Poking around the interweb reveals some weird details about members of the World Champion 1986 Mets. For instance, Wally Backman’s biography at the Joliet Jackhammers website causally mentions the second baseman dubbed “that little redneck’ by Darryl Strawberry, was “announced as manager of the Arizona Diamondbacks on November 1, 2004.” Sure, he was fired a few days later, but why let a negative tidbit like that ruin a perfectly good looing resume?
Equally curious is an item from the Long Island Ducks’ official website which unveil’s “Gary Carter Autograph Policy.” “Dear Fan, “ the note begins optimistically (clearly, Carter has one specific person in mind), before informing the reader that Mr. Carter (above, far left) will not sign any “MLB-badged item” unless the recipient has made a $25.00 contribution to the Gary Carter Foundation. If you’re not, y’know, eBay trash, Carter is still willing to sign Ducks and/or Atlantic League swag free of charge.
While the Dodgers seek to avoid losing 3 of 4 to the Cubs tonight, the LA Times’ Bill Plaschke (above) can’t quite get off the topic of Manny Ramirez’ alleged lack of contrition (”the Dodgers have showered Ramirez with much love, almost painting him as the victim while those who dare criticize him are the criminals”). He can’t stop hitting the carriage return every sentence or two either, but that’s just Plaschke Being Plaschke.
Where is the Dodgers’ public anti-steroid campaign that focuses on the drugs’ effects on today’s youth? Wouldn’t this be a perfect opportunity to launch one?
Where is the respect for the hundreds of thousands of fans who bought tickets for games in which Ramirez is not playing? By continually deferring to Ramirez, the Dodgers continually insult those fans.
And why won’t somebody, anybody, trumpet the fact that without Ramirez, they have still won 13 of 22 games while increasing their lead in the National League West. Just once, I’d like a team official to say, “You know, we’re a pretty good team without him.”
Ramirez is not gone because he is injured, or ill, or fighting for our country in Iraq. He is gone because he is a cheater, period.
Yet the Dodgers insist on treating him as if his absence was something necessary or noble, and one can only guess why.
Are they scared of Ramirez, who can opt out of his contract after this season? Or are they scared of the fans who love him so much?
It seems to be both. Earlier this week, McCourt typified the Dodgers’ coddling attitude when he was asked about Ramirez’s potential, as the fourth-leading vote-getter among National League outfielders so far, to appear in this year’s All-Star game.
“‘Do I want to see him?” he told reporters. “Sure, if he gets voted in. It’d be a great honor.”
Me, I think it would be a great disgrace, and I could not believe that the community-minded McCourt would think otherwise.
In an era in which a big-league closer going more than 3 outs is rare enough, Wood’s 13 IP, 169 pitch, shutout performance is almost impossible to believe. Not for me, however. I was there. For part of it, anyway.
In arriving late (top of the 7th) and leaving early (end of the 19th), I might’ve missed the begining and end of what was arguably was of the greatest collegiate postseason games ever played (it was certainly the longest), but I did witness the first 10.2 IP of Wood’s 12 inning no-no. As such, I’m keeping my ticket stub in a very special treasure chest containing other cherished sporting nicknacks that are worth no money whatsoever.
Action at Disch-Falk continues in about 45 minutes, as the Longhorns host Army for the second time in 3 days. If Texas wins, they’ll advance to next weekend’s Super Regionals. A victory for the visiting G.I. Joe Wannabees pushes the series to a decisive 4th game (Monday evening).
I was thinking about why people hate Sidney so much, and it reminded me of why I dislike DMB [Dave Matthews Band].
When I was in college (1995-05), DMB started to get popular, and I, like many, enjoyed his music. After a month of “Ant Marching” playing on the radio every other song, I grew tired of DMB and changed the channel every time it came on. People kept telling me how great DMB was and questioning why I decide to not listen to their music. I just grew tired of hearing them. Everyone tells me the DMB jam sessions are incredible in concert. Someday, I may break down and go.
I think that is how the hockey world feels about Sidney at this point. Everyone (except us Pittsburgh fans) is tired of hearing about him. Sidney vs. Richard, Sidney vs. Ovie, Sidney vs. Staal. People have just burned out and hate for no apparent reason, because I agree with you that he is what hockey is all about. Also, I think that if people watch the live version of Sidney, they would have a newfound respect.
Terry Ayers
Fort Mill, S.C.
I’ve never grown tired of Dave Mathews Band, Ben Folds, Nicklas Lidstrom or any artist or athlete with originality, talent and commitment. I find these people inspiring. I understand growing tired of Lady Gaga, Cheez Doodles or ham, but not unique greatness.
I don’t know, anyone who lived in South Carolina and spent 10 years in college probably saw their share of Hootie and 7 Mary Three shows – which hockey players are those bands?
Also, if you don’t think ham falls into the category of “unique greatness,” you’re not eating the right ham.
Meanwhile Folds, who is a solid dozen years past his sell-by date in my book, apparently does quite well in the online sportswriter demographic. From Joe Posnanski’s Twitter:
Being old, we showed up at the 7 pm Ben Folds show at 7 pm. Ben, playing to a much younger crowd, goes on at 9:30.
Yeah, but have those youngsters given up old-school baseball ideology for sabermetrics to the extent Posnanski has?
Nicklas Lidstrom, I reckon, is the Belle and Sebastian of hockey: Always understated, sometimes overlooked, occasionally misunderstood, nonpareil.
Aside from Raul Ibanez‘ robust offensive output thus far for Philadelphia ( 17 HR’s, 1.019 OPS), old pal Geoff Baker of the Seattle Times notes Ibanez’ solid glovework in left field (”imagine how shocking it is to look at Ultimate Zone Ratings stats this morning and see that Ibanez is actually on the plus-side of the runs saved equation for the first time since 2004. As of today, Ibanez has a +4.6 score in UZR and is projected to finish with a +9.8…with his offensive numbers thrown in, he’s arguably an MVP candidate”) and concludes the former Mariner is a great fit at his new home venue.
I think the ballpark in Philadelphia plays to his strengths. If you know he can cover ground running back to the wall and you know there is less distance to cover in left field there compared to at Safeco Field, it makes sense that Ibanez could be cheating further up towards the infield.
By doing so, he can cut down the number of blooped hits that drop in front of him and penalize him on the UZR front. At the same time, he can still track down balls he runs back on because there is less ground to cover before he gets to the wall. And, he has the skills to make the tougher plays when he’s running back.
For me, that’s the easiest explanation for why he’s gone from very good player to superstar in the span of a season. Sounds like the Phillies knew what they were doing when they went out and got Ibanez. They looked at his skillset and saw a guy who could fit into their home park pretty well.
And now, instead of being penalized for skills that did not fit Safeco very well, he is maximizing what he does have at a home park that plays to his stengths.
An Italian, a Portuguese, an Israeli, a Brazilian, a Dutchman and now probably an Italian again: this is the timeline of 21st-century Chelsea managers. Sticklers will point to the missing Englishman. Squeezed into this cosmopolitan sequence is Ray Wilkins, who assumed command for a few days between Luiz Felipe Scolari’s sacking and Hiddink’s arrival from the Red Adair school.
Some senior Chelsea players are known to harbour deep misgivings about starting over with a Milanese aristocrat steeped in Serie A who speaks little English. It would take Ancelotti several months to adjust to the Premier League, with its unique rhythms. In Italy he is synonymous with ageing teams who play slow football: the very thing Abramovich was trying to escape, supposedly, when he complained to Ancelotti that his side lacked a “personality”.
“I wanted it to be much harder for someone to win a trophy [in English football] than to do it in three-and-a-half months,” the Everton manager, David Moyes, said of Hiddink. One wonders whether the best manager outside the top four has been mentioned as a possible successor. It worked against Everton, of course, that Chelsea’s players were on such a mission to send a Dutchman back to Russia with love.
It will be much harder for Abramovich to find someone new for them to adore. If he were thinking straight, Moyes would be a candidate.
The stepped-up offerings of ascendant bullpen refugee LHP Clayton Richard (W, 2-0 7IP 6H 2ER 7K 1BB) kept the Royals runless until the 7th, making good use of Mark Buehrle-like pacing and agressive 3-2 curveballs. While exactly the kind of stuff needed to plug the Contreras-sized hole in the rotation, much of it was wasted by the 6th, as the Sox had piled up an 11-0 lead.
Uncharacteristically, the run of runs had less to do with power than manufacture. Beyond a Jermaine Dye solo shot in the first, no homers figured in the deluge and the dismal RISP effectivenes of the Sox got a serious boost with a string of base hits, adding up to 17 before the night was up. RHP Brian Bannister (L, 4-2, 5IP, 9H, 7R 4K 1BB) lasted long enough to fall behind by 6, only to bring out the hapless Sidney Ponson, whose 1/3 inning produced 4 earned runs by way of singles and doubles to Konerko, Anderson, Ramirez and Fields. Kyle Farnsworth gave up two more before Dewayne Wise was lulled to sleep by the lack of home runs, forgot the outs and was run down.
Following the blowout, Kenny Williams announced a strange deal with the Mets, trading mild-throwing, walk-prone RHP reliever Lance Broadway (16IP, 19H 10R, 1.75 WHIP) for backup C Ramon Castro and $2 Mil in cash, leaving backup catcher Corky Miller designated for assignment. Life goes on, Corky, life goes on. I’ll leave it to GC to plot what role Broadway will fill at Death Valley East, but I’ll guess that Castro will do three things for the Sox: 1) ruin the week of behemoth bridesmaid Birmingam C Tyler Flowers 2) gun down about as many runners as AJ and Miller and 3) momentarily confuse and frighten Alexei Ramirez with his last name.
While Tim Marchman has Baseball Think Factory abuzz with a not-entirely-serious headline of “They Should Trade Him For Mark De Rosa” (”Him” being newly promoted deer-in-the-headlights rookie OF Fernando Martinez), another writer considers the Mets’ poor power numbers and impact of Fred & Jeff’s homage to Ebbets Field Petco Park. “The stunning new ballpark is a shrine for pitchers,” observes the Bergen Record’s Bob Klapisch, “but a black hole for gap hitters who used to reach the fences at Shea Stadium.” Or to regurgitate a line I’ve repeated far too often, Citi was built with a particular team in mind. Sadly, that team was the 1982 St. Louis Cardinals.
OK, I said the ‘85 Cards the first few times. But as Klapisch points out, the last club to win a World Series with fewer than 100 HR’s was St. Louis’ 82 squad.
No wonder David Wright and Carlos Beltran are glum, already resigned to Citi’s configuration that includes a 415-foot canyon in right-center (44 feet farther than at Shea) a 15-foot wall in left-center and an even more forbidding 16-foot barrier in dead center, 408 feet away from home plate.
The result is home runs that barely make it — Gary Sheffield’s monstrous blast against the Nationals on Monday only landed in the first row — and others that require video confirmation, like Sheffield’s on Tuesday and Daniel Murphy’s on Wednesday night.
Otherwise, an army of fly balls simply die short of the wall, which Wright called “frustrating.”
“That’s something we’re going to have to live with and deal with,” he added. “You can get upset and you can get angry for a second, but hopefully it equals out where you get some bleeders to fall in because the outfield is so deep.”
Beltran echoed the less-than-enthusiastic scouting report.
“The fences are high, the ballpark is big, but we have to play here,” he said. “This is our home. We have to feel comfortable here.”
Mets officials are aware of the grumbling, but say it’s too early to return a final verdict. “Let’s see how [Citi] plays over the summer when it gets hot,” said one senior official. “Right now the sample size is too small.”
The wall in left and center is actually two eight-foot pads, one of which can be replaced by a four or two-foot pad, creating a home run mark of just 12 or 10 feet. And if Jeff Wilpon and GM Omar Minaya decide the Mets’ offense is truly starving, the second pad can be removed altogether, shortening the wall to just eight feet.
With Brian Schnieder scheduled to come off the disabled list tomorrow, the Daily News’ Adam Rubin reports the Mets are frantically trying to trade Ramon Castro prior to Saturday’s 1:10pm game.
“It’s happened before. Inevitably, it’ll happen again.” Thus sighed the Detroit News’ Tom Gage after Tigers manager Jim Leyland cut a postgame press conference short following his club’s miserable showing in Baltimore last night. “Like an argument with an umpire, the many ways in which his fires burn within also make Leyland realize how much passion he still has for the game.” So in other words, the manager should’ve remembered to lose his temper with reporters more often when he cashing checks in Denver?
Questions were being asked and answered. You could see and hear Leyland wasn’t happy, but he had a right not to be happy. The Tigers had just lost a stinker. They’d gone 1-for-11 with runners in scoring position.
That’s when the one-too-many was asked.
“How encouraged were you by Galarraga’s performance?”
“I’m not going to talk about that, because you guys are worried about Bonderman taking somebody’s place,” Leyland said.
“I’m not going to talk about that (stuff). Galarraga pitched a great game. But that’s all you guys are looking for. Forget it. Good bye. Good night.”
And with that, the post-gamer ended.
Leyland doesn’t get upset with his team often. For that matter, he doesn’t get upset with the media often.
But he hates it when he thinks reporters are fishing, although whether there were lines in the water this time almost wasn’t the entire point.
Because of the game, the lack of execution, the stranded runners, a late home run by the Orioles breaking open a game that had been for grabs, it all boiled over after one question Leyland considered suspicious.
David Roth already covered the matter of Tom Ilitch’s generosity earlier this week, though left unmention was one tiny factoid. ; allowing the local newspapers employ your team’s director of P.R. means there’s more money to spend on talented baseball players.
There’s a particularly wonderful passage in John Joseph’s harrowing & funny “The Evolution Of A Cro-magnon” in which the protagonist puts the fear of G-d into a disrespectul Dave Mustaine. Perhaps the latter’s current publicist might want to enlist Joseph’s assistance during Megadeth upcoming promo tour? The following bit of press release magic is culled from The Gauntlet.com :
Droogies!
Wow, the last week has just slipped right past me and here we are getting ready to start mixing, mastering (no worries here), and sequencing the record. We have all of the 12 songs done and ready to be revealed soon.
I am also going to start doing interviews for the new record and of course the upcoming Megadeth and SLAYER dates in Canada. Let me assure you though, the interviews may be really short, because if I get asked anything antagonistic or I am told, ‘Someone said this and someone said that,’ it will be over. I don’t care.
I am honestly looking forward to these dates, and hopefully more than just breaking the ice and doing four concerts with some old friends. I currently have the flu so this is going to be short.
I love you all and thanks for checking in on me here, and at TheLIVELine.”
No? Neither could anyone else Wednesday night at Citi Field. While Manny Acta wasn’t alone in feeling his Nationals were screwed, the New York Daily News’ Bob Raissman figures it’s only a matter of time before the shoe is on the other foot.
Club Conspiracy will be out in full force when the Mets, five-for-five in video decisions, eventually get jobbed. And can you imagine if the flimsy “evidence,” at least what viewers saw on SNY, is ever used to take down a tilt-winning Mets home run in the last game of the season with a playoff berth on the line? Verbal blood will run deep through the streets of sports squawk’s Valley of the Stupid.
Jimmie Lee Solomon, MLB’s exec VP of baseball operations, claims there is already “plenty of transparency” in the deliberation process. “Everybody sees various (replay) angles,” Solomon told the Daily News. “On a rare occasion there will be an angle that maybe no one will see, or only one person or one (broadcast) entity will have.”
One thing all viewers can count on seeing is three umpires leaving the field, retiring to some area underneath a stadium. This leaves a lousy perception, the feeling someone is cutting a back room deal.
Solomon said umpires work in privacy so they can make a “calm, clear-headed decision” without being “impacted by screaming fans.” If this is just about making a decision under optimum conditions, MLB brass should think about sticking a camera – no sound included – inside the umps’ viewing room so fans can see what’s going on. MLB, like the NFL and NHL, should also provide the media with the name of replay officials on duty at MLB Advanced Media for each game.
Now, in MLB’s video court, no one can see the umpires arriving at a decision. No one knows exactly what replays they are looking at, how they are selected, or which one they based their decision on. You don’t even really know if there is an actual vote, or just one dominant opinion, coming out of the replay bunker. Was the final say born of consensus, conspiracy or sheer buffoonery?
OK, not everyone was thoroughly impressed with Barcelona’s 2-0 defeat of Manchester United in the Champions League final yesterday. In other parts of the globe, however, “there couldn’t have been more drool emanating from the Stadio Olimpico if a giant roast pig, oozing gelatinous goodness, was spit-roasted under their noses,” observed the Guardian’s Sean Ingle and Rob Bagchi.
“Barcelona have shown that perfection is possible,” insisted AS editor Alfredo Relaño. “There is no antidote to their exquisite football. [They have] demonstrated their worldly and intergalactic superiority!” Meanwhile José Sámano hailed Andrés Iniesta as “sublime, elegant, sensible, and incisive, a genius with an air of Peter Pan about him – man of the match with Xavi. Their partnership was celestial, an exquisite pleasure.” Mmm, try telling Anderson that.
Lord Ferg was magnificently magnamious in defeat – although his claim that “the first goal was the killer” suggests his renowned tactical skills consisted solely of reading Guus Hiddink’s Bumper Book of Defensive Football. But as he looks to rebuild his side, Ferg may have to make do with Him, who “doesn’t know” if He will be at Old Trafford next season. El Mundo Deportivo, however, reckons He “is the perfect player for Real Madrid – arrogant the day before the game, a bad loser, provocative and posing during it. This guy smells of Madrid already.” But unless Florentino Pérez coughs up £70m, He will still be sporting L’eau D’Old Trafford next season.
Checking a list of those the Knicks have invited to Purchase, NY for workouts, Hahn writes that North Carolina G Ty Lawson, “could be the biggest competition Stephen Curry has in realizing his New York dreams.”
Lawson doesn’t have great size (6-foot, 195 pounds), but he’s strong and ridiculously fast, especially with the dribble. He showed in this year’s NCAA Tournament that not only can he run an offense, he can get to the rim and he also can get to the foul line, two very valuable traits for an NBA guard.
The biggest thing he showed this season is he’s a winner. The Knicks need to collect as many of those as they can. Lawson led the Heels to the championship and, as I’ve said here many times about him (including last year before he decided not to enter the draft), his team goes as he goes. When he was healthy, the Heels were one of the best teams in the country. When he was injured, they weren’t. Period.
Defense? Again, a question. His size will hurt him some, especially against the big guards. You can’t overlook the fact that he does get banged up and his durability as a starter could be questioned. But as far as true PGs in the draft, he is clearly one of the best and, depending on how the individual workouts go, he could be very high on the list for the Knicks at No. 8.
(’97 champ Rebecca Sealfon with a moment that’s Bobby Thompson’s shot-heard-’round-the-world, “The Catch”, “The Drive”, Starks dunking on Jordan, Ali thumping Sonny Liston and Maradona’s Hand Of God all rolled into one)
DC Sports Bog’s Dan Steinberg has been blogging all Thursday long from the site of tonight’s 82nd Annual Scripps National Spelling Bee. Along with scoring quality time with Erin Andrews, Steinberg’s been quizzing protesters (seriously) getting inside the skulls of the youthful contestants (”some turn out to be Gilbert Arenas-like, such as Nicholas Bernard Rushlow, who carries a lucky pendant with a photo of his Bichon Frise puppy, named cosmotellurian (’relating to heaven and earth.’) Others turn out to be Ryan Zimmerman; one young chap managed to conduct an entire five-minute interview without actually saying a word. And still others trended toward LeBron James. ‘I don’t believe in luck,’ straight-faced Stephen Hartline of Ohio.”) Amongst Steinz’ tougher questions, “is Spelling a Sport?”
“If it’s on ESPN, that probably makes it a sport,” said Drew Hodson, 14, of Indiana.
“They have it on ESPN, so I guess,” seconded Joshua Casquejo from Jersey.
“It’s on ESPN, so I guess you could say so,” thirded John Flinn, 14, of North Carolina. “Of course, they also have hot-dog eating contests,” he noted, which was the proper response.
(Point of fact: for the first time this year, the AP is moving Spelling Bee stories on its sports wire.)
Others classified it as a hobby. “This isn’t athletic at all,” Bell argued. And then there was the final’s host, Tom Bergeron, from America’s Funniest Home Videos and Dancing With the Stars.
“Uhhhhh, no, I don’t think so,” he said, to the eternal question of is it or isn’t it. “I think sports require physical activity.”
Another eternal question concerns the real-world application; if these kids are neurosurgeons 20 years from now, will it help to know how to spell “koinonia?”
“We’re building brain muscle here, we’re building synaptic tissue,” ABC’s Bergeron said. “These kids, their ability to visualize, to retain information, to discipline themselves, to compete on this level…These are pretty motivated, type-A personalities. Who I’ve just annoyed by saying it’s not a sport. I change my mind. They might be the neurosurgeon I get. They might be going, ‘I saw that interview you did in 2009 with The Washington Post. Oops. Try walking now, Bergeron.?
If you understood that the “Vote For Manny” is one part satire, one part sarcasm, one part fun, one part grandiose hopes the the rules of the game will somehow change to make sense…. feel free to read on even though you already get it. – Jason, Vote For Manny, 5/27/09
Whew, what a relief. Now that we’ve cleared up that tremendous mystery — at first I thought he wanted Manny elected to the NL All-Star because it was a pro-’roids blog! — could Jason’s satirical bent have also been adopted by the A/V department at Citi Field? What other explanation could there be for the Jumbotron messages imploring Mets fans to “VOTE CASTRO” during Ramon’s (occasional) plate appearances?
I was promised a Boston-style knuckle sandwich by a friend and dear correspondent after the last CSTB post I did on the increasingly dotty Peter Gammons. Interested though I am in finding out what sets a Boston-style knuckle sandwich apart from its New York model (I think it’s sauerkraut? or entitlement?), I’m not going back to the well just to piss off Steve Sykes. And honestly the offense I charged Gammons with last time — broadcasting what then seemed like some very unwarranted, un-researched happy talk on the just-then-released Gary Sheffield’s Comeback Player of the Year bid, doesn’t really seem that crazy right now. But Gammons’ new column — on the heroic profligacy of Tigers owner Mike Ilitch — is just weird.
Baseball has duly honored Jackie Robinson and the memory of veterans who fought for freedom. Now, with the Red Wings on the brink of another Stanley Cup and the Tigers in first place, it is time to honor Mike Ilitch alongside workers and family shop owners and working victims of the economy.
I don’t know Ilitch and his family, but I know what the automobile industry did to the city he loves. I am staggered that he is constructing the monuments to GM, Ford and Chrysler. I appreciate that he has lost millions upon millions to make the Tigers competitive, which allows his teams to give his people of Detroit diversion and hope and happiness.
There were reports Wednesday that Bud Selig has warned owners that he is going to try to force them to cut back bonuses by 10 percent after the June 9 draft because of the economy. [But] Ilitch is more loyal to his neighbors in Detroit than he is to Selig, which is why a 20-year-old kid named Rick Porcello won his fifth straight start Wednesday afternoon. If Selig had been able to muscle Ilitch into overruling general manager Dave Dombrowski and his esteemed scouting director David Chadd, Porcello would be pitching for the University of North Carolina on Friday against Dartmouth in the NCAA regionals.
And then there’s some more stuff and a bunch of lyrics from Bob Dylan’s “Chimes of Freedom,” and then it concludes (spoiler alert?) thusly:
Major League Baseball clearly does not care about those people in Detroit who have become underdog soldiers in the night. Thankfully, Mike Ilitch does, and for all those underemployed refugees on the unarmed roads of flight, may Rick Porcello and Miguel Cabrera stand as symbols that even a man as wealthy as Mike Ilitch is one of you. And he cares.
Which is… I kind of don’t even know where to start. But the idea that Ilitch spending a bunch of money to make his team better is somehow an indication of his Tom Joad-ian everyman cred is just weird. The Tigers lost over $26 million last year and the team’s value declined by 9%, which is a lot. They were also awful. They had $180 million in revenue in 2007 on a $101 million payroll, according to this Business Week article, which is pretty good (the revenue, not necessarily the article). They were coming off a World Series season that year. That’s the way this stuff goes, and Ilitch’s heroic paying-over-slot for Porcello — and dealing for the contracts of Dontrelle Willis and Cabrera (The Train is left out of Gammo’s monument garden) — got done in June and December of ‘07, respectively, when Ilitch’s organization (and everyone else) was flush. According to the detailed breakdown in that Forbes story, the Tigers have lost money in just two of the last nine years, despite being one of the worst teams in baseball for roughly half that stretch. Oh, and Ilitch’s net worth is still $1.6 billion.
I have no problem accepting that a guy worth that much can still be an ordinary person, and care about ordinary people. I don’t even have a difficult time believing that Ilitch is a good guy; civic-minded casino and fast-food magnates have to exist, right? And I feel bad picking on Gammons, who’s kind of just doing whatever at this point. But praise Ilitch for letting laid-off GM and Chrysler workers into the stadium for free, if you’re going to lionize him as a working class hero, not for doing what he’s supposed to do as the owner of a pro sports franchise.
Behind a staggering performance from Lamar Odom, the Lakers brought the Nuggets to the brink of elimination with the former’s 103-94 victory in Game 5 of the Western Conference finals last night, a result at least one unidentified member of the losing side figures was influenced by Phil Jackson’s complaints about the officiating in Game 4. The Denver Post’s Dave Krieger while noting such conspiracy theories, is more fixated on Hollywood, or to be specific, his claim that “the Western Conference finals are now the template for the modern sports movie.”
The Lakers have played in the NBA Finals 29 times. The Nuggets never have. If you were trying to create an arrogant favorite and a plucky underdog, you couldn’t do much better.
How arrogant are the Lakers? Thanks for asking.
So arrogant that they feel free to change the lyrics of the national anthem.
Now, fans cheer different parts of the anthem for partisan reasons all over. In Baltimore, they cheer the “Oh” in “Oh, say” because of the Orioles. In Houston, they cheer the rockets’ red glare because of the Rockets. But in Los Angeles on Wednesday night, singer and actor Tyrese Gibson changed “our flag was still there” to “our Lakers were still there.”
I think we can all agree that’s just not right. Up the road, on the sound stages of Hollywood, such arrogance is guaranteed its comeuppance, but not until the last 10 minutes of the movie.
It would appear as though pissing on the flag is something of a new tradition at the Staples Center.
“Ten years ago, no self-respecting journalist,” Fox Sports’ Ken Rosenthal solemnly intones, “would have speculated that a player was using performance-enhancing drugs without some form of proof.” Nowadays, however, it’s a 24-7 cycle of yack radio howlers, blog haters and (ahem) journalists without a smidgeon of Ken’s self-respect. Especially regarding the topic of the fast fading Big Papi.
For all I know, Dvid Ortiz might have been a user; the Steroid Era, sadly, has taught us to view all players skeptically. But there is a significant difference between holding such a view privately and accusing a player publicly without any factual basis for such an opinion.
Ten years ago, no reporter would have dared make such a leap, fearing, at minimum, a stern rebuke from an editor and, at worst, a lawsuit. In fact, the difficulty in “naming names” was one problem in reporting on steroids in baseball.
If I had shown the foresight to tackle the subject — and I didn’t — an editor might have asked me for names. But for a time, no reporter could properly satisfy such a request without an outright admission by a player, the kind that Sports Illustrated’s Tom Verducci elicited from Ken Caminiti. Federal investigations of distribution rings — the source of much of what we know today — came later.
Several times in recent weeks, radio talk-show hosts have asked me what I thought of the possibility that Ortiz was using PEDS.
The rationale for such questions?
The talk is “out there.”
Well, I have no idea if David Ortiz used PEDs; probably no journalist does. I could not even make an educated guess, and it would be unprofessional of me to do so.
Here’s one thing I do know: Before steroids, players actually declined as they got older. Ortiz is 33. Maybe he is losing his skills. Maybe he just stinks.
But who wants to talk about that?
A fair enough point — indeed, once upon a time it wouldn’t necessarily have been a red flag for a player’s skills to noticeably decline at age 33. But Ortiz’ decline has been especially dramatic, much as his ascent after arriving in Boston from Minnesota was nothing short of meteoric. That the former’s occurrence coincides with increased scrutiny doesn’t necessarily mean Ortiz is a cheat. But he wouldn’t be the first player whose numbers fell off the charts after a spectacular, ‘roid-assisted run.
[Zambrano declares declares home plate the "people's plate" at Wrigley.]
Carlos Zambrano this afternoon offered the kind of Wrigley meltdown that Chicago sporting scribes have been predicting Lou Piniella would throw, and should throw, for three years running – and that Milton Bradley would inevitably throw every day. Even MB himself commented that “It was on a Bradley level.” Umpire Mark Carlson called Pittsburgh’s Nyler Morgan safe after a wild pitch from Zambrano, which allowed Morgan to score from 3rd. Video backs up Justice Carlson on this, but Zambrano offered a dissenting opinion. Zambrano’s flare up got him kicked out of the game, which he quickly responded to by throwing Carlson out of the game, as seen here.
[Zambrano puts The Whole Damn System on trial.]
Paul Sullivan reports the game, and Z’s prodigal return to the North Side – and even got a quote out of Milton Bradley, here:
Carlos Zambrano received the official Milton Bradley seal of approval after being ejected on Wednesday and throwing a temper tantrum for the ages in the Cubs 5-2 win over Pittsburgh.
“That was pretty impressive,” Bradley said. “It was on a Bradley level.”
That it was, and soon the Cubs will find out whether or not Zambrano’s tantrum will be grounds for suspension.
After arguing with plate umpire Mark Carlson after Nyjer Morgan stuck his left hand around Zambrano’s tag to score the tying run in the seventh inning, Zambrano made contact with Carlson, putting his shoulder into the umpire.
Zambrano could be suspended for as many as 10 games for his conduct, depending on the review of the umpire’s report to Major League Baseball.
“I’m a competitor and I think he was out, but that was his call,” Zambrano said. “I over-exaggerated after that play to throw the ball [into left-center field] and to do the other things. But hopefully MLB will review the play and we’ll see what happens.”
Zambrano would not discuss whether he made contact, though the Cubs insisted it was Carlson who initiated the contact.
“If you look at the film the umpire sort of walks in a little bit,” manager Lou Piniella said. “The league makes that determination, but you’ve got to be more careful than that.”
Carlson was not available after the game. Crew chief Tim Tschida confirmed a report was being sent to MLB, but declined to comment.
Cubs catcher Geovany Soto said he couldn’t keep Zambrano from getting into Carlson’s face.
“I was kind of far away,” he said. “I was disappointed at the call, and when I looked, he was already tossed.”
Even after his crazy routine with Carlson, where he pretended to be thumbing the umpire out of the game after he’d been ejected, Zambrano was not finished. No, in fact, he was just starting.
First he launched the ball towards the left field warning track.
“I was kind of disappointed,” Reed Johnson said. “I thought it was going to go up into the stands. The wind was blowing in today.”
The University of Memphis is in the process of responding to an NCAA notice of allegations charging the men’s basketball program with major violations during the 2007-08 season under John Calipari.
The allegations include “knowing fraudulence or misconduct” on an SAT exam by a player on the 2007-08 team.
The player has subsequently denied the charge, according to university personnel.
The only player on the roster who competed only during that season was Derrick Rose, who subsequently was the No. 1 pick in the NBA draft last June.
If proven to be true, the Tigers could be forced to forfeit their NCAA-record 38 victories and Final Four appearance.
Memphis, which received the notice of allegations Jan. 16, is scheduled to appear before the NCAA Committee on Infractions June 6.
Calipari, who left Memphis for Kentucky on March 31, is not named in the report, but the NCAA has requested his presence at the hearing.
Though a fourth favorable video review in the past week has played a part in the Mets’ 5-3 lead over the Nationals tonight, let’s hop in the time machine and return to, errr, Wednesday morning, when Newsday’s Ken Davidoff declared of the Amazingly Disableds, “you can wonder why the Mets have seemingly put themselves on an island the last couple of years, consistently choosing aggressive paths for injury treatment when most other teams have swerved toward the more conservative approach.” Davidoff pinpoints the following ;
* – An ownership that comes off as overly sensitive to the day-to-day happenings of the team and the media coverage, rather than stepping back and taking a more macrocosmic view.
* – Minaya himself. First of all, he appears naturally assertive about these cases. He explained Tuesday that, if he thinks a player can return in five to eight days, he’d rather go shorthanded for as long as a week than shelve a player for 15 days.
* – Second of all, Minaya’s decisions probably are clouded by the lack of organizational depth. Yes, it’s unusual and unlucky that both Reyes and Alex Cora went down. But it happens. You have to prepare for it. Ramon Martinez just can’t be option number three.
* – The medical staff. As Minaya mentioned, the team’s doctors thought that Reyes would need just a couple of days before returning. Remember, trainers don’t want their players to go on the DL, because it reflects poorly upon them. “I feel very comfortable that our medical people have given us very good advice,” Minaya said.
Gillispie never signed a formal contract, but he was operating under a memorandum of understanding with the athletics association.
“Throughout the entirety of Coach Gillispie’s tenure, he treated it, correctly, as the binding, written contract between him and the defendant,” the suit says.
Gillispie is seeking $6 million that he says he is owed for “termination without cause,” according to the agreement.
The memorandum of understanding said that Gillispie, if fired, would be paid $1.5 million a year for up to four remaining years on the agreement.
In addition, the suit says UK lured Gillispie away from Texas A & M at a point when that university was negotiating to give him a contract extension through 2015. He also is seeking punitive damages and the cost of attorney fees.
Stuart Campbell, Gillispie’s agent, also declined to describe any settlement negotiations between the two sides.
When asked whether the two sides were close to an agreement, he laughed. “We’ll see what happens,” he said.
A better question might be how Campbell and Gillispie’s attorneys allowed their client to to toil for two entire seasons at Kentucky without a long-form agreement being signed by both sides. You know you’ve screwed up bigtime when Wally Backman’s lawyer is shaking his head.
I’d never been in a suite at Camden Yards before and I felt especially fancy. There was plenty of good food, a refrigerator stocked with beer, soda, and water, AND celebrity visitors! Gregg Zaun had his entourage there, and Rick Dempsey spent a good deal of the game in the suite with us. Duck was especially geeked to get his picture taken with the Demper. Jim Hunter also stopped by for a bit and Al Bumbry was hanging around as well. The entire thing was just so…cool. Perhaps the greatest celebrity run in was when Rock Kubatko stopped in and Duck introduced himself as being from Camden Chat. I’ll let Duck tell the story as I wasn’t there when it happened, but the bottom line is Roch wasn’t amused about the time that a story was written about Roch challenging a Camden Chatter to fisticuffs. Sadly I did not even see Roch as I was outside cheering on the O’s.
Rather than engage in (another) unseemly pissing match over blogger ethics, let’s just say we’re living in a world of very low expectations when Roch Kubatko qualifies as celebrity.
Not in the sense that he’s retouched pictures of Adam Dunn to add eye makeup or dyed-black hair, although that’d obviously be worth doing. But at Slate, Jon Mooalem has an article that falls, in the words of Peter Segall, somewhere between “fascinatingly morbid” and “morbidly fascinating.” Mooalem has unearthed something like baseball’s book of the dead — a bizarre project by Robert Gorman and David Weeks, a pair of Winthrop University baseball historians, that purports to chart every baseball-related death to have occurred over the sport’s history. As creepy baseball-related projects go, theirs probably about as darkly weird a document as we’ll get until Steve Carlton writes his autobiography. Mooalem writes:
The authors say their aim was to “raise awareness” about baseball’s many dangers, but there aren’t any recommendations for making the sport safer here, no real signs of impassioned outrage, and no warnings to suburban parents about aluminum bats. Death at the Ballpark is fundamentally a reference book—a list carefully organized into categories like “Thrown Ball Fatalities, Amateur Fatalities—Position Players” and “Thrown Ball Fatalities, Amateur Fatalities—Baserunners.” Often, however, the authors pause for a half-page to narrate a death in noirlike detail. The opening paragraph of one entry ominously begins, “Patrick J. McTavey, 38, worked home plate during a heated semipro championship game on Long Island, NY, on September 26, 1927,” and ends: “It was the last call he ever made.”
…All the old romantic baseball tropes turn up again and again in Death at the Ballpark. But the effect is haunting, since here each is mercilessly punctuated with a death. There’s the aging minor leaguer, battling his way back to the majors after a couple of stints in the show—except that Millard Fillmore “Dixie” Howell, who played in the White Sox farm system in the ’50s, never gets called up again and dies of a heart attack instead. A few incidents are such ruthless perversions of our shared baseball idylls that it’s as if Roman Polanski had recut Field of Dreams. One July night in a backyard in Houston in 1950, a 7-year-old boy asks if he can throw his dad one more pitch before heading inside. The father says OK. The son pitches. Then the father swings and connects, inadvertently “striking his son over the heart.” The son dies before they can make it to the hospital.
Orioles fans have been waiting to hear this since Wieters became one of the most prized draft picks in club history in 2007. The waiting for Wieters became almost unbearable as he tore through two levels of the minor league system last year and batted .333 in the Grapefruit League this spring. The clock began ticking louder when he bounced back from an April hamstring injury and started to heat up at the plate at Triple-A Norfolk during the past couple of weeks.
He is the embodiment of the new era that Orioles fans have been awaiting for more than a decade. He is the jewel of a rebuilding plan that has gathered steam with a series of recent roster moves, including the one that put Triple-A Norfolk call-up Jason Berken on the mound to deliver a scrappy five-inning performance against the Toronto Blue Jays on Tuesday night.
The changeover has been swift — so swift that it’s getting to the point where you can’t tell the players without a Norfolk program. Brad Bergesen was called up in April to replace Alfredo Simon. Nolan Reimold came up two weeks ago and took over most of the playing time in left field. Rich Hill came off the disabled list 11 days ago to deliver a pair of solid starts against the Kansas City Royals and Washington Nationals. Berken wasn’t even through his third inning when MacPhail made the Wieters announcement and hinted that another Triple-A pitcher could be headed here to make Thursday night’s start.
Who knows how this group of unproven young players will perform the rest of the way, but one thing is certain. The 2009 season, which seemed so hopeless a few days ago, suddenly is relevant again. Every remaining game has an extra layer of meaning. The future will be right here in front of your eyes, and there is more to come.
That’s nonsense. Judge Sotomayor ruled on a NLRB petition seeking an injunction against the owner’s 1995 lockout of the players. As I noted at the time, the court hearing the matter would be making a straightforward ruling on labor law: and the owners were plainly in the wrong legally by their conduct in the labor negotiations. Any judge randomly assigned to the case would have made the same ruling. Indeed, a three judge panel of the Second Circuit, in an opinion by conservative Judge Ralph Winter, unanimously upheld Sotomayor’s grant of the injunction.
To say that the judge in the case saved baseball (or expressed sympathy for highly paid baseball players, as Kathryn snarks below) is making the very mistake that separates conservative viewpoints on the role of the judiciary from Obama’s view of the judiciary as activist. A judge acts as an umpire, making the calls of balls and strikes: neither the judge nor the umpire is supposed to decide that one party is more sympathetic than the other and deserves the benefit of the ruling.
Presidential hyperbole or not, 90% of life is showing up, and she made a competent ruling – not to be taken lightly in post-Bush America – so, yeah, she gets credit for moving the season forward.
I quote Frank, though, as yet another conservative making that tired umpires = Supreme Court Justice equation. They apparently have no idea what umpires do for a living. It’s the Court’s job to rule on the Constitutionality of laws — they invalidate or uphold them via decisions of lower courts. Umpires don’t invalidate or validate baseball rules – they are the lower court. Umpires don’t strike down the infield fly rule or shift the score in a game to help a team disadvantaged by a smaller payroll over a big city team (except in the case of the Pirates and Cubs last night – WTF!?!?!?). It wasn’t the umpires who invalidated “seperate but equal” in baseball and let Jackie Robinson play. It was the Court, in Brown v Board of Education, that desegregated schools. Umpires didn’t even decide the recent Milton Bradley 1-game suspension dispute. Disputed decisions are settled by MLB, a higher authority, that also determines which rules go into effect each season. Whatever you think of the “activist judge” debate, Justices are not umpires. It’s an intellectually dishonest argument, if politcally savvy, in the bumper sticker mentality of talk radio. Feh.
No one plans for injuries to their cleanup hitter, leadoff hitter, and six-hole hitter. Well… that’s not totally true. A lot of your more successful baseball general manager types like to have a few serviceable options and backups on hand in case stuff like this goes down. What I probably should’ve written is that Omar Minaya didn’t necessarily plan for injuries to his cleanup hitter, leadoff hitter, etc., and instead opted to field a Triple-A team that is less impressive than its 13-29 record suggests, and which would almost certainly lose seven of 10 games to the Newark Bears. And now, with Jose Reyes and Ryan Church joining Carlos Delgado on the 15-day DL this afternoon, the Mets are officially without a plurality of their Opening Day starters.
Which, you know, is a shitty deal. But while I don’t have much to add on this topic beyond my usual (in Jerry Stiller voice) “what the hell did you trade Jeff Keppinger for!” maunderings, I kind of have to applaud Omar for 1) making a much-needed trade today while 2) sticking to his strategy of entrusting a bunch of roster spots on his $150 million team’s fortunes to aging, Atlantic League-ready humps. In exchange for a player to be named later, Omar just secured a middle infielder from the Indians. Not ex-prospect Josh Barfield, who’s at Triple-A and not going anywhere, and not versatile evangelical Jamey Carroll, who’s reputedly a Minaya favorite. Nah, why waste time with those goofs when you can get this guy. Who is maybe the only player available in another organization who’s less likely to help at the Big League level than the Mets’ current Triple-A shortstop.
Now, to be fair to Wilson Valdez, his .211/.255/.277 Major League splits come in just 254 at-bats. And he is only 31 years old. And he did slug (slug!) .207 at Triple-A this season, so he’s clearly due. For something. I am aware that caring about deals like this is not good for me, and also takes more energy than the trades deserve. But being a fan of the team that traded Jason Bay for Steve Reed and is currently starting both Livan Hernandez and Tim Redding because it dealt Brian Bannister for Ruben Gotay kind of distorts things a bit.
So anyway, welcome Wilson Valdez. You are the current symbol to me of everything wrong with the Minaya Administration, until something else comes along. (Oh, also, the Mets called up Fernando Martinez to take Church’s place)
….with a series of commercials featuring Joe Buck. At least that the prognosis supplied by the Wall Street Journal’s Matthew Futterman, reporting earlier today that Major League Baseball’s Saturday afternoon telecasts on the Fox network have suffered a 4% rattings dip compared to the same period in 2008.
Fox Sports spokesman Lou D’Ermilio confirmed network executives will head to Milwaukee next week to strategize with Commissioner Bud Selig about reversing the downward trends. “The purpose of the meeting is to find a way to boost the ratings for the All-Star Game and the World Series,” he said. Plans include showing baseball movies on Sunday afternoons on Fox’s sister channel FX, and promotional ads with broadcasters Joe Buck and Tim McCarver. Fox says it is less concerned with the shrinking Saturday audience, since the regular season games represent about 10% of the value of the $255 million annual rights fee the network pays.
It would interesting to learn, for instance, how Fox’s Saturday numbers thur far in 2009 compared to ESPN’s Sunday night tally, or TBS’ Sunday afternoon results. The oft-cited Saturday blackout period no longer applies to MLB.TV’s online offerings so long as the games have a 1pm start. I doubt this is enough of a factor to contribute to a 4 percent drop in viewership for the late afternoon national TV game, but it makes as much sense as Futterman musing “additional revelations of steroid use certainly haven’t helped.”
Boy, I really don’t like typing Kobe Doin’ Work. When the guy who made a movie called Mo’ Better Blues makes a movie with a more embarrassing title, that’s saying something. But do that Spike Lee has, and that he’s also made a movie more embarrassing than the aforementioned mega-stilted self-indulgent lapel orgy/alternate-universe jazz opus in KDW (ah, better) is, by this point, kind of the consensus. Lee’s Kobe-mentary is not reputed to be as exacting or backhandedly abstract as the similarly conceived Zidane, and Bryant’s performance reportedly scans super inauthentic and weird. I can’t get that exercised about it one way or the other — or speak with much authority on it — because I didn’t see it. I probably won’t. Unless I’m captured by, like, ironists and tortured by means of a lesser-Lee film festival, in which case KBW will presumably form the sherbert course between She Hate Me and Bamboozled.
But Kelly Dwyer, who is more obsessive about basketball than I am and also presumably got paid by Yahoo to do so, did indeed watch KBW, and has a long, fascinatingly anguished quasi-defense of the film up at Ball Don’t Lie. I can’t totally recommend his defense, either — the thesis seems to be something about how the film’s squirm-inducing elements are, at bottom, a reflection of Kobe’s squirm-inducing maladjustment, and that on those terms, the movie works. I don’t know that I can buy that (it’s a very low bar), but as someone who loves the internet’s process-in-yer-face writing style (and often embodies that writing-the-difficulty thing to an occasionally annoying extent in this very space) I found the piece pretty interesting. It reverses course several times and is tough to excerpt, but if you find this interesting, you might want to give the whole thing a look:
[The film] is just really tough to watch for anyone who has a passing idea of how pro basketball works. Even though it is replete with insider stuff and Xs and Os talk made perfect for a junkie like me, it’s completely mitigated by Bryant’s performance. His on-camera banter and his voiceover work. Tough, tough stuff.
I watched it because I have to. I’m useless without information, the game changes and evolves constantly, and if I don’t try to stay on the up and up, I’m useless… And as distasteful as I found the documentary, and Kobe’s performance to be at times, you still have to muddle through it. On a couch. With some delicious iced tea and a fan blowing a light breeze your way. Sacrifice.
For those who haven’t seen it, Kobe is completely and utterly playing to the 30 cameras that he knows are documenting his every move, recording his every word, in a way that leaves him looking so transparent that it’s a wonder he even let this thing get out.
Actually, it isn’t a wonder. Kobe has isolated himself so much from anyone who will tell him that things aren’t heading in a direction that isn’t particularly appropriate, that it’s pretty obvious that he doesn’t know how poorly he came off.
I’m years removed from being angry about that. At this point, in May of 2009, I’m just sort of sad about that. The guy is so maladjusted, he just has no clue.
And in the sickest way possible, I relate to that.
Since being awarded a 2010 Major League Soccer franchise, the Philadelphia Union have sold more then 7000 season tickets. With that sort of excitement surrounding a new club, is there any surprise the Union badge is prominently displayed throughout the internet?
Aside from imagining Phil Jackson needing a scorecard to ID some of the Nuggets who’ve managed to reduce the Western Conference finals to a Best-Of-3 (ie. “Linas Kleiza, having regressed his way out of the playing rotation by the end of the season, scoring 10 points in 13 minutes off the bench to help take up Melo’s scoring slack” — what, no love for Renaldo Balkman?), the Denver Post’s Dave Kreiger is certain the Lakers “have already begun their campaign against the aggression of the aggrieved, the Nuggets’ current calling card.”
Jackson was complaining about the officiating as soon as Game 4 ended. Like New Orleans coach Byron Scott in the first round, the Lakers are now suggesting Nuggets guard Dahntay Jones is a dirty player for tripping Bryant near the end of the third quarter.
The Nuggets shrugged it off. In fact, Karl likes to hear opponents complain about the officiating, as he mentioned when Scott did it in the first round. Generally speaking, it is a loser’s lament.
The NBA is supposed to be a star’s league. Magic, Larry, Michael, Shaq, Kobe. These are the players that win titles. This is why LeBron is thought to have next.
The Nuggets are still six wins away, but Monday’s win put them in better position than they have been in 32 NBA seasons. ESPN’s hype machine is doing its best to make them famous now, but they’re a little late to the task. Good luck finding an unlikelier group of championship contenders.
CBS Sports’ Ken Berger doesn’t quite share the Denver columnists’ unabashed enthusiasm for the Nuggets’ run, calling Jones, “the modern-day version of Anthony Mason. (Or, for our younger readers, Bruce Bowen.)”
Jones already had two flagrant fouls (penalty one) in the playoffs before he stuck his leg out and tripped Bryant with about four minutes left in the third quarter Monday night. Jones’ two-handed push in Bryant’s back in Game 3 had been upgraded to a flagrant foul upon review by the league office, which won’t need much time to upgrade Jones’ latest transgression to his third flagrant of the playoffs.
If that happens — and it absolutely should, given the blatant nature of the play — Jones will have three flagrant points against him entering Game 5. Another flagrant foul-penalty one would result in an automatic one-game suspension. A more serious flagrant-two would get Jones suspended for two games.
Jones, for his part, employed the Iran-Contra defense — “I don’t remember the play,” he said — and insisted, “I think you’re making too much of one play. … I play hard and people don’t like contact. People don’t like you getting in their face. It’s my job to frustrate and play hard and make [Bryant] work for things. If I just let him score on me every time, then I wouldn’t be doing my job. I wouldn’t be able to stay on the floor, so I don’t understand what you people want me to do.”
2nd time around the block for the post-King Coffey ATC, and we’ll be debuting new material and trying to remember the old on a favorite stage. If you’ve not seen Elvis before, all prior notions of “menacing stage presence” will require revision (though to be fair, the R.S. Howard-esque guitar playing is an equal draw)
While the Nuggets were routing the Lakers at the Pepsi Center, a hastily scheduled taping of WWE Raw at LA’s Staples Center predictably centered around Vince MacMahon’s biggest obsession since the Montreal Screw Job. From the LA Times’ Lance Pugmire :
Looking cheesy with a bad mustache and cheap sports coat, “Stan Kroenke” entered the arena with a basketball and handed it to an actor supposed to be Lakers owner Jerry Buss. The scene fooled some in the crowd, and required at least one fan to explain, “It’s an impersonator, dude!”
But “Kroenke” wasted no time further offending WWE fans in L.A., telling the crowd he was owner of the “soon-to-be NBA champion Denver Nuggets.”
“I cannot stand the WWE or its fans, for that matter. Do you think I care that I screwed thousands of fans? I have much more important things to do with my time. … I’m a respected tycoon/billionaire. I’ve been villified by the WWE, the media and every one of you.”
A photo then flashed on a big screen showing Kroenke with a devil’s tail and horns, while McMahon wore a halo.
McMahon then entered the arena to say he was announcing the formation of a new pro basketball league, the XBA, that would fail miserably, because, “I will have [Kroenke] and your staff run it.”
“All you had to do was pick up the phone and explain that [you] didn’t expect [your] team to make the playoffs.”
McMahon then ridiculed that Kroenke is formally known as E. Stan Kroenke, revealing the E. stands for Enos.
“Enos, look at you,” McMahon said, as the Kroenke impersonator covered his ears in shame. “You’re an Enos! … You have a terminal case of Enos envy.”
For so me reason, when I pick out a song and sing it at the free throw line it helps me not think so much about shooting them. I had a dance song in my head all last night, so I had that going on when I was at the line. Hey, whatever works, right? They were playing all kinda krunk music up in Cleveland, and it was helping me take my mind off my form. I gotta come up with some song for Tuesday in Game 4 to keep it rolling.
Aiiight, ya’ll I guess I gotta go watch another one of these LeBron and Kobe commercials on TV. Naw, just kiddin.
Red Sox closer Jonathan Papelbon’s temper tantrum in the last of the 9th inning Saturday night after blowing a save against the Mets has already been documented ; unmentioned until Monday morning, however, was Pap’s encounter with New York Post lensman Anthony Causi. From the Post’s Daniel Ki :
Papelbon had just surrendered a two-run homer to backup catcher Omir Santos — leading to a 3-2 Amazin’ victory — when Causi had the audacity to do his job and photograph the closer as he sulked in the Sox dugout in the bottom of the ninth.
Papelbon screamed, “Don’t take my f- – -ing picture,” according to Causi, before throwing his towel at him
It should be noted: Papelbon missed Causi.
“I guess he missed with two pitches that night,” Causi cracked.
Papelbon then stormed off to a corner of the dugout, hiding from the lensmen working in the first-base photographers well.
Causi contrasted Papelbon’s behavior with that of Yankee closer Mariano Rivera. The fotog recalled taking a picture of Rivera last month at Fenway Park just after the ace reliever blew a save against Boston.
“He knew I was shooting him, and he didn’t say a word,” Causi said. “A true champion realizes you got to take the good with the bad.”
Supporters dislike it being said but Maritn O’Neill’s background as an Irish Catholic, a Celtic man, endeared him to them. His replacement was a spiky Presbyterian from Edinburgh, someone who enjoyed terrorising them on the field when part of Alex Ferguson’s all-conquering Aberdeen team. One punter back in those days even attempted to lamp the flame-haired Strachan during a visit to Glasgow’s east end.
At Celtic he has been blunt with the Scottish media, his on-screen comments frequently barbed; a factor which was used by his detractors as evidence that he was a poor ambassador for the club. Still a distasteful attitude towards the fourth estate hardly did Brian Clough, or Ferguson, any harm – Scottish football supporters were never previously renowned for defending the press.
Every one of Strachan’s achievements at Celtic was done against a backdrop of financial cuts; the club are all-but debt free whereas debts stood in excess of £30m when he arrived at the club.
Strachan’s demeanour for weeks has hinted he was for the off. He may well have been on the verge of resigning a year ago when he could have gone out on a legitimate high. Time will tell how history remembers Gordon Strachan at Celtic. Their supporters are about to discover the merits of what they wished for.
Mets RF Ryan Church is said to be headed for the disabled list after injuring his right hamstring during Friday’s 5-3 defeat of Boston, hence reports New York will promote the highly toured Fernando Martinez from Buffalo in time for tonight’s encounter with Washington. The Daily News’ Bill Price — who professes to have not attended a game at Citi Field — warns, “anyone who thinks this guy is going to show up and become a savior for the Mets is going a little overboard.”
With the Mets struggling to score runs, it appears a great time for Martinez to arrive. But I actually think it’s a bad time for him. Too many people are going to view him as a savior, and if he struggles – which he probably will – his stint may be viewed as a huge disappointment. I’m not saying he doesn’t have a future with the Mets, I’m just not sure he’s ready yet. Hopefully I’m wrong (it happens every once in a while).
My real question is will he have F. Martinez on his jersey and will our wonderful shortstop have R. Martinez on his jersey? Sounds like a busy day for Charlie Samuels.
Though I appreciate the nod towards Ramon, whose throw to rob Mike Lowell from deep in the hole Saturday was one of the Mets’ highlights of the season thus far, I’m not sure I understand the cautionary tone. Barring a miracle, F-Mart’s promotion will be understood by most thinking persons to be an emergency measure. And ready or not, who would Price prefer Omar Minaya summon from the bushes? Bobby Kielty’s currently on the DL, and Wily Mo Pena — he of the .200 batting average, .232 OBP and 1 home run in 20 International League games — has little going for him besides wearing his Bisons cap at a bizarre angle.
Since being charged with vehicular homicide in December of 2007, former Yankee Jim Leyritz has been an unfortunate CSTB fixture. Whether being accused of blowing a modest fortune on booze, or complaining to a Broward County Judge that he could no longer enjoy Chicken Marsala, Leyritz hasn’t done a wonderful job of presenting himself as a sympathetic figure. Profiled today in the Miami Herald by Dan Le Batard, the retired player-turned-broadcaster continues his public relations missteps, unveiling a curious defense strategy (ie. the victim was driving drunk, too) and discussing the travails of….dating!
”This accident happens whether I was drinking that day or not,” Leyritz says. “It would have happened at 2 in the afternoon. There was no possibility of me avoiding that crash with all of my senses. A mother was taken away from her kids. I can’t change that. But I didn’t do it. The accident did. And that accident wasn’t my fault.”
He walks over to the DVD playing his road-side sobriety test. There he is that night, walking heel-to-foot in a straight line, touching his nose repeatedly with an extended arm, following the pen in the officer’s hand from side to side without moving his head.
”I’m scared to death here, but look at this,” he says. “I’m passing everything.”
The Baseball Assistance Team works to help poor former major-leaguers with money. Leyritz’s case is coming up for a vote in a couple of days, but he’s worried. He lost most of his money in a divorce, and now his ex-wife has had to move back in to help with expenses and the kids. That has been plenty awkward, especially since he is dating for the first time since the accident.
”My opening line hasn’t been the best,” he says, then pretends to flirt: “You need to listen to me breathe into a machine just to start my car. You can have a drink with me but don’t kiss me because I can’t have it on my lips. I don’t know what my future is, either. Oh, yeah, and my ex-wife is at the house. And I have no job and can’t pay for dinner.”
Of having his new girlfriend over and his ex-wife in the other room, he says, “My Jerry Springer moment.”
He had jobs doing those things before the accident. Had rented homes here and in New York. A daily radio show. Did fantasy camps and clinics. Speaking engagements. He would get $1,500 to $3,000 dollars just to go up to a suite during Yankees games and sit around with fans for two innings while taking pictures and autographing photos of his most famous home run. The requirement was that he stay for just two innings, but he usually would stay for six or seven because he likes people and telling stories. He had a deal with an athletic company and had just completed some infomercials for an international real-estate company.
”I was going to be the Eric Estrada of Costa Rica,” he says. “All that’s gone now.”
Not to make light of a serious tragedy (more so for the dead woman’s family), but there’s got to be some motivational fodder here. If a bald, penniless, washed-up jock facing a felony conviction can land a date WITH HIS EX-WIFE ON THE COUCH, there’s hope for every lonely person. Not much hope, but some.
I should’ve linked to Ronni’s latest backyard chat prior to the Mets’ current 10 game road trip, but presumably the club’s recent injury woes, baserunning mistakes, harsh treatment of Ryan Church and heroics in Boston (well, prior to this afternoon, anyway) will provide the Bard Of DIY Sports Commentary with ample material.
Sad to say, but one time Little League star Danny Almonte’s best hope of playing professional baseball might come as a mid-season signing for one of the many independent league clubs whose funny nicknames and offensive promotions dot the sporting landscape. As the New York Daily News’ Julian Garcia explains, Bronx product Almonte is “running out of time.”
Though Almonte has torn up junior college ball with the Western Oklahoma State Pioneers, scouts have shied away from him, partly because he’s no longer the fresh-faced teenager with the golden arm that he was when he played at Monroe High in the Bronx.
“He’s kind of old now,” said one scout. “There are guys in the major leagues who are 22.”
The lefthander whose 70mph Little League fastball was the equivalent of a 92 mph big-league heater is no longer a flamethrower. His fastball has rarely reached the 90s, more often hitting the mid-to-upper 80s. He also throws a curveball and a changeup but doesn’t have the eye-opening “stuff” that scouts are looking for.
One scout who monitors talent in the Southwest said that even though Almonte’s pitching numbers are impressive, most players he competes against are significantly younger than he is – just like the old days. Eight years ago, Almonte was found to be 14 years old – not 12, as he had purported to be – in the Little League World Series, forcing his team to forfeit its victories.
“(He’s) a little bit old for a junior college player so I would say if the right team saw him on the right day, he may have a chance to get drafted. But he’s more of a free-agent sign type guy for most teams,” said the scout. “Obviously with any player, as you get older your window starts to close, but especially a guy like him. At least for me, he’s not really a prospect at this time.”
Just before Williams’ precision in-bounds assist for the electrocuting 3-point shocker, I was wondering if a Coach of the Year had ever been fired the same season he was honored.
For some incomprehensible reason, Orlando’s befuddled coach potato decided not to have 6-foot-10 Rashard Lewis jump in front of the 6-1 Williams while he was trying to inbound to James — “option A, B, C and D,” according to Williams.
Apparently, the Frozen One blew off that Tactics & Techniques class while studying under Pat Riley. Evidently, his father didn’t share all his coaching secrets with Stan and Jeff at the dinner table. Obviously, the Lamar Odom-Anthony Carter-Trevor Ariza steal sequence in Game 1 of the Nuggets-Lakers matchup escaped his keen observation.
I’m just wondering at what point after LeBron’s shot went in did The Frozen One realize he’d accomplished the unachievable and cost the Magic a conference final victory in a single, solitary second? How long afterward did it occur to him or did someone else point it out? Dwight Howard? Owner Rich DeVos? GM Otis Smith? Shaq?
A big dose of Calm The Fuck Down Pills (image culled from New York Sports Dog, courtesy The Eddie Kranepool Society). Agonizing over the blown save (to first ballot Hall Of Famer Omir Santos) is one thing, but there’s already a gang of umpires patrolling the field at Fenway. The next time this jackass makes a move for the first base line while the opposing team is in the field, he oughta be ejected, fined or tased.
Slightly more amazing than the above individual impersonating Food Network host / TGI Friday’s pitchman Guy Fieri is the celeb chef’s own network calling the doppelgänger “a slightly older, more bloated version…the imposter left no stone unturned, and mastered Guy’s smugness and air of faux superiority. He even had on one of Guy’s hideous Knuckle Sandwich wristbands, for heaven’s sake.”
(KORRECTION KORNER : the website Food Network Humor is not affiliated with the Food Network. My apologies to gourmands and humorists alike. )
When it comes to torture, there are few persons more qualified than the T-Wolves’ Mark Madsen. Between his dancing and his blogging, he’s been torturing the public for years. As such, the Mad Dog opined this week that perhaps there’s something out of whack when the likes of Barry Bonds, Miguel Tejada and Roger Clemens are held to a higher standard of truthiness when quizzed by the Feds than our own elected officials .
If the statements made to Congress must be accurate and true and if suspicion of those statements leads to hearings, should the statements made by Congress members themselves also be subject to rigorous treatment?
Last week, water-boarding came up in the National media. I read and listened to various statements from Republicans, Democrats and the CIA and there appear to be some major discrepancies. I really want to know what happened because to me this is an important issue.
If we can spend millions of dollars investigating professional athletes and trying to determine whether their statements are truthful, surely we can invest the time and resources to determine if there is a systematic breakdown between the CIA and our elected officials. Do we hold our elected officials to the same standard as we hold professional athletes? Steroid use is not a good thing, but I would hope that we can all agree that torture, national security, and the checks and balances put into place to prevent these types of problems are perhaps at least equally important as the steroid issue
….the results couldn’t have been any worse for Orlando. And while there’s a lack of consensus on the TNT set, perhaps if Stan Van Gundy had it all to do over again, he’d put more than one body on James in this instance. With one second remaining and Williams inbounding, who’s gonna get the ball? Probably not Zydrunas Ilgauskas. And if a wide open Lithuanin hits an improbable game-winner or ties it up at the of regulation, I suspect you live with that finish. As it stands, the Magic had a chance to deny the shot if not the ball to the most dangerous player left in these playoffs. Other than that, they didn’t play a poor 47 minutes and 59 seconds of basketball.
Readers with strong Google skills and stronger judgment issues could probably find the manifesto-style piece I wrote about the Los Angeles Clippers for my college paper. I’m not going to link to it here, but I know it’s out there, and I know a fairly passionate case is made for this guy as someone who can help the Clippers, and that the semiotic significance of the team using Anthony Avent a lot gets addressed with all the hungover seriousness I brought to fucking everything when I was 21. It’s a masterwork. So masterful a masterwork, in fact, that…yeah, not linking to it.
Anyway, the Clips neither warranted nor received much respect at my Los Angeles-area school, where the locals grew up cheering for the Lakers — who actually, you know, won games and had decent players — and everyone else who cared couldn’t fathom cheering for a Clippers team that lost, often and generally in the most unappealing of ways. These were the worst old days: a sad-looking Lamar Odom dishing to a pale, jittery Pete Chilcutt while Eric Piatkowski and Darrick Martin stood around the 3-point line clapping their hands and demanding the ball. On the bench, Michael Olowokandi solemnly consumed plates of wings. Keith Closs blew his salary getting profane tattoos in places easily visible to kids, and later was videotaped getting beaten up by a group of people outside a club. Avent and Tyrone Nesby and earnest discussions on the Clips message board I frequented about how the team needed to give free-agent-to-be Maurice Taylor a max deal to prove that they were serious. Of course I cheered for these guys.
Besides final and undeniable proof of my sports-fan masochism, though, the most notable wisdom I gained from my Clips experience, was that the true villain of the endless, slow-motion tragicomedy that is this franchise is one Donald Sterling, the fantastically feckless mogul/goof who is generally regarded as the worst owner in American professional sports. In the most recent ESPN the Magazine, Peter Keating gives The Donald the full exposé treatment, complete with examples of Sterling’s casual racism, grope-and-grunt way with the ladies, ultra-craven business practices and general oleaginous creepery. It’s hard to know where to excerpt. It’s a long piece, but eminently worth reading and not exactly lacking in rubbernecky highlights or cameos from the D-grade celebs Sterling hangs out with (Pia Zadora’s car makes an appearance and Penitentiary star Leon Isaac Kennedy has a nice speaking part). Let’s go with this, though:
At his best, Sterling can make you believe anything is possible. He has an infectious grin, boyish enthusiasm and a propensity for hugs and shoulder rubs. His willingness to say everything with conviction can seem downright Clintonian, but it also registers as optimistic. “I thought there was no way the Clippers were going to match the contract I signed with the Heat in 2003. I was in the Mandarin Oriental Hotel in Miami when Donald Sterling called,” says Elton Brand. “He said, ‘I love you, I love Elton Brand.’ I was surprised but honored. He honestly feels what he feels at that time.”
But Sterling also uses his wealth and power like many other rich and powerful men: to impose his eccentricities on others. When dining out, Sterling has on occasion recommended meals for his guests without ordering anything for himself, forcing them to then share with him. He once invited a draft pick to his Beverly Hills mansion, then conducted the meeting wearing only a bathrobe. He also regularly makes large contributions to charities — like the Special Olympics — and then when the groups honor him, he takes out self-congratulatory newspaper ads. “Sterling desperately wants people to believe he’s a good person, and if they don’t, it drives him crazy,” says a lawyer who knows him. “But he also just can’t get out of his own way…”
The people who work for Sterling and live in his buildings who say they bear the worst of his unconventional behavior. For years he has run semianonymous ads (crude design jobs he reportedly mocks up himself) seeking “hostesses” for Clippers events and his private parties. In a Times ad last summer, Sterling’s company solicited “attractive females” to bring a résumé and photo to his address, where employees reviewed their looks. Some of the women who have gone through this process found it humiliating. “Working for Donald Sterling was the most demoralizing, dehumanizing experience of my life,” says a hostess from the 1990s who says she helped set up “cattle calls” to find other women to work the job. “He asked me for seminude photos and made it clear he wanted more.”
Posting earlier today as “The Flunkster Dude,” Ridder (above) wrote that he appreciated that afternoon’s season-ticket-holder conference call, conducted by GM Larry Riley, team president Robert Rowell and broadcaster Bob Fitzgerald.
“I actually enjoyed the call and appreciate their honesty,” the Flunkster Dude wrote.
As PR director, Ridder was heavily involved in setting up the call, in large part to stem the tide of recent negative publicity about the Warriors’ front-office decisions and the shedding of former executive VP Chris Mullin.
After the afternoon posting, there was an immediate uproar on the WW.net site when the site managers revealed that they had traced the comment’s IP address to the Warriors offices.
“It was 100% me,” Ridder said without hesitation when I reached him by phone. “I’ll take 100% responsibility, if anybody thinks I did anything wrong,” Ridder said. “It was completely on my own. I’ve never been told to do anything by anybody here. It was just me.
“It was nothing malicious at all. I just wanted to get the conversation going in a positive direction–I thought we had a good conference call, I had some good conversations with some season-ticket-holders, then I got to my office and I looked on the internet and all I saw was negative comments, complaints, nothing positive.
“From my standpoint, I just wanted to get some positive things going. When I saw all the negative comments, I wanted to chime in. That’s all.”
Ridder also confirmed that he has posted four other comments to WW.net anonymously defending management or otherwise trying to get the conversation going in “a positive direction.”
None of the comments criticized Mullin (in fact, a comment about the Jamal Crawford trade ended with “Nice job Mully!”), despite the growing division between Rowell/Cohan and Mullin. None of the comments criticized a player.
Other than one negative comment about Matt Steinmetz and a general mention of “what we read in the newspaper,” none of the Ridder comments single out a media member for rebuke.
Replies WarriorsWorld’s James Venes, “This is what we get under Cohan and Rowell, a dysfunctional front office more concerned about their image on a fan site (which we already knew they followed) than improving the team. The solution, aside from Cohan and Rowell leaving for good, is simple: fix the team and the rest will follow. As disappointed as I was to learn Ridder made the post (I think everyone’s entitled to a goof or two), none of this would have happened if it wasn’t for the people above him.”
The Rays says they took a gamble on the Al Lang waterfront location when it was first proposed in November 2007. It was the cheapest site to build on and team officials hoped a stylized stadium and iconic roof would lure people and businesses downtown.
Support for the project, marginal at best even in its infancy, began to fully erode once the team postponed indefinitely a November 2008 referendum on the proposal.
Demographic information trickled out supporting a location further north and skepticism grew about the design of the proposed roof – which would have not been fully enclosed like Tropicana Field.
“I think they thought everyone would fall in love with their idea, and we didn’t,” said City Council member and mayoral candidate Jamie Bennett, who is proposing an amendment to the City Charter to protect Al Lang Field from public development.
The city is in the process of rezoning the site as parkland and will consider a 75-foot height limit. City Council members could approve both measures next month.
Those who fought the plan most aggressively cheered the Rays’ retreat on Friday.
“It’s very good,” said Hal Freedman, who founded the group Preserve Our Wallets and Waterfront. “Our aim was to preserve both the waterfront and taxpayer wallets. Not having the waterfront stadium goes a long way to one of our two goals.”
Responding to rumors Spanish teen PG Ricky Rubio doesn’t wanna end up in Memphis or Oklahoma City (and basketball reasons aside, who can blame him about the latter), Pro Basketball News’ Sam Amico says of Rubio’s agent Dan Feigen, ” just know that snakes have been known to grow legs just to get up and run when they see him coming.” Though acknowledging Rubio is said to be “quick and intelligent with the ball”, Amico warns, “everyone was saying similar things about Sarunas Jasikevicius several years back.”
Jasikevicius (avove) came to the NBA and proved to be a great guy with good basketball skills. But there are a lot of those types around the world who simply aren’t meant to play in the league (i.e. Yi Jianlian).
A lot of international players have trouble adapting to American culture, greasy food, the way the game is played, the absurd amounts of money and just becoming a member of the steak-and-jet set.
Granted, Jasikevicius was more or a less a jump shooter who got hot during the world championships, while Rubio teamed with the likes of Pau Gasol and Rudy Fernandez, and more than held his own. It’s clear, Rubio is a more poised, steady player than Jasikevicius ever was.
At the same time, Jasikevicius came to the NBA as a player in his late 20s, and someone who had experience playing in the U.S. as a collegian at Maryland. Rubio has never been the teammate of an American-bred NBA star before. And that takes some adjusting. Just ask American-bred point guards who starred in high school or college in America. The wing players and big men want the ball, man. And you had better get it to them.
Fegan tried this same routine with Yi Jianlian and Milwaukee — and after drafting Yi, the Bucks relented after a season and traded him to New Jersey. Now the Nets can’t wait to get rid of him.
Years ago, former NBA guard Steve Francis said he didn’t want to play for the then-Vancouver Grizzlies. So he spent the majority of his career hogging the ball in Houston before fizzling out when someone finally expected him to act like a winner.
Clearly, Stevie Franchise’s problem was making the transition from the European climate of College Park, MD to the steak-and-jet-set scene of Houston, TX.
The official statement reads: “Liverpool Football Club totally condemns the comments regarding the Hillsborough disaster made by the radio and TV broadcaster Steve Cohen.
“Mr Cohen has obviously never taken the time to read the Taylor Report which stated clearly that ticketless fans were not a contributory factor or responsible for the events of that day.
“To use the 20th anniversary of the disaster to repeat false claims about Liverpool fans (which Mr Cohen first broadcast and then apologised for in 2006) is even more unacceptable.”
Though Cohen has recently made a public apology, his handling of this mess compares unfavorably, in my opinion, to a certain Norwich radio host being taken to task for his own ill-advised remarks.
…there’s a bunch of jerks running the show at the Nu Stadium. And while that really shouldn’t pass for news, the Daily News’ resident Gallagher lookalike considers himself the last line of defense between the fans and overwrought Yankee hyperbole (”Why dwell on the collection of high rollers, separated by a concrete moat from the heathens who can only afford $400 tickets, when you can write about Nick Swisher’s DJ stylings, the Yankees’ kangaroo court, the suddenly loose Joe Girardi, Johnny Damon’s toy wrestling belt and back-to-back-to-back home runs?”)
Monday, following the Yankees 7-6 win over Minnesota, John Gordon (above, left), the radio voice of the Twins and former Yankees broadcaster, attempted to get on the team bus parked in a tunnel underneath the Stadium. Security personnel blocked his path and would not let him enter.
When Gordon informed them he was a Twins broadcaster (this is his 23rd season) and presented a proper credential, he was told to take a hike. He still couldn’t get on the bus. Security informed Gordon he needed to be “escorted” on by the team. Gordon headed back to the Twins clubhouse where some of the player’s wives, who were on the road trip, had congregated. They asked Gordon if he could help them gain entry to the bus. Stadium security had bum-rushed the ladies, too.
So, Gordon and the wives were forced to wait about an hour before the players left the clubhouse and walked them all on to the bus.
Nonetheless it seems security does not take the same rigid stance with everyone – like ESPN’s mouthy Chris Berman. Monday, he was seen walking around the Yankees clubhouse like he owned the place. Berman was big-timing to the max, strolling into areas clearly marked “no media allowed beyond this point.” Perhaps Berman thought the sign did not apply to him because it did not read “no clowns allowed beyond this point.”
Controversial former Washington State Cougar Quarterback Ryan Leaf has been indicted by a Texas Grand Jury on multiple charges.
(ED NOTE: Really? “Controversial”? For what, exactly?)
Leaf, according to KGTV in San Diego, has been indicted on seven counts of obtaining a controlled substance by fraud, one count of delivery of a simulated controlled substance, and one count of burglary of a habitation.
Leaf was into his third year of serving as the quarterbacks coach for West Texas A & M Football Team last November when, according to ESPN, he was placed on indefinite leave at his request after it was discovered he had asked a student for a pill to help “deal with pain in his wrist dating to his NFL playing days.”
