to
“keep the devil way down in the hole”, but that only refers to the personal
inner demons with which we all must wrestle. There exists no omnipotent
universal devil just as there exists no almighty God. I could bore you further
with terms like Dawkins’ “Infinite Regression”, but our time here is limited.
As noted above, all twenty plus pages I wrote in 2005 cannot
be retrieved. Nevertheless, an apt summary survives for posterity. Gentlemen, I
present to you definitive proof that the act of writing “Retroactive Notes”
proves worthwhile.
From EM 2004—Round Three:
11) Italy
They’re still alive, but only in the way Supreme Pontiff
John Paul II is still alive. The Azzuri are riddled with Parkinson’s, barely
breathing, and unable to speak. Likewise, it will take the hand of the Holy
Mother herself to save them. The Swedes must convincingly defeat the Danes
while the Wops generate a scoring frenzy. Rosary Beads are being thumbed all
over the subcontinent. Such a shame that no one is listening.
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
JP II lasted another ten months or so before finally
kicking the bucket. This led to one of the absolute highlights of my career as
a friendly amateur bookie: Pope-a-palooza 2005. Oh man what a blast.
Handicapping the College of Cardinals was initially troublesome as nothing
makes it out of that conclave except for either black or white smoke. So I read
up a bit on the College of Cardinals. Turns out they typically earn the right
to vote around 60 and lose it at 80. Fascinating stuff. Around 130 were
eligible and 117 showed up. Seriously, who were the thirteen who had other shit
to do? It’s a fucking papal conclave. Days of endless free food and booze.
That’s almost enough for me to give my life over to Christ. Added together, the
cardinals from Latin America, Asia, and Africa outnumbered the European
Cardinals 59-58. Hell yes! Stalemate and intrigue were on the menu. Almost
anything could happen! After John Paul mumbled his last on April 2nd,
the conclave was scheduled for April 18th. This gave just over two
weeks to read up in the candidates and publish some odds.
The actual document has been lot to a flimsy 3.5 floppy,
but I have many fond memories of studying ecumenical law and actors in the cozy
confines of my Spanish Town cottage. Globally oriented publications such as the
Financial Times and the Economist published their own odds, which were quite
helpful. As the conclave approached, the smart money appeared to be
dichotomously split between two camps. Polish born JP II had broken a streak of
455 years of an Italian grip on the papacy. It stood to reason that the Wops
would want it back after an unusually long drought. So it was on the eve of the
conclave that Italians like Maria Martini, Giovanni Cheli, Fiorenza Angelini,
and Camilo Ruini had the lowest odds, going between 2-1 and 4-1. Another group,
including myself, was convinced the Church would shore up its Latin American
constituency, healing the wounds of Vatican II and giving a large shout-out to
one of the only places on earth we people still go to Mass regularly. Argentine
Jorge Bergoglio, Brazilian Jose Falcao, and Columbian Dario Hoyas also had low
odds. Bergoglio would have been my choice, but I was merely serving as pool
director.
Never in my life have I observed such patently absurd
betting behavior. Nearly everyone was prepared to kick in a few shekels for
quixotic choices with long odds. American money poured in for Roger Mahoney of
Los Angeles. Why not? We rule the world. We’d be the natural choice to run the
Vatican! An American pope. Still can’t say that with a straight face. Other
Romantics thought, what the hell, surely a Black or Korean guy will grace the
balcony of St. Peter’s Basilica. Wouldn’t that be cool? It would be fucking
awesome….if life worked that way. The coin came rolling in. One figure who
received no attention from anyone was Dean of the Sacred College and JP’s right
hand Joseph Ratzinger. The Economist gave him 9-1 odds and the Financial Times
7-1. I was far more skeptical. My book reads 12-1. Had someone actually bet on
him they would have reaped an enormous payday. Since no one did, I retained the
fortune fit for a pope.
The odds were sent out via e-mail a few days before the
conclave commenced and I closed the book to bets on the day of the conclave.
Presumably, since the election has taken place in secret under the auspices of
sealed tight Vatican for almost 2000 years, I could have continued taking bets
until the White Smoke appeared. I simply wasn’t prepared to take that chance in
the digital age. Some tech-Savvy cardinal could have been all over My Space
with information I wasn’t privy to. April 18th was the close. With
the conclave expected to last anywhere from a few days to a week, I had high
hopes for a Papal-themed “4/20 Party” involving a joint session of friends with
plenty of joints to go around. I was so looking forward to this event, even
though I never much cared for pot. I even made preparations to link up the live
“Smokestack Cam”. Alas, there were but three discharges of black smoke before
news of the selection interrupted my April 19th commute to class. I
slammed on the brakes. Four years into college I would deliberately skip my
first lecture. Fuck class. The new pope would appear within the hour.
Nearly seven years into Benedict XVI’s term, I must
confess I get gleefully excited every time he coughs into a microphone. Hurry
up and die, already! I’m aching to write another “Pope-a-Palooza”! Shit! All
this modern medicine, stable politics, and disturbing lack of assassination
attempts means a papal conclave is now a once-in-a-generation event. This
stubborn Kraut looks like he could hang in there for another decade or more and
it…well it just plain sucks. Wouldn’t it be great if we lived in the fifteenth
century, when every three years the successor to St. Peter went down from a
glass of tainted wine, a disease infested prostitute, or a feckless spot of
stomach flu? Okay, maybe it wouldn’t be so great to be concerned about such
microorganisms myself, not to mention be unable to read or write. Still, can’t
Ratzinger retire to the quiet life of seclusion, scholarship, and cats he
always claims to yearn for? C’mon Papst! JP I gave us two conclaves in one
bloody season. Do it for me, Big
Papa!
Vindicated I am. Today’s lesson (Yes, I’m talking to you,
kids): Write down your thoughts. It doesn’t matter if no one is around to
listen to or read them. Life boils down to nothing but a series of fucked-up coincidences.
Be sure to chronicle as much as you can. That way you’ll never fall into the
trap of thinking that everything happens for a reason.
Who’s ready to “pontificate” (hell, yes) on this week’s
goings on inside the Sistine Chapel? Just as I suspected! Let’s begin with the
ludicrously reiterated statement that Benedict is the first Pontiff to
voluntarily resign in over 700 years. Sure, it seems shocking. The uninitiated
suddenly find themselves in world where BOTH Batman and the Pope are allowed to
quit. In truth, his resignation isn’t surprising at all. After the previous
pope hung on to reigns of power until he was soiling himself, retirement in the
media age remained the only dignified Teutonic solution. All of us must step
aside at some point. We must all face the reality that our bodies have become
frail, our minds feeble, and our hours short. Hanging on to one’s position
until one dies an agonizing and humiliating death is a sign of poor
character…egotism even. We should not venerate individuals like John Paul II or
William Rehnquist. They didn’t know when to let go, and insisted that we
witness their suffering.
Benny retires to a life of leisurely writing and thinking.
At the age of 85, one shouldn’t anything more of him. He’s even too old to be a
Wal-Mart Greeter. He won’t appear on “Dancing with the Stars”, “Keeping up with
the Kardashians”, or “Jersey Shore”. The only remaining task to be fulfilled
involves sitting and reflecting upon his life. The inevitable end to which the
more fortunate among us must all draw near needn’t be a time of fear or regret.
We must simply resign ourselves to the fact that we were fortunate enough to
exist in this universe at all. The clock ticks down on all of us. Our bodies
decay and soon the mind joins it. Benedict proved to be an exceptionally wise
man in that he wished to drag as few people down with him as necessary. A
prolific scholar, he’s hinted that he knows the ultimate truth: God is
“sleeping”. God “sleeps” because he doesn’t exist. Ratzinger will deal with his
own demise privately and with dignity. He was a stand-up guy all along. Do what
you can for the world, then exit without burdening anyone else. Also, don’t plagiarize
your doctoral thesis.
Time to convey the essential stats. As you already know, cardinals
aged 80 and over are not eligible to vote. Thus, although 207 Cardinals will
find themselves locked in St. Peter’s, only 117 are eligible as electors. 115
will participate in the process. That still leaves us with over 200 hundred
candidates. Oh how I wish I could somehow conjure up enough time to handicap
individual odds. Regrettably, I’ve been smitten by God’s Laws of time. Hence,
we’ll have to take wagers according to regional contingents this time. That
doesn’t mean we can’t have fun. Let’s go.
1) The Italian/Wop Contingent (Winning Odds—0.5 to 1)
(28 Electors, 24 Percent of the Electorate)
Allow me to clarify to the point that it’s ABSOLUTELY
CRYSTAL. The election of an Italian Pope is so likely that if you wish to bet
on it, you’ll actually end of owing me money. If a non-Italian is elected I owe
you double the bet. Venturing into uncharted territory here, but I’m confident.
You can’t double up. (i.e., you can’t bet BOTH on an Italian Pope and a Pope
from the Rest of the World (R.O.W.) ) Either you bet Italian or you bet
something else. Are we clear?
2) The European Contingent (Winning Odds 2 to 1)
(32 Electors, 28 Percent of the Electorate)
This qualifies as our UPSET SPECIAL. Do you think the
Guineas are prepared to elect a third consecutive non-Italian Pope? Try your
luck.
3) The North American Contingent (Winning Odds 4 to 1)
(20 Electors, 17 Percent of the Electorate)
Keep dreaming about your French Canadian Pope. Keep dreaming
about it. It a’int happening, but bet on it regardless.
4) The South American Contingent (Winning Odds 2 to 1)
(13 Electors, 11 Percent of the Electorate)
If there’s any truth to the possibility that the church
wishes to expand it’s reach, the Latins make for a legitimate Dark Horse. All
bettors should nevertheless be cautioned that the Church wishes to forget
Vatican II more than it wishes to be relevant.
5) The African Contingent (Winning Odds 4 to 1)
(11 Electors, 10 Percent of the Electorate)
Your friendly bookie and his unhealthy African obsession
would like nothing more. White Smoke….Black Pope. The headline essentially
writes itself. It’s still not happening, no matter what Ghanaian hype you’re
prepared to buy into.
6) The Asiatic/Oceanic Contingent (Winning Odds 6 to 1)
(11 Electors, 9 Percent of the Electorate)
Orwell’s Oceania comprised North America and the British
Isles. Later, mankind would deem the term more appropriate to Pacific Rim
countries and Australia….to the point that J.J. Abrahams solidified matters
with his “Oceania Air”. Useless bastard. We’re not getting an Asian Pope…if
only for the reason that the new Pope’s genitals must be thoroughly inspected
to ensure that he’s not a woman. End of story.
Thanks so much for reading. Everyone who isn't a baseball
enthusiast now has permission to stop paying attention.
My Updated Stats
Spread: 8-19-2
Straight up: 16-11-2
Goddamn Dutch. I will have my revenge.
Japan vs. Netherlands
(Masahiro Tanaka vs. David Bergman)
Meulens ended up surprising a few with his pitching
selection….then he ended up exhausting his options. This one won’t be pretty,
and we’ll set a fitting line to prove it.
THE
LINE: Japan +3 Runs
Italy vs. Dominican Republic
(Chris Cooper vs. Edison Volquez)
Hehehehehe. Speaking of exhausted options, the Italians are
about spent. It shall prove sweet watching you Wopsters go down.
THE
LINE: Dominican Republic +3 Runs
Puerto Rico vs. United States
(Giancarlo Alvarado vs. Gio Gonzalez)
Tough draw for our beloved country. Given the uneven
performance of the boys thus far, the bookie has little choice but to pick a
draw. That by no means suggests that the U.S. won’t make it to the semifinals.
We can even lose another game and still remain in contention.
THE
LINE: Pick em’
GENTLEMEN,
ENTER YOUR WAGERS
