…or a hetero/Juggalo equivalent.
…or a hetero/Juggalo equivalent.
“Friends of the Israel Defense Forces (FIDF), Maccabi USA, Maccabi World Union, and Maccabi Tel-Aviv will host a VIP reception before the Brooklyn Nets take on the Israeli and European hoops champions Maccabi Tel-Aviv in their first pre-season game on Tuesday, Oct. 7,” read the press release at Jewish Political News & Updates earlier this month (“the VIP reception will pay special tribute to Israeli soldiers wounded in the recent IDF Operation Protective Edge and, at the same time, to the Guest of Honor, NBA Hall of Famer, Dolph Schayes, 86, the only Jewish player to be selected as one of the 50 all-time NBA best”). Lest you think an event honoring IDF Operation Protective Edge is no big deal at a major North American sporting event, The Nation’s Dave Zirin warns, “the specter of a pro-Palestinian protest at an Israeli sporting event” is coming to Brooklyn.
I spoke to Tsvia Thier, an Israeli citizen now living in New York, who plans to be a part of whatever protest assembles outside the Barclays Center on October 7th. She said to me, “Israel dropped thousands of pounds of weapons on Gaza. More than 2,000 people died. More than 500 children were killed. There has been no justice for this. We cannot allow for these games to go forward without bearing witness…as if these criminal acts did not just take place. Our memories cannot be that short.” Thier was on her way to a meeting of the group Jewish Voice for Peace to raise plans to protest when I spoke with her.
The NBA has made no announcements to signal any effort to bring a Palestinian basketball team to the United States, despite the league’s popularity in both the West Bank and Gaza. The absence of an invitation is somewhat understandable, because, if international soccer is any guide, even if invited the players probably would not be able to attend. Surrounded by armed checkpoints, attempting to journey to the United States would be a frustrating if not fruitless act. Commissioner Adam Silver, who acted with great moral clarity during the Donald Sterling debacle, should make it his mission to invite a Palestine club team to the United States, and apply pressure to make it a reality. It would be a sign that he is willing to do what so many will not: recognize the humanity of the Palestinian people. He should also tell Maccabi that they will be delinking these NBA preseason games from Friends of the IDF
Friday, a caller asked why Derek Jeter wore No. 2. Francesa gave a windy, condescending, expert answer: The Yankees always have given single-digit numbers to those projected for greatness.
You know why you never before knew that? Because it’s Francesa-fabricated bunk. In fact — and thanks to reader Brian Murphy for No. 2 research — between Bobby Murcer and Jeter, the Yankees issued No. 2 to Tim Foli (1984), Dale Berra (1985) and Wayne Tolleson (1986-90). All played for the Yankees after extensive careers with other teams.
Francesa, who never admits an error — in his case that would be admitting that he falsifies facts, that he’s full of it — won’t make good on this. Why should he? The tape’s lost. And either way, he’s so much better than us. – Phil Mushnick, New York Post, September 29, 2014
Much as I hate to take issue with Phil, it should be noted the Yankees have yet to award number 62 to any member of the major league roster since Joba Chamberlain’s departure for Detroit. That is, with the exception of Austin Romine, who’s changed numbers 4 times in 3 seasons because the club can’t decide which all-time great they’re modeling him after!
Not to get all Darren Rovell on you, but there’s a huge endorsement opportunity here.
Newly acquired Hornets SG Lance Stephenson, “wants to do more than just play basketball,” writes the Charlotte Observer’s Jonathan Jones, pointing out that Stephenson’s cover of Bobby Shmurda’s “Hot Nigga” is not entirely faithful to the original :
Stephenson took the beat to the song and says in four hours he came up with his lyrics. He stripped Shmurda’s lyrics of misogyny and gun violence and replaced them with rhymes about his basketball talents, endorsements for his And 1 shoe company, reminiscing about watching Allen Iverson, his excitement to play with Hornets point guard Kemba Walker and more.
“Brooklyn-bred now I’m out in N.C.,” the end of the song’s first verse goes. “Me and Kemba in the backcourt n—as as dead meat/Pops held me, down kept me out the streets/They wonder how the rose grew up out the concrete…
“I’ve been ballin’ hard since like the fifth grade/Watching A.I. gettin’ 40 with the French braids/Love Indiana, I’m gonna miss some good days/Charlotte Hornet, M.J. that’s a new way.”
The song uses the N-word nine times, down 13 from the original song. Although the word is commonly used in rap as well as in many professional sports team’s locker rooms that are predominantly African-American, Stephenson said he was cognizant of the message it might send to kids who view him as a role model.
This week he released the music video, which includes him driving a Rolls Royce, wearing a retro Larry Johnson jersey and doing a dance he created called the Born Ready Dance. He blanked out the nine times he used the N-word, acknowleding its offense to others.
Gertrude Stein once famously said of Oakland, CA, “there’s no there there.” Conversely, teams merely securing an entry into a one-game playoff for further marbles are often advised to “act like you’ve been there before”. So this might explain some of the confusing scenes that took place above.
Incredibly, this weekend marks the final games prior to retirement for another active New York player that probably shouldn’t have been in the lineup nearly as often this season. Congrats on a nice, 18-year career, Mets OF/PH Bobby Abreu, who also holds the high honor of being the subject of one of the most visited/regurgitated CSTB posts of all-time. From July 6, 2007, “We Have No Reason To Believe Michael Kay Placed The Following Advertisement”:
Looking for a ‘Bobby Abreu type’ ass – 30 (Upper East Side)
(from time to time, noted Bronx baseball executive Randy L’s musings on matters sporting and otherwise appear here at CSTB. Upon learning the Milwaukee Brewers plan to retire the uniform no. 1 in honor of former owner / retiring MLB commissioner Bud Selig, Randy offered, no, he demanded to have his say – GC)
So, did you all enjoy the dramatic events at the baseball temple known as Yankee Stadium last night? Unless you’re a sad, jealous crank like this blog’s editor (or perhaps a guy who changes sports media jobs more often than normal people change light bulbs) I’m assuming every last one of you. But I don’t suppose you had any idea that our oversexed General Manager had been petitioning the league office since early that morning to have the game called (something about finding “a dead ringer for Patricia Heaton” on this website) and it took my intervention to get the contest in, thus preserving yet another historic moment for our beloved Captain and the entire Yankee Universe.
But that’s the sort of thing I manage to pull off routinely. Who secured Metallica for Mariano Rivera’s big send off? That’s right, Randy L. Who maneuvered — at great personal risk & expense — to finally rid our clubhouse of a preening, primping presence, a crummy teammate whose lack of ethics were only matched by his disinterest in women who can’t bench press more than 400 lbs? Right again, genius! Randy L! Ever wonder who is personally responsible for the disappearance of that annoying “Freddie Sez” character?
I rarely take credit for these achievements because as the late George Steinbrenner once told me, “it’s not the name on the back of the uniform, it’s the name on the front.” “But Mr. Steinbrenner, we don’t put the players’ names on the back of their jerseys,” I told him. “Really? GREAT WORK, Levine.”
(then he mumbled something about leaving the franchise to me in his will, but I’ve been told several times this would go nowhere in a court of law.)
So go ahead, retire a number for Bud Selig. It’s not as though the Brewers don’t have plenty of numbers already available for that kind of thing. Here in the Bronx, however, we’re retired many numbers, 16 to be exact. True, I’ve never taken the field in pinstripes, but neither did Jackie Robinson, and his #42 is already on the do-not-use-list. I’m not suggesting for a moment this wonderful Civil Rights pioneer isn’t deserving of the honor, but since he isn’t alive to argue against my being honored in similar fashion, who are you to put words in his mouth?
I’m pretty happy with number 2. And because I’m as magnanimous as I’m handsome, I’m totally OK sharing it with Derek Jeter. Seeing as he’s the most unselfish Yankee, nay, human being of all time, I refuse to entertain the possibility he’s got a problem with the idea. That’s the difference between you and me (well, that and the size of our IQ’s and bank accounts) — I simply believe in Derek Jeter more than you do.
See you in Monument Park
I don’t know how they do things in Thunder Bay, but in Amarillo TX you don’t insult a young child’s artistic chops, and you certainly don’t diss Terry Funk. Though Hannibal’s been doing exactly that for the last two years.
One of the great orators of the modern age unburdened himself last night after the Giants clinched an NL Wild Card berth. Can you imagine how (fucking) excited Pence would be if San Francisco had actually won the division?