I didn't forget about this..

It's Thursday in Vegas. I'm up $300, which is great because I might not even have to dip into the funds. I've officially got some money to play with and I have enough to do so that I won't gamble it all before lunch time.

I get up, pack up my laptop and head to the boxing press conference. Boxing conferences are good because they have good, free food, which saves me the cost of lunch. I met up with my long time friend and Tribune writer Anwar.

Anwar isn't a big gambler, but he'll throw down on sports. So after the press conference we head to the Mandalay Bay Sports Books and I throw down $50 on Syracuse over Miss. St. and $25 on Houston over my beloved Knicks.

To make a long story short, I won the Cuse game, lost on the Rockets, spent $35 for dinner and another $25 in slots (UGGH!) and left about $50 down. Anwar was tired, so it was time to get ready for the night.

I hit New York, New York and for me, I like to try new things, especially on Thursday when the casino tables are cheaper and more newbie-friendly.

I try 3-card poker. It's simple, you get three cards instead of five and you try to beat the dealer. Simple I say. Did I win? Well lord no, but it was easy to learn. $50 gone.

Next up is Casino War. Yes I said war. You can play fucking war at a Casino. $5 a card to beat the dealer. When war is declared it's a double bet. I liked war as a kid but I would've never thought of playing for $5 a card. The crazy thing is that this is a damn 50/50 game odds wise, or should be. Plus this game must be a dream for card counters. Almost like a novice table.

Oh yeah I lost about $25.

Next I was off to the San Remo, my favorite place for nighttime blackjack. For one thing they are one of the last casinos where the dealer doesn't hit the soft 17. They also offer, $5 single and double decks there.

Anyway, it's a small casino and since I stayed there before I recognized a few of the dealers. In keeping with my the dealers-to-baseball closers theory. One table was Mariano, a wicked Asian female dealer, she's got 55 saves in her last 56 outings and her cutter was on fire. I keep searching, there's Foulke and Hoffman next to each other, retiring batters on 17s like they planned it. Finally I find the Remo's equivalent of Jose Mesa, so I sit down. I start at $10 a hand and do pretty well so I mix $10 and $15 depending on how I felt.

I threw $100 down and it stretched for about two hours, we were all having a blast on the table and I might've been down $20-25 bucks in that time. Finally I increase to $25/hand hoping to win a couple before I retired for the night.

I double up on an 11 with the dealer having a four showing. I drew a 9, dealer had 4 in the hole as well, he drew a 3, a 4, an ace and a 5.

21....

Bye money and I lost around $250 on day 2.

...but FINALLY...Feb. 8

It's a celebration bitches!

Well the timely leakage of the grand jury testimony had basically indicted Giambi and Bonds. Add that to the newfound credibility of Victor Conte and it seems like we have a full-blown steroid fight on our hands.

Except in baseball.

In baseball Bud the Dud can't do a damn thing. He can't punish anyone, he can't make anyone sit. He's at the total mercy of the players' association. Even John McCain threatened to step in and basically the MLBPA told him to fuck off.

In the end this is going to just be a big media stink. When I step away and look at it, most of the people aren't surprised. They know these guys are juicing, they knew McGwire and Sosa were juicing. Hell Clemens is probably on the juice too. Sure they want to see the game clean too but not at the risk of 500 ft home runs...No way.

Since Bud the Dud can't do anything and the MLBPA obviously doesn't care, it's time for the fans to do the only thing they can do. Stay home. Watch something else. Act like the sport doesn't exist. Call your local sports section and demand they devote less print to baseball because it's as legitimate as professional wrestling.

For all some of you (and you know who you are) complain about the NBA and the players there. You don't see Ron Artest on an NBA court anywhere, you don't see Stephen Jackson on the Pacers' road trip while waiting out his appeal. The NBA does their part when it comes to the necessary discipline.