Jeff Jensen says his jaw is on the floor. He can join the club. Leave it to billion year old Dr. Jack Ramsey to point out one of the night’s more stunning, if arcane stats : the Cavs totalled a mere 13 assists while scoring 109. And 7 of those assists were from LeBron James.
“That tells you,” chortled Dr. Jack, “that someone must’ve been doing an awful lot by himself.”
And that might be the great understatement of the week. I’m old enough to remember Jordan torching the Celtics for 63. I’m washed up enough to recall Reggie Miller going nuts at MSG inbetween taunts of Spike Lee. But I cannot recall in my lifetime an individual playoff performance as impressive as LeBron’s 48 points — including the Cavs’ final 25 (29 of their last 30) over the course of the 4th quarter through 2 OT’s — nor the way he scored many of them.
For all the furor over James not taking the last shot in Game One, there’s a good chance he’ll not be hearing much criticism for the next 2 days — particularly given what he pulled off tonight without Larry Hughes. While the Pistons can scratch their skulls over a layup here or there, there’s not much they can do when James is hitting long, off-balance jumpers with a pair of defenders on him.
TNT’s 3 headed monster of Reggie Miller, The Chuckster and Kenny Smith took issue with the likes of Michael Cooper, Terry Porter and Mark Jackson not getting the coaching gigs that went to Marc Iavaroni, Billy Donovan and Jim O’Brien. And while I ususally blow a gasket over certain (pale) retreads being 3rd of 4th chances, I’m not sure they’ve picked the right examples to groan about. Cooper and Porter have coached in the Association already, and I suspect the latter will get another chance before long. O’Brien took the Celtics to a conference final, Iavaroni was considered by multiple clubs this spring, and Billy Donovan is merely coming off back to back national titles.
And I’m 100% against Mark Jackson becoming a head coach. Not because he’s unqualified, but if you break Jax and Ian Eagle up, I’ll be deprived of mucho material come next winter.
(Victorino, above far left, with Chris Roberson and Cole Hamels, moments before being told August Darnell Day at CBP had been rained out)
Writes the link-suppling Repoz, “Next thing you know…Scott Muni will start embracing punk music instead of worms!” From NBC10.com’s Leah Zerbe.
Before all the excitement of having Barry Bonds in town surges at Citizen’s Park on Friday, one Phillie will be serenading Philadelphia music lovers with his guest DJ selections as he takes over as Y-Rock DJ at XPN Thursday night at 8.
Listeners can tune in at 88.5 XPN, 88.5 HD-2 or online at YRockOnXPN.org as Shane Victorino, the feisty right fielder known as The Flyin’ Hawaiian, controls the airwaves for an hour. Back in March, I spoke to the Bob Marley-loving Victorino briefly about music, and I think it’s safe to say listeners will get to hear their fair share of reggae Thursday night when he’s calling the shots.
Peter Gammons chatted with ESPN Radio’s Dan Patrick this afternoon, the topic of choice being the alleged violation of baseball ettiquette by Alex Rodriguez last night in Toronto. Gammons insisted despite the Yankees’ poor showing thus far, when they’re on the road, “they’re the Rolling Stones.”
“Which of the Yankees is Keith Richards?” wondered Patrick.
“Jason Giambi,” replied a giggling Gammo, “though he might not like the comparison.”
Indeed, Keith might not. The Yanks’ Mr. Apology will miss at least 3 weeks after being diagnosed with a left heel injury earlier today.
Florida’s Billy Donovan (above, right) declined to comment Wednesday on a report that the Orlando Magic have contacted his agent in hopes of gauging his interest in becoming their next coach.
Donovan said Wednesday he had no idea whether the report was true.
“I know nothing,” he said at the Southeastern Conference’s annual spring meeting. “Anybody can say anything. If you said to me someone made a comment about that, maybe I would respond. But I’m not going to make any response or comment on sources. … A lot of times there’s speculation out there, and a lot of times there’s nothing to the speculation.”
A few minutes ago, ESPN credited Pat Forde with a report Donovan had signed a 6 year, $36 million pact with the Orlando Magic.
I guess the Magic just completed the fastest negotiation in history.
Rick Pitino would like Donovan to know that Dennis Scott isn’t walking through that door. Unless he’s hired as an assistant.
He has seen the shattering of his enlightened image — already cracked by a 2005 admission that he had suspected Canseco was using steroids with the A’s — and heard his leadership doubted. Just months removed from reveling in the Cardinals’ 10th championship, won on the field of their new, $365 million ballpark, La Russa has found himself the public focus of what team president Mark Lamping calls “the most embarrassing period” of their 12 years together in St. Louis.
No one could take so bruising a fall without howling, and indeed, La Russa’s response ranges from bitterness to regret to rage to resignation — occasionally all at once. But he won’t say what seems obvious: Sometimes life comes at you like a landslide, and you dodge one boulder only to get leveled by another. “I’ve now read this word three or four times, and it’s a perception that some people have that I don’t feel at all: embattled,” he says, before a May 9 home stand finale against the Colorado Rockies. “I don’t feel embattled. As long as this doesn’t sound disrespectful, this is so routine for what a manager goes through during a season. Now … you don’t have guys die. But the adversity? The ups and downs? You’re always trying to keep your wagons going — or you’re circling them trying to stay alive.”
La Russa says he still “absolutely” believes that McGwire never used steroids and attributes the slugger’s muscle mass to a combination of diet and work ethic. “To this day, five or six days a week, you call him in the morning, he’s just finished his workout,” La Russa says. “He looks like he could play today. That’s why I keep asking him to.”
The Post has learned a championship-caliber collaborator should soon be coming to Kobe’s – the city’s and the team’s – emotional rescue. How poetically peculiar that the player’s last name is O’Neal, as in Jermaine, not Shaquille!
Within the last week, the Pacers and Lakers have laid the groundwork for a trade that would certainly placate both sorrowful All-Stars. L.A. inquired about O’Neal – another fake franchise player pocketing maximum money on the prowl for someone to save him from losing. And was told he was available. Indiana let it be known the Lakers have ample assets (players and/or picks) to make a fair deal.
No specifics were delivered. No negotiating has been done. Still, Lamar Odom would have to be the principal of the package in order to adhere to NBA trade specifications. He’s currently on the Laker salary cap for $12,348,596 and has two seasons remaining at 900G per raises.
O’Neal earns Kobe-like numbers: $18,084M this season, and has three remaining at $19.728M, $21.372 and 23,016M. Kobe has an out after two more seasons.
Surely Andrew Bynum ($2.030M/$2.172M/$2.769M) must be included as well. I can’t see the Pacers parting with a 7-footer without getting one back.
Obviously, this very real swap talk is why Kobe’s blithering abruptly ceased late yesterday afternoon.
Much as I hate to challenge the veracity of Vescey’s report, I think we need to take a cold, hard look at the facts. In past 48 hours, Kobe has called in to no fewer than 7 chat radio shows, both of the local and national variety. Clearly, he’s frustrated and angry…at being the only person in North America WFAN hasn’t invited to host their early morning show for a few days.
With his team leading by two runs following his RBI single in the top of the ninth, A-Rod was running between second and third after Jorge Posada had popped up the potential third out.
As Rodriguez went behind Toronto third baseman Howie Clark, who had camped under the ball, he appeared to shout something toward Clark, causing him to back off the play. The ball fell in for a single, allowing a run to score and extending an inning that wound up breaking the game open for the Yankees.
“I said, ‘Hah,’ that’s it,” Rodriguez said. “I was almost past third base. I was surprised the ball bounced.”
The Blue Jays didn’t see it that way.
“I was under it and I heard a ‘Mine’ call, so I let it go,” said Clark, who thought the call came from shortstop John McDonald. “This is my 16th season, granted most of them are in the minor leagues, but it’s never happened once. It happened tonight.”
“I told him it’s bush league. That’s what we do in Little League,” Gibbons said. “The one thing that everybody in the game respects about the Yankees is that they play the game right, they play the game hard. That’s what they’re known for. They’re a class operation.”
“I could care less,” Rodriguez said. “We’re looking not to be swept. It really doesn’t make a difference; we won. Those guys have their opinions, our guys have ours. I’m fine with that.”
Troy Glaus, the Blue Jays’ regular third baseman and a 10-year veteran, was appalled by the play.
“Not since I think ‘Major League II,’ the movie; I think that’s the only time I’ve ever seen it on the field,” Glaus said. “I’ve never heard of someone doing it and I’ve never seen anybody do it. That’s not proper. That’s not the right thing to do.”
In all seriousness, A-Rod might be far more savvy than any of us give him credit for. He might well have realized he’d have to do something rather sensationational to distract the media from his zipper problems, and it appears as though he did just that. I can only hope the organization appreciates that kind of maturity and leadership.
The folks at Legion Of Rock Stars have already done their worst to Loverboy and Billy Idol, but there’s little that can prepare you for their meditation on, uh, Chuck Biscuits’ sole entry in the Billboard Top 40. (thanks to Eric Bradford for the link)
It started with simple flip-overs to WGN from Mets games. You know, an innocent, Oh, I wonder if Jermaine Dye is up—I could really use a two-run single and two stolen bases from him. Then it became a full-on addiction. I watched my fantasy players’ at-bats with an intensity that I can’t bring to Mets games until the weather starts getting cold. I watched them not only instead of Mets games, but also instead of whatever else I was supposed to be doing. I write “watched” instead of “watch” because, after hitting bottom a couple of weeks ago, I’m trying to change.
My moment of clarity came on a beautiful April afternoon at Shea Stadium. For the first time in my Mets-attending life, I was treated to the spectacle of the Mets putting a nice, easy walloping on the Atlanta Braves, their longtime divisional nemesis. But there was a complicating factor: One of my fantasy pitchers, Chuck James, was starting for the Braves. So, while I enjoyed watching the Mets pound him silly, I felt empty high-fiving my friends as runs five and six crossed the plate. My mouth said the right things, but my fantasy-sodden brain wondered why a nice 3-1 win (with, say, one of the runs being unearned and James registering eight or so strikeouts) couldn’t have sufficed. It was then that I decided that I needed to get a handle on this.
Given that David’s squad in the Charlie Kerfeld Memorial League is currently 9th out of 13 teams, I think we can safely say he is making ample progress towards sanity.
You’d think a Division I hoop coach would know better than most what constitutes a recruiting violation. From the AP :
Florida A&M University men’s basketball coach Mike Gillespie Sr. was placed on paid leave Wednesday after his arrest last week on misdemeanor stalking charges.
Florida A&M Athletic Director Nelson Townsend said Gillespie would remain on leave until the charges have been resolved.
Police said they were called Friday morning by a woman, who said Gillespie stalked her at work last week. A police report said Gillespie had been investigated several times since March 2005 on stalking complaints, but Friday was the first time he was charged.
Gillespie is free on bond, but subject to monitoring and under orders to stay away from the woman who accused him of stalking her.
Gillespie’s attorney, Tim Jansen, didn’t return a call for comment Wednesday, but he said last week that the alleged stalking “didn’t happen.”
Mavericks owner Mark Cuban is part of a group considering formation of a football league that would compete with the NFL for players drafted lower than the second round.
The league, still very much in the preliminary stage, would play its games on Friday nights. The NFL does not play then because of the potential conflict with high school football.
“It’s a pretty simple concept,” Cuban said in an e-mail to The Associated Press. “We think there is more demand for pro football than supply.”
The proposal was first disclosed by The New York Times on its Web site, which said it was the idea of Bill Hambrecht, a Wall Street investor who was a minority partner in the Oakland Invaders of the USFL, which played in the spring from 1983-85. Sharon Smith, a spokeswoman for Hambrecht and Company, had no comment and said Hambrecht was traveling and unavailable to talk about the idea.
Cuban said in his e-mail he believes the salary cap makes it easier to compete financially with the NFL because of the salary imbalance that leaves lower-level players with lower salaries. That would allow the new league to fill its rosters with players taken lower than the second round, as well as late NFL cuts and free agents who escape the NFL draft.
Despite the failure of the USFL and Vince McMahon’s XFL, I have a terrible feeling Cuban is on to something here. There might well be just enough football degenerates who’d enjoy a Friday evening slate of pro ball as a precursor to the weekend’s other action. And imagine how deep the talent pool might be if the new league were willing to employ all the players Roger Goodell has either banned or is about to ban?
Not only am I beyond psyched for the possiblity, however remote, of Austin hosting one of the league’s proposed 8 franchises, but a lineup featuring Michael Vick, Pacman Jones and Chris Henry would be awfully tough to beat.
The only thing more inevitable than a Fall lineup change or the umpteenth occasion of Mark E. Smith following a relative dud album with one that’s shockingly good…would be TV or radio appearances like the one above. Surely Mark’s autobiography could be the greatest case of setting-the-record-straight since Lance Rentzel’s “When All The Laughter Died In Sorrow”?
First of all, this isn’t the first time the Post has connected A-Rod to an adult entertainment establishment. Secondly, there’s a word for male celebrities who are regularly linked to strip joints. But since I don’t have Kevin Spacey’s number, I can’t ask what he thinks of all this.
It seems to me that sites like Deadspin, Can’t Stop The Bleeding, Kissing Suzy Kolber, and With Leather brought on the Liz Smith version of sports coverage. My railing against Will Leitch is mainly sour grapes. It sounds like he has a fun job [but I have an inkling of a doubt about that Berman story which propelled Deadspin into my consciousness (and likely the consciousness of others.)] Meanwhile, I spend more time posting here than performing my boring paperpushing that I’m supposed to do in this adult day care center that is called my job.
Hey, hang on a minute, pal. Not only does CSTB predate each and every member of the yuckster blog frat cited by a wide margin, but a) I don’t get the comparison and b) much as I’m happy to characterize their daily offerings as one-giant-suckfest, since when did tabloid gossip columns take their cue from blogs? Believe it or not, when Jose Canseco was seen leaving Madonna’s apartment in 1904, said story wasn’t blog-inspired. When Wade Boggs was in the midst of Margo Adamsgate, he couldn’t have spelled blog if you’d spotted him the log (and perhaps he still can’t).
In the likely event you’ve already forgotten, myself + Matt Baab will be playing records and hosting your otherwise deadly desperate Wednesday night, May 30 at the Scoot Inn, 1308 East 4th St., Austin.
If you’re the kind of person who cares either way, tonight’s San Antonio/Utah Game 5 should be available in vibrant technicolor on the Scoot’s flat screen. The volume will have to be turned down, however, so as not to drown out the sounds of King Tubby with Jeff Van Gundy’s commentary.
Also, if you can’t make it, don’t feel obliged to write, text or call explaining why. I’m just going to assume that each and every one of you are (extremely) fair weather friends. But you’ll note the weather today is quite fair.
“I would like to be traded, yeah,” Bryant said. “Tough as it is to come to that conclusion there’s no other alternative, you know?”
Bryant, interviewed by Stephen A. Smith, was asked if there was anything the Lakers could do to change his mind?
“No,” Bryan said. “I just want them to do the right thing.”
Earlier in the day, Bryant said team owner Jerry Buss masterminded the trade of Shaquille O’Neal — and Shaq later confirming Kobe’s account.
Bryant was left “beyond furious” by a report in Tuesday’s Los Angeles Times that read, “as a Lakers insider notes, it was Bryant’s insistence on getting away from Shaquille O’Neal that got them in this mess.”
“He (Buss) met with me at the Four Seasons Hotel here [in Los Angeles] across from Fashion Island, which is now the Island Hotel,” Bryant told Smith. “I went up to his penthouse suite. [Buss] looks me dead in the face and says: ‘Kobe, I am not going to re-sign Shaq. I am not about to pay him $30 million a year or $80 million over three years. No way in hell. I feel like he’s getting older. His body is breaking down, and I don’t want to pay that money to him when I can get value for him right now rather than wait.
“This is my decision. It’s independent of you. My mind is made up. It doesn’t matter to me what you do in free agency because I do not want to pay [Shaq], period.’ “
“Dr. Buss said that,” Bryant told Smith. “And I haven’t said anything for years because I’ve always felt like folks were just looking to create controversy. Now I know. I realize what extent [the Lakers] will go to, to cover themselves.”
Reached afterward, O’Neal told Smith that be believed his former teammate beyond reproach.
“I believe Kobe 100 percent,” O’Neal said when reached in Los Angeles. “Absolutely. There’s no doubt in my mind Kobe is telling the truth. I believe him a thousand percent.
“I would have respected Dr. Buss more as a man if he would have told me that himself, because I know he said it. But he didn’t [tell me]. He never said a damn word to me.”
The LA Times’ Bill Plaschke is talking all this in and eagerly awaits some sort of full disclosure from the Lakers.
The family is being attacked by its adopted son, a player they have coddled and protected through one of the biggest sports scandals in this city’s history.
Yet, so far, the family, does nothing.
Jerry Buss is essentially accused of lying about the teams’ rebuilding effort.
Mitch Kupchak is essentially called worthless.
The entire organization is essentially cast as untrustworthy because of a supposed media leak.
If the Lakers want to maintain the respect of a community that has blindly given them their hearts, now is the time for them to turn on the lights and let the world know they’re still here.
If Jerry Buss is still alive, now is the time for him to prove it.
I’ll refrain from much comment regarding the Astros’ 2-1 loss to the Reds Wednesday night, except to state a) Houston commemorated the Brewers’ recent 1-6 stretch by dropping nine in a row of their own and b) the Kruky Monster never would’ve drafted Carlos Lee if he could’ve imagined the latter grounding into a game ending DP with the bases loaded.
Ryan Freel is on the disabled list, and the truth is out.
Why wasn’t Freel’s catch of Humberto Cota’s long drive one of ESPN’s Web gems? Because Freel didn’t catch it.
With evidence mounting, Norris Hopper confessed that he put the baseball in Freel’s glove after they collided and Freel was knocked out and taken to the hospital.
“I didn’t have to touch Freel,” said Hopper. “The ball was right there, inches from his open glove, and I just had to roll it in quickly.”
Said Griffey, “That was smart. Saved Kyle Lohse an earnie (earned run).”
Griffey thought he had Monday off, but had to replace Freel in the third inning, and after the game said kiddingly to Lohse, who pitched a shutout, “Thanks for throwing that pitch that got Freel hurt and ruined my day off. I was in the clubhouse eating nachos.”
Efforts by manager Jerry Narron, Griffey and Adam Dunn to reach Freel by telephone Tuesday were not successful, “Probably because he lost another cell phone,” said Griffey. “He lost three of his own last month and one of Hopper’s.”
While Willie Randolph felt comfortable enough trotting out the old “speed kills” line when chatting with Erin Andrews after the game (and much like two weeks ago against the Cubs, Jose Reyes can easily drive a reliever to distraction) and Carlos Delgado (2 HR’s, including the game winner in off a discombobulated Armando Benitez in the bottom of the 12th) is most assuredly All-The-Way-Back, much credit has to go to the evening’s undisputed star.
“Once again, the public have paid to see Bob Davidson!” howled Howie Rose during the first of Armando Benitez’ two 12 inning balks — the first moving Reyes into scoring position with none out, the 2nd scoring the Mets SS from 3rd with two outs in the frame. Benitez hadn’t balked in almost 4 years and you won’t find too many human Giants fans (nor Chris Russo) who won’t feel as though they were jobbed Tuesday night.
If you’re wondering why I’d resort to the dulcet tones of Howie Rose and Tom McCarthy when the contest was otherwise available in glorious HD nationwide, let’s just say that even the prisoners at Guantanamo Bay didn’t have to put up with both Dusty Baker and Rick Sutcliffe commenting on the same game. In addition to Sutcliffle’s lengthy defense of Barry Bonds (ie. the Sultan’s accomplishments occurred on “a level playing field” because pitchers had access to the same drugs, though “I’ve never even seen a steroid!”), the former Cubs reliever observed the Brewers — losers of 6 straight — were trailing the Braves, 3-0, in the 1st inning in Milwaukee.
“With John Smoltz on the mound, you might as well make that 7 in a row.” scoffed Sutcliffe.
Not only has New Mexico Gov. Bill Richardson shown terrible disloyalty to the Albuquerque Isotopes, but his flip flopping on that most crucial of political questions is even worse than declaring himself a Devil Rays fans, claims the Herald’s Rob Bradford. From the Associated Press :
Democrat candidate Bill Richardson, vying for the right to hold the nuclear football, swears allegiance to both Red Sox Nation and the Evil Empire.
“I’m a Red Sox fan,” said the New Mexico governor, who was born in Pasadena, Calif., but spent his early childhood in Mexico City, where his father worked for a U.S. bank.
As a teenager, Richardson attended boarding school in Concord, Mass., and graduated from Tufts University in 1971. He also pitched a season in the Cape Cod summer league.
He said yesterday, “I’ve always been a Red Sox fan. But I said if I weren’t running for president, I would like to be No. 7 – Mickey Mantle – playing center field for the New York Yankees.
“My favorite team has always been the Red Sox. I’m a Red Sox fan. End of session,” he said.” But, he added, “I’m also a Yankees fan.”
While the Fanhouse’s Tom Ziller considers the possibility of Lenny Wilkens appointing himself coach of the Seattle Durants, SonicCentral’s Brian Robinson has lambasted owner Clay Bennett, charging “the guy’s contribution to Seattle basketball has been a complete and 100 percent zero.” I think that’s a bit harsh — doesn’t Robinson think 50% off Rashard Lewis jerseys is a positive move?
The New York Post’s Peter Vescey openly scoffs at Kobe Bryant’s weekend insistence the Lakers had a shot at Carlos Boozer, Baron Davis or Ron Artest.
First off, Jazz executive Kevin O’Connor has maintained from the git-go Boozer was never available. The only reason his name got out there in trade talk was because Kobe and Carlos share the same sleazy agent, Rob Pelinka.
Second, even had the Lakers been able to snare Boozer, closing any one of those deals would’ve cost them Lamar Odom for salary and skill purposes. How much better would that have made them? The truth is, they never should’ve dealt Caron Butler for Kwame Brown. That swap will haunt them into the hereafter.
In the final analysis I’m unsure what to make of Kobe’s bendable benedictions. But I am certain of one thing. I’ll know he lied to me when the jeweler calls and asks me for my ring size.
It be might overstating things a tad to call the Lakers “Team Turmoil”, but you know there’s a problem when Eric Musselman suggests an intervention for owner Jerry Buss. Though in the latter’s defense, maybe he was listening to this while behind the wheel.
A 2005 study by the Charles R. Drew University of Medicine and Science claimed that malt liquor drinkers “are more likely to be homeless, unemployed, or receiving public assistance.”
Perhaps with a slightly tonier demographic in mind, Pabst Brewery, the makers of Colt .45, have teamed up with the soulless purveyors of bullshit cutting edge humorists at Vice to spread around the following bit of spam.
VICE and Colt 45 are looking for your favorite stories about nights out with Colt 45. Got chased by dogs at 3am? Lost your pants on a bet and had to walk home? Got stuck in a compromising situation? Take a minute and write to us. The best stories will be illustrated by underground comic book artists and released with upcoming issues of Vice Magazine in its own mini-mag form. The first issue comes out in June and if we might say so, it’s pretty killer. Send all stories, yarns and anecdotes to tales@viceland.com . Please send us your stories asap, as we are looking for ones for the July issue. Also, look for VICE and Colt coming to your cities this summer to have some late night adventures and throw down with your favorite djs.
(Funnily enough, I do have such a story. About a month back, I got so drunk on Colt .45 that I cashed a check from Pabst in exchange for hassling innocent people. )
These motherfuckers would be so much better off bringing back Billy Dee Williams. And no one on earth, not even Michael Vick, uses phrases like “I love the shit out of dogs.”
The Score’s Mike North (above) was the latest sacrificial lamb substitute host to fill Don Imus’ old chair on WFAN this morning, and while Newsday’s Neil Best describes the Windy City windbag as “sounds like he’s doing an imitation of a bad Chicago accent, something out of a Saturday Night Live skit,” the Chicago Tribune’s Teddy Greenstein was far more easily impressed.
North was loud, brash, hyper-opinionated and just plain hyper. When WFAN staple Chris Russo called in during the third hour, North barely let him speak. Russo is nicknamed “Mad Dog,” yet North muzzled him without a tranquilizer.
After Mike asked Russo which team he favored, and Russo said the San Francisco Giants, North barked: “They got Ray Durham at second base. He’s 50.”
A brief discussion of the NBA led North to say: “Eddy Curry decided to have a pulse this year.”
“You gotta do your homework when you’re on with me, Mad Dog,” North said.
“North is on top of it!” Russo fired back.
No doubt North did his research. He fired on tons of New York sports figures, including Joe Torre, Plaxico Burress, Eli Manning and Hideki Matsui. (”The Japanese players get here, and after a couple of years they get the American way. You can see Hideki Matsui after the game working out at TGI Friday’s.”)
(if the gentleman above is sitting next to you at Shea tonight…you must have pretty good seats!)
Salutations to ESPN.com’s Wayne Drehs for using Barry Bonds’ pursuit of Hank Aaron’s home mark as an excuse to raise the spectre of something truly chilling —- the aesthetic atrocity that was Tony Scott’s “The Fan”.
Best-selling author Peter Abrahams describes the character with ease — a man in his late-50s, a throwback of sorts, frustrated by a world of escalating gas prices, scandalous reality television and too many me-first, you-last personalities.
He would have grown up loving baseball, worshiping Mickey Mantle, Joe DiMaggio and others. He’d despise what the game has become. He’d look at San Francisco Giants outfielder Barry Bonds and cringe at the thought of this sullen, allegedly chemically enhanced antihero smirking his way to one of the most prestigious records in all of sports.
So he’d want to do something about it. Major League Baseball? The Mitchell Investigation? A San Francisco grand jury? An ultra-revealing, best-selling book? They might not be able to stand in the way of the slugger’s becoming baseball’s all-time home run king. But he could.
“His goal would be to almost religiously sacrifice himself on behalf of the American people to stop this record from happening,” said Abrahams, author of “The Fan,” the early-1990s book that was the basis for the Robert DeNiro/Wesley Snipes sports movie thriller of the same name. “I’m not sure if that character truly exists. But I can assure you those emotions do.”
“You get those crazy assassin types who are out there in the woodwork and are magnetized to someone like Barry Bonds,” Abrahams said. “Then there are the baseball purists who want to protect the records like a bible. Those people are annoyed, too. Whether or not that type of guy is going to pull out a .357, well, it doesn’t exactly fit the profile.”
Charles Nelson Reilly, whose persona as a wacky game show panelist and talk show guest overshadowed his serious work as a director and Tony-winning actor, has died. He was 76.
Reilly, a longtime resident of Beverly Hills, died Friday of complications from pneumonia at UCLA Medical Center, said Paul Linke, who directed Reilly’s one-man show “Save It for the Stage: The Life of Reilly.”
“The average person thinks of him as being on ‘The Match Game.’ That was a mixed blessing for him,” Linke told The Times on Monday. “One of the reasons I was so motivated to get his show out there was because I wanted people to recognize that this was a heavyweight talent.”
When a Times reporter visited his home in 2000, Reilly displayed an opera review that referred to him as “Charles Nelson Reilly of ‘Hollywood Squares’ fame.”
“It’s like a scarlet letter,” Reilly yowled in his high-pitched, nasal voice.
Reilly’s close friend Burt Reynolds said in a 1991 Times article that he thought Reilly’s reputation as the perpetual jester had worked against him in Hollywood
“We have a thing in this town that if you are enormously witty and gregarious, you can’t be very deep. There’s something wrong with a society that says, ‘You’re the wit, but you’re not the teacher.’ People just haven’t seen him in this arena,” Reynolds said.
Though Craig Finn was not necessarily unavailable for comment, he’s not on my buddylist, either.
Though I’m not nearly as dedicated a Murray Chass basher as the dilligent Seth Mnookin, I do have to wonder what could possibly be considered revelatory about the NY Times columnist alleging (in May 2007!) that “based on his association with the period covering the latter half of the last decade and the early years of this one, it would be no great leap to believe that Barry Bonds used steroids to enhance his hitting.”
In a demonstration unprecedented in baseball’s long history, players erupted in an orgy of home runs, achieving feats no single player or group of players had ever approached. It is reasonable to conclude that someone had to be doing something.
Is Bonds a better hitter than Ruth and Aaron? A case could be made for that proposition, but how can we know if we don’t know which Bonds we’re comparing them with, the unadulterated Bonds or the Bonds who is suspected of using aides that didn’t exist in the Ruth and Aaron eras? Hot dogs probably didn’t have the same effect.
Probably not. Though in Bonds’ defense, neither Ruth nor Aaron had to contend with starting pitchers who were capable of throwing high heat into their mid-forties. But I’ll not hold my breath waiting for any suggestions that hitters in the Roger Clemens/Randy Johnson era have faced a competitive disadvantage.
Over at the Daily News, Lisa Olson ponders the hypocrisy of Bonds being villified while Mets reliever Guillermo Mota will likely be welcomed with open arms.
Perhaps it was the Cleveland water that made Mota look so sluggish for much of the 2006 season. He had a 6.21 ERA in 34 games with the Indians. How else to explain his transformation in Flushing? In 18 appearances with the Mets after being acquired from the Indians last August, Mota’s ERA was 1.00, his WHIP .833. He averaged over a strikeout an inning.
Nobody’s demanding an asterisk be attached to those games.
Mota doesn’t deserve to be scorned like Bonds. Unlike Jason Giambi, the Yankees’ paragon of truth, Mota actually admitted to using more than “stuff.” For all we know, Giambi was referring to sun screen when he bared his soul to USA Today. Mota readily fessed up in a statement after his suspension was announced, saying, “I used extremely poor judgment and deserve to be held accountable. … To baseball fans everywhere, I understand that you are disappointed in me, and I don’t blame you. I feel terrible and I promise this is the first and last time that this will happen.”
Good for him. Good for baseball, a multinational conglomerate that has all the integrity of Enron.
The Mets haven’t exactly covered themselves in glory here. They still haven’t said if they knew about Mota’s positive test during the playoffs. And if we didn’t have so much respect for Omar Minaya, we might say he rewarded Mota for using performance-enhancing drugs with a two-year, $5 million contract after his suspension was announced.
Most males and/or observers of the sporting blogosphere have come across a photograph of 18 year old pole vaulter Allison Stokke over the past several weeks, a development due in large part to the efforts of With Leather’s Matt Ufford. From the Washington Post’s Eli Salow.
The wave of attention has steamrolled Stokke and her family in Newport Beach, Calif. She is recognized — and stared at — in coffee shops. She locks her doors and tries not to leave the house alone. Her father, Allan Stokke, comes home from his job as a lawyer and searches the Internet. He reads message boards and tries to pick out potential stalkers.
“We’re keeping a watchful eye,” Allan Stokke said. “We have to be smart and deal with it the best we can. It’s not something that you can just make go away.”
On May 8, blogger Matt Ufford received Stokke’s picture in an e-mail from one of his readers, and he reacted to Stokke’s image on instinct. She was hot. She was 18. Readers of Ufford’s WithLeather.com — a sports blog heavy on comedy, opinion and sometimes sex — would love her.
The picture was taken by a track and field journalist and posted as part of a report on a California prep track Web site. The photo was hardly sexually explicit, which made Ufford’s decision to post it even easier. At 5 feet 7, Stokke has smooth, olive-colored skin and toned muscles. In the photo, her vaulting pole rests on her right shoulder. Her right hand appears to be adjusting the elastic band on her ponytail. Her spandex uniform — black shorts and a white tank top that are standard for a track athlete — reveals a bare midriff.
By targeting his comedic writing to 18- to 35-year-old males, Ufford has built a sports blog that attracts almost 1 million visitors each month. Ufford writes tongue-and-cheek items about the things his readers love: athletes and beautiful women. Stokke qualified as both. She was, therefore, a “no-brainer to write about,” Ufford said. He posted her picture and typed a four-paragraph blurb to accompany it. Meet pole vaulter Allison Stokke. . . . Hubba hubba and other grunting sounds.
“I understand there are certain people who are put off immediately by the tone of my blog,” Ufford said. “Every week, there’s somebody who takes offense to something, but that’s part of being a comedy writer. If nobody is complaining, it probably wasn’t funny. You are hoping for some kind of feedback.”
“Even if none of it is illegal, it just all feels really demeaning,” Allison Stokke said. “I worked so hard for pole vaulting and all this other stuff, and it’s almost like that doesn’t matter. Nobody sees that. Nobody really sees me.”
That’s Matt, shown above. Just in case anyone out there — for fairness’ sake — feels like y’know, objectifying him and subjecting his family and friends to all sorts of sallacious commentary purely because of his incredibly good looks.
In the meantime, I would like to apologize in advance to my hosting company and plead with them not to cut me off when CSTB’s traffic inevitably spikes. I realize that blogs and manly interest sites across the globe will either link to this post or attempt to hotlink Matt’s smoking snapshot. While I haven’t quite figured out how to pay the bill, you might say the decision to go down this path was a “no-brainer”.
Given that the NFL has in the past muscled ESPN into dropping the well-done Playmakers series (which to our knowledge never dared to present something as far-fetched as a dog-fighting story line), and that the league reportedly squeezed ESPN’s parent company, Disney, into recently dropping a new show about the lives of the wives of pro football players, it’s reasonable to assume that ESPN cleared this volatile story with the league office before running it. And it’s also reasonable to assume, then, that the NFL deemed the source sufficiently credible to allow the entire embarrassment that is the Mike Vick dog-fighting investigation to be turned up a notch or two with this item from one of the league’s broadcast partners.
In other words — we’re starting to think that the NFL thinks Vick is guilty, and likewise wants to see him go down for this. – Pro Football Talk, May 27, 2007
The NFL doesn’t want this story covered up – it wants resolution, and quick. There’s a big difference. The league can protect its image with the best of them. It strong-armed ESPN into taking the weekly sex-drugs-lies-and-football serial, “Playmakers,” off the air. That doesn’t mean the themes in “Playmakers” don’t exist in the NFL. Of course they do. But those ills also are a significant part of society.
But dogfighting? No. There is no rationalizing that. Goodell needs anybody associated with that sick pastime out of the league. – Jeff Schultz, Atlanta Journal-Constitution, May 28, 2007
For perhaps the first and last time in CSTB history, I’ll give Colin Cowherd some credit. At least he’s willing to acknowledge PFT as a source when talking about the Vick escandalo.
Inexplicably still employed by MSG and blogging up a storm, former Mets mouthpice Fran Healy takes a curious trip down memory lane (link swiped from Repoz and Baseball Think Factory) :
If you do something well, you want to duplicate the same stuff. If you’re hot, you eat the same thing that day following that game, you go out to the field at the same time and you drive the same way to the ballpark. If you did five wind sprints yesterday, you do five wind sprints today. Nothing changes.
Something happened to me that would be tough to be superstitious enough to duplicate. I was catching in Chicago in 1974, Ritchie Allen was hitting and Steve Busby was pitching on a cold day. Allen hit the ball and it hit my protective cup, completely breaking it in half. Boy, I was in agony. My chest, my back, it was terrible. I still remember it today.
They took me to the hospital that day. I was worried about the game until the doctor said that they might have to take a testicle out. I said, “I think I want a second opinion.”
I flew out to Boston and saw – I believe his name was Tierney – the Red Sox doctor. He said, “Well it’s swollen, but it’s nothing compared to Fisk. Fisk is really in trouble.”
Carlton Fisk hadn’t played in a month and a half. He saw me that night and he came running over to me and brought over a goalie’s protective cup, telling me I should use this. This thing was huge.
I had in my contract a clause that if I caught 130 games I would get five thousand dollars more. I figured I’ve got to get that five thousand dollars so I rushed back into the lineup. I was so concerned with getting hit that I caught sideways, which in a way hurt my career because I continued catching that way because of the pain. But I was so relaxed because I didn’t care about anything except getting those games in, that I had a big week hitting, such a big week that I was named American League Player of the Week.
Now if you follow superstition, you would go back and get hit in the cup again. Superstition didn’t matter that much to me.
A : The Chicago Tribune’s Sam Smith has all sorts of problems with both of them. In what has to be considered impeccable timing, the morning after King James gave the Cavs a new lease on life with a near triple double in Cleveland’s 88-82 Game 3 win over Detroit, Smith claims USA Basketball oughta forget about LeBron, insisting “his game hasn’t been a good fit for international competition or with the U.S. team, and it might be better off without him.”
No one wants to say it publicly, and no one disputes that James is a transcendent talent, but there wouldn’t be any great sadness if James decides to stay home in 2008.
There were some minor attitude issues, and one famous scene last summer in which Bruce Bowen, who is dropping out of contention for the team, openly lectured James about treating administrative staff members with respect.
James, team insiders said, had a habit of ordering people around without ever learning their names.
The bigger issue for the USA Basketball staff is James’ fit as a player. He doesn’t shoot particularly well, but he liked to keep the ball glued to his hand in last year’s world championships. He is a willing passer and really was at his best when playing point guard toward the end of the tournament.
But Chauncey Billups and Jason Kidd will play this summer, and both are far better floor leaders than James. With a terrific playoff run, Williams is dribbling his way into that crowd. They all are better than James at running a team.
Also, coaches worried about James’ ego and view of himself within the team. They found too often when he wasn’t getting his points, he’d try hard late in games to get numbers, apparently so he wouldn’t have to answer questions about poor statistical games.
There also was some discomfort about internal jealousies, so James, along with Dwyane Wade and Carmelo Anthony, was named a team captain to avoid that issue. But now Kobe Bryant joins the team, and his game is more suited to international play because he is a better shooter and defender than James despite James’ immense talent.
Despite being taken deep by Luis Terrero and Paul Konerko, Minnesota’s Johan Santana is well on pace to claim his 6th win of ‘07, as the Twins lead the White Sox, 8-4 entering home half of the 8th inning.
If you’re fortunate enough to watch the highlights tonight, there should be just a little bit of discussion concerning A.J. Pierzynski’s attempts to play footsie with Joe Mauer. You’ll also see Torii Hunter robbing Jim Thome of a solo HR to left center, but that’s just business-as-usual for the former.
Former Twin Kyle Lohse earned a complete game win for Cincinnati today as the Reds snapped a 6 game losing streak with a 4-0 victory over the Pirates. Ryan Freel was carried off the field after colliding with Norris Hopper while in pursuit of an Humberto Coto fly ball in the 3rd inning ; Farney was unavailable for comment.
Following a Jetski accident on Louisiana’s Lake Pontchartrain on Sunday evening, the body of New England Patriots DE Marquise Hill was retrieved and identified earlier today. From the New Orleans Times-Picayune.
Around 10 a.m. today, Steve McManus of the Louisiana Department of Wildlife and Fisheries said officials decided to focus on recovering Hill’s body after witnesses saw him go under the water without resurfacing. Authorities were using information from family members to determine Hill’s exact location at the time he and a woman fell from the craft, McManus said.
The accident was reported about 9 p.m. Sunday after a man and woman were reported falling into the water from a recreational craft. They apparently were heading to the Seabrook boat launch. The Orleans Levee Board Police said that a passing boat had briefly picked up the man, but he jumped back in the water to look for the woman.
The woman, who was rescued after a passerby heard someone calling for help, had apparently grabbed onto a piling or other structure in the lake.
A 3 year NFL vet, Hill was a member of Nick Saban’s 2003 National Championship LSU squad.
With all the free time Dusty Baker has, you’d think he’d make sure the Premiere Speakers Bureau website updated his photo. You have to sell yourself, Dusty!
To which I can only add, I sincerely hope Dusty is commanding a bigger fee than Tom Candiotti.
All kidding aside (ie. looking for an excuse to jettison Scott Spiezio from the major leagues), the improbable comeback of Rick Ankiel might be enough to have So Taguchi and Preston Wilson wondering about their spots on the Cards’ 25 man roster.
Ankiel has singlehandedly chased Rock Round starter Jared Gothreaux, hitting a pair of homers, a double and driving in 5 runs in his first plate appearances. Memphis currently leads, 11-3 in the 5th, but alas, former Met Matt Ginter (above) is not eligible for the win, having pitched poorly (4 hits, 1 walk, 3 earned runs) in two innings of work.
Though Felix Pie’s brief tenure at Wrigley left a bit to be desired, he’s got little left to prove at the Triple A leve. The Iowa CF has homered and raised his batting average to a lofty .394, as the Cubs lead Oklahoma, 5-0 after 3 innings. Former ChiSox fixture Neil Cotts has allowed nothing more than a single to Redhawks C Guillermo Quiroz.
Kobe Bryant has told the LA Times’ Mike Bresnahan he’d like to see some changes made. And he was considerably more blunt with ESPN’s Ric Bucher, demanding the Lakers rehire Jerry West and give the Logoman full authority to do whatever-it-takes (short of reacquiring Shaquille O’Neal, I suppose). The Times’ T.J. Simers, however, is less than intimidated, asking, “What’s he going to do if he doesn’t get his way? Stop passing the ball to his teammates?”
What’s he going to do, ask for a trade? Demand a trade? Sure, the Lakers will do that. How about Atlanta’s entire roster for the Kobester, and keep Smush Parker because he’s such a fan favorite.
The Kobester can wear a sandwich board and walk all around Staples Center protesting his dislike for the current Lakers situation, and it really doesn’t matter. He’s got his contract, his obligation to perform, and like any other employee will be asked to make the best of it.
One team wins a title every year, and a lot of great players go into the off-season frustrated. Happens every year. A player sounds off about being frustrated, and the fans like it. It’s good for someone’s image. Sounds like he really cares.
The Kobester wanted his own team. That’s what he said when it appeared Shaq might be leaving, and when he got it, he referred to it as “my team” on more than one occasion. So much for “his guys.”
He says the time is “now” for the Lakers, as if Kupchak, Buss and Phil Jackson don’t know that, or agree with him. The Dodgers say now is the time to win every year. The Angels do the same. The only team around here that doesn’t say such a thing every year is the Kings.
The last word on Boston’s lottery woes goes to Peter Vescey correspondent Brian McGunigle, who wrote ““if the Celts had been trying to lose, Brian Scalabrine would’ve gotten a lot more playing time.”
Actually, there have been several this week. Earlier today, former Cards pitcher turned outfielder Rick Ankiel’s RBI single off Round Rock’s Josh Miller (just promoted from Corpus Christi) provided Memphis with all the offense they’d need ; Redbirds starter Blake Hawksworth (7 IP, 5 hits, no walks) and 2 relievers combined on a 2-0 defeat of the Express. Former Met / New Weird America icon Matt Ginter did not make an appearance for Memphis.
Rather than go through the entire PCL scoreboard, I’ll just stick with the most depressing line I can find : Chan Ho Park today against Omaha —- 4.2 IP, 14 hits, 7 earned runs, 2 walks, and a pair of 4th inning HR’s allowed to Cody Clark and Mitch Maier. At the risk of repeating one of the lamer jokes in CSTB history, it impossible for me to ignore the Zeyphers starting Ricky Ledee, Mike DeFelice and Ferando Tatis and wonder if the people of New Orleans haven’t suffered enough.
OK, the game was played in Kansas. But surely someone in New Orleans was listening on the radio.
I realize the Rangers have Sammy Sosa on some kinda bargain contract, but surely he’s being paid enough to hit the cut off man? An RBI single by Boston’s Mike Lowell broke a 4-4 deadlock between Texas and the Red Sox earlier today, but J.D. Drew probably wouldn’t have been in scoring position had Sammy not made a futile heave to the plate on Drew’s RBI single moments earlier.
Despite an 8-4 drubbing of the A’s today, O’s skipper Sam Perlozzo is said to be on the hot seat, and the Baltimore Sun’s Jeff Zrebiec tips my favorite Peter Golenbock co-author (aside from Mickey Mantle’s cock) to resume the position.
I gave it everything I have. I am sick and tired of the “I trieds” and the “What do you expect me to dos?” I’ve been begging for answers and all I have gotten are platitudes. Enough is enough.
And so I am divorcing the New York Yankees — all 25 men on the active roster, in addition to the manager, the coaches and the general manager. Oh, and the trainer, too. And, of course, the owner and all his baseball people.
The grounds for the divorce will be mental cruelty. I mean, I made a commitment to these guys, emotional and financial, and they betrayed and humiliated me by allowing the Red Sox — the Red Sox! — to run away with the division. When I think how I defended the Yankees to their legions of detractors, it hurts. It really hurts.
I was so loyal, so trusting, so willing to shell out $165 so I could buy Major League Baseball’s Extra Innings package and watch all the games from my house in California. And yet look at how they treated me. I will tell you how they treated me — as if I were a Kansas City Royals fan.
Yeah, I know. There have been injuries. A sore back. A cracked fingernail. A bone spur. A hammy. Please. I am not stupid. If a guy does not want to show up for me, he should simply say so and stop making excuses.
And yeah, there have been disruptions in routine. But again. A rainout is no reason to act all out of sorts and say, “I guess I just didn’t have good stuff.”
maybe the love died when Zimmer quit and Torre had to make managerial decisions on his own. There were all those nights when Joe would call for Tanyon Sturtze in relief — so many nights that he turned that poor guy’s arm into a pretzel, the way he is doing now with Scott Proctor. There were also the nights when he would pull Mussina or Wang or whichever starter was actually pitching brilliantly and efficiently in favor of a reliever who would blow the game. (See Sturtze.)
And then there was his flip-flopping: “I won’t use Mo in the eighth”; “I have to use Mo in the eighth.” Those mixed messages can really get to a person in love. We all need to know where we stand, don’t we?
Coming to next Sunday’s cheering section : Andrew Vachss on why he’d rather witness child abuse than watch Bronson Arroyo pitch.
Today’s NY Post entry from Phil Mushnick is mostly composed of the Conscience Of News Corp railing against the televised poker boom. Apparently, said craze (which crested, what, 3 years ago?) could well lead to an epidemic of collegiate gambling. And just when you might’ve hoped Phil would’ve had something to say about one of the hotter sports media stories of the past week, he instead turns his attentions to a tried and true tackling dummy.
Connecticut’s Sacred Heart University, during its May 13 graduation ceremony, bestowed an honorary doctorate on Vince McMahon (above). Charles Manson must’ve been unavailable.
McMahon’s speech to the Class of ’07 was prefaced by an explanation that the honor is in recognition of “all you are and all you promise to be.” A Catholic institution, Sacred Heart’s mission statement encourages a “responsibility for the common good of society.”
To that end, no clips of McMahon’s vulgar, kid-targeting WWE TV shows were shown. And, so as not to embarrass him or the school, a long roll call of drug-afflicted and prematurely deceased pro wrestlers also was avoided.
Incidentally, because he’s the recipient of an honorary doctorate, Dr. McMahon will remain unable to legally prescribe steroids to himself and to his wrestlers.
Chris McCosky of the Detroit News with the sort of thing that would ordinarily qualify for bulletin board material….were the player being dissed not so completely out of his depth.
Rasheed Wallace , asked about his “battles” with Anderson Varejao (above) : “It ain’t no battles. That kid ain’t old enough to be in what you’d want to call a battle. All that flopping, they need to make that a technical foul next year. They do all this other stuff to give me technical fouls. That’s not defense (Varejao falling to the floor on Wallace’s winning shot). I am glad we had veteran referees who saw that.”
It has been days now since the accusations, and the Rays have come across as passive and meek. Dukes returned to the lineup Friday night after two days off.
Come on, I would say to Stuart Sternberg, the employer: Draw a line in the sand.
What should the Rays do with Dukes? Should they release him, suspend him, demote him? Perhaps.
The first thing they should do is find out the truth. Dukes has yet to deny the accusations. The Rays should ask him what happened. Then they can proceed.
If Sternberg ever wants to suggest there is a bond between a community and a team, this is the time to show it.
Perhaps Sternberg should listen to Lee Chimos, a safety advocate for CASA who survived seven and a half years of abuse at the hands of her ex-husband.
Along the way, Lee had both legs broken, as well as her wrist, several fingers, her ribs, her nose and her jaw. At one point, thinking he had killed her, her ex-husband buried her in a shallow grave beside their garage. He told her that if she left him, he would murder her son and her parents.
On Thursday night, Lee watched a TV report of Dukes swearing at a cameraman. She was so angry she screamed at her set.
Here is what Lee would say to Sternberg:
“Stuart, I think you need to rethink what the Devil Rays are portraying to the public. Why would you put up with this? Because you win a few more games? At what cost? At the cost of his wife being murdered? His children? We could be looking at another O.J. Simpson situation here. Baseball is an American pastime. Evidently, that goes hand in hand with domestic violence.
- Lee”
Shelton goes on to say that he’d like to “scream at Donald Fehr”, anticipating some kind of union appeal when and if Dukes is suspended. No pointing in waiting for said punative action, I suppose.
Speaking of the strong ties between baseball and domestic violence, Atlanta skipper Bobby Cox followed an ejection in Friday’s 8-3 loss to Philly with another early shower in this afternoon’s 6-4 Philly victory. For Cox, it was career ejection no. 130, while John Smoltz — a non-participant in today’s game — was also run for yelling at Ron Kulpa over the disputed fair/foul ball call in the 3rd.
If The Juice’s Long can propose a drinking game in honor of Eric Young, when’s the Kruky Monster Eating Contest supposed to begin? (link swiped from Repoz and Baseball Think Factory).
Here is something I wasn’t ever expecting to write in my lifetime; Baseball Tonight really misses Harold Reynolds.
I have figured out a way to make Eric Young nights somewhat fun. Next time EY is on, listen to how he starts almost every sentence with “I tell you what.” It really is amazing that a professional broadcaster could continue to do this 2 months into his career. To make the most of this inarticulate style, ESPN needs to promote the Baseball Tonight Drinking Game. Every time that Eric Young says “I tell you what” it’s time to do a shot.
Maybe Jagermeister and Red Bull could sponsor the promotion? Actually, the show would really be fun, if everyone on set would drink as well. I could see John Kruk high-fiving EY everytime he says it, as you know he must be able to slam it down. A few jager-bombs and I bet Tim Kurjian would really loosen up.
Unless Peter Gammons is on-set, does anyone watch Baseball Tonight for insight into the game? Considering the time it generally airs, a good portion of its viewers are males 18-25, so why not go balls out and really try to appeal to its demographic. If MLB teams serve alcohol in its locker rooms after games, why not truly embrace it. I tell you what it sure makes sense to me.
Though I’m not convinced the hoopla surrounding tonight’s UFC 71 Liddell/Jackson bout in Vegas is any indication MMA has soared past other pastimes (shoveling snow, burning books, air guitar) in the battle for the hearts and minds of young America, one thing is certain. UFC supremeo Dana White is not going to be mistaken for David Stern. From Sherdog.com’s Jake Rossen :
Remarking on the upcoming bout between vaunted Internet personality Kimbo Slice and aging boxer Ray Mercer, White used labels like “disgusting” and “unfortunate,” professing little interest in the match.
“I can’t believe the state of New Jersey sanctioned that fight.”
Touching on K-1’s tumultuous week in trying to obtain a California license, White scoffed that the event would even transpire. “These guys from K-1 are coming in and telling you, ‘We’re gonna sell out a 100,000 seat arena.’ You idiots! You can’t sell out a ballroom in Las Vegas! Come on. Give me a break. It’s insane. These guys couldn’t give 100,0000 tickets away. Every time they have a K-1 in Vegas, they give away tickets for a ballroom in the Mirage. It’s comical to me.”
Told that Tito Ortiz was being courted by the IFL to become one of their coaches, White sighed. “The IFL doesn’t phase me one bit. It’s like team tennis. That didn’t work, and team fighting definitely won’t work. Nobody wants to see team fighting. They’ve got the Woodchucks vs. the Crazy Beavers. Is that what you want to see on a Saturday night? It’s a retarded concept.”
The contentious relationship with Ortiz continued, with White reserving his harshest words for his onetime marquee attraction. “Tito’s such a pussy. He cries about everything. Shut up, Tito. Show up and fight and do what you’re supposed to do. This kid would step over a dollar to pick up a dime. Shut up and fight Rashad Evans and beat him. He’s always crying about something.”
Jackson – and by default, the Globe – appear to have no problem telling other media entities how to go about their business, but we can’t even get a statement from the paper’s editor (Martin Baron, above) on the squirrelly “retirement” of Ron Borges, the former Globe sportswriter who Baron had strongly insinuated had committed at least one act of plagiarism when he suspended Borges in early March.
For the folks reading between the lines of the whole sordid Borges mess, the buried, late Friday afternoon announcement and stark silence thereafter indicate just one thing: The parties separated on bad terms and everyone has been required to zip it up tight under terms of the separation.
Neither Borges, Baron nor Union President Dan Totten has returned emails in the past week from Shots requesting some clarification on the end of Borges’ Globe career. (Last we communicated with Totten, he informed us that Borges was awaiting an arbitration hearing in June, likely over back pay and the way he was suspended.) Even our usually reliable Globe moles have had little to say other than the business-side confidant who said, “I can read between the lines the same way everyone else can.”
But the question is, ‘Why should an already distrustful readership be forced to read between those lines?’ Couldn’t sports editor, Joe Sullivan go a long way in closing the Borges chapter with a little transparency in the form of an editor’s letter or an on-line chat? Shouldn’t a paper that gave us Mike Barnicle and Patricia Smith – from a company that brought us Jayson Blair – shouldn’t that company be ultra-sensitive about backdoor buyouts and hints of impropriety? Even if it is “just the Sports section?”
Hundreds of Liverpool fans were tear gassed and baton charged as police stopped 2,000 supporters with real tickets getting into the Champions League final.
Some feared another Hillsborough tragedy amid the ugly scenes outside the Athens arena.
Phil Hammond, whose son Phil, 14, was among 96 Liverpool fans crushed to death at Hillsborough in 1989, feared the worst.
He said: “I thought of our Phil when I got in the stadium and prayed no other young lads would die outside. I texted my wife Hilda and said, ‘There is going to be another Hillsborough’.”
As the crowd, which included children, swelled police sprayed tear gas and lashed out with batons. Some supporters were even threatened with guns.
Former Tory leader Michael Howard, a keen Liverpool fan, said: “There were large numbers of fans inevitably pushing forward, worried that they weren’t going to get in.
“People said, ‘We were at Hills-borough and we are feeling exactly the same as we felt then’.”
Some of the loyal Reds had paid thousands of pounds for genuine tickets – only to be turned away from the Olympic Stadium.
Season ticket holder Robbie Annersley, 42, from Anfield, refused entry to the AC Milan final said: “We were tear-gassed when we got to the turnstiles and then I was baton charged.
“One woman was pregnant and she was gassed and knocked to the ground. The police kept saying, ‘It is not our fault, the ground is full,’ but they would not look at our tickets.”
A policeman pointed a gun at IT worker Ian Voce, 47, from Crosby. He said: “I had a genuine ticket. I paid £1,200 to get here. When the copper drew his gun on me, I decided to get out of there.”
Uefa officials were blasted for staging the final at the 71,000-seater stadium. Software engineer Brian McNance, 44, stormed: “Next year it is in Moscow and they are talking about a 50,000-seater stadium. Imagine if Liverpool and Man United get through to that? It will be chaos.”
Simon Gass, the British Ambassador in Athens, and Mersey-side police, whose officers were at the game, pledged a full investigation. But the Greek authorities said it was an “absolute success”.
On the bright side, Jason Whitlock has yet to blame hip hop for any of the ugly scenes that took place in Athens.
It is very tempting to claim Sports Illustrated’s venerable Tom Verducci has forgotten more about baseball than Deadspin’s Will Leitch will ever learn. That, however, is probably a gross exaggeration. It might be more to the point to say that I’ve forgotten more about George Plimpton than Leitch has learned about Verducci, but either way, let’s review Will’s comments regarding Tom.
Were I a paying customer that afternoon, I might’ve been somewhat dismayed at Toronto denying playing time to another member of the organization in favor of the SI scribe. And while I don’t know Will Leitch’s whereabouts that day, he seems to take unusual umbrage for an altogether different reason.
We understand Verducci’s instinct; playing baseball was one of the most pleasurable things we’ve ever done, and we miss it, pretty much every day. But after a while, it really does just become a vanity project; yes, yes, Tom, we understand that you are in better shape than just about everybody else who covers baseball. But it might be time to let it go.
We understand the notion; believe us, Tom, we do. But it’s probably time to move on now. Every athlete scoffs that all sports reporters are just frustrated athletes. You’re not doing much to prove them wrong. We know it hurts. We know. But time to put the spikes away.
I guess I missed the part of Verducci’s article where he announced he’d be doing this annually. But just the same, he might do well to take Will’s advice and stick to far more dignified journalistic pursuits — like taking batting practice against John Rocker.
It’s been an emotional week at CSTB HQ with the news that a consumate professional, an intense, selfless competitor, will never again don a New York uniform. But enough about Carl Pavano, apparently Brian Leetch after “the finest career an American-born hockey player has ever had,” in the words of the Daily News’ John Dellapina, is hanging up his skates.
Leetch was a terror on the power play for most of his 16 seasons as a New York Ranger, an 11 time All-Star, one of just 7 defensemen to with 1000 career points or more, the 24th captain in Rangers history, and the only American-born player to win the Conn Smythe Trophy (1994). The sight of no. 2 in a Maple Leafs or Bruins jersey was as visually jarring as Santa Claus blowing the Easter Bunny.
He’s a shoo-in for the Hall Of Fame and would have to be considered for any short list of the most important New York sportsmen of the modern era. With Leetch’s retirement, a chunk of my most cherished MSG memories come flooding back in a frenzied bit of post-traumatic stress syndrome. But enough about Slayer at the Felt Forum. I look forward to Brian’s number being raised to the Garden rafters next season, along with the obligatory Phil Mushnick column bemoaning MSG’s attempts to flog some crappy commemorative merchandise.
Overnight gabber Jason Smith laid blame for the Cavs being down 2-0 squarely at the feet of head coach Mike Brown, surmising that after King James failed to go to the line even once during Game One, Brown should’ve all but invited the Association to slap him with a $50K fine during a postgame outburst that never happened.
Likewise, Brown was relatively subdued after last night’s alleged robbery. And I think Smith has a point. Can you imagine Pat Riley, Phil Jax or Jeff Van Gundy failing to campaign through the media? Any of the above have gone overboard, hoping to intimidate the refs, however slightly. Perhaps Detroit would’ve prevailed on Thursday, either way. But in terms of giving his team the best possible chance to win, Mike Brown is obliged to use every tactic at his disposal. Wondering out loud how many other player’s of LeBron’s stature would fail to get such a call oughta be part of the arsenal.
Hernandez, who was on the DL with bursitis in his right shoulder, last pitched on April 24. Recently, he threw two simulated games (the most recent on Sunday) as well as a bullpen session on Tuesday. Both Randolph and pitching coach Rick Peterson expect Hernandez to be able to last his typical length. Hernandez threw seven innings in three of his five Mets starts this season and tossed between 91 and 104 pitches in all of them.
“He’s ready to pitch on normal volume,” Peterson said.
All year when the Mets have looked sluggish it has been because of their inability to manufacture runs and hit with men in scoring position. They were 1-for-9 in that situation last night.
To me, that was the game. David Wright getting punched out to end the third with the bases loaded was the play of the game.
If the Mets were flat it was because John Smoltz made it look that way. Randolph did not elaborate his comments when asked. I am sure he will be asked again today.
David Wright was rung up on a disputed checked swing, and It’s Mets For Me can barely stand to watch the replay.
This umpiring crew, who shall go unnamed, is like a Mets Rouges Gallery. But they were beyond bad last night. Balls, strikes, pick offs, punch outs, they flubbed it all. I bet they didn’t even dust off homeplate. It was enough to piss off the Pope. It is unbelievable that they get away with it. As John Smoltz might say, “what’s next, marrying an animal?”
I said last night to no one in particular, that shit happens to the Br*ves and Bobby Cox is out there as fast as his 79 year old hips will carry him. Why does he do it? I imagine a shrewd manager who goes balistic on an obviously flubbed call is not only firing up his team, but putting social pressure on the ump in front of thousands of fans to make the next call in his team’s favor; by the way, there was an opportunity for payback in this game.
As for the argument that Willie needs to keep his composure if he wants to impersonate the manager of a first place team, I say nonsense. If Willie lays down, shows no passion, and stays in the dugout like a scared rabbit, if he is the true leader of the squad, you have to think that perhaps they will follow his lead. David Wright obviously was passionate about the call, at least. And if Willie is going to continue to make questionable tactical decisions (batting Franco, not calling for a bunt), than some would argue he needs to get his WWF on and do something to help his team, like protect Wright, who obviously had no compunction about showing passion, after that horrendous call.
While I’m not about to throw myself out the window over the Mets having lost 6 of 9 to the Braves this season (mostly because I live on the ground floor), I can only admire the calm resolve of SNY’s Gary Cohen, who took time out from last night’s crucial encounter to laugh at the Nationals giving former Met Mike Bacsik a start. Sure enough, Bacsik was the winning pitcher in DC’s 4-3 defeat of the Reds, a result that left Cincinnati with the worst record in the National League (18-30).
I’m no football expert, and this isn’t exactly a sports blog, but I thought I’d start off the day with three great reasons why Ladell Betts should start instead of Clinton Portis as the Washington Redskins Running Back this year:
Ladell Betts doesn’t have a chronic shoulder injury.
The next time I request media credentials from the Round Rock Express (and truthfully, the only time I’d do so is if straits became so dire, I couldn’t cough up the $6 to get in the building) I shall be sure to quote from the following missive from Washington Capitals owner Ted Leonsis.
Of course press rooms and player access should be made available to bloggers! Bloggers are passionate fans. They are very knowledgeable and have a growing audience. They bottle up interactivity and they know how to utilize the new medium. Bloggers are showing up higher and higher in search engines and on search results pages. They point back and forth to one another. They dive deep into subjects and are very capable of building next generation businesses. They are a medium and they are helping to build a new one that is fast growing instead of shrinking. They are journalists who are self policed. If they do bad work, they won’t be pointed to by other bloggers and they will fall out of the search engine results pages. The NHL needs all of the coverage and audience we can generate.
Someday, Roger Clemens is going to surprise us and show up for a postgame media conference or some other TV appearance wearing the cap of the team he just pitched for, or pitches for, as opposed to a University of Texas cap, or the cap carrying the name of his golf club, or the cap carrying the logo of products he’s paid to endorse.
He’s a real team guy; it’s just not always the team he plays for.
While I share in the outrage that Clemens couldn’t bother to show a little loyalty to the Trenton Thunder — truly one of the classic caps/logos in all of professional sports — surely Phil finds nothing sinister or overtly commercial in the Rocket paying homage to his alma mater?
OK, me + Matt Baab playing records and hosting your otherwise deadly desperate Wednesday night, May 30 at the Scoot Inn, 1308 East 4th St., Austin. There’s no cover. Unless you count the roof. We’ll be playing both kinds of music — adult and contemporary.
ESPN Radio talk show host Colin Cowherd announced on the air Thursday that he and his wife of 11 years, Kim, are getting a divorce. They have two children, a 7-year-old daughter and a 1-year-old son. Cowherd indicated the separation is amicable.
Stewart neglected to mention that on Tuesday, Cowherd described to his listeners how they could easily sneak liquid contraband onto a commercial flight. “When I’m on the road, I’ve got to bring my “A” game,” bragged Colin, who insisted a particular brand of hair gel (!) was requisite for his success in the big-wide-world of sports radio.
Rather than have said product confiscated as part of his carry-on luggage (cue 5 minute monologue on why “if you wanna travel with me, you don’t check bags” — hey, relationships have ended over less), Cowherd claims he shoves the hair gel stick down his pants. Mucho hilarity ensued about the size of the Cowherd codpiece.
Much as I’m sure Cowherd’s devotion to looking his best was only motivated by his desire to be the family breadwinner, I am also hopeful the Disney company, if not Homeland Security, will look into the morning host’s efforts to advise budding terrorists.
