The CBC’s recent announcement that Jules Mancuso and Lena Sutherland would provide alternative commentary to the Stanley Cup Finals under the goof premise of “While Then Men Watch” was met with groans by male and female hockey fans alike, though the The Star’s Cathal Kelly suggests the finished product was even worse than projected. In the aftermath of LA’s 2-1 OT win over the Devils in Game One at the Prudential Center, Kelly writes, “After suffering through the abrasive and aggressively ill-informed commentary of Mancuso and Sutherland on , I can put that political pissing match to rest. This CBC live stream isn’t about men and women. This is about idiots and non-idiots.”
There was a black-and-white, pre-taped bit that showed Mancuso and Sutherland as hard-done-by ’50s housewives complaining about these hopped-up new CBC hosts, Mancuso and Sutherland.
Get it? (elbow in ribs) GET IT?
“Just doing my vacuuming and pregnant again,” says Sutherland
“Oh geez, I wish they’d come up with some kind of contraception,” says Mancuso.
“I wish I didn’t have to keep stroking his (comic beat) ego every time his team loses,” says Sutherland.
Somewhere in hell, Ralph Kramden is tapping his lawyer on the shoulder.
This sort of satire might have worked if the real thing was not identical to the lampoon.
They treated the build-up to puck drop as an extended opportunity to wallow in exactly how little they know about the game.
“Martin Brodeur is looking for his fourth Cup,” said their off-camera straight man, Sonny the Producer.
“I took four Advil after that inning was over and then I had to take four more on the plane and then when I got home last night I had to take four more. Also, when I got up this morning, I had to take four more.”
No, seriously, I’m sure an exit poll of those who attended the Angels’ 6-5 victory over the Yankees Wednesday would confirm the overwhelming majority of the paying customers turned up in order to witness home plate umpire Laz Diaz (above) preside over the affair. As such, it’s only fitting that Diaz should be treated with great deference by the lowly players on both sides, particularly New York’s argumentative catcher Russel Martin, who claims Diaz refused to let him throw new balls back to his own pitcher. From the Newark Star-Ledger’s Marc Carig :
“He told me I had to earn the privilege,” said Martin, a seven-year veteran, three-time All-Star and Gold Glove winner. “Even at the end of the game after I get hit in the neck. I’m like, can I throw the ball back now? He’s still like no. I’m like you’re such a (expletive). Like for real. Unbelievable. I even told him like when there’s guys on base, I like to keep my arm loose. No. I’m not letting you throw a ball back. That’s pretty strange to me.”
When informed that his choice of words wasn’t printable, Martin said “I wish it was.” Then, he helped come up with suitable alternatives before leaving the clubhouse.
Diaz was not available for comment.
“That was strange,” Martin said. “I was kind of mystified. I really didn’t get that. He was punishing me.”
Typically, Martin said umpires grant his request to throw the ball back to his pitcher, which he likes to do just to keep his arm loose during games. Even after arguments, he said no umpire had ever denied him the request until last night, when Diaz told him he hadn’t earned the right.
A few years ago, I attended a Mets/Yankees game at the old Yankee Stadium in the company of the erudite and talented Jeffrey Jensen and Jesper Eklow. We sat somewhere in the upper reaches of The Stadium’s tier seats, surround by a gang of mouthy Yankee fans, several of whom either starred in the movie, “Boiler Room” or were simply devoted to dressing and acting like tools on a full-time bases. These gentlemen spent much of the evening addressing the Mets and Mets fans in terms that ranged from “you suck”, to “you suck cock”, to the particuarly Wilde-worthy, “you suck homo cock”. As things became more heated throughout the game (and a Yankee defeat appeared imminent), one of the more lumpen members of this modern day Algonquin Round Table uttered the cutting epithet he’d surely been sitting on since the moment he laid eyes upon us ;
“fuck you, you fucking hipsters”.
Needless to say, I was confused. Had he called us homeless, I might’ve understood. I wouldn’t have liked it, but it would’ve made more sense. As the years have gone by, I’ve struggled to understand precisely, what a hipster is supposed to be. If you read a lot of unfunny blogs, it appears to have something to do with stupid facial hair, drinking PBR and some large dose of elitism. I mean, guilty as charged on the elitism, but they don’t get much more elite than Mitt Romney, and nobody’s calling him a hipster.
Anyhow, back in the present day, the Mets’ NY-Penn League affiliate apparently knows for certain what a hipster is. Much as I’ve enjoyed many nights at Coney Island’s Keyspan Park, I’m less than enthused about giving the Wilpon family money in order to mock and demean a minority group that doesn’t actually exist.
So it came as some surprise yesterday — just hours after Dino wrote to CSTB claiming those old sexual harassment charges from 2003 were the result of a “love triangle” (“the person in question was completely discredited, had a history of mental problems and had been through the process of this kind of a thing before”) he announced he’d be taking an immediate Twitter sabbatical (“as America’s most compelling, dynamic, unique, and most knowledgeable sports based talk radio host, I find it personally insulting that I have the scattering of Twitter followers that I currently possess…I’ll be back when my Twitter feed gets to the 5K level”). Later in the day, perhaps realizing that 5 thousand followers might be a slightly ambitious goal for a radio host with not nearly as many listeners, Costa declared on his evening Mad Dog Radio show that he’d retire from Twitter if his follower total hadn’t reached 4 thousand by the end of the program. “And then,” intoned Dino, “I’m gone until 5 thousand.” Seems like he’s really thought his through, right?
As the show dragged on, Costa repeatedly coaxed long-suffering producer Andrew Caplan for an update on the Twitter drive. “You’re doing great, Dino,” Caplan assured Costa, “only 340 to go,” failing to mention of course, that two hours into the broadcast, they’d not gained more than a dozen or so new followers. When the begging mercifully came to a close at 11pm eastern, Costa — who’d earlier promised he’d not return to Twitter — posted again, insisting, “the # must be 4K by the end of this week…if it is not, my tweeting days are done.” And of course, he’s made two subsequent posts to let the world know, he’s SERIOUS THIS TIME.
In the not-so-unlikely event Costa soon finds himself bounced from the radio business, I do realize there’s every possibility he might hold up a convenience store somewhere and take hostages. When that tragic day arrives, I implore authorities to delay negotiations with Dino as long as they can, as we can see a pattern developing. He’ll start by demanding a helicopter, $10 million bucks and free passage to any country that upholds the sanctity of male-female marriage. But by the end of the siege, he’ll surely settle for a four-pack of Dogfish Head 90 Minute IPA.
All of that said, I’m a helpful person, even when dealing with bullies, blowhards and guys who embellish their resumes. If Dino’s hellbent on increasing his Twitter followers at all costs, why not petition an audience that really seems to get him? When Costa conducted a smoochy interview with former Ku Klux Klan Grand Wizard David Duke in 2008, who’d have thought the former would someday become such an important fixture on Chris Russo’s satellite channel? Or that the usually attention-starved Costa would neglect to ask Holocaust denier-Duke or his buddies at Stormfront.org for their support in solving this Twitter dilemma? Really, why so reticent, Dino? White supremacists and Nazis are pretty fuckin’ savvy when it comes to social media ; what’s the point of sucking up to them so blatantly if you’re just gonna disassociate yourself when the chips are down?
Putting aside for a moment the irony of someone who routinely blocks his critics later complaining about his number of Twitter followers, regardless of what happens between now and Friday or whatever other artificial deadline Costa comes up with, I have suspect the medium will survive, perhaps even flourish without his participation. The same might even be true of talk radio.
(32 year old Vinny Rottino’s biggest moment in baseball to date — being punched in the cock by his manager)
Getting the most out of a decidedly Buffalo Bisons-esque lineup, Terry Collins has the 2012 New York Mets just 1 1/2 games out of first place in the NL East at the end of May, a rather staggering achievement given the club’s finances and non-contributions from players injured (Mike Pelfrey, Jason Bay) and healthy (Ike Davis). While R.A. Dickey, Johan Santana and David Wright are experiencing career revivals, don’t expect the Amazingly Destitutes to revert to their former free spending ways, warns ESPN’s Buster Olney, who writes, “there are no plans to dive back into the marketplace and spend aggressively and restore their payroll to pre-Madoff levels.”
They are switching big-picture strategies, in fact: Rather than making moves designed to lure fans to their ballpark — like the signing of Pedro Martinez and Jason Bay — the Mets intend to follow a path created by their fans’ investment. As the team gets better, and Citi Field attendance climbs, the Mets’ payroll will grow.
It’s a slow-burn strategy, and rival officials believe it has a chance to work under Sandy Alderson, because there is hope on the horizon. Zack Wheeler, the pitching prospect acquired from the San Francisco Giants for Carlos Beltran, is dominating hitters in the minors with a fastball in the range of 94-97 mph, and Matt Harvey is progressing in Triple-A. Jenrry Mejia, whose development was derailed in the past, appears to be back on track.
“Wheeler reminds me of a right-handed Matt Moore — he’s that good,” said one evaluator recently. “He’s got really easy gas — tremendous stuff. You could see a situation where the Mets have Wheeler, Harvey and Mejia in the big leagues by the middle of June , and they could have something building.”
The Mets need help in the middle of the diamond, at catcher, in the middle infield, and they may make intermediate moves as they wait for the maturation of their core of young pitching. But they don’t intend to throw around big money, sources say, and while there has been speculation that signing David Wright may require a 10-year investment, the Mets might be much more conservative in these negotiations than expected.
So there you have it, folks. The burden on putting this promising young team over the hump is squarely on the miserly baseball fans of NYC (or those who haven’t already devoted their bank accounts/allegiance to the Yankees). Earlier today, WFAN’s Mike Francesa argued the Econo-Mets had more than proven themselves worthy of greater fan support, which certainly begs the question, how many games at Citi Field has the broadcaster personally paid to see this season? Or does he only attend sporting events where he’s seated next to rock royalty?
Tuley-Tillman participated in a Nike Camp in Columbus and was turned off by the behavior of Ohio State fans while he was wearing a Michigan hat.
“I was up there and the fans were cussing me out and they were saying ‘(expletive) you’ and stuff like that while I was walking through the mall,” Tuley-Tillman said. “It wasn’t like in my face. They were like saying things and then would power walk away. One of them actually threw something at me, but it didn’t hit me. So, that’s how it started.”
Those harsh feelings continue for Tuley-Tillman.
“There was just something about them,” he said. “They’re a good school, I just really hate the whole state of Ohio. I just can’t wait to get a chance to play them.”
For those who asked via Twitter, yes, Perez did do John Cena’s “You can’t see me” move after striking out Jarrod Dyson for the second inning in the ninth. Alas, Perez declined to discuss the gesture, or his reasoning behind it. Maybe Perez was just amped up. They don’t call him Pure Rage for nothing.
Also, “Pure Rage” might look better on a t-shirt than say, “Contrived & Lame”
Racism in the Ukraine is “a dreamed up and mythical problem”, claims ministry spokesman Oleh Voloshyn, who told the AP the BBC’s Panorama episode, “Euro 2012: Stadiums of Hate,” was prepared, “in the best traditions of Soviet journalism”. ““Nazi symbols can be seen at … any match in England, but does it mean that fans should not come to London for the Olympics?” asked Voloshyn, although swastikas generally aren’t nearly that common a sight (and if they were, yes, someone would probably suggest England was a lousy place to travel to). From Reuters :
Ukrainian authorities were particularly stung by comments by former England international Sol Campbell who, in the Panorama programme, warned England fans not to travel to Euro 2012 because of the threat of racism and violence.
Campbell, who played 73 times for England and appeared at six major tournaments, said: “Stay at home, watch it on TV. Don’t even risk it … because you could end up coming back in a coffin.”
Ukrainian players rallied to their country’s defence.
Striker Andriy Shevchenko, who formerly played for English club Chelsea, said: “We do not have any real problems with racism here. Ukraine is a very peaceful country and people here are very friendly. I know that everything will be done for Euro 2012 to take place at a high level.”
Oleh Luzhny, who formerly played for London’s Arsenal, was quoted by the online publication Korrespondent.net as saying: “No, no and no again. I have never heard any talk about this problem (racism). We have Nigerian football players here and I have never heard about outbreaks of racism.”
Schilling’s controversial partnership with the State of Rhode Island was forged with $75 million in taxpayer-backed bonds two years ago. If 38 Studios fails, Rhode Island taxpayers will be liable to repay more than $100 million. Also, Schilling says, he stands to lose $50 million of the fortune he earned as a professional baseball player and committed to the venture.
Schilling says that state economic-development officials reneged on a deal to approve film tax credits to which 38 Studios was legally entitled, and to allow the company to defer a $1.12-million payment that was due the state on May 1 so that 38 Studios could meet its May 15 payroll.
Schilling also criticized Chafee’s “devastating” public remarks about 38 Studios’ financial health, which he says scared off private investors.
Within 72 hours of Chafee’s May 14 statement that the state was trying to keep 38 Studios “solvent,” Schilling says, a video-game publisher pulled out of a $35-million deal to finance a sequel to Kingdoms of Amalur: Reckoning, the fantasy game that 38 Studios released in February.
Amongst those in attendance for Barry Zito’s solid (7 IP, 2 ER) performance in SF’s 4-2 win over Arizona Monday was the left-hander’s former teammate, 48 year old Barry Bonds. Speaking with reporters, Bonds struck a somewhat softer tone than the sort that typified the end of his playing days, with the SF Chronicle’s John Shea quoting baseball’s all-time HR king as looking for a coaching position with the Giants (“my expertise is baseball…that’s the only role I can have”)
Asked if he had regrets being involved with BALCO, the hub of the steroid scandal involving him, Bonds said, “I’m a convicted felon for obstruction of justice, and that’s who I am. I live with it. … I went through the system. That’s what they gave me. I’m in appeal right now. I was never convicted of steroids.”
Appearing fit, trim and jovial, the seven-time MVP said he weighs from 212 to 215 pounds and added, “When I played, I was not over 238.” He said he biked 400 miles a week before recently undergoing back and hip surgeries.
Addressing his reputation, he said, “I’m an athlete. I gave my life and soul to that game. That’s what’s heartbreaking. I gave my whole life. I did it hard for 22 years. Hard. That’s the hard part of it. You sit at home and go through it. It’s tough.”
At 47, Bonds said he still hasn’t filled out the paperwork to officially retire, and the Giants have made no public commitment to include him on their Wall of Fame or erect a statue.
“Maybe some of us just don’t ever want to retire,” said a smiling Bonds. “I’m not playing anymore, so whatever you want to call it. I’ll let the Giants figure that one out for me.”
“There’s no simple way to explain the chasm between the Pirates’ pitching and hitting processes,” observes Kovacevic, who’d like us to “picture a roomful of men concluding it would be a swell idea to invest $6 million in an overweight, hobbled, chain-smoking, disinterested Aki Iwamura.” In other words, it’s the scouting, stupid.
GM Neil Huntington won’t discuss specifics of this area, and he’ll never point fingers. Few GMs would. But it’s worth noting that his five special assistants — the men charged with studying other major league teams — changed two names over the winter: Gone were pitching experts Pete Vuckovich and Larry Corrigan. In were Jim Benedict, who had been the minor league pitching coordinator, and Dave Jauss, who had been the Mets’ bench coach.
Change is good, for sure, but why not hire an ace hitting evaluator unlike anyone in the current group?
Why not open up all five spots, for that matter?
Who’s responsible for recommending Iwamura?
It wasn’t the two pitching guys who just left, so why are the rest still employed?
The amateur scouts responsible for the draft have fared no better. The system’s top hitting prospect is outfielder Starling Marte, and the top performers to date are second baseman Alen Hanson and outfielder Gregory Polanco. None were drafted. All were signed by Latin American director Rene Gayo.
Why are the scouts who wasted much of $51 million in draft bonuses on failed hitting still employed?
While the likes of Screamo Cockface continue to insist those sounding the alarm concerning football concussions are either hellbent on castrating the American male and/or destroying the game they hold dear, persons who’ve actually, y’know, strapped it on, are singing a different tune. 13-year vet Reggie Rucker tells the Cleveland Plain-Dealer’s John Mangels, “We didn’t really know what we were doing to our bodies and the cumulative effect of all those hits”.
“I remember when I was in Oakland and got knocked out by Jack Tatum,” Rucker says, referring to the menacing Raiders defensive back nicknamed “The Assassin.” “I remember [trainers] asking, ‘Do you know where you are?’ I said, ‘Oakland, California.’ You sat down for a while, and then you went back in. You’ve been programmed all your life as a professional athlete, particularly in my era, that you could not give in. You had to show your bravado.
“The next day, when you went back to review the game on film, I’m sitting there and watching something I couldn’t remember. You’re laughing and joking and it’s funny then. It’s not funny now.”
About 20 years ago, Rucker says, he started feeling some strange symptoms. Dizziness. Headaches. Burning sensations. Near-blackouts. “It’s the weirdest thing to explain,” he says. “Something would come over you and suddenly you would be mortified – ‘What just happened to me?’” Rucker was sure it was a brain tumor. “I was terrified and went running to the doctors. They ran all these tests and said, ‘There’s nothing wrong with you.’ They thought I was crazy. Well, you know when something’s wrong with you. And now I do know. It’s the concussions and all the hits.“
These were sour times at Shea, with the club sunk to seventh in a seven-team N.L. East and players detonating firecrackers, squirting bleach and evincing general misanthropy. I don’t remember what the banners I witnessed that August afternoon said exactly, but I clearly remember what they didn’t say.
I kept waiting for “Jeff Kent Can’t,” “Anthony Young Is Prematurely Old” or “Chico Walker Should Take a Hike,” but such hostility was not in evidence, as far as I could tell. Instead, it was lots of love and lots of hope for a team unlikely to engender either.
For sure, irreverence has been part of Banner Day; sarcasm has sneaked in, too. But there was always a celebratory nature to the event that overwhelmed whatever misery and miasma afflicted the fan base in a given season. To go to the trouble of creating banners, schlepping them, lining up and waiting, sometimes interminably — one year there was an 18-inning first game of a Banner Day doubleheader — requires more devotion than anger.
Since one man putting his erect dick up another man’s asshole is so fucking normal — then I want the hockey community to truly embrace the homosexual world beyond the hollow and shallow words coming out of their mouths — and beyond some insulting marketing ploy that is supposed to show me and the rest of the world just how sensitive they all are.
If you go along with this agenda of the normalization of homosexuality — and if you too feel it is as normal a behavioral reaction as heterosexual behavior is — then please cut the bullshit and go all the way.
Go all the way, buy all in, be a part of the movement in a literal sense.
Begin by making plans this weekend to not hang out at your local watering hole where you and the boys usually like to scope chicks…instead I want UCONN Captain Sean Ambrosie, to put his money where his fucking mouth is, and head out to a homosexual club, and to dance the night away with Jim, and Bob, and Floyd, and Stan.
In reality of course this is bullshit — the UCONN hockey team would rather crawl over a mile of broken glass on their hands and knees than to head to a gay only club anytime soon.
Also, let the UCONN hockey team hold a kegger at one of their most outrageous dorms on campus, invite a few homosexual men and some lesbian women, I’ll bring the booze, and my producer Andrew Caplan will bring the porno tapes. Homosexual porn — of course.
See the difference between these frauds smiling on these promotional tapes and myself, is that I’ll be honest with you — and they’ll insult your intelligence — and yet they’ll be looked upon as the good guys, while I’ll be looked upon as evil incarnate.
“A dick in the mouth — and one up the ass of a man — is something I’ve never seen,” insists Costa, and perhaps he needs to get out of the house more often. “I readily admit that homosexual sex acts make my skin crawl,” he continues, but not before asking, “Someone please explain to me why in the homosexual community, so far as the youth are concerned, young people are six times as likely to suffer from multiple disorders — and six times as likely to attempt suicide?”
Well, maybe it has just a little bit to do with being told from a very young age that homosexual acts are repulsive. Or hearing from the same persons who insist they’re anti-discriminatory (“I’ll continue to have social contact with people of this ilk and I’ll have no problem continuing to do so. However, for reasons of my own, I do not condone the lifestyle, encourage it, support it, nor do I consider it to be normal”) that people like you are gonna end civilization (“Is this a lifestyle that one would think could survive if it were the only lifestyle choice available — or would it be more logical to assume that planet earth would be running toward the potential for human extinction much faster if homosexuality was the dominant sexual orientation?”).
Costa is obviously entitled to his opinions, and now that he’s relocating to that great cosmopolitan locale of Cheyenne, WY, he’s less likely to encounter people who will disagree with him. Face to face, anyway. It would be interesting, however, given that Dino has made it crystal clear he’ll continue to use his Sirius/XM pulpit as a vehicle to weigh in on social issues (“from a faith based initiative, my faith does not condone the lifestyle, and I’ll be dammed if I’m going to crucify my own faith & belief system to bend to your whims and pleasures”) to see what might happen if Costa’s thoughts on “the lifestyle” were widely known by his employers, their shareholders and some of his colleagues. Especially those that actually bring listeners to satellite radio. When the likes of Howard Stern and Steven Van Zandt effectively subsidize Costa’s salary (well, Howard, anyway) how might they feel about sanctioning his creepy worldview?
I can’t speak for the UConn hockey dudes, but some of us who aren’t looking to hide in a cabin in Cheyenne, WY have actually had more contact with gay people besides having “broken bread” (Dino’s words). I think it’s a little weird that a professional broadcaster working in New York City thinks merely walking thru the door of a “homosexual club” is some sort of transgressive, potentially psyche-scarring act. There’s something more than a little contradictory about a 50-year-old man who argues “since I’m not afraid of anyone, including homosexuals and lesbians, the last thing I am, is homophobic on any level,” yet feels compelled to boast he’s never seen a dick in a man’s mouth. I mean, c’mon, Dino, what would’ve happened if you HAD witnessed such a thing? Would your eyeballs have exploded? A massive coronary? Jesus fucking christ, can somebody please get this man some films with an ALL-MALE CAST so we can find out for certain?
It’s pretty in vogue these days for practicing homophobes to opt for a spiel that says merely calling them out for being homophobic is itself, an act of intolerance, and Dino’s not very original in that regard. But it’s almost incomprehensible that he could be so stupid as to claim merely because he’s never heard of a gay kid suffering from discrimination on the ice, such a problem must not really exist. I’m not big on prayer, but if I were, I’d be thinking of the poor kids across the country whose parents listen to this shithead every night. Since that’s about 300 listeners, there could be as many as a dozen children at risk.
“I truly want to set the record straight with this agent thing,” Woodson said. “I have no contract with the Glasses. I paid for my services and I elected to move on. Mr. Dolan had nothing to do with me making this decision. It was Mike Woodson’s decision. I have every right to make that decision if I choose to do that and I did that. And for me and my family, it’s a wonderful day because I’ve executed a contract with the Knicks.”
Published reports also suggested that Woodson would hire Creative Artists Agency to represent him, which he did, but insisted it was of his own fruition.
“I chose CAA because I just thought that they would be the best for me,” Woodson said of the agency that already represents Knicks executives Allan Houston and Mark Warkentien as well as star forward Carmelo Anthony. “After going thorough their company and observing things that they can do for me, I thought that they would be the best fit.”
(I’ve been looking for an excuse to use this photo for several years)
“It’s not like we’re running the Boston Marathon,” says Bowie Baysox assistant GM Phil Wyre of tommorow nigh’s 1K Beer Run, possibly the club’s most ill-advised promotion since 2003′s Ziggy Stardust Lookalike Contest Sam Bowie Appreciation Night. From The Baltimore Sun’s Jill Rosen :
Runners will be hoofing it around the field’s warning track beginning at 5:45 p.m. Each time they finish a lap, they’ll get a 12-ounce beer to drink while they run they next one.
The ballpark will be serving the beers in 16-ounce cups in case things get sloshy.
“We don’t want spillage out there,” Wrye says.
The Baysox plan to cut off entry for the race after the first 100 tickets are sold, apparently to avoid a drunken mob.
This does seem like an awful lot of effort just to lure Tony La Russa out of retirement.
Reliever Armando Benitez, whose 2009 stints with the Newark Bears let to a contract with Houston (and a record-setting appearance in the Pacific Coast League) has reached a pact with the Atlantic League’s Long Island Ducks, the independent organization that’s given the likes of Pete Rose Jr., John Rocker, Carl Everett and Jose Offerman a shot at extending their pro careers. From Newsday’s Evan Korn :
He wants to make his comeback to the big leagues, and he’s had experience in this ballpark pitching for the opposition,” Ducks president/GM Michael Pfaff said. “He always liked what he saw with the Ducks.”
“It’s really important to get signed [by an affiliated organization], but I’m looking forward to playing with the Ducks,” Benitez said. “There are great guys here, and right now we have an opportunity to stay in first place.”
What does Benitez expect from the Long Island faithful? “I don’t know,” he said with a chuckle. “That’s a good question. What can I say? Whatever the fans do, I’ll take it.”
If nothing else, Benitez’ arrival within a short commute from Citi Field should afford many opportunities to prove that he and Frank Francisco are not the same person.
The University of Connecticut’s Men’s Ice Hockey squad produced the above video in the hopes of affirming they’ll welcome “any teammate, gay or straight, that can help us win games.” However, as the Hartford Courant’s Pat Eaton-Robb reports, at least one observer has a problem with those who practice bigotry being labelled, y’know, bigots.
Peter Wolfgang, president of the conservative Family Institute of Connecticut Action, said he has no problem with the team participating in an anti-bullying campaign, but he is concerned about the references to “homophobia” in the video.
“It’s a very loaded political term,” he said. “If we’re going to be against bullying, then we ought to be against all forms of bullying and not just the kind that get us a pat on the back from politically correct elites. I would hope that people that have traditional beliefs, traditional faiths that they would not be bullied for holding views about morality or the definition of marriage.”
Yes, because there are so many examples of athletes with traditional beliefs being bullied or goaded into suicide. Who could’ve possibly missed all the headlines this past year about deeply religious sporting figures being booed, pelted with rocks and garbage, instructed to stop making religious gestures after scoring touchdowns, etc.
This has nothing to do with basketball know-how. O’Neal has inserted himself between the club and its vacillating star, Dwight Howard. Ownership apparently hopes that O’Neal can persuade Howard to stay.
This might work, since they are the same person.
Or this might not work, since when he found himself in an identical position, O’Neal slid out of town like he was greased.
“Don’t do it,” O’Neal might say to Howard, five minutes after getting the job. “Just remember that when I parachuted out of the this godforsaken swamptown, all I got for it was richer, more famous and four championship rings . . . wait. Let me start again.”