As the Johan Santana trade story unfolded, Frank Viola couldn’t help but see the parallels to his own departure from Minnesota 19 years ago.
Both were left-handed aces with Cy Young Awards on their resumes who priced themselves out of the Twin Cities – and onto the New York Mets for a multiplayer package of mostly unknowns.
“That’s why it worked out for me, because they waited,” Viola said.
“I question the trade somewhat, as a fan of the Twins and not an ex-ballplayer,” he said. “I guess if you’re a Minnesota fan like I am, you hope this is the best Bill could’ve done under the circumstances.”
Players offered earlier in the process by the Red Sox and Yankees probably would’ve made a stronger impact for Minnesota, though it’s unfair to predict what kind of career any of them will ultimately have. Center fielder Carlos Gomez and right-handed pitchers Philip Humber, Kevin Mulvey and Deolis Guerra are four of the Mets’ top prospects, but none of them are considered sure bets to be All-Stars.
“You’re talking four guys with a big question mark by all of their names,” Viola said. “Carlos Gomez, he has to be comparable to a Kirby Puckett and a Torii Hunter? Good luck with that.“
Please, all hands up all Twins fans old enough to remember the 6 player deal that brought Viola to Flushing. How many of you said to yourself when the trade was announced, “thank god we held out long enough for David West”?
Former 15 Minutes/Dream Syndicate main man Steve Wynn has an album of baseball songs — recorded with Peter Buck and Scott McCaughey amongst others — hence the following interview culled from KEXP.org (link courtesy Repoz).
A baseball record! Why?
I’ve wanted to do this record for years. I’m a big baseball fan — and former sportswriter — and always thought the game and the colorful characters throughout history would make an interesting platform for spinning yarns and making statements and metaphors for bigger things in life — assuming, of course, that there are bigger things. I kept putting off the project until I got into a long conversation with Scott McCaughey at the party before R.E.M.’s induction to the Rock And Roll Hall of Fame. Turns out he was as big a baseball geek as me, and we immediately decided to do the record as soon as possible.
Are these original songs, or collected nuggets from over the years? I have to confess, until I heard the Bob Dylan Radio Hour baseball segment, the only recorded baseball songs I had heard were the Barbara Manning LP and the Pernice Brothers’ song “Moonshot Manny.”
We wrote 16 brand new original songs and could have easily kept going. In fact, we were going to seek songs from other rock baseball fans — Barbara, Joe Pernice, Ira Kaplan — but ended up getting into a hot streak of Ichiro proportions. I think we’re already planning the second and third volumes.
Wynn, McCaughey, Buck, Pitmon… how did the mix of Yankees, Mariners, Braves and Twins fans go?
No rhubarbs, no bruhahas, no…well, you get the picture.
Magic Johnson, the N.B.A. legend and part owner of the Los Angeles Lakers, met with Knicks president / head coach Isiah Thomas for about 30 minutes before their teams played Tuesday night. Johnson expressed sympathy and support and made this bold claim about the Knicks: “They’re going to make the playoffs. I think that they’re going to be a tough eight or seven seed, too.” – Howard Beck, New York Times, January 31, 2008
While Twins fans ponder a future sans Torii Hunter and Johan Santana, Tigers reliever Todd Jones (above) surveys the latter’s depature in The Sporting News and and muses that while “it’s always hard to gauge what you are getting when you deal for prospects”, “in the Twins’ case, a few factors are working in their favor”. (link swiped from Repoz and Baseball Think Factory)
No. 1, Terry Ryan still is connected to the organization. He has an unbelievable ability to evaluate talent. Need we mention, A.J. Pierzynski to the Giants for Joe Nathan, Francisco Liriano and Boof Bonser. If you think that was luck, how do you explain Chuck Knoblauch for Cristian Guzman and Eric Milton? So if Ryan had his hand in this deal, rest assured as long as there’s no major injuries, the Twins will be OK.
No. 2, the Twins were not left holding the bag. They can feel good knowing they made a competitive offer to Santana. When he told them no thanks, they waited and got the best deal they could instead of turning into Jim Bowden and the Nationals. Remember when Bowden waited and waited and thought he could convince Alfonso Soriano to stay in Washington? Instead, Soriano walked and the Nationals didn’t get much.
Here’s some advice to GMs: If you can’t sign your guys, forget about posturing and fans’ blowback and deal the guys immediately. And when Santana gets his six or seven years at $20 million per, don’t say, “Ah. It’s just about the money.” Some of it is, for sure. But Santana is one of those guys who clubs can’t wait to make a mistake on. GMs can’t get hurt on Santana deals. He’s in his prime and has an amazing track record. Plus, he just went to a huge market to a team that didn’t make the playoffs and whose No. 1 starter from a year ago (Tom Glavine) has gone elsewhere. This creates the financial perfect storm for Santana.
Though Jones’ point about the Pierzynski for Nathan/Bonser/Liriano trade is valid (if not repeated elsewhere), I’m not at all certain that “GMs can’t get hurt on Santana deals”. We’ll see how Barry Zito’s 2nd season with the Giants works out — presumably he’ll accomplish more for San Francisco than Mike Hampton did for Colorado.
Other than extending Joe Rogan’s career. No offense to the Flyers’ Riley Cote, but it’s pretty hard to imagine Dave Schultz reviewing his own fight footage on YouTube (video link swiped from 700 Level)
Mostly because that would’ve required the invention of YouTube prior to the modern advent of the ‘net. We should, however, give Fred Shero credit for trying.
Instead, it was Dontrelle Willis attempting to rock the never quite happening sport-jacket-over-the-tee look.
My advice for the D-Train is pretty simple : stop taking advice about fashion (or anything else) from Matt Sosnick. And the next time you’re invited to a party at Hooters that doesn’t include a large cash payment, calmly explain that you’re an adult and would prefer to spend your time in a more interesting, less exploitive environment.
Unless in you’re stuck in Phoenix. In which case, you’re shit out of luck.
First it’s the outrageously baroque mob-douchery at Jets games, and now it’s beef tenderloin dipped in butter: even though I don’t live in New Jersey anymore, I did grow up there, and I don’t appreciate the New York Times scooping me on things that take place in my (parents’) backyard. That said, I found today’s Times‘ article detailing the long history of the Bergen and Passaic County banquet staple known as “The Beefsteak” (no words left out, there). The sports relevance in this article is negligible…until you consider that it was written, oddly enough, by none other than Uni Watch’s stirrup-sock obsessive Paul Lukas. We join Mr. Lukas in scenic (not really) Hasbrouck Heights, NJ.
About 350 men, seated shoulder to shoulder at long tables, were devouring slices of beef tenderloin and washing them down with pitchers of beer. As waiters brought trays of meat, the guests reached over and harvested the pink slices with their bare hands, popping them down the hatch.
Each slice was perched on a round of Italian bread, but most of the men ate only the meat and stacked the bread slices in front of them, tallying their gluttony like poker players amassing chips. Laughter and uproarious conversation were in abundance; subtlety was not.
As anyone in northern New Jersey could tell you, this was a beefsteak. The term refers not to a cut of meat but to a raucous all-you-can-eat-and-drink banquet with a rich history in Bergen and Passaic Counties.
The events, which typically attract crowds of 150 or more, with a ticket price of about $40, are popular as political meet-and-greets, annual dinners for businesses and civic groups, and charity fundraisers. Caterers said they put on about 1,000 of them in the region last year.
“Once you start going to beefsteaks, it’s an addiction,” said Al Baker, a Hasbrouck Heights policeman who had organized the evening’s festivities to benefit the Special Olympics. “You’ve got the tender beef, butter, salt, French fries, beer — all your major food groups. But it’s very unique to North Jersey. I go to other places and nobody’s heard of it.”
There’s much more, including a detailed history of the Phillies old zip-up jerseys this particular tradition’s New York roots. It’s recommended, for those who don’t mind reading the word “beef” twice per paragraph.
“God Save The Fan” author Leitch, whose curious choice of party attire was featured here yesterday, recently sat still long enough to speak with National Public Radio’s Scott Simon. The latter could well have allowed Leitch to peddle his tried and tested spiel about crusty-press-box-reporters being out of touch with today’s fan, but instead took Will to task for some rather bizarre comments about prominent African-Americans, and didn’t let the Deadspin editor escape without suggesting he’s every bit as big a pandering creep as the television bozos he routinely lampoons.
Remarkably, with the exception of this entry, I’ve not seen a reference to said NPR interview elsewhere. That mainstream media outlets who’ve published Will’s work — The Sporting News, New York, The New York Times and GQ amongst them — might not consider such an exchange newsworthy is hardly a surprise. But the deafening silence from the sports blogosphere is rather out of character.
Let’s just imagine for a minute, a prominent pro jock, noted print journalist or sports television personality was interrogated about his or her racial sensibilities on a radio program and took it on the chin nearly as badly as Leitch. What’s the likelihood this hypothetical incident would go unnoticed by the same sports blogs who routinely cover even the slightest faux pas by an athlete or broadcaster?
Either there’s an overwhelming (quiet) consensus that Scott Simon’s out to lunch (but not so nutty that anyone feels compelled to defend Leitch), or there’s a glaring double standard.
(There’s also the possibility no one listens to NPR.)
The Oregonian’s John Canzano on the city of Portland’s edict that the Blazers remove a 128-foot by 60-foot vinyl banner from a steel grain silo across the street from the Rose Garden :
Attaching the banner in a way that no sign had been attached to the silo before is what city electrical inspectors term a “structural alteration,” which is why the NBA franchise has been notified that it must remove the sign by Feb. 8 or pay a $100-per-day fine.
Understand, Blazers owner Paul Allen has attempted, unsuccessfully, on various occasions to purchase this silo. He owns the riverfront land adjacent to the structure, and the people who work for him are exploring uses for the land. But the Blazers’ primary use for the grain silo, to date, is to carry the hopeful message of the franchise.
Now, it’s carrying a broader question: Portland really is a strange place, isn’t it?
City sign inspectors don’t drive around looking for non-compliant signs, see. In fact, even if a sign doesn’t meet regulations, the inspectors usually won’t issue a directive to remove the sign unless a citizen complains about it by telephone, e-mail or fax.
Which means that some careful citizen, probably one driving on Interstate 5, looked over, saw the team’s “Rise With Us” sign dangling from the silo and decided having the sign removed was a worthwhile cause.
Said John Hauck, a senior inspector: “We have what you’d call a few sign vigilantes who, if something doesn’t appear to be within the law, call us and complain.”
For those about to sneer, “get a life”, rest assured one can be a concerned member of the community and also maintain a very rich cultural existence.
I’m hearing SNY is planning some sort of new show (and/or shows) that likely will feature Joe Benigno (above), Scott Ferrall and Chris Carlin, who have become regular personalities on the station.
“I’m hearing” is a cool-sounding way of passing along (well-informed) whispers and making it sound insider-ish.
I hate to take issue with Mr. Watchdog, but there’s nothing “regular” about Joe Benigno-Gazingo’s personality.
Carton would be well advised to steer clear of the gig. He’s already carrying Boomer Esiason Kim Jones on his back 5 mornings a week, and any program that would pair Benigno and Scott Ferrall is doomed. If the former’s face doesn’t terrify SNY viewers, increased exposure to the latter’s voice should do the trick.
Let’s see if CSTB’s savvy readers can identify which great thinker was responsible for this :
The Super Bowl stinks because the halftime show always highlights someone who personifies everything that football isn’t — melodic and graceful. Football is violent. Is it too much to ask that the music match the visuals? Prince, Justin Timberlake and Tom Petty are all talented artists, but in a game that can end with ruptured spleens, torn ligaments and concussions, I would like to hear an appropriate tune. Maybe some Pantera? How about some Maiden? What could be a better setting for an NWA reunion? Minus Eazy, of course.
was it…
a) Colin Cowherd
b) Rob Dibble
c) Jay Mohr
d) Stephen Merritt
e) none of the above?
The Guardian’s Tom Lutz and Barney Ronay have duly noted Manchester City’s attempts obtain a work permit for Iraqi midfielder Nashat Akram (above), and take a somewhat dim view of a politician lobbying on the club’s behalf.
Now, some people say Tony Blair didn’t have a plan after he conqu … liberated Iraq but he did and it goes a little something like this:
1. Conqu … liberate Iraq.
2. Leave 38 soldiers with no equipment in charge of country riddled with religious and ethnic tension.
3. Give soldiers berets instead of helmets to show locals how friendly they are.
4. Um…
5. Ask God to sort it out, if he has time.
6. If God is busy, dress Danielle Lloyd as a racy Santa and send her out to cheer up soldiers when locals get picky about lack of electricity, water, security, medical facilities, Sunday repeats of Heartbeat etc.
7. Um…
But at long last, it looks like the British government is trying to solve the whole mess through football. Not, as you might be hoping, by sending Soccer Dog as a negotiator in a tri-partite meeting between Sunnis, Shias and Kurds, but by getting Human Rights FC to sign Nashat Akram. Unfortunately, Akram’s work permit has been refused and cuddly Labour MP Keith Vaz – who voted for military action in Iraq, by the way – ain’t happy. “I shall be calling on the home secretary to review this decision,” he harrumphed, waving some important-looking papers about. “Here we have someone who wants to come and work legitimately, a role model for his country, whose presence here can heal divisions in Iraq.”
Now the Fiver is all for Akram coming to Britain, but wouldn’t it be better if the country didn’t have to rely on a deal backed by money from Thaksin Shinawatra – a man accused of human rights abuses by all kinds of NGOs – to salve its conscience? Soccer Dog hasn’t worked for a while, come to think of it.
I don’t wanna go on a Whitlock-esque rant implying there’s a cultural connection between Feinstein’s musical favorites and his criminal activity. Many of this blog’s readers can enjoy the recordings of R.L. Burnside and Captain Beefheart without setting a building ablaze.
However, I do believe social crusaders, pop psychologists and the local District Attorney alike should have a field day with Feinstein’s tendency to play the works of Mother 13 frontdude Corey Harris. At the very least, it might be time for a picket line in front of Harris’ label offices.
Nyjer Please bulk forwarded a link earlier today to some bullshit video of Tony Romo getting screechy with Metal Skool (can someone please kill those guys before the inevitable Rob Dibble appearance?), but the real gem at TMZ.com is footage of Floyd Mayweather tossing crazy money around (”with some boxer named Zab Judah” — they really know their sweet science at TMZ) at a lame Vegas nightspot. At one point, Mayweather is said to throw $5K into the air.
A bit of a cliché, really. Though in defense of Pretty Boy Floyd, no one busted out a phone cam when I did the same thing last Sunday night at Donn’s Depot.
Rather than dwell on Sasha Vujacic’s 12 point 4th quarter outburst in the Knicks’ 120-109 loss last night to the Lakers, consider the most recent ill-advised public statement from Isiah Thomas, as collected by the New York Post’s Marc Berman :
A day after saying he had “no superstars,” Knick coach Isiah Thomas said he will ask the Nets what it would take to land the on-the-block Jason Kidd.
The Nets have been forever looking for a big center, and Eddy Curry could be involved in a potential deal, possibly along with Renaldo Balkman, whom the Nets like.
Kidd’s bombshell that it’s time to move on traveled to L.A., where the Lakers, too, should have interest again.
“I think our business is to find out,” Thomas said. “When players are on the market, you try to find out. You have to be interested. You have to look.”
With Stephon Marbury likely out of future plans, Thomas considers Kidd among the game’s elite point guards despite Kidd’s age – he turns 35 on March 23.
Of LeBron James’ hopes to be paired with Kidd, True Hoop’s Henry Abbott writes, “it’s not at all clear that the Cavalier organization wants a highly paid non-shooter on the downslope of his career, especially when it’s sure to cost valuable assets. As much as the team wants to be competitive now, they also really need to be competitive in the summer of 2010, when LeBron James will be a free agent.”
So of course, it would make plenty of sense for Isiah Thomas — whose team will not be confused with the defending Conference champs on many nights — to covet a highly paid, aging non-shooter…who will pass the ball to who, precisely? Shouldn’t the Knicks be looking ahead to James’ and D-Wade’s free agency as well?
Pistons forward Rasheed Wallace contributed a double-double to Detroit’s 110-104 victory over Indiana earlier tonight, but more importantly, he’s been immortalized (sort of)….as a cake (link taken from where else, Need For ‘Sheed)
I’m particularly impressed with the culinary skills of Francesca Falchieri, especially in light of my own feeble attempts to produce a curry that resembled Eddy Curry.
Following his recent trade request, it’s foolish to think PG Jason Kidd would begin to sabotage the New Jersey Nets. If we’re to believe the New York Post’s Peter Vecsey, Kidd had already started doing so.
From everything I’m hearing, no trades are pending, but management feels it may be forced into making the best one as soon as all the bids are in, particularly with regards to Kidd, whose heart and head aren’t into competing for an inferior team.
This was never more clear than at the tail end of the Nyets’ pathologically pathetic 98-95 loss to Minny Ha-Ha on Sunday, whom they led, 95-88, with 1:19 left on the clock.
Granted, Jason Collins, a 35-percent free-throw shooter, shouldn’t have been part of the offense at the time. So what does Kidd do? He compounds Lawrence Frank’s fracture by delivering a pass to Jason Collins, who immediately was fouled by Al Jefferson. Collins appled the first free throw and gagged the second.
You expect a bonehead decision like that from a rookie or a journeyman reject, certainly not from a guy reputed to be among the five smartest point guards of all time.
That play said it all to me. Either Kidd was trying to show up Frank or he was making it obvious to owner Bruce Ratner and team president Rod Thorn they’re wasting precious time and wins.
In Kidd’s defense, he had 11 assists in Tuesday’s 87-80 home win over Mllwaukee, none of ‘em thrown in the direction of Collins (0 points and no shots in 11 minutes)
In all seriousness, here’s wishing for a very speedy recovery for the Washington Post’s Michael Wilbon, who reportedly underwent an angioplasty on Sunday in Arizona. Regardless of your feelings for Wilbon, if you consider that Dan Le Batard is a mere heartbeat away from being Tony Kornheiser’s daily foil on “PTI”, right now is a very appropriate time to say a silent prayer of thanks for advances in modern medicine.
This has been some kinda month for Deadspin’s Will Leitch. Not only has he been wowing a national TV audience with his star turn as Christian radio host Chris Kennedy (above) on “Friday Night Lights”, but I’m told he’s got a new best seller in the bookstores, “God Save The Fran”. It’s about time someone had the guts to write an entire book about how Fran Drescher has so much more going on than a nice pair of legs, and while I’m not sure Will’s the man for the job, America’s sports fanshis associates (and Will’s editor) would surely say otherwise.
If that weren’t enough excitement, Leitch is hosting a Super Bowl party and Mr. Irrelevant’s Chris Mottram is nearly beside himself with anticipation.
Going to a party hosted and attended by sports bloggers (along with endless amounts of beautiful women, I’m certain) in a nondescript sports bar in a strip mall somewhere around Glendale, Arizona is more intriguing to me than, say, the Maxim party (although not as intriguing as Dan Majerle’s party). Plus, Steinz and Ufford will be there. Actually, I think those two will be everywhere together this week. Word is that they’re sharing a hotel room. Hilarity is sure to ensue.
Granted, my own SB XLII party is unlikely to consist of much more than sharing a plate of nachos and a couch with a dog and two cats (one of ‘em prone to excessive coughing). But I couldn’t help wonder if a Leitch-hosted event would really be, y’know, off the hook (as the kids say) by comparison.
Judging from the snapshots on offer at Will’s Flickr page — helpfully linked to last week at Deadspin following the “God Save The Fran” publication shindig, this shall indeed be a killer event. A lot of major companies would balk at being associated with someone who exhibits this sort of cultural sophistication, but I salute both of them for standing by their man. Don’t let the pressure groups push you around, Harper-Collins and The Sporting News! Let freedom ring!
…at the risk of smirking at a genuine-no-fucking-around tragedy and the noble attempts to raise loot…might not the inclusion of, say, surviving members of Great White, be an appropriate inclusion on this star-studded bill?
Ka-boom! USA Today’s Bob Nightengale is reporting the New York Mets have completed a trade for Minnesota LHP Johan Santana in exchange for outfielder Carlos Gomez, pitchers Phil Humber, Deolis Guerra and Kevin Mulvey.
The deal is pending the Mets and Santana reaching agreement on a six- or seven-year contract extension and that Santana passes a physical; they have been granted a 48 to-72-hour window to do so. Santana has a no-trade clause that he will waive if agreement is reached on a contract extension.
I’m not sure if Wally Matthews is penning an apology column to Omar Minaya and Fred Wilpon at this very moment or if he’s preparing a screed about the 33 HR’s Santana allowed in 2007. Either way, I think we can safely say even with slightly diminished skills, Santana is a more glittering prize to plug into a Mets rotation alongside Pedro Martinez, Oliver Perez, El Duque and John Maine than say, Kyle Lohse.
I realize these guys aren’t everyone’s cup of tea, but that’s no reason to resort to arson. From the AP :
A volunteer at a community radio station set fire to the station because he was upset that his song selections for an overnight Internet broadcast were changed, police said.Paul Webster Feinstein, 24, has been charged with second-degree felony arson for the Jan. 5 fire that caused $300,000 damage to the studios of 91.7 FM KOOP. He faces from two to 20 years in prison and a $10,000 fine if convicted.
Feinstein told investigators that he was “very unhappy” about the changes to his playlist, said Austin Fire Department Battalion Chief Greg Nye. The songs were intended for an Internet broadcast that occurs when the station is off the air.
“He had a dream of a career in radio and was very disappointed about where it had led him,” Nye said.
Station president Andrew Dickens said Feinstein had been in a dispute with another volunteer about what kind of music should be put into a digital library for the Internet program.
Feinstein was a jazz fan and his Internet program was called “Mellow Down Easy,” Dickens said.
“We knew there was a disagreement, but I would characterize it as a little clash of personalities over types of music to be played and not a big blowout,” Dickens said.
The fire was the third the station has dealt with in the past two years. The first was ruled accidental. The second was caused by a malfunction in a heating and air-conditioning unit of a nearby business and forced the station to move.
This month’s fire knocked the station off the air for 19 days. It resumed broadcasting last week in donated space.
“We are kind of worried that people will look at us like a bunch of idiots,” Dickens said. “This is really just one of those out-of-the-blue situations. Who the hell would have thought somebody would have snapped?”
With the Red Sox & Mets’ attempts to land Johan Santana supposedly nearing a climax, and O’s owner Peter Angelos allegedly standing in the way of Seattle’s acquisition of Eric Bedard, Newsday’s Ken Davidoff turns his attentions to the lengthy report issued yesterday by agent Randy Hendricks in defense of client Roger Clemens. While The Rocket continues to flaunt his status as the Hardest Working 40-something Of All Time, Davidoff points out “it’s no great leap to say that illegal, performance-enhancing drugs aid and abet those very off-the-field workouts, rather than the two items being mutually exclusive.”
It’s a very interesting study, even more so if you dropped in from Mars and had no idea why such a report was being compiled. But it hardly lays a glove on Brian McNamee and his accusations, because the report could be 100 percent accurate (and it isn’t, as Rob Neyer explains here), and it wouldn’t challenge any of the Mitchell Report.
Undoubtedly, Clemens is an extremely smart pitcher who, as his velocity dropped, relied increasingly upon a split-fingered fastball and two-seam fastball, as Hendricks argues. His “legal” workouts, and the way prepared for every start, watching mounds of video, are legendary. But just like with Giambi and McGwire, why couldn’t he have done all of that, PLUS the steroids?
I covered the 2000 Yankees. For his first year and a half in pinstripes, Clemens was surprisingly mediocre. Then, when he returned from the disabled list, that July, he was a completely different pitcher: Better velocity, better bite to the splitter, more confident. We all thought, “What the heck happened to this guy?” I find it pretty believable that steroids helped create that guy. Hendricks points out that Clemens’ August ERA that year went back up to 3.23, but that’s still quite good, and a considerable improvement from the prior year and a half.
I admire Hendricks for putting this report together. I admire Clemens for throwing heat under the chin of the profoundly conflicted George Mitchell. Mitchell deserves far more scrutiny that he has received, as I might have mentioned in the past. But ultimately, this report does virtually nothing to refute the former Senator’s work.
DENNIS WISE: A TIMELINE[Ambient note - the following story should only be read while listening to this piece of music]
Monday January 28, 2008: 11.59am
Newcastle owner Mike Ashley goes to lunch.
3.17pm
Mike Ashley finishes lunch.
3.18pm
Mike Ashley decides to put on his replica shirt.
3.19pm-3.27pm
Mike Ashley squeezes into his replica shirt.
3.28pm
The replica shirt restricts Ashley’s lungs to such an extent that the blood supply to his brain is cut off.
3.37pm
Tragedy is thankfully averted as Mrs Ellen Shearer, the suspicious-looking Newcastle tea lady, pops round with Ashley’s mid-afternoon buns, finds a distressed Ashley thrashing about, and cuts him out of the replica shirt (using the sword of Damocles she was on her way to hang in the manager’s office).
3.38pm
It transpires Mrs Shearer did not in fact arrive in time to avert tragedy totally, as while the blood supply to Ashley’s brain was cut off, he phoned Leeds manager Dennis Wise, giving him a £1.5m-per-year rolling contract and a seat on the board as an “executive director on football-related matters”.
Tuesday January 29, 2008: 9am
A new morning. Kevin Keegan insists he is “very happy” about the Wise affair, despite having said, upon being asked three months ago if he would assist then-manager Sam Allardyce as director of football, that Allardyce “would be a fool to let it happen and the guy who goes in would be a fool to accept it. The chairman, who is not a fool, would be a fool to go and do it, too. It doesn’t work.”
9.01am
Keegan disappears from view for the entire day – absolutely not, y’know, to draft, y’know, a resignation letter, y’know, just in case – in a large puff of smoke which blasts from his lugs.
9.02am-12.13pm
Continuous belly laughing can be heard from the south, approximately 100 miles away, where not only has never-popular ex-Chelsea legend Wise left Elland Road for good, Dave Bassett – blamed by many Leeds fans for a dreadful run of form which is jiggering their automatic promotion push – ends his stint in charge as caretaker boss after 36.73 seconds.
5.04pm
Surround-sound laughter suddenly moves up an entire octave in pitch thanks to increased wave oscillations in the Leeds area, where guffawing becomes increasingly manic due to managerial appointment of Gary McAllister, a former fans’ favourite and more importantly Not Dennis Wise.
The Kansas City Star’s Joe Posnaski takes us down memory lane for a brief summary of Bill Belichick’s 5 season, 36-44 tenure as the final head coach of the original Cleveland Browns. “Maybe he learned key lessons about being a head coach there,” muses Posnaski. “For a Browns fan who had to watch that team wither and die, that ain’t much consolation.”
I don’t think it would be rewriting history to say that he was absolutely despised — more than just about any coach I can remember. That’s probably not hard to imagine: He isn’t exactly Tom Hanks now, and that’s with four Super Bowls under his hoodie.
Still, you can multiply those feelings about about 20. People really hated this guy in Cleveland, and he earned a lot of it. He was, as ever, disdainful of the press and fans. He famously cut favorite son Bernie Kosar and slammed him immediately afterward with his “diminishing skills” comment. Unlike Roger Clemens, Kosar never really was able to find a cool, age-repellent split-fingered fastball and prove Belichick wrong. His skills really were diminishing. Still, it was a pretty cold-hearted thing to say and do in the middle of a lousy 1993 season (Though it did lead to one of the great headlines I’ve ever seen in a newspaper: “They cut me, Dad”).
The incident I remember most when Belichick was coach in Cleveland happened when I went up to do a column of some kind, and they had us working in this press area that overlooked the field. Just as the players were about to go out to practice, someone announced, “SHADES!” and Browns minions walked around and violently pulled down all the shades so that we would not be able to see anything that was happening during practice. Hey, lots of coaches close practice, but I can’t forget the disdain on the faces of the Browns employees pulling the shades. It was about a step below being taken hostage.
Anyway, it’s easy to deduce that Belichick was a complete waste in Cleveland — but that wouldn’t be fair. He really took over an ancient team living on past glories which, as Herm Edwards will tell you, is about the worst kind of team to inherit. Those first three years were dreadful, but I’m not sure there was much that could have been done. Kosar really was diminishing, Belichick was just trying to fill the void with old Giants (Joe Morris anyone? Mark Bavaro?).
You can’t just give him a pass for those four out of five losing seasons. He alienated one of the greatest groups of football fans in America. He turned Cleveland Stadium — one of the great home advantages in football — into nothing; his home record was a blah 19-21 (the previous six seasons — including the 1987 strike season — the Browns won at home 63 percent of the time). He refused to take a chance on a young quarterback (being one of I believe the two remaining members of the Eric Zeier could have been a great NFL quarterback club, I cannot forgive this). He had a very shaky draft record (Touchdown Tommy Vardell?). And in 1995 things started falling apart BEFORE word leaked out about the move to Baltimore.
After all that, Belichick became an assistant coach again, grumbled, took the Jets job, resigned from the Jets job, went to New England and inherited a pretty good team — or at least a pretty good defense with Willie McGinest, Tedy Bruschi, Ty Law and Lawyer Milloy and an offense that had good receivers, a young Kevin Faulk, the nucleus of a good offensive line and Drew Bledsoe at quarterback. That team went 5-11. It didn’t look good for Belichick. The next year, famously, they started out 5-5, and seemed headed for nowhere until Belichick made the monumental decision to make Tom Brady the quarterback. They won six in a row, won the tuck game, he outsmarted Mike Martz, the Patriots went on the most dominating NFL run since the merger, and all that. And they now save a spot in the Smithsonian for Belichick’s brain.
Not to nitpick (and I’ll presume Joe’s being slightly less than serious on this minor point), but Belichick’s “monumental decision” to give an unheralded 6th round draft choice the keys to the car was entirely based on Tom Brady being the next guy on the depth chart after Mo Lewis nearly murdered Drew Bledsoe. That said, Mr. Hoodie No Goody did opt to start Brady in Super Bowl XXXVI after the latter suffered an ankle injury early in New England’s AFC Championship win over Pittsburgh. As bizarre as it may seem 6 years after the fact, there was actually something approaching a (manufactured) QB controversy in the short build up to the title game in New Orleans.
How might history have been written had Bledsoe been given back the job he lost due to injury? We’ll never know for sure, but my guess is that Kurt Warner would have two rings instead of one, and Brenda would today be co-hosting “The View”.
Sure, they’ve been to Wembley this year, but nothing, and I mean NOTHING, compares to the splendor of an Arizona tarmac. In particular the one Antonion Pierce and friends landed on Monday. Phoenix’s Sky Harbor Airport has long been considered one of the World’s Modern Wonders, right up there with the Taj Mahal and the original ESPNZone in Baltimore’s Inner Harbor.
…if you’ve not touched a video game console in a generation. With all due respect to Tecmo Bowl’s legion of admirers, Tony Eason would rather have a CD by Juice Newton.
“Clay Bennett (above), the beloved owner of the Sonics, had the gall to show up at the Sonics-Kings game tonight. When I shared my opinions with him, he had me kicked out of the building! I heard someone mention on sonicscentral that Bennett would be at the game tonight, so I looked for him in the luxury boxes. I spotted him in the box above section 127, sitting with Presti and Bill Russell. Of course my girlfriend and I moved over to the seats right below him. I looked up at him and started chatting with him. Here’s the dialogue that followed…
Sam: Clay, what’s up? You’re a thief Clay!
Clay: shrugs, smirks and blows me a kiss (I swear to God this is no lie)
Sam: I’ve been a season ticket holder since age 10. Don’t steal my team!!!
Clay: makes a face of mock pity
Sam: Sell the Sonics!!!
Clay: walks to the back of the suite, never to reappear
[Thirty] seconds later, two Key arena police officers and a street-clothed man pulled me and my girlfriend out of our seats. They asked for my ID, confiscated my tickets, and escorted me out of the building. I asked the plain-clothed man if he worked for the police or Bennett, and he said “Both.” He then told me I needed to show more respect or else I’d be banned from the arena. I told him I’d be back every game…
In retrospect, I was a little out of control but it is still ludicrous that Bennett would have me kicked out despite the fact that I didn’t utter a profane word.”
I recall NBA commissioner David Stern alluding to a “social contract” following the brawl in Auburn Hills. For all the Association’s concern over dress codes, referee gambling, etc., at what point does Stern address the embarrassment caused by the likes of Dolan and Bennett?
Given that I’ve previously linked to a number of items devoted to ridiculing Liverpool co-owner, Tom Hicks of Rangers/Stars infamy, I’ll take the occasion of the Reds’ 2-2 home draw with Aston Villa to except a dissenting opinion, one from the Independent’s Nick Townsend who contends “for most of the past year Liverpool supporters have been very happy to hitch themselves to the Americans’ wagon train.”
How swiftly has the 2008 City of Culture become the city of censure. It brings to mind that Oscar-nominated film No Country for Old Men. Liverpool’s answer would be: No City For Old Americans On The Make, as many of the faithful perceive them.
Undoubtedly there will be those who insist that Hicks and Gillett can never emerge from the dark side of their affections; particularly those who delude themselves that Liverpool can again become the club they remember so fondly, and, indeed, football recalls so respectfully, under Bill Shankly and Bob Paisley. A campaign group, Reclaim the Kop, promote the club’s “traditional values”, and their spokesman claims that Hicks and Gillett have “underestimated us badly, and badly underestimatedour love for Rafa”.
They have certainly eschewed “the Liverpool way” in preference for doing things the Tottenham way; namely, identifying a possible successor, Jürgen Klinsmann, to follow Benitez, while the Spaniard is still in post. Even Sir Alex Ferguson has stuck his not-inconsiderable oar in, insisting that the Klinsmann talks had been “a bad piece of business on Liverpool’s part”.
However, though the co-owners may indeed have committed a naïve and, in some eyes, near-treasonable, act, why the corresponding support for Benitez? The Spaniard was given the resources to acquire Fernando Torres and several others, yet he has singularly failed to satisfy the pre-season expectations. Even qualification for next season’s Champions League is under threat from, of all rivals, Everton.
For the moment, the supporters attribute the club’s shortcomings primarily to the Americans, whom they regard as having merely purchased the club as an investment vehicle. They lament the loss of Anfield’s soul in the process. Hicks and Gillett may dispute that claim, yet there’s a simple moral here: if you harbourgreat expectations of your team – Europe and the higher echelonsof the Premier League – don’t expect the club’s owners to be local, benign benefactors, the kind of men who in the past sought glory by association and if necessary, at cost. They still exist – but in the lower leagues.
Seven of the top half of the Premier League owners and chairman are foreign; many are only occasional visitors. Remove Arsenal and Everton from the top eight and they are, in descending order, American (Manchester United), Russian (Chelsea), American (Liverpool), American (Aston Villa), Thai (Manchester City), and the Israel-based son of a Russian-born Lithuanian (Portsmouth).
Those high achievers sail under a flag of convenience, and if that happens to be the Stars and Stripes, so be it. That’s the deal when you metamorphose from community club to global institution, as Liverpool have done. You accept the fact that those involved will be remote, possibly absentee landlords; men, at least partly, if not primarily, lured by the prospect of profit, for whom tradition and history don’t count for an awful lot.
Bad news for lovers of free speech / stories about having sex with an 80-year-old prostitute : “Roo Unzipped” remains unpublished.
Q. Covering the Red Sox, who were your best interviews?
A. Mo Vaughn and Pedro (Martinez) were the top two. David Cone, for one year, was great. Bret Saberhagen. Mike Lowell. Gabe Kapler. David Ortiz.
They understood why we were there. As long as you didn’t catch them when they were trying to get on the field or do something, they didn’t mind sharing whatever the issue of the day was, or sharing nothing at all but being able to talk about non-baseball things. They all had a sense of humor and realized that the relationship between media and players does not have to be tense and adversarial.
Are you going to ask me who was the worst?
Q. Who was the worst?
A. Uggie Urbina – he was a scary dude. You couldn’t go near him. Now that he’s in prison in Venezuela (for murder) I can say it. I barely interviewed him. If I did I’ve repressed the whole experience. I didn’t enjoy him at all. He was a grunter.
Carl Everett had his moments where you understood after talking to him awhile that you could never communicate on the same level. He wasn’t an evil man – just different from most baseball players.
Q. Which questions make you cringe?
A. I love it when someone calls Francona “coach”, as in “coach, can you explain this”. You know he’s just waiting to figure out first of all how to rip you to shreds or to bite his tongue that day. He has no patience for that. Sometimes people ask questions that you can’t go down the road with this manager. He won’t blast a player and he’ll always jump to their defense, so if someone asks a leading question to try to get him to rip a player and he has to dance around, I cringe. I know he’s not going to answer it and you wonder how he’ll turn it on the reporter.
I ask my share of stupid questions, too. Sometimes you ask someone how they feel after giving up five runs in the eighth inning, and they say, “how do you think I feel.” It’s never a good moment. We know the answer but sometimes we need the quote, even if the comments are rote and predictable.
While the Bergen Record’s Al Iannazzone floats the possibility of the Nets’ Jason Kidd returning to Dallas in exchange for Devean George, DeSagana Diop and perhaps Jerry Stackhouse, the Dallas Morning News’ Eddie Sefko reports the Mavs’ Devin Harris will miss 2-3 weeks with a bone bruise to the point guard’s left ankle. All of which provides us with a rather clumsy segue into the following observation from You Go Live In Utah’s Amanda :
Thanks to Wikipedia, I have just learned that Devin Harris was brought to Dallas to train as a junior point guard under the tutelage of Steve Nash. How rad would that have been? They could have become a Point Guard Dream Team and there would be a made-for-ESPN movie about their professional relationship. There would be a montage of shots of Steve Nash standing behind Devin Harris helping him on his swing and follow through on the driving range. There would be footage of Devin Harris catching flies with chopsticks while a wise Steve Nash sits cross-legged in the corner on a straw mat. There might even be an emotional scene towards the end where Steve Nash is traded and Devin Harris stands outside Steve Nash’s house in the rain with a boombox blasting Chicago’s “You’re the Insperation” and crying.
I can’t think of anyone who would deny David Lee the right to earn some endorsement dough. Particularly if there’s someone dopey enough to give it to him.
The Baltimore Sun’s Bill Ordine, eschewing the Eric Bedard trade rumors for a moment, has reviewed agent Randy Hendricks’ statistical report defending Roger Clemens’ late career performances (”a convergence of Bill James, Moneyball and the TV detective show Numb3rs, where the brainy sleuth catches the bad guys using mathematics”) and announces, “it gives me a headache, but I’m impressed with the effort.”
In short, the argument seems to be that the flow of Clemens’ career follows peaks and valleys that would occur in any exceptional player’s career and comparisons are drawn to other outstanding pitchers who have had long careers, including Nolan Ryan, Curt Schilling and Randy Johnson. You’ll see references to an array of pitchers from Dizzy Dean to Sandy Koufax. Be prepared to wade through three dozen or so charts.
In partial conclusion, it is being argued that Clemens’ adaptation to a somewhat different pitching style (split-finger fastball) and essentially a careful reduction in workload by contract and careful pitch counts were important factors in his longevity.
I’ve not read the report yet but I’ll presume the Rocket staying home on road trips helped a bit with wear and tear during his final stints in Houston and New York. Well, that, and the unyielding support of a broadcasting legend.
James Sroden took his 8-year-old grandson to the Blue Man Group in October of 2006 at the Briar Street Theatre in Chicago. But in the days after, he said he was bleeding from the nose, having nightmares and losing filings in his teeth after he said two blue men forced a camera down his throat.
In the lawsuit filed in Cook County Circuit Court, Srodon said the Blue Man Group actors used an “esophagus cam” to project an image of Srodon’s mouth and throat onto a large screen for the audience’s amusement.
The lawsuit alleges the Blue Man actors circled him, held his neck and arms and “forced his head back” to insert the camera.
“He was an unknowing and unwilling participant of a stunt that went bad,” said Sroden’s attorney, Anthony Romanucci.
“When I started struggling, it seemed like this fellow, he tried to be more aggressive with this device and shoved it way down my throat,” Sroden said. “In the days after that, the nightmares continued. A few days later, I really panicked because I had blood coming from my nose.”
“I want other people to know about this. I was a guy who wanted to take his grandson out for a fun afternoon,” he said.
The Blue Man Group’s Chicago general manager said he stunt is just an illusion.
“Essentially, we have a piece in the show where an actor holds a camera to an audience member’s mouth, doesn’t enter their mouth, and then we play a video,” Kori Prior said. “We have been performing this show in this theater for 10 years and have never had this issue before.”
Though I’m mostly impressed with Sir John Kruk’s performance last night on “Aqua Teen Hunger Force”, it should be stressed that such a “Baseball Tonight” / Adult Swim crossover is not without precedent.
For instance, I’m pretty sure the character of “Squidbillies”’s Early Cuyler was closely based on Rob Dibble.
On a similar tip, here’s Williams Street’s stonecold Lock Of The Week :
Yeah, very funny. Way to support the guy who’ll be the heart and soul of Manny Acta’s clubhouse. Let’s just hope Chris Needham doesn’t have a younger sister.
You can decide for yourself whether a scenario in which Cecil Fielder walks by Prince’s bedroom and overhears “awraahhhhh aaaarggghhhh ya girl. Hoooly shit. I’m gonna wax that ass and then let you wash off that big black Louisville Slugger with that mouth” is actually funny.
Still, given that it’s not beyond the realm of possibility the author might someday meet Prince Fielder, there’s a slim slice of entertainment value in imagining Milwaukee’s MVP candidate having an open and frank discussion about whether he — or any person on Planet Earth — actually calls their cock a “big black Louisville Slugger”. Out loud, anyway.
“These days, with steroid scandals clouding many top sports, doubts waft like sawdust in the bull arena too,” writes the LA Times’ Dee Dee Correll, “and Big Bucks (above, left) finds himself facing a question about what makes him a winner.” It seems one of the Professional Bull Riders Tour’s most fearsome beasts is going to submit to drug testing. And all this time, I just figured B.B. had an intense workout regiment.
Big Bucks, a past world champion, is a celebrity in his universe. His owners say he’s steroid-free and they don’t mind that he’s been the first to undergo testing — they just don’t want him to be unfairly singled out.
Testing for steroids is becoming more common in horse racing, but it’s virtually unheard of in the rodeo world.
Neither the International Professional Rodeo Assn. nor the Professional Rodeo Cowboys Assn. tests animals, and their officials said they hadn’t heard of anyone else taking the PBR’s approach.
It’s a decision that will prompt some internal discussions, said Cindy Schonholtz, animal welfare coordinator for the Professional Rodeo Cowboys Assn. in Colorado Springs, Colo.
Despite their pursuit of testing, PBR officials say they don’t expect to find many, if any, problems. Steroids might not have been uncommon about a decade ago, they think, but usage probably tapered off as owners realized the downside: sterility that rendered the bulls useless as breeders.
“I just don’t think there’s a lot of abuse out there,” said Texas veterinarian Gary Warner, who works closely with PBR and helped develop a bull steroid test.
Though steroids could make a bull more aggressive — possibly desirable in the arena — they probably don’t make him bigger, Warner said, primarily because once the steroid is injected, the bull can’t be forced to work out to build muscle.
Even if the bull did bulk up, that’s not an advantage in the ring, Warner said. “These guys have to express athleticism more like a dancer. They’re graded on how high they kick, how tight a circle they move in.”
But good performers sometimes face accusations, he said. “That’s where rumor mills get started, and management gets caught in the middle,” Warner said. “I know those cowboys, and they’re awful good folks. But who’s to know? My hat’s off to PBR. It will solve the problem of everyone pointing the finger.”
As far as Texas bull owner Jerry Nelson is concerned, steroid use is “still an issue.”
“You can tell by looking at some of those bulls and their sizes. It’s just like human beings. You can tell who’s on it and who ain’t,” he said.
The New York Times’ Allen Salkin hits the Style section to examine the dichotomy between a studly Joe Namath type (”a playboy, likely to be seen at a nightclub squiring a model” ala Tom Brady) and an All-American akin to Roger Staubach (”a strait-laced type, likely to marry his college sweetheart and, by modern standards of celebrity, barely a sex symbol at all”, or as he’d be known in contemporary times, Eli Manning).
All quarterbacks have the potential to be sex symbols, said the sociologist Pepper Schwartz (above), a professor at the University of Washington in Seattle and an author of books about sexuality. “The quarterback is a thinking athlete — that nice yin-and-yang mixture of descriptions that has a sexual connotation,” she said. “It’s the meeting of highly different qualities that produce an explosive punch of eroticism.”
I don’t really have much idea what Dr. Pepper is referring to, but I do suspect Jared Lorenzen could do far worse than quote the above passage on his Match.com profile.
Somewhere off in the distance, The General explains to his Red Raider troops that if someone can’t find a way to stop A.J. Abrams, they’ll be watching the special features disc from the “Knight School” DVD box on the bus ride home.
(addendum : there is no “Knight School” box. And chances are, Tech flew back to Lubbock. But I’m trying to keep things light around here. There’s nothing funny about about Bobby Knight putting his hands around a young man’s neck. Not without photographic evidence, anyway).
Kidd’s agent Jeff Schwartz, recently asked Nets president Rod Thorn to move his client to a contender before next month’s trade deadline, according to several league officials who cannot be identified without betraying confidences.Thorn would not comment when asked about the request, but it is becoming increasingly clear he may not be able to grant it even if he wanted to.
The primary reason: The Nets are extremely vulnerable now, and they have learned that they cannot get anything close to resembling a fair deal for a 34-year-old point guard making $20 million, even if he is still capable of performing on a Hall of Fame level.
Thorn cannot trade Vince Carter, because the 31-year-old former All-Star has just signed a long-term deal valued at $62 million and is currently underperforming. Thorn also cannot afford to be without Richard Jefferson, who will be part of the nucleus going into the post-Kidd transition stage. And the team cannot get a fair return for its young front-court players, who are on their rookie contracts.
That leaves Kidd as the most viable trading chip, even though it would probably result in an irrevocable shift in philosophy, style and long-term planning.
One could easily argue, however, that any team with an eight-game losing streak — one that is two losses away from falling into 13th place in the Eastern Conference is due for some kind of demolition anyway.
I’ve got people calling me who I never gave my number to. I’ve got people blowin’ up my MySpace page and my Facebook. I even get AOL Instant Messages from guys talking about jobs. I got an email from a guy who asked me if I had an agent. I was like, “Dog, of course I do. C’mon now.” My teammate even got a phone call from HIS agent. His agent first asked how he was and if he was ready to leave or if he was content with the D-League. Then the guy said that he had a job for me, Rod Benson, for $50,000 a month and for my teammate to tell me. My teammate pretended that his phone was breaking up, just to ask this guy to repeat himself. The agent continued to ask about me. My teammate fired him the next day.
The situation I’m in actually reminds me more of the girl who got hot after high school, but still stayed with the same boyfriend she met when she was 14. Think of Jules and Seth from “Superbad” and how much more awkward it will be for them when they get to college. Every guy would come at Jules at the college level. That’s what’s happening to me right now. Every grimy agent in the world thinks they can convince me to take a deal with them.
Hey, watch the replay for yourself a few times — short of delivering a full-on body check to Hedo Turkoglu, Paul Pierce did everything possible to deny the Turkish forward a game winning trey as time expired in Orlando’s 96-93 win over Boston. For much of the season, I’ve presumed claiming the Eastern Conference title would be a formality for the Big 3, but the Magic duo of Dwight Howard and Turkoglu have been fantastic night after night. Of course, after seeing ABC’s brief clip of Howard being tutored by Patrick Ewing, we need to remember that Eddy Curry requires no such mentoring. Either that, or there’s no Scores in Orlando.
With a relatively sparse selection of TV sports today (Celts/Magic, Michigan/Michigan State and Royal Rumble pregame festivities aside), we’ll instead turn our attention to the all-important matter of the pending general election, and the unlikely candidacy of former Red Sox lefty Bill Lee, as covered by the South Florida Sun-Sentinel’s Mike Bernadino (link copped from Repoz and Baseball Think Factory) :
“This guy is a plagiarist of the highest order,” says Lee of Al Gore. “An Inconvenient Truth is so passé. This is stuff I knew in 1969 from reading Buckminster Fuller. Like Dick Schaap said, I told him about global warming in ‘72.”
But what about that Nobel Prize Gore received?
“Ever since he got it, we’ve had the coldest winter we’ve ever had,” Lee says. “There may be global warming in the Indian Ocean or in the Klondikes, but not here in Vermont.”
Despite his screed on Gore, Lee remains a staunch liberal who had supported the hopeless presidential campaign of Dennis Kucinich before he pulled out of the race Friday and sounds more frustrated than ever with his party.
“The Democrats are shooting themselves in the foot,” Lee says. “They’re going to be the Bickersons and allow someone else to come sneaking in saying they’ll save the economy, lower gas prices and lower the boiling point of water.”
He gives a throaty laugh.
“I’m going to have to run,” he says.
A father of four and grandfather of six, the Spaceman remains in high demand for nostalgia events. Recently, at a hospital fundraiser in Connecticut, a fan asked Lee about Roger Clemens and those steroid allegations.
Can’t share the Spaceman’s complete answer, but it included a mind-blowing reference to raves in San Francisco and left his audience slack jawed.
The Beatles fan is hoping Paul McCartney could somehow join up with a cover band called the Fab Faux. Lee also listens to jazz and “a lot of Beethoven … real sinister stuff while watching war movies.”
Most of all, he laments the loss of civility and the spread of ignorance in American society.
“Everybody’s got ADD,” he says. “It’s because of the cell phone. Everybody’s running around, and there’s no politeness, no courtesy. No one is holding doors open anymore.”
Mets owner Fred Wilpon “is on the verge of a Steinbrennerian windfall with the opening of Citi Field, and his son Jeff (above), is James Dolan without the guitar”, seethes Newsday’s Wallace Matthews, who not only rues the departure of former punching bag Lastings Milledge, but accuses the not-so-Amazins of “conducting their offseason the way Rudy Giuliani is running his presidential campaign: hoping to win by doing nothing.”
They shed Lastings Milledge, Paul Lo Duca and Tom Glavine. In return, they brought in Ryan Church and Brian Schneider, paid more money to Ramon Castro, Luis Castillo, Jose Reyes and Endy Chavez, and issued a stern warning to Duaner Sanchez to stay out of taxicabs in South Florida at 2 in the morning.
Meanwhile, Johan Santana still is a Twin, A-Rod still is a Yankee and Jose Reyes still is a Met.
And yet, to quote the words of Mets VP David Howard, “If you look at it objectively, [we] are a championship-caliber, playoff-contending team.”
And if you look at it rationally, Howard, or whoever is writing his material, very well may be out of his mind.
They act as if last season was some kind of hallucination, that the historic collapse (they led the Phillies by seven games on Sept. 12 with 17 games to play) never really happened, that despite what the NL East standings showed Oct. 1, the Mets actually were the best team in baseball and, as such, didn’t really need much in the way of tinkering in the offseason.
In fact, when it came to personnel, they didn’t really need anything at all.
All they needed, actually, was a little bit more of your money, because, as general manager Omar Minaya was quick to point out after the Mets lost six of their last seven games of the season, “We spent more days in first place than any other team in baseball.’”
Yeah. And Billy Conn was leading Joe Louis after 12 rounds, the Titanic sailed beautifully for three days and didn’t Lincoln just love the first two hours of the play?
Still, that was reason enough for the Mets to raise ticket prices by about 20 percent for the upcoming season. The reason for this, according to Howard, friend of baseball fans everywhere: “We’re not going to make business decisions based on a two-week period.”
The only saving grace in that statement is that perhaps Howard someday will use the same rationale to hold the line on ticket prices if the Mets ever manage to win a World Series on his watch. (And in other news, Pamela Anderson has asked me to marry her.)
(it should be stressed that Boston pedestians are hardly the only persons to have shouted obscenities at a guy wearing a “Manning, No. 10″ jersey)
The Globe’s Matt Viser sent a guy donning an Eli Manning jersey around various congested public places in downtown Boston “to test a theory that local sports fans are getting complacent in victory.” The results were somewhat less than shocking.
Drivers rolled down windows to hurl expletives, pedestrians wearing Patriots garb stopped in mid-step to point, yell, and snicker at the loser in the jersey.”Take that off!” yelled one man wearing Patriots gloves, hat, and coat.
“[Expletive] you!” said a man outside Boston University, pointing, smiling, and chuckling with glee as he climbed into his silver sedan.
One woman simply made eye contact, then stuck out her tongue. A cheery-faced man trying to collect money for a children’s charity on a Downtown Crossing street corner avoided shaking hands, saying only, “Giants? Giants?”
“Eli Manning sucks! Peyton Manning sucks! Even Archie Manning sucks!” yelled one man about 100 feet away from the store. “That’s right. You heard me.”
“What bet did you lose?” asked Scott Smith, a 31-year-old construction worker from Dorchester who has Patriots season tickets. “You’re lucky I don’t have any drinks in me.”
Near Copley Station, a truck window lowered and out came, “Giants suck!”
“You got a quarter, bro?” asked a panhandler outside of Wendy’s in Copley Square. “Hey, Eli Manning sucks!”
Though the rivalry with the Giants is barely a rivalry at all, it fits into the larger feud between the Capital of the World and the Hub of the Universe. Boston has always had a chip on its shoulder, sporting victories aside.
“We just want respect,” Bryan Puglia, a 23-year-old tuxedo salesman from Wakefield, said near the steps of the Old South Meeting House. “People should respect what we’ve done – and Spygate has nothing to do with it. We’ve proven we can go 18-0 without cheating. We’re the team to beat, we’re the elite.”
That’s how NHLPA Executive Director Paul Kelly responded mere minutes after the National Hockey League made a duel announcement about its plans to send 4 of its teams to Europe for both regular season action and an exhibition showdown.
The Ottawa Senators, Pittsburgh Penguins, Tampa Bay Lightning and New York Rangers will open the 2008 regular season in Prague and Stockholm with the Rangers also scheduled to play Metallurg Magnitigorsk in an exhibition entitled, the Victoria Cup.
Kelly says the players may not agree to play in the Victoria Cup, “There is a chance we wouldn’t consent,” Kelly added
Kelly says there are a lot of details and issues that need to be addressed and says todays announcement placed unfair pressure on the union. He believes the players association will require a minimum of 30 days to poll its players and sort through the concerns that will range from travel to sponsorship agreements.
“If they want us to be a true business partner, then they need to include us from the beginning,” Kelly concluded.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been more embarrassed to be from New England,” sighs Kevin Rys. “Or be a Pats fan. I loved that the only Celtics they could get were scotty wedman, greg kite, rick carlisle, and was that sam vincent? The Bob Lobel/Joyce Kulhawik cameos both made my head spin and cemented (in my mind) some long held beliefs about the two of them.”
Indeed, it’s harsh stuff. Then again, how many other songs have included the astonishing lyric, “pass the ball, Eason, pass the bloody ball”?
My attitude about playing (tonight’s) game is to get back on track winning,” he said. “Obviously, we had a slippage here (in Wednesday’s loss to Toronto). It’s just to get back on track — nothing more, nothing less than that.
“I want you all to understand something. A lot of the guys I played with in Minnesota are not even on this team. It’s like a brand new team. The personnel — the trainers and the people behind the scenes are probably a little more important than some of the people that are on the court.”
The Celtics won a close one, and KG made the decisive defensive play at the end. But come on man, is all that crazy celebrating and jersey popping really necessary? You guys are supposed to be the best team in the league, and you just beat the worst … by one … in your own building. And it’s not like Minnesota wronged you in some way during your career, they did you a freaking favor by sending you to a contender. I’d tell KG to act like he’s been there before, but the reality is, in his entire career, he hasn’t.
If the Warriors are truly serious about reuniting Chris Webber with Don Nelson, surely there’s a chance, however, remote, Seattle will sign free agent Latrell Sprewell?
How’s this for a shitty night out for a 19 year old college student? Having a beer by his lonseome, IU undergrad Justin Thomas was allegedly punched in the eye by a hate criminal, then proceeded to puke and get arrested by the local cops.
Namibia said on Saturday they had been approached to fix a match at the African Nations Cup, having been offered $30,000 per player to throw their final group game against Guinea in Sekondi on Monday.
Namibia Football Association president John Muinjo said he had been told of the offer by his players and had immediately informed the Confederation of African Football (CAF).
“My players were approached by a man saying he represented a syndicate and offered them money to lose the game,” Muinjo told Reuters in Accra on Saturday.
It follows a similar approach to Benin coach Reinhard Fabisch before the start of the tournament by an unidentified man, purporting to represent betting interests.
“The players came to me immediately to tell me and we’ve informed CAF of what has happened,” said Muinjo.
“The players were offered up to $30 000 to lose the game. They were offered half in advance but told they had to be able during the game to manipulate the score on the instructions of the syndicate.”
The Benin coach said he had been approached by a man who claimed to be from a Singapore-based company.
“He wanted to find out from me if there was any possibility of manipulating the match,” Fabisch said.
Williams, assistant head coach – defense, had a meeting with owner Dan Snyder this morning acccording to his agent Marvin Demoff, and is no longer a part of the organization. The sides mutually ageed that he was no longer a candidate, Demoff said, and will move on.
The meeting was pleasant and productive, Demoff said, and Williams intended to withdraw from their coaching search Tuesday. At the urging of Joe Gibs he stayed in the process. He reached out to Gibbs again Thursday and Friday and was asked to stay in, Demoff said. So he did.
In today’s meeting Williams asked Snyder about media reports that he had disrespected Joe Gibbs. “Both Snyder and Cerrato agreed that that had never occurred and those reports were totally false,” Demoff said. “They wished each other well in the future and the sides parted.”
Amongst those bound to be saddened by the above news are the creators of FireSynderandFassel.com (link courtesy Mr. Irrelevant), who seem unwilling to let simple facts (you can’t fire the owner, Fassel’s not been hired yet, etc.) stand in the way of their glorious right to free expression.
David Roth has forsaken the dubious pleasures of a Flickr stream of the Will Leitch Debutante Ball for a video game recommended by pal Matthew Abram. If you’re confused, just think of how Curt Schilling feels right now.
The Great B-Ball Purge of 2041, a day so painful to some that it is referred to only as the “B-Ballnacht”. Thousands upon thousands of the world’s greatest ballers were massacred in a swath of violence and sports bigotry as the game was outlawed worldwide. The reason: the Chaos Dunk, a jam so powerful its mere existence threatens the balance of chaos and order. Among the few ballers and fans that survived the basketball genocide was Charles Barkley, the man capable of performing the “Verboten Jam”…
Flash forward 12 years to the post-cyberpocalyptic ruins of Neo New York, 2053. A Chaos Dunk rocks the island of Manhattan, killing 15 million. When the finger is put on the aging Charles Barkley, he must evade the capture of the B-Ball Removal Department, led by former friend and baller Michael Jordan, and disappear into the dangerous underground of the post-cyberpocalypse to clear his name and find out the mysterious truth behind the Chaos Dunk. Joined by allies along the way, including his son Hoopz, Barkley must face the dangers of a life he thought he gave up a long time ago and discover the secrets behind the terrorist organization B.L.O.O.D.M.O.S.E.S.
