…you’re a way bigger masochist than me. I’d say it beats following New York’s Number One’s worked feud with sundry CBS Sports Radio hosts, but honestly, said spat requires far less time investment, so it’s preferable for that reason alone.
…you’re a way bigger masochist than me. I’d say it beats following New York’s Number One’s worked feud with sundry CBS Sports Radio hosts, but honestly, said spat requires far less time investment, so it’s preferable for that reason alone.
OK, the above doesn’t entirely reflect the sentiments or words of New York Post sports media critic Phil Mushnick, but while Phil offers no defense for Colin Cowherd’s most recent ill-advised remarks, he does suggest ESPN’s haste in silencing the morning radio host reflects a decided double standard, one
“only for dopes and/or the unfamiliar to buy.”
If Cowherd could not be suffered, the lowest, most vulgar, most women-trashing, weapons-worshipping, N-wording rappers have long been beckoned by ESPN as this Disney network’s most cherished, promoted sports pals!
How quick and eager would ESPN boss John Skipper be to publicly recite the lyrics of ESPN’s embraced rappers? Or give an on-air biographical rundown of steady favorite Snoop Dogg, including his arrest record and details of his porn videos? As eager as Skipper was to jettison Cowherd?
What’s FOX now to do? How can it now kill Cowherd’s deal when last week it proudly promoted the viewer numbers for FS1 host Katie Nolan, who’s so socially sensitive that she smugly uses expressions such as “get laid” and mocks sufferers of Tourette’s syndrome?
Such are the terms of Nolan’s “one of the guys” employment and hopeful appeal, so how can FOX now rule Cowherd out of bounds?
Saturday’s 15-2 drubbing of the visiting Dodgers left the New York Mets with a 50-48 record, 3 games behind the NL East leading Nationals and 3 1/2 trailing the Giants in the race for the second NL Wild Card spot (with the Cubs a half game back of SF). Even with the call up of highly touted debutante Michael Conforto (above) and Friday’s acquisitions of infielders Kelly Johnson and Juan Uribe, who exactly looks at the Mets batting order and says, “this team is thoroughly equipped to overtake the Nats or the defending World Champs?” A : The New York Post’s Steve Serby, who insists the arrival of Johnson and Uribe constitute, “a badly needed psychological boost in the stands and in the dugout.” Though admitting, “none of the moves will remind Mets romantics of the arrivals of Gary Carter, Keith Hernandez or Mike Piazza” (NO SHIT, STEVE), he’s also quick to declare skipper Terry Collins has “64 games to pick up the pace and go get that elusive playoff berth and quite possibly save his job.”
Even now, without one additional professional bat, Alderson can make the argument if he so chooses that he threw Collins, virtually naked in the water and on the verge of drowning, a life raft, and it is up to the manager to sink or swim with what he has the rest of the way.
The statue of limitations is hereby over on I Managed Good, But Boy, Did They Play Bad.
Given Alderson’s revelation in the book “Baseball Maverick” that he pondered firing Collins last summer, you would have to conclude that it is Playoffs-Or-Bust this summer for his lame-duck manager, who is a fighter who has always welcomed any and all challenges.
With better options at his disposal, Collins has the delicate task of playing grand chess master, moving pieces around, resting the right players at the right time in the right positions.
Though I’m not typically in the habit of defending Terry Collins, it’s the height of hysteria to suggest that by adding a pair of veteran role players, TC has been gifted a highly competitive lineup, one that strikes fear in the heart of opposing NL pitching staffs. If Conforto can really stick around at the big league level, that’s fantastic, but it doesn’t diminish the damage done by the Michael Cuddyer signing, the abject lack of production from John Mayberry Jr., and squandering what little power the Mets’ punchless lineup has by installing Curtis Granderson as the leadoff hitter. The architect of this not-quite-Murderous Row is not Terry Collins, but rather, Sandy Alderson, who must realize that for the first 4 months of the 2015 season, he did far less than than give Collins and an astonishing (mostly assembled by Omar Minaya) pitching staff the best opportunity to win.
(image swiped from the Twitter feed of Benjamin Hochman). What Mr. Rocker lacks in IQ he certainly tries to make up for with chutzpah. And imagine this inspiration this might provide for Jim Leyritz’ autograph sales.
As you’ve probably read elsewhere, departing ESPN Radio morning host Colin Cowherd scoffed at the notion field management was beyond Marlins skipper Dan Jenning’s skill-set, reminding listeners there’s quite a few Dominican players in MLB. Reaction to Cowherd’s ugly insinuation came quickly, and on Friday, ESPN announced that Cowherd — allegedly heading to Fox — need not show up for his final 6 broadcasts. Said edict came on the heels of Cowherd issuing the following apology, one Awful Announcing’s Matt Yoder notes reads an awful lot like Hulk Hogan’s :
I did not intend to offend anyone w my comments. I realize my choice of words was poor and not reflective of who I am. I am sorry.
— Colin Cowherd (@ESPN_Colin) July 24, 2015
Given that Cowherd’s brand of contrived controversy is hugely dependent on offending somebody at any given moment, can he really claim that wasn’t his intent? Likewise, for Cowherd to claim it’s out of character for him to smear Dominicans, keep in mind this is the same guy whose resume includes calling John Wall the product of poor parenting, bragging he could shut one sports site down, and conversely, plagiarizing from another.
Still, who’d have thought Keith Olbermann would end up outlasting Cowherd at ESPN, even if by just one day?
Russia’s Football Union — already stung by claims they’re less than concerned about racism in their country’s top flight soccer league — are left to explain the conduct of CSKA Moscow’s winning representative in the annual “Miss Charming” beauty contest, 21-year-old Olga Kuzkova. From The Guardian :
Officials stripped Kuzkova of her title after it emerged she had made a series of racist social media postings, including one showing her performing a Nazi salute while standing in front of a wall covered in Nazi graffiti.
Sergei Cheban, the league’s executive director, told the Sport Express newspaper: “We do not tolerate manifestations of fascism, nationalism and racism. It is unfortunate that it happened. However, I beg people to understand the situation and the person. When we are young we all make mistakes, sometimes going the wrong way. Who is not without sin?
“Some errors are corrected easily, some are more difficult. I would be happy if this story will help Olga deal with her outlook on life. Olga herself told me that she was ready to give up the title after what happened, because of the shadow cast on CSKA and its fans. I replied that she did not need to be hasty, but in the end, we consulted with members of the jury and decided to withdraw the award.”
Probably not, anyway. Three-time Tour de France winner Greg LeMond — no fan of Armstrong’s — has turned his attention to the rumored scourge of miniature motors being used in competitive cycling. From DC Sports Bog’s Marissa Payne :
“I believe it’s been used in racing, I believe it’s been used sometimes in the Grand Tours,” LeMond told the Associated Press on Wednesday. He did not specify whether he thought any riders in this year’s iteration of the race have been using the technology, but he did accuse the sport’s governing body of “not doing enough” to ensure racers don’t use the technology. He said the International Cycling Union’s (UCI) pre-race equipment checks are “fluff” and “all words.”
UCI President Brian Cookson, however, says his team takes all accusations of cheating seriously, including “mechanical doping” as it’s coming to be known.
“We understand that although this subject sometimes causes amusement and derision we know that the technology is available: we have seen examples of it in laboratory conditions,” Cookson told AFP last week after Cedric Vasseur, a former cyclist-turned-analyst on French television, commented Tour de France leader Chris Froome’s bike looked to be “pedaling itself.”
“We’ve done some testing already for concealed motors,” Cookson said. But the testing has only been done periodically.
…or George O’Leary. Fair play to Dangerous Minds for uncovering an actual auction house’s efforts to sell a resume touting the work experience of one G.G. Allin to the highest bidder, but I think they’re slightly missing the point. People tend to embellish this stuff all the time; for instance, my last resume claimed I was the founder of the Guardian Angels.
The Geege, however, is uncharacteristically modest. For instance, had the self-proclaimed Madman Of Manchester (NH) mentioned he was once labelmates with David Peel, lord knows that kind of doors would’ve opened. If only all job seekers were nearly this ethical.
Every wanted to hear Kareem Abdul-Jabbar cover The Meatmen’s “I’m Glad I’m Not A Girl”? Though that’s probably not happening anytime soon, the Bucks/Lakers great-turned-ace social critic (above, far left) considers the creepy scrutiny afforded Serena Williams recently and argues, “we have established a definition of beauty so narrow that almost no one can live up to it.” From Abdul-Jabbar in Time.com :
The typical American woman spends about $15,000 on makeup over a lifetime (if that same money were invested into a retirement plan, it would give her about $100,000 at age 70). Even though Americans spend the most on cosmetics in the world, we are ranked only 23rd in one list of “satisfaction with life.” In a futile effort to fit this mythical ideal of beauty, millions of American women torture their feet with high heels, undergo unnecessary cosmetic surgeries, starve themselves, and make themselves physically and mentally miserable—all over an imaginary ideal they didn’t even create.
Some of the body shaming of athletic black women is definitely a racist rejection of black women’s bodies that don’t conform to the traditional body shapes of white athletes and dancers. No one questions the beauty of black actresses such as Kerry Washington (Scandal) or Lupita Nyong’o (12 Years a Slave) because they fit the lithe image perpetuated by women’s fashion magazines. The body shaming of Serena Williams is partly because she don’t fit the Western ideal of femininity. But another cause is our disrespectful ideal of the feminine body in general.
The bigger issue here is the public pressure regarding femininity, especially among our athletes. It’s a misogynist idea that is detrimental to professional women athletes and to all the young girls who look up to these women as role models because it can stifle their drive to excellence, not only on the playing field, but in other aspects of life.
New Jersey aside, I do not believe Whitney Houston’s passing was marked this way. Maybe Curt is mistaking her for Whitney Cummings?
Have you spent the summer wondering why Phil Jackson would provide LeBron James with a measure of depth in the form of J.R. Smith and Iman Shumpert for so little return? Me neither, but the New York Post’s Tim Bontemps quotes former Jackson associate Charlie Rosen as claiming the Knicks club president saw little value to keeping either player :
Jackson had previously met individually with all three of his shooting guards — Smith, Shumpert and Tim Hardaway, Jr. — all of whom were playing below expectations. Jackson said Hardaway appeared to respond to some of the things discussed, but talks with Smith and Shumpert didn’t seem to resolve anything.
“We talked about [Smith’s] statement to the press that our shooting-guard depth was going to be the team’s asset, but so far it hadn’t worked out that way,” Jackson said. “He was supposed to carry the scoring load for the second unit and he wasn’t doing the job. I also said that because of his unacceptable behavior, he had two strikes against him with this team. He didn’t really respond. He’s a very sensitive guy, with his big doe eyes. He looked like he was going to tear up. But he finally responded that he was going through some issues with his gal.”
As for his meeting with Shumpert, Jackson said, “After he suffered a hip injury in Dallas, his game went rapidly downhill. Did he have any other issues to explain his decline? He said, ‘No. I don’t know what has gone wrong with my game.’ As with J. R., nothing got resolved.”
Book courtesy Meghan Smith. At 12 scoreless innings and counting, don’t think I’ve not considered conversion.
The above words of wisdom come from the instagram feed of actor/director/producer Peter Berg, who somehow believes honoring Caitlyn Jenner with an ESPY award does a disservice to America’s WOUNDED WARRIORS.
First of all , debating the ESPY’s is only slightly more embarrassing than giving a fuck about the People’s Choice Awards — one could argue there’s some greater insult in making anyone, let alone a limbless veteran, attend the ceremonies. But considering Berg’s super thin resume — other than making the world safe for Explosions In The Sky and getting his ass kicked by Linda Fiorentino in “The Last Seduction”, he’s responsible for formulaic shit — maybe it’s time for ESPN to launch “The Peter Berg Cowardice Award” in time for next July’s broadcast?
So it seems the co-founder of Keller-Williams Realty —a company that has profited wildly from Austin’s population/property boom — has plans to launch a highly touted “music incubator”, in which area musicians have access to rehearsal rooms, meeting areas, even a performance space, at little or no cost. In short, they’re promising to do what Spot Long and Trailer Space have been doing for years (except these real estate assholes want a fuckin’ parade).
The mooted “All ATX Music Factory” (WORD UP : ONLY TOOLS THINK “ATX” MAKES THEIR BRAND SOUND COOL) could well be a tremendous boon for aspiring Quiet Companies and similar Star Search hopefuls. And good for them, I’m sure their parents are very proud. But whether it means dick for, y’know, artists anyone’s gonna remember in 10 years is a harder question to answer. It might well depend on whether not such an endeavor is inclusive of musicians who aren’t gonna be tapped for a McDonald’s commercial anytime soon.
Until that’s been determined, can we please can the “incubator” talk? There are bands that need real assistance who are already full formed/realized as performers and recording artists. They just can’t afford to live here. They certainly don’t need their hair stroked by a huge real estate firm to confer legitimacy.
Spray Paint are 4 albums into for-real all-time-greats body of work. This was accomplished without the patronage of any real estate outfits, dot coms or even a shred of acknowledgment from the city’s biggest venues, festivals or an NPR affiliate that feigns a passing interest in quality local music. Not once have I wondered, “how much better would these guys be if only they had access to a real incubator?”
Look, if you’ve made a shit ton of money and you wanna do something useful, please, pay to get in, buy some records and support the places that cultivate those (otherwise dying) cultures. But when you start using a real, vibrant community as a branding prop, when you start likening musicians to babies, chickens (or worse, new app developers), excuse me if I’m a little suspicious that it isn’t just gonna result in the same super bland garbage the town’s best bands stand in stark opposition to.
A solitary red seat in a sea of green plastic in Fenway Park’s right field grandstand marks the spot where Ted Williams 502 foot HR landed on June 9, 1946. Quizzed by the Boston Globe’s Alex Speier, Red Sox DH David Ortiz expressed doubts (“the red seat? Cough – bullhshit – cough”) Williams (or anyone else) could hit a ball that far :
“I don’t think anyone has ever hit one there,” said Ortiz. “I went up there and sat there one time. That’s far, brother. Listen, do you see the No. 1 [Bobby Doerr’s retired uniform number on the façade above the right field grandstand]? I hit that one time. You know how far it is to that No. 1 from the plate? Very far. And you know how far that red seat is from the No. 1? It’s 25 rows up still. That’s the farthest I’ve ever hit the ball right there, and no one else has gotten to the No. 1 . . . The closest one that I have ever seen — I remember a day game, I hit a ball in that tunnel. But still — I crushed one and it wasn’t even close to that.”
Yet the historical record is fairly clear. The front page of the Boston Globe on June 10, 1946, featured a picture of Joseph Boucher holding the straw hat that Ted Williams’s blast punctured while he sat in the famous seat.
While a lot of gutless, easy-to-please ballplayers would waste generic platitudes on the majesty and wonder of being selected to represent their last place club in the Midsummer Classic, leave in to Philly closer Jonathan Papelbon to use the occasion to address a subject of universal concern : ie. his desire to finish the season with a contender.
Serena Williams won her 6th Wimbledon singles title yesterday, her 21st major championship and a victory earned amidst weird contemplation of her body size rather than her greatness, to say nothing of uglier responses. In the view of the Guardian’s Bryan Graham, “only Floyd Mayweather can offer an adequate, if unlikely, comparison to Serena’s sustained dominance and unapologetic blackness,” (“we are lucky to be living in the age of Serena Williams. Only in time will it become stupidly obvious, a cultural truism, a trajectory not unlike Ali’s path from enemy of the state and champion of the disenfranchised to universally acknowledged icon”) :
Both Mayweather and Williams turned professional in the mid-1990s and almost immediately soared to the top of unforgiving individual sports, where competitors exist in an unsparingly exposed state and all but the strongest of mind and body wash out. Both have gone about their work with a rugged individualism, supplementing divine natural gifts with untold hours of hard work and dedication behind the scenes. Both have passed the litmus test of the greatest champions, winning titles when they’re young and keeping them till they’re old: Mayweather, a world champion for more than half his adult life, while Williams has now won grand slam titles in her teens (one), twenties (12) and thirties (eight, a record).
And disproportionately broad segments of America, either privately or otherwise, want both to lose.
Yet the crucial differences between the two most dominant athletes of their generation show Serena’s getting a rawer deal. Mayweather is a serial batterer of women who actively embraces the role of race-baiting pantomime villain in the self-interest of souring the crowd to sweeten the gate, while Serena has done nothing even remotely criminal or even deliberately offensive. All she’s done is win and not be sorry for it. Those hell-bent enough to find character flaws could point to moments of iffy sportsmanship early in her career, especially after losses. Yet she’s made demonstrable strides in that area, which is even more admirable than if she’d been perfect all along because people generally don’t change. Today she’s the exemplar of grace and graciousness in victory or defeat.
HEY everybody! Meet Bear! He’s the labrador entrusted by the Hamilton County Metro Child Exploitation Task Force to sniff out hidden SD cards from the residence of a prominent submarine sandwich pitchperson. According to the The Herald Bulletin’s Rebecca R. Bibbs, Bear is just one of 4 electronics sniffing dogs employed by U.S. law enforcement. Bear’s handlers affectionately call him “the porn dog” and one describes the pooch’s pursuit of micro drives as “a fun game”.
No matter how you might feel about the police or terrible chains selling yoga mats disguised as sandwich bread, I think we can all agree this fella is SUPER CUTE and he’s well on his way to replacing Bell Environmental’s Roscoe The Bed Bug Dog as the USA’s #1 most beloved mascot / indentured servant.
Footage of Wednesday’s 14th inning brawl between the Penisula Oilers and Anchorage Bucs courtesy KTUU TV. It’s shocking stuff — who knew there was an Alaska Baseball League?
…let’s recall a fateful moment in Pacific Northwest Ice Cream History. As you might’ve heard else, Jesus Montero, deemed “arguably the greatest black mark on Jack Zduriencik’s Sisyphean quest to locate right-handed power,” by Lookout Landing’s Nathan Bishop, has been promoted from Triple A Tacoma to the parent Seattle Mariners. Said move occurs nearly 11 months after Montero made headlines after a public dispute with veteran M’s scout Butch Baccala. From The Seattle Times’ Geoff Baker (August 29, 2015) :
Montero was on a rehabilitation assignment for an oblique muscle injury with the team’s Class A short-season affiliate, the Everett AquaSox, in Boise. News reports said Baccala heckled Montero as he headed toward the team dugout between innings, then later had an ice cream sandwich sent to him in the dugout.
Upon receiving the ice cream, Montero is said to have angrily approached the stands with a baseball bat. The reports say he threw the ice cream at Baccala before being pulled away.
“We are going to separate the baseball part of Jesus Montero from the human element part of Jesus Montero,’’ Zduriencik said of the former top prospect, who spent most of the season in Class AAA and only six games with the Mariners. “Our intent is to address Jesus’ issues. There’s a history here of things that have happened. We are very, very disappointed in him.”
Baccala at first denied the ice cream sandwich story, then said he couldn’t comment one way or the other. He suggested a reporter check whether they even sell ice cream sandwiches at Memorial Stadium in Boise, where the game was played.
Todd Rahr, president and general manager of the Boise Hawks, confirmed that ice cream sandwiches are indeed sold at the ballpark during games. Rahr declined to comment further, saying it was out of respect to the Mariners organization.
Apologies for putting words in the mouth of The Nation’s Dave Zirin, while not responsible for the above headline, does advance the argument — with the ratings success of the US Women’s National Team’s World Cup triumph as a backdrop — that there’s been a major shift in the way women’s sports are watched, including but not limited to the WWE’s development arm, NXT :
While ESPN Radio self-parody Colin Cowherd says that men are stronger and better athletes and we appreciate greatness in America and that’s why men’s sports is more fun to watch, his radio contract appears in peril because fewer and fewer people care what he has to say. While academic reports are issued that show only 2 percent of SportsCenter’s coverageis devoted to women’s sports, which is discussed there by anchors with the joy and flair of kids forced to “eat their vegetables,” more and more people are choosing to get their news from different sources if the current ones don’t meet their needs.
I was recently asked to name the five individual jocks who comprise my must-see television and, without thinking about it and without trying to make any kind of grand point or bow to the winds of political correctness, three of my five choices were women: joining Steph Curry and Bryce Harper were Serena Williams, ultimate fighter Ronda Rousey, and NXT pro wrestler Sasha Banks (seriously). Shockingly, pro wrestling, which for most of its existence has treated women like the industry was just an extension of Hugh Hefner’s grotto, is writing a script—literally—that says far more about where we are than the two-minutes-a-night broccoli serving of women’s sports delivered on SportsCenter. NXT is delivering a crew of empowering, genius women athletes like Banks, Charlotte Flair, and Becky Lynch who are winning over crowds and changing the expectations of what comprises greatness in the ring. It’s almost unreal to write, but the ways that crowds respond to Banks, Flair, and Lynch speaks with greater clarity about where consciousness is among sports fans than the tired highlight shows that treat athletics like a “man cave.”
(the bad news : look who’s back in NYC. the good news : if you’re Michael Kay, see below!)
It’s ok if I call you Justin, right? I feel like we sort of know each other, what with you being the program director of ESPN’s little engine that couldn’t, WEPN FM and me being an avid NY sports radio listener going back to the days of Art Rust Jr.
I know your job isn’t easy. Heck, faced with trying to not get blown out by the ratings juggernaut that is WFAN, I am certain you have much bigger fish to fry than any controversy over a matter as trivial as who hosts a Saturday evening fill-in slot during a national holiday.
Even so, I was mystified, stunned, even that an organizations as professional and normally not tone-deaf like Disney and ESPN would lend their airwaves, even briefly, to the fraudulent, multi-time loser otherwise known (when he’s not changing his name, anyway) as Dino Costa.
Justin, you work for the most powerful company in all of sports media. I believe the term, “Worldwide Leader” might even be trademarked somewhere. As such, I would think you or your someone under your supervision would be familiar with Costa’s track record. The homophobia. The racism. The baseless attacks on former employers. The sickening remarks about the President of the United States. The bogus Twitter follower drive. The investors left shaking their heads. The suggestions that massacres in Aurora, CO and Boston, MA might’ve been “false flags”. The nationally reported instances of plagiarism.
Was there no one else in the tri-state area capable of bringing such people skills to the table? Did you really have to go to Cheyenne, WY to secure the services of a broadcaster who describes the city of New York as “a shithole”? Or was John Rocker simply too expensive?
Listen, I’m not without empathy here. Given that numerous other outlets have given Costa a chance —— before inevitably finding out the only thing uglier than his collection of sleeveless tees is his poisonous worldview and personality — you’re not the first employer to make such a mistake.
Nor am I suggesting for a second that Costa ought to be denied the right to earn a living and put food on the table of his long-suffering family. And with that in mind, I am hoping you will reconsider the decision that led to you put Dino on the air, and instead find something for him to do that not only would enhance the work environment of your more accomplished broadcasters, but be truly in Costa’s personal wheelhouse.
a loyal fan of all things ESPN,