Not locked, stocked or reloaded

It's hard to say who's suffered the worst during the previous thirty days: the investors on Wall Street or the footballers at Patriot Place.

On September 29th, the Dow Jones Industrial Average plummeted 777 points in one day, the largest one-day point loss ever. Equally catastrophic events occurred five days later when Steve Ralston cracked his right fibula, and all but ended his 2008 season.

While the Dow climbed back up 936 points nine days later, the Revolution saw no such recovery on the pitch. They lost 2-1 to D.C. United the following Thursday on national television, sinking into the depths of third place in the Conference. From there, they lose their final match of the season against Kansas City, 3-1, after losing two players to red cards. The month of October's record reads a little something like this:

0-3-1

Wait. It gets worse.

During said season finale, defender Gabriel Badilla was booked for a questionable offense when he brought down Claudio Lopez in the box.* Damn red cards. Adios, Senor Badilla for Game 1 of the Eastern Conference Finals. That was bad.

(*Now, I understand why referee Kevin Stott had to give Badilla the red. There's no question Badilla was beat. Accordingly, he hauled Lopez down in an obvious attempt to deny him a goal-scoring opportunity. Award Lopez the kick if you will, but Stott has to consider the ramifications of the card, within the context that both clubs were playoff bound. He calls an MLS game just about as well as Britney Spears stays clothed.)

But wait. It gets even worse.

Not twenty minutes after Badilla's ungraceful goodbye, Khano Smith and his recklessly energetic 6-3 frame barrel spikes-first into the legs of Hercules Gomez, thus warranting the soft-spoken Bermudan a red card of his very own. Because of the egregious nature of his foul, he is likely cooked for the remainder for the entire postseason, if not, longer. He will be roasted.

There's more.

On Tuesday, the Revolution proclaimed Taylor Twellman out indefinitely due to post-concussion symptons that have plagued him since Steve Cronin sent him a double-fisted jab while trying to parry a shot. A fearless Twellman made a bid on the very same ball with a header, thus resulting in a dubious brace: the goal and subsequent concussion.

Let's break out the abacus and do the math. That's one, two, three...three starters out for Thursday night. Paul Mariner up front, anyone?

Congress just doled out $700 billion to fix Wall Street. Unfortunately, Ted Kennedy forgot to ask for the pork necessary to help bail out the Revs.

But it's not all bad. The Dow gained nearly 900 points on Tuesday. And the Revolution still have to play a postseason series to play come Thursday.

*******

Was Saturday night's debacle the final MLS match for Taylor Twellman?

At the beginning of the calendar year, Twellman was the subject of a month-long transfer rumor that had him going to Preston North End for a reported $3.5 million fee. Calls were made. Figures were discussed. In the end, the striker would stay put, much to his initial disappointment.

But after an injury-riddled season in which he still managed a share the team lead in goals (8), the consensus is that he may test the international waters yet again this offseason. And quite frankly, if a transfer is discussed, his best chance to move may be this January.

Why? The reason is two-fold: 1. The Revs can win without him. Despite his injuries, the club resided in the upper echelon of the Eastern Conference for nearly the entire season. 2. His scoring rate is still impressive. Even though he was limited to 12 starts (16 games total), he still managed to bag eight goals. Plus, he's 28-years-old, which means that if he's going to move, this winter might be the last opportunity to do so.

Personally, I hope Saturday wasn't his final MLS match. I think he still has something to prove. He's endured four MLS Cup losses, and I think that bothers him tremendously. Oh, and he's still one goal shy of the career century mark. As much as there may be to play for abroad, he still has a great deal to play for here in New England.

Free Paul Mariner

I've been in a goofy mood all week.

I don't know what it is. A lingering sinus infection may be the cultprit. Well, that, and I don't know, every one of the local teams losing - LOSING - this past week. The Patriots? 30-10 loss to the Chargers. The Sox? They haven't won since Fish & Chips day. The Revolution? Not only an embarrassing 1-0 loss to Kansas City, but Hercules Gomez manages to expell the club's MLS Cup dreams by undercutting Steve Ralston with a late-tackle. Even the Bruins - the same I club I hoped to play right wing for by the time I turned 21* - lost on Saturday night, 4-3, to the Nashville Predators.

(*In eighth grade, my teacher asked us to trace ourselves on large sheets of post-consumer paper and illustrate on that life-sized paper doll what we wanted to be. So I drew myself as a Boston Bruins player, and noted at the bottom "Age 21." Lofty goal for a wee lad like myself, who could barely stop himself on ice skates. The dream was clearly based on the assumption that the NHL was identical to the street hockey games I played with my neighborhood friends at the Perry-McStay Funeral home parking lot across the street.)

To compound matters, my television croaked on Sunday. My wonderous, 27" Magnavox, which projected soccer games from afar into my very bedroom, unceremoniously departed this plane of existence at approximately 4:27pm after I tried to reinstall my PS2 to said TV. A white spark eminated during the attempt. An artificial, plastic (?) odor seeped into my nostrils. I tried to revive the patient, but it never responded. R.I.P. Magnavox O'Connell, 1996-2008.

ANYWAY, this weird mood of mine was in full effect last night while I watched the USA-T & T (not to be confused with TNT Vacations) World Cup qualifier. I had to watch it on the big screen downstairs, which was fine. But it robbed me of my ability to watch from my desk, where copious amounts of related info are less than an arm length away.

Here's where it gets really nutty, though. Seems like there was this debate last night, and my dad wanted to watch it. Heck, so did I, even though I could have easily answered the questions for both candidates considering I've heard the same ones ad nauseam for the past 739 days, or whenever these guys announced their candidacies. And while I flipped back and forth between the game and the debate, a peculiar thought popped into my brain.

Now, Revolution assistant coach Paul Mariner is often a name that floats among the MLS universe whenever a managerial position opens. How he does not have such a job must be a state secret because there are some pretty darn clueless managers inhabiting space on the MLS landscape. I won't say who, but I will say that Mariner must have done something during his playing days to warrant this situation. I tried to find any damning evidence on YouTube, and older editions of When Saturday Comes. Nada.

Mind you, his presence here in New England is great. Him and Nicol have run one of the sturdiest ships in the MLS fleet. From what I've gathered, the players love ol' PM, and he would seem to be an ideal candidate for the job he doesn't, but should, have.

Eventually, someone important in MLS will wisen up. That's not to say that overtures haven't been made. The Revolution organization has kept Mariner in its stall with good reason. But, there will come a time when Mariner's contract runs up, and he will entertain offers left and right with the zeal unseen since the demand for TomKat's baby Suri photos.

What am I getting at?

This: Paul Mariner should be the next manager of the Revolution. Whatever it takes. Whenever Stevie Nicol steps down, resigns or is promoted to a front office position*, Mariner must assume the title. Let's face it - Nicol can't manage forever, although he is the league's elder stateman in the managerial conversation.

(*Which he'd be perfectly suited for. As a judge of talent, Nicol is without peer, and one could easily see him in a director of player personnel position either in MLS or abroad.)

Methinks it might be a good idea that Mariner's contract contain, if does not already, language that assumes he will be the next gaffer should Nicol wish to depart to greener pastures.

I'm at a loss as to the reason why Mariner hasn't already gotten the nod from another club. Maybe the Revs seem content to keep him under lock and key. Or maybe it's because his name just doesn't ooze the sexiness of a Ruud Gullitt. A Bruce Arena. A Juan Carlos Osario. Even a Fernando Clavijo, who I will bet dollars to doughnuts, will find another managerial spot before Mariner finds his first. If you know why this is, then please enlighten me and post it in the comments section.

Maybe it's politics. CNN claims it is politics. But I feel MLS is politics as well. To me, it's one of the main reasons why Mariner is not guiding a club of his own right now. Whether it's between Mariner and the Revs and/or the rest of the league, is anyone's guess. Whatever it is, it's an remarkable injustice that one of the best assistant coaches in MLS has not yet been given the opportunity to oversee a club of his own.

And there you have it. Politics and soccer, without a hint of partisanship.

Jeez, it has been a goofy week.