There's Your Karma, Ripe As Peaches

Suzy Kolber Joins Appalachian Emergency Room

If I had to guess, Suzy Kolber exited the womb squinting and rocking a pixie cut, and, from then on, was compulsively clad in turtlenecks and neck scarves regardless of the temperature. Whether it's true or not, I kind of enjoy the imagery, so don't spoil it for me. In any case, I don't know how long Suzy has been around but the only thing about her that seems to change as an NFL season progresses is how just how many layers of turtlenecks and neck scarves she can wrap herself in as we get nearer to the Super Bowl. Her seemingly pathological nature with wearing those particular items is actually somewhat fascinating.

But while watching Monday Night Football tonight, she popped on the screen not only wearing some type of business suit from JC Penney but also sporting hair that made her look like a patient on Appalachian Emergency Room:

What on earth could have gone wrong? And no, being in Jacksonville is no excuse.

I know these MNF people like to sample the local flavor - crab cakes in Baltimore, barbeque in Kansas City, buffalo wings in Buffalo, and so on, but rolling down to Appalachia is no excuse to show up on national television looking like two squirrels crawled on your head, built a nest, mated and died. That's simply unacceptable.

Look Suzy, I know you're supposed to be pregnant and all but you've got to get your act together. You're on tv. You can't just be running around looking like you just walked out of a Rush concert. 2 thumbs down.

ESPN To Blame for Troy S. Myth

So while talking to a few co-workers about Troy S. Myth getting dismantled like a man kissed by death, I realized something -- all of my annoyance, anger, and (what developed into) hatred for him had been completely misguided. For the better part of a year, the mere mention of his name has left me seething. I always understood that he was a talented quarterback but he was being treated as if he was the Second Coming. To make matters worse, he'd been touted as this saintly, courageous soul, who fought through adversity to lead his team to the promised land when the reality is that he created his own by snatching booster money and engaging in random acts of jackassery. 

But like all objects of my frustration, I now see that the blame can be traced to one source: the Worldwide Leader of Hype & Bunk.

ESPN/ABC and no one else is to blame for the unending fellatio of Troy S. Myth. That boil on the arse of sports pours fanatical devotion on selected teams and players, sanitizing the corrupt and deifying the unworthy.

We can't blame Myth for the angle taken by the press any more than we can blame Ohio State for being heralded as a 20-point favorite, Notre Dame for starting the season ranked #2, or Boise State for suddenly becoming the greatest team of the modern age. Troy S. Myth didn't ask to replace Jesus as the Messiah - ESPN handled that for him while carefully crafting his Hypeman campaign. Their machine fooled the masses into thinking that a guy who was a talented college quarterback, no more and no less, was a god among men. And now that he has fallen, they have abandoned him for a new savior with a more genuine tale of lament - Chris Leak.

ESPN actively deceives the public for their own gain and then feigns ignorance when it backfires. They have created the culture that fuels the greed and frivolity of the bowl season and no one will hold them accountable. Who's going to do it? You? You, Lieutenant Weinberg? ESPN/ABC will continue on their path, destroying college football with their biased "reporting" and boosterism and we'll all sit idly by without saying a word.

Bah.

In other news, Kim Etheredge, the useless clown that fumbled spin control for Terrell Owens was unceremoniously fired yesterday. Just four months ago, I nearly found myself lending a feeling of sorrow in TO's direction but she stepped in and reminded us that there are 25 million reasons why that was unnecessary. After laughing at her plight, my buddy Coz advised that at least she has her hair care business as a plan B and that got me a'thinkin...

Etheredge is the CEO of Mixed Chicks Hair Products, which are, as one can easily infer, made for biracial women. But how did she get to become the CEO.. what was her business background? Did she simply get a business license and latch on to a product? Like Ms. Etheredge, I am already qualified to become a publicist, so what's stopping me from following her into the world of hair care products?

"But Warner, YOU aren't a mixed chick!" Ah-ha! I am a fine half and half mixture of American Indian and random European white people. I'm not Ms. Etheredge's type of mixed chick but I've got my own little minority working out here. Trouble is, there aren't too many of us running around. Even worse, is that traveling to various powwows and functions to sell my wares to the general Indian populace would be a bust... as a general rule, we have fantastic hair. Whether wavy, curly, or straight, it's always soft, silky, and packs a lustrous shine.

But what about the albinos? Constantly overlooked by the mainstream, the albinic market is, to date, completely untouched! We've gone over my issues with my hair and eyes in the past. You know about my problems. I need this! When I go to the salon, I'm entitled to have products made for people like me.. products that don't leave me looking like a tiger or zebra when I attempt to get my hair darkened. Frankly, I think I've got a winner on my hands.

I'm going to call my line of products "White Heat" - it's gonna be a whole collection of shampoos, conditioners, hair dyes, mousse, and colored contacts. And after I round up the 10,000 albinic souls running around this country, I'm gonna hawk my goods and make that paper... if things go well enough, I may be able to make enough profit to buy new tires for my Wrangler.

Huzzah!

Tony Kornheiser: Tom Brady is Like Shirley Maclaine

The Chevy Silverado commercial played at every commercial break during the baseball playoffs and four times in the first quarter of Sunday Night Football. I imagine more than a few chumps out there fell for the montage of sacred historical images set to a jingoistic soundtrack and went right out to buy themselves a truck. I suppose I can't blame GM for using flag-waving McPatriotism to force a product upon the masses because hey, it works. But that doesn't make their ad campain any less shameful and foul.

But the worst thing about the ad is that it aired literally every 5 minutes. But even after three weeks of being beaten over the head with that crap, there's still nothing that makes my ears bleed more Tony Kornheiser on Monday Night Football.

Though I mentioned this a week ago, it bears repeating -- I would rather swallow thumbtacks than suffer Kornheiser's voice. In print, he's fine. But when he speaks, it's like a shrill Larry David without the random shenanigans, sense of comedic timing, and skill for unscripted humor.

The more comfortable Kornheiser becomes in the booth, the worse he gets. Sure, he makes jokes and tosses barbs at Theismann, which, from what I understand, is the whole point of putting him in the booth. But his jokes aren't funny and the barbs (when they aren't going over Joe's head) aren't clever. To make matters worse, he has turned emphasizing the excrutiatingly obvious into an artform and may end up polishing more knob this season than I'll manage in 10.

Tonight, TK took his fellating to the next level - a truly bizarre level that I can only think was inspired by his need to show Joe Theismann just how smart he actually is.

A couple weeks ago, viewers were treated to TK's jabber about Matt Leinart's similarities to Vinnie Chase of Entourage, a show he's likely never seen. And tonight, he fell off the deep-end by comparing Tom Brady's unlikely path to glory to that of Academy-award winning actress, Shirley Maclaine.

Brady marched New England 74 yards over 11 plays for a touchdown just before halftime. While the camera focused on him during the ensuing kickoff, Kornheiser went into fellatio overdrive, noting Brady's role as the understudy who made the most of his opportunity.

It was like "Shirley Maclaine going in for Gwen Verdon in The Pajama Game, though I'm doing broadway musicals here... "In the first big shot he's got, he does as a young man, he wins the super bowl... He's a legend in his own time... He's Paul Revere up there right now."

Forget the Paul Revere comment; it's one of the stupidest things I've ever heard but not annoying enough for me to throw down multiple paragraphs of rant. I have other concerns... well, they're concerns if you're a girl with way too much useless knowledge or a guy who's really into showtunes (and you know who you are). I'm speaking to an incredibly small group right now, and I know that. Bear with me.

Kornheiser has long insisted that he knows nothing about football, so I won't begrudge him making allusions to comparitive situations occuring in other aspects of life. But if you're going to take that road, do us all a favor and get it right.

As sophisticated as you were trying to pretend you were, Tony, Gwen Verdon wasn't in The Pajama Game! Shirley Maclaine was the understudy to Carol Haney in that musical and it was Haney's broken ankle that allowed Maclaine the exposure to get her Paramount contract and become a star. The only time Gwen Verdon took time off from the stage was for the birth of a child. And when she returned, she starred as Charity in Sweet Charity and that musical was eventually made into a movie starring Shirley Maclaine.

Now, I know you don't think anyone watching Monday Night Football actually knows anything about Broadway but there are a few of us out there. And if you're gonna go out of your way act like a tool, get the facts straight before you run your mouth.

Perhaps Kornheiser should bring Tony Reali along for the Oakland-Seattle game. I'm sure he'd have no problem pulling a double shift as Stat Boy once a week.

"Next day on your dressing room they've hung a star, but there's no business like show business." - Tony Kornheiser, screwing up Irving Berlin's famous lyrics, after being bashed by Mike Tirico.

Larry Bowa Remembers Cory Lidle... or Not

In ESPN's endless coverage of the Cory Lidle tragedy, it looks like they forgot to follow up on one little detail...

Once again, ESPN, nice lookin out. 

ESPN Can't Find a Comb for Eric Byrnes?

I'm going to preface this brief post by saying that Eric Byrnes seems like a really good guy. I watched him and Barry Zito play some shoddy "how well do you know your teammate" game on ESPN a couple summers ago and he told the host that Zito's most odd physical feature was his "womanly, child-bearing hips."

When told of the comment later, Zito blushed and Byrnes giggled like a 15-year-old who knows you're about to sit on a whoopee cushion.

It was cute. I was amused.

But this, boys and girls, is neither amusing nor cute!

(Picture Courtesy of GC at Can't Stop the Bleeding)

Look, I get that Byrnes is probably a free-spirit mountain man type. He probably likes to ride four wheelers around the tundra, eat hearty stews, and thumb through the North Face catalog for the latest in rugged gear. And when you're a guy like this, taming your unkempt locks probably goes against your principles. That's fair.

But when your agent says, "Hey Eric, you're gonna go to ESPN and share your opinions during the playoffs as the resident player/analyst," you make yourself presentable.

You don't want a haircut? Fine. You don't want any mousse or gel or styling product that'll have you looking like Barry Melrose? Okay. But look like you bathed. Look like there isn't a nest of bees hiding behind your right ear. Look like you didn't just wander off the set of Harry and the Hendersons.

I hate to be harsh here, Eric, but we've got to do better. 

As for ESPN, nice lookin out! For years they've managed to tone down Stuart Scott's dead eye from freakish to unnerving, hide Chris Berman's dorsal fin and Killer Whale markings, and make Tony Reali look more like a human being instead of a plastic man.

They clearly care about the appearance of people on their programs. With Byrnes showing up like this, do they mean to tell us that no one on the set was able to pass him a comb, brush, pick, or even a barrette over the commercial break? Now, maybe they tried and it got stuck or broke off at the handle.. I suppose I can accept that. But when I tune in tomorrow, my hope is that they'll have done their due diligence and fixed this issue.

Having said that, when has anyone in Bristol done their due diligence?

All we (or maybe I since I might be the only person caring about this) can really hope is that Eric Byrnes has a girlfriend who bothered to tune in to watch her man in his analyst debut. I can't imagine she was anything other than horrified and embarrassed and will have this turned around in short order.

That is, unless, she's into the Neanderthal thing.

Do You Take Lee Corso Seriously?

I was walking to the track to take the boys through their penalty sprints this morning, when a random kid crossed my path.

"Whoa! Can you believe what Lee Corso said about us Saturday?! He's SO STUPID! He picked ____! I can't believe it!" I nodded and said something about Corso being a no-nothing assclown, figuring that'd be the end of it. It was not. He told me all about a letter he's writing to ESPN, chastising them for allowing Corso on the air. So that's when I asked him, "Do you take Lee Corso seriously?"

"Well yeah, don't you?! I mean, he's a freaking ESPN analyst. He's supposed to know what's up! This is total bullshit!..." You get the idea.

Now, I used to be one of the idiots that got up in arms about the College Gameday crew predictions (not quite on this level though). It wasn't so much that they picked Team A over B or Team Y over Z that made me mad; it was the ridiculous logic they used to justify their calls:

--> A dramatization:

Lee Corso: Michigan will beat No-Trah Dame because No-Trah Dame will be looking ahead to Michigan State AND looking behind against Penn State!
Kirk Herbstreit: But Michigan has been a long time rival of the Irish, I can't imagine Notre Dame not taking them serious--
Corso: Not so fast, my friend! *slams fist on desk* The Irish WILL look past the Woooolveriiiiines.

But as soon as I wised up and accepted the fact that some of these goons don't know what day it is -- that Lee Corso is nothing but a clown present to entertain the drunken Gameday horde, that Lou Holtz's reasons for Notre Dame beating Team X is just as mentally defective as Mark May's reason that they'll be blown out by 20, that Chris Fowler's just lucky he's not doing women's basketball on the Deuce -- I directed my rage at other happenings.

There's just no logical reason to take these jerk-offs seriously. So the next time you get your panties in a bunch over these frauds, remember this picture and know that there's a reason Lee Corso is hanging out at College Gameday instead of the sideline where he thinks he belongs

Nice Try, ESPN

I know it's petty but, well, I'm a petty girl.

HT: Matt Geiger

Write Your Own Bill "Sports Guy" Simmons Column

So Tom from Chicago Sports Review sent me a link that allows you to write your very own Sports Guy column. Given the amount of things you need to fill out, it's a serious undertaking, BUT if you're interested in confirming that Bill Simmons is a douchepump, this is well worth your time. Check out my efforts:

The Sports Guy Goes to an Auction

So I'm sitting there the other day watching ESPN2 and I see that Robinson Cano had a great game. There is nobody, with the possible exception of Grady Little, that I dislike more than Robinson Cano. In the pantheon of people that 'Make the Sports Guy pissed off,' these two are a nail-biter.

The phone rings. It's my friend Bish. awesome! Bish is always willing to discuss our mutual distaste for Robinson Cano. Don't get me wrong--we respect his abilities. But he's the Dave Littlefield of sports. Totally annoying, yet on TV all the time. Bish mentions that it would be nice if Robinson Cano caught a case of bronchitis at the beginning of September, opening a Mack Strong on THG-sized hole for the Red Sox to cruise to the playoffs.

Bish points out that the chances that Robinson Cano will come down with bronchitis in September are minimal, but that if we expanded the possibilities, there would be a greater chance for debilitation of some sort. As usual, Bish is a crazy genius.

Here is what we came up with:

4. Robinson Cano receives a vicious half nelson from Trot Nixon in front of 40,000 fans jammed into Fenway.

(On a side note, has there ever been a greater moment in sports than when when Macho Man Randy Savage did something? That and when when Rudy is carried off the field at Notre Dame Stadium are the winners of the 'Most awesome Non-Real-Life Sports Moment Competition 2006.')

3. Robinson Cano is informed by his wife that their child was not fathered by him but rather by either Chris Reitsma or Jim Bowden.

2. Robinson Cano hangs a homemade collage featuring scrabook-style clippings of Jason Priestley and Mr. Miyagi in his locker. He is immediately placed on the DL with 'flu-like symptoms.'

1. Robinson Cano meets Flavor Flav from Flavor of Love, falls in love, and leaves team to begin filming 'My Fair Yankee.'

After we finish with the conversation about Robinson Cano we turn ourselves to the real topic of conversation, the upcoming draft of the Suzy Kolber is Sexy Memorial Baseball Association, a new fantasy league that Bish and I will be joining this year.

Ordinarily, I'm never an advocate of partnering up to own a fantasy baseball team. That's like getting picked up by Elin Nordegren and going back to her place, only to find out that Shawn Kemp is already there. If the best you get is to share, sometimes it's not worth it at all, right?

However, this league only had one slot open, so Bish and I agreed to partner up, in the hope that one of us could switch over and manage the next vacancy. After much debate, and eliminating the excellent possibilities of 'Naked Monopoly with duvet' and 'Tony Siragusa's Shiny slot as potential team names, we settle on 'Schilling for Curt.'

The thing that's exciting about this league is that it is an auction format league, which is totally different than a draft league. I mean, it seems as though it would be the same as a draft league, but it's not. It's like the difference between NHL '93 and NHL '94-you take out fighting and add one-timers, you've got a whole different game, even if they are both hockey. Any good sports fan knows that Ron Powlus was the only player to win the Heisman twice, but not everyone knows how to conduct an auction.

Pre-Auction preparation is important. First, it is important to choose a date when the auction will take place. This is easy. Choose the date when the whipped guy in the league does not have to scream, and that's your date. Finding the whipped-guy-can-make-it date is a crucial part of auction success. (Speaking of which, what is with all these girlfriends who think that 'fantasy draft' is code for 'I'm going to have my buddies over to watch Popeye Jones perform Wham! while Never Have I Ever?' Don't they realize we'd rather play fantasy baseball? Though that would be cool.)

Next, and more difficult, is the auction location selection. Many times people will choose to have auctions in bars. This is a bad idea. Nothing good can come of this; every person in the room is going to be upset and have an extremely sore penis after four hours. No, the auction must be held in someone's house-best furnished basement wins. The coolness of the wife/significant other can be a deciding factor if two people have similar options-say, if owner A has a Burnout arcade game, but owner B has a case of Schlitz. Nothing will kill a fun evening faster than the host's wife emasculating him with a 'If you don't know, I'm not telling you' We have selected next Tuesday night, at 8 pm, at a guy's house where his wife will be shopping, and therefore unable to disrupt the festivities.

I will not be sharing with you my player ratings for this coming season-after all, Phil Helmuth doesn't play poker with the hand face up-but I will give you some insight into my auction strategy. The thing is, an auction has so much more of an influence on your season than a draft does. In an auction, every player in the league is at your disposal. Everyone starts out equal. It's the tolerance of fantasy sports.

It's also like a marathon. It requires endurance, it requires stamina, it requires concentration and planning. Without further ado, here is my 'Sports Guy Auction Strategy Guide':

Round One-go for the knockout

Once the auction starts, timing and strategy are much more important than they are in a traditional draft. The first hour or so of the auction has to be spent feeling out your opponents. Are they particularly loyal to the Seattle Supersonics? Do they have a tendency toward self-loathing? You are looking for weaknesses that you can exploit later on. Store these like baseball cards.

Here is a good place to test people by chucking out a few names of guys you'd never want on your team-aging, oft-injured players, like Kerry Wood, or over-hyped rookies that never panned out, like Shane Spencer.

Everyone is going to get some good players at this point, so make sure you don't overpay and find yourself begging for money like Johnny Drama asking for Vinny Chase's AMEX Black.

Round Two-Have a Sense of political science

In round two, there will be one moment that defines your draft. Things will be going along smoothly, and all of a sudden you'll get involved in a bidding war on a player. It's not unlike a big pot in a no-limit hold-em tournament-you'll have your The Joker-Batman in Batman moment, and you need to decide what to do.

Oftentimes, this will come down to a single dollar, here or there-if you bid $100 for dwight gooden, you know you'll get him, but you're facing a bid with the clock ticking. Are you going to be a hero, carried off the field like David Ortiz? Or are you Dave Wannstadt, skulking off the field into the jeering history of your team's fans, with only your family still willing to speak with you. Now is your moment. Set the tone.

Round Three-Moving Day

Phase three of the draft is moving day, like day three of the Masters. You need to shoot a 73. This is where you'll fill out a lot of the players that, while less aroused, make up the core of your team. Do not discount the importance of moving day. If you wait until the next phase to build the core of your team, you'll find yourself as lonely as Paris Hilton in a room full of Christian Coalition.

Moving day is the time to make things happen for your team. This is where you are going to define the season that you have. If you end up moving day by taking an accurate mix of future stars, injury-risk players, and Alex Gonzalez, you'll be okay.

Round Four-The Game of Trivial Pursuit

By the end of the fantasy auction, the endeavor has become endless. The only thing it can be compared to is a game of Trivial Pursuit, played among friends. Something that, at the beginning of the day, seemed like such fun, but by the end of it, is just a group of people banging their heads against the wall, adamantly trying to finish what they started, the joy of competing against your friends replaced with a desire to prove that you are The Baron of All Trivia and that is that.

In this phase of the auction, you must be careful. This is the 'Paulie may have moved slow, but it was only because Paulie didn't have to move for anybody. ' moment of the draft. People will be exploding like bomb, screaming incomprehensible things like mumbler and threatening to kick someone in the face if they do not get their way.

Just bite your lip, set your jaw, and try and endure. It's a long season coming forward.

'Ferris Bueller, you're my hero. '

I Can Finally Hate Bill Simmons

I wasn't turned on to Bill Simmons until early 2003; I was late to the game. His stuff was okay.. enjoyable and sometimes funny but nothing I was pining to read. The first problem is that he was nothing special. He was a dork with a forum.. hell, I know my own kind; his nerdery wasn't hard to spot. The second issue is that he frequently devoted 10,000 words to two things in which I have zero to little interest - Boston Sports and reality tv. Maybe if he was into bottom-barrel VH-1 "celebreality," I could have come around but on the whole, I was indifferent to his work... just another ESPN flunky trying to hard to prove to the audience that he's always the funniest and most clever guy in the room. I wasn't buying it and I tuned out. Nearly a year passed before a friend encouraged me to check out his archives and see what the true Boston Sports Guy was all about. He assured me that I didn't know what I'd missed.

He was right. I was awestruck.

Simmons displayed a passion, love, and understanding of sports that completely blew my mind. They let this guy share his opinions with the masses? I couldn't believe it and couldn't figure out who he blackmailed into giving him a job. The Boston Sports Guy went against everything I knew sports writers to be. The sports media doesn't have original ideas! They're not witty or insightful or meaningful, and they certainly don't know how to turn a phrase, so someone must've fallen asleep at the wheel on hiring day. Simmons was a breath of fresh air and I couldn't apologize enough for not seeing the light sooner.

I am a junkie for two things - sports and the passionate, written word... Bill Simmons manufactured my drug of choice.

"Consider me a convert," I later wrote to my Simmons pusher. I felt like a hyped up, new disciple getting ready to board Jesus' Messiah train [I bet those were happenin' times]; I was ready to witness to the masses... but there was a problem - as time went by, I found myself hating the majority of the columns.

He complained about work and the tedious monotony of book signings, as if he was some worn out factory worker that'd been on the line for 15 years. He talked about his personal life, whined about his beta-male approach to women, and offered up "wild and crazy" anecdotes on poker-playing in Vegas and nights out with the boys.. stories that reminded me of my high school days when friends would come home from Spring Break bragging that they had 5 shots of rum and kissed a boy. Suddenly, I was nonplussed and uninterested. I hit such a high reading his archives that I couldn't understand how the new stuff could level me so quickly. Now, don't get me wrong - I understand that Simmons evolved not only as a writer but also as a personality. I understand that he uses material from his personal life and pop culture to craft metaphors and analogies about sports. But there seemed to be a subtle turning point where, well, he shifted into this neutered shell of his former self. Maybe it's the result of having his hand in so many baskets - writing books, giving speeches, being a family man, battling Isiah Thomas. Maybe the fame had gone to his head and he mistakenly believed his new life was so cool and interesting that it'd be criminal not to treat the masses. Or maybe it's the sad effect ESPN has on its free spirits over time. I don't know. All I can really confirm about my second break with the Sports Guy is that I unfairly resented him for no longer being the same writer with which I'd recently fallen in love.

I didn't return to Page2 until a friend, the same pusher mentioned above, advised that Simmons was getting into World Cup coverage and I should check it out. I had a feeling that if he was exposed to enough, he'd fall for the game, and maybe, just maybe, he'd begin to cover the sport. I imagined this whole "Well the Sports Guy is into it, so...." reaction from the public that would serve as a jumping-off point toward lessening the almost intentional hatred and ignorance that Americans have for the beautiful game. My hope was realized. Not only has Simmons become a fan of the game but he went in search of an English Premier League team at which to throw all of his devotion. When I heard about his endeavor, I feared that he'd latch on to Chelsea or Manchester United as American bandwagon jumpers are want to do but he took a different approach... he weighed celebrity fans, jerseys, locations, history, table location, reputation, and bandwagon potential to settle on a team that was just right for him. And while he gets many things right and quite a few others wrong [I had some idiot call me a bandwagon jumper yesterday because I was wearing a Thierry Henry jersey and Simmons has incorrectly lead the masses to believe that Arsenal has a bigger bandwagon than Chelsea or Man U... Looks like he's an authority on Arsenal and the EPL now that he's done 1 week of "research"], he went about this process about as well as could be expected. Then he revealed his new team...

Bill Simmons settled on Tottenham Hotspur.

Let me explain something to you ... I hate Tottenham Hotspur. It's not just a petty fan thing where I say I hate them because I love Arsenal; it's deeper and far more serious than that. I'm consumed with rage and bitterness for our North London neighbors and hate Hotscum in a way that is reserved for killers and rapists and the morally corrupt. I hate that club, I hate its fans (except you Toxic!), and now, I hate Bill Simmons. Until this Scum revelation, I wasn't interested in what Simmons had to say but for this reason alone, I've been pushed off the fence of Sports Guy indifference. I'm out for blood. Because of this, I'll now read more of his work now than ever before, as I'll have an insatiable need to take in every letter that he sees fit to print in order to shred it to bits and shake my hand at the sky and shout "Damn you Tottenscum!" I'm about to become a Bill Simmons obsessive once again and for all the wrong reasons. It's an exciting time. Are you ready for it? I know I am! One day, someone is going to stuff copies of that no-talent, bleeding rotter's musings down his throat. And I hope I'm the one to do it. I hate Bill Simmons and one day, that dorkball cunt will realize what a grave error he's made.

HAIL ARSENAL!

Nice Coverage, ESPN

If you don't know me well, that post title was sarcasm. I've been kicking back and taking in the Atlanta/Philly game on TBS since the end of dinner. The Braves pitching staff ranks somewhere between foul and astonishingly bad. but after the first inning, things calmed down until the 7th when Chase Utley hit a sac fly (mark a RBI for my fantasy stats) to put the Phillies up 7-3. So I brought up the guide to see if I could find any other green bar happenings (green bar = sports). Basketball was everywhere but ESPN2 was offering "MLB Baseball" - no description was listed but who cares? Another game to enjoy! I flipped over only to find the same goddamn thing on tv. At first I thought I didn't actually change the channel. I'm enough of a goon that I'll sometimes think about doing something, not do it, and then assume that I actually have. I went back to TBS - Philadelphia at Atlanta with Skip Caray and Joe Simpson making the call. Back to ESPN2 - yep, Philadelphia at Atlanta but with Gary Thorn and some other tosser. Nice work ESPN! Way to give the audience some bloody options you fucking wankers!!! Bah!

Oh! And what's on next at ESPN2? Quite Frankly with Screamin' A Smith. ESPN's batting 1.000 today. Stupid bastards.

The "University of Indiana?" Hires Sampson

I was listening to ESPNNews (listening to the radio does not violate my boycott since neither Stuart Scott, Steven A. Smith, or anyone associated with Around the Horn/Cold Pizza can be found there) earlier when they broke into Billy Donovan's press conference with the lights and sirens about breaking news out of Bloomington, Indiana. The anchor very eagerly let it be known that Kelvin Sampson, current coach of the Oklahoma Sooners, would be replacing Mike Davis at the "University of Indiana." And this wasn't some slip-up - the anchor referred to the school as such more than once. But the thing that's amazing to me is that this screw-up isn't limited to the fuckwits at ESPN.. I was watching a Steelers game sometime last fall and while praising Antwan Randle El, Jim Nantz reported that he was a starting quarterback at, you guessed it, the University of Indiana. Now, I want to make something clear -- I don't like IU. It has nothing to do with their sports and everything to do with their whining, hilljack fans; my feelings for them have only intensified since landing in this weather vortex state for college, so don't misunderstand that I'm trying to defend their honor or something. It just baffles me that the last 10 years notwithstanding, Indiana and her three National Championships have been one of the elites of college basketball.. but somehow these anchors, these professional commenters on sport, still can't get it right? There's a reason the school is called IU and not UI and I imagine it has something to do with the proper order of the words. I don't mean to freak out about something so trivial but shouldn't sportscasters have enough respect for the institutions they report on to at least get their names right? Especially when the school is as well known as IU? It's not like they're having trouble figuring out if a university pronounces its name Mon-muth or Mon-mouth. Come on.

In any case, unless you're a delusional Hoosier fan who really believed Pitino or Calipari would consider leaving their current posts for Bloomington, this seems like a reasonable hire. It's not great and the Hoosiers didn't get homegrown boys like Randy Wittman or Steve Alford, but I don't see how this move isn't a step up from Mike Davis. Though NCAA sanctions over recruiting are about to drop in Norman and Sampson's has graduation rates are close to the Bob Huggins' Line, the guy's not a bad coach. He took Oklahoma to 11 NCAA tournament appearances - with a final four and a number of Elite 8 and Sweet 16 showings - and won the Big12 a couple times that I can recall. Having said that, I find it ironic and quite amusing that Mike Davis, in his first year as head coach, smoked Kelvin Sampson's best OU squad in the 2002 Final Four... it's gotta be a short list of men that Mike Davis has managed to outcoach in his time at the helm and the IU administration has managed to hire one of the few individuals whose name sits on that 3x3 inch Post-it note.

J.J. Redick Has Two in the Pink And...

Is Mike Golic On Curb Your Enthusiasm?

SportsNation: Mike Hampton Reliable #3 in 2006?

Pardon the Quite Frankly

It's Over. I'm Boycotting ESPN.

Nick Lachey Joining College Gameday Crew

Looking forward to College Gameday on ESPN this year? Well you should be! Nick Lachey (Jessica Simpson's husband for the uninformed) will be joining the Gameday crew to provide his expert analysis on I don't know what; he'll also make onsite appearances.

"Nick is a huge sports fan and will add a unique perspective to the show," said Norby Williamson, senior vice president and managing editor for ESPN. "He will provide wide-ranging, off-the-field features spotlighting the tradition of the game, its fans, athletes and personalities."

In addition to Lachey, Desmond Howard, a 1991 Heisman Trophy winner from some unknown northern school of tools and asshats and 1997 Super Bowl MVP with Green Bay, will join as a weekly contributor, providing analysis and features.

Now, I'm not gonna bash this. In all my time watching Gameday, I've never heard a remotely intelligent insight, so what's wrong with it becoming more aesthetically pleasing? Nick Lachey is hot, which works for me, and you have to figure that he'll drag Jessica Simpson to the set every now and again (if anything, to remind people who he is), so that works for most of you! He seems like a relatively normal (read: not annoying) individual, so I don't see the negatives thus far. But going on ESPN's rationalization for hiring Nick, why can't I be a College Gameday contributor? Why can't I show up onsite and offer shallow, fairly obvious observations? I wanna be a shill and I'm a huge sports fan with a unique perspective! Is the problem that I'd spend a lot of time hurling empties at Chris Fowler while I remind Lee Corso that he looks like Mel Brooks without the talent? Maybe it's because I'm not banging the hell out of the hottest blonde in America. I smell discrimination. You put me on a set with the Gameday Crew and I assure you good times.

SportsCenter Pares Down Lineup

"We believe at the end, a smaller pool of on-air talent and more consistent production team will create a better product." - Norby Williamson, senior vice president and managing editor for ESPN.

SportsCenter Goes Indie

eliminates the first contestant on her version of "The Apprentice," she'll substitute Donald Trump's trademark "You're fired!" with the less catchy, "You just don't fit in." That's no fun at all. I think she should line the contestants out across the Montauk Highway (or "Main Street" depending on her exact location) and point her Suburban at the cast off. Then she can should tear ass toward said ousted individual and literally chase him off the show. Now isn't that the real Martha Stewart way?

* I was flipping through the channels yesterday when Quite Frankly came on. But at the moment Stephen A. Smith walked out and began to speak, the sound went out on my tv. I checked to see if I'd pushed mute - nope. It's a $400 tv that's less than a year old, so if there's some type of random malfunction, I'm gonna really curse myself for not letting Best Buy rip me off with that warranty. But that wasn't the problem either. About a minute later, a graphic popped up - "Audio Difficulties." Stephen A. shouted in silence for nearly 3 minutes before ESPN went to commercial and then came back with something else entirely. It was like God was at the controls.

* Twice in as many days I've heard that Clay Aiken is gay. Not that this wasn't obvious before. But one of my new favorite sites, What Would Tyler Durden Do, shares (via RaderOnline) that not only is the painfully unattractive Clay Aiken gay but that his boyfriend is hotter than all of you.

"Reichen swears there's nothing going on," says our source. "But Clay kept calling non-stop. It was all very weird."

Jesse Jackson, Obviously Bored, Targets ESPN

The activist and former presidential candidate says it's insulting that the cable network left D.C. out when it came up with its plans. Jackson says he'll go to the network's Connecticut headquarters if they don't change their tune. He also might picket the ESPN Zone bar in the city that's home to the Nationals, Wizards, Mystics, United and Capitals.

Down With Chris Berman!

-- Backbackbackback...GONE! Chris Berman said his 80th "back" before Abreu broke Tejada's first round record. I wish someone would sneak up behind him when he's right in the middle of his schtick and crack his fucking head wide open. Yackety yack. It's endless. Now I know he and Joe Morgan were struggling for things to talk about but come on. Whomever convinced Berman that his nicknaming abilities (that haven't been good since '92) are a better story than the players in the game should be confronted and dealt with in a severe manner. The only way Berman becomes a bigger story than the players is if he makes the news while Greenpeace is towing him back out to sea. I don't want to see Berman on tv again until Tom Jackson is sitting there with him.

-- Was I the only person that witnessed Johnny Damon and Mike Piazza engaging in asshat shenanigans during the pre-Derby "entertainment" while the ONE pyrotechnic device placed behind the drummer dazzled the crowd once every 30 seconds? They were up there with one of those New Rock bands that is on par with other trash like Nickelback, 3 Doors Down, Linkin Park, Limp Bizkit, and Matchbox 20. I don't know the name of the band but I'm pretty sure it's comprised of the douchebags that were in Creed before their lead singer coked out. What I do know is that not only do baseball players have horrible taste in music but Damon and Piazza rocked out (thankfully, not with their cocks out) to this musical poison like they were having flashbacks to a Van Halen concert (with David Lee Roth, of course)... Mike Piazza amazingly morphed into something straight out of a bad, live Winger video and for a second, I could picture him with a mullet, standing next to some girl whose beer-covered tits were hanging out because she just threw her top on stage. Total disaster. Though both men were initially quite fascinated with watching the lead singer do his thing, Piazza eventually lost interest and left to play air drums in front of the drummer. The good thing is someone lent him real drum sticks so he could play the air like a pro. As for Damon, he awkwardly attempted air guitar but given his hand position, may have actually been playing the bass. He then attempted singing but after realizing his microphone was off (and it took him a minute to catch on), he went back to what he probably knows best -- headbanging. Whomever invited that tool band and tried to make everything all hip needs to be fired. I shudder to think what we could see tomorrow... hopefully Stuart Scott won't show up.

-- As for other things, how pissed are you if you were one of those Century 21 house contestants that got paired with Jason Bay or Hee-Seop Choi? I'd be suing somebody for not providing me with at least a decent opportunity to win. Maybe if the Home Run Derby were the Ground Rule Double Derby a couple of these poor saps would have a chance. At least David Ortiz's people could have hope for the 3rd round and maybe beyond. But for the ones that had Jason Bay hitting, it was like he was giving their house away. This Baseball World Cup business actually sounds pretty cool, and I imagine it will be once they get the kinks worked out, but it served no purpose tonight.

All in all, I'm glad these horrible things didn't detract from Bobby Abreu's incredible performance. Besides, given what his fiancee did to him, he probably needed this.

See ya, Stephen A!

ESPN: Worldwide Leader of Hype & Bunk

That headline grabbed your eye, didn't it? Now that you're here, I don't think I'm going to say anything. I'm taking the ESPN road - the sensationalized headline with nothing to back it up. ... ... ... Okay, I can't take it anymore. Being ESPN sucks - I'm retiring and rejoining the Haterade Brigade. No, the Brigade doesn't really exist. And no, Stuart Scott didn't come up with the name. I just made it up because I'm clever like that. If you ever read or hear that phrase again, remember, you saw it here first. It's a Flash Original.

When I was a precocious youngin, I was allowed to watch five channels without parental supervision: CNN, Discovery, Disney, PBS, and ESPN. ESPN was my father's contribution to the tv-watching experience. My mother didn't like the idea of it but my pop is a man of sport and there was no way I was going to be raised without a healthy dose of it in my day to day life. I quickly learned that ESPN meant all sports, all the time. A 24/7 feast of athletics. As often as I could, I'd park myself in front of the TV to eagerly absorb every play, every tidbit, every moment. Sometimes this was trouble for I was an undersized runt with plastic cokebottle glasses. Sitting too close to the tv sometimes caused my eyes to cross. My ocular troubles notwithstanding, I watched religiously, and when the screen faded to black for the commercial break, I had no concerns. The 30-second spots were just as enjoyable (and sometimes, moreso) as the game/match on which I'd locked my brainwaves.

Yo money, it's gotta be the shoes!" Michael Jordan and Mars Blackmon, the lovable, high-spirited little man that watched in stunned amazement as Air soared and slammed his way into legend while wearing the Air Jordan III's. I had a pair... and I have that poster. It's been on my wall since I was 8 years old.

And there was Magic Johnson and Larry Bird, one of the greatest individual rivalries of all time, duking it out in pairs of Chuck Taylors.

And "Bo Knows." You're damn right, he knew! The poster on my wall said so. So did his bat as he rocked Rick Reuschel with a 448-foot rocket (and he still got robbed!) at his first at-bat during the 1989 All-Star game. So did his feet as he juked that overrated, Sooner trash fraud known as, "The Boz," out of his knees on Monday Night Football. I remember a maniacal Stanley, Dennis Hopper's defrocked ref who inhaled the pungent aroma of Bruce Smith's (shame on him for being in a Coors "twins" commercial) shoes with crazed fervor and waxed poetic on Barry Sanders' moves with the same demented wonderment previously reserved for Colonel Kurtz. It's been 8 years but even now I hope the Gatorade song and dance of "Like Mike" will return to the screen... like the kids in the commercial, (cue music) sometimes I dream.. that he is me. You've got to see that's how I dream to be. I dream I move. I dream I groove. Like Mike. If I could be like Mike (/music).

And then there was the Sports Center jingle; a tune that still sends me to the TV faster than Pavlov's dog could salivate. 6:00 pm. Dan Patrick and Keith Olbermann. It wasn't about the headline, the hype, or the sick amount of played-out, hip-hop catchphrases that a glass-eyed bastard could use to describe the awesomeness that is a Vince Carter slamdunk. It was just sporting news - raw, fun, informative. It was before Stuart Scott and his "phattest, illest plays of the week." What was that Stu? Don't hate the playa, hate the game? No playa, I hate you. Here's a tip - "all that and a bag of chips" sucked when the Fresh Prince said it in '91 and it sucks now. Remember when we could get through an hour of highlights without hearing the low-rent, sad sack impressions of Tony Montana saying 'ello to his lil fren? When Screamin' A. Smith wasn't the self-proclaimed beacon of light for we troubled masses that cannot guide ourselves through the dark, infested mire that is the Kobe-Shaq feud? Those were the days. Sure, there was Chris "rumblin, stumblin, tumblin" Berman but that was in his pre-Swami, "whoop!" days when he and Tom Jackson (one of the few good things about ESPN) were just getting their NFL ball rolling. Dan Patrick was around, too... he hadn't yet turned into the smug, sloppy, shock-jock that pimps headlines and throws about baseless invective before slinking into the shadows when his obnoxious assertions are proved to lack merit.

ESPN has slowly degenerated into a completely subjective, high on style, low on substance piece of fecal matter. It used to be about sports the way MTV used to be about music. Now it's all about pushing the envelope with gripping, C-grade drama - Playmakers, The Junction Boys, Season on the Brink, Hustle, and 3; it's about smacking us around with 5 separate forums for asshat talking heads that can't walk and chew gum at the same time but can ruthlessly jockey for soundbites every afternoon on thoroughbreds known as Uninformed Smack, Rumors & Conjecture, and Rhetorical Bullshit [Wilbon, Reali, Mariotti, I'm talking to you]; sensationalizing us with the headlines and throwing down the shock, the awe, and the drama with yellow journalistic tactics that make the National Enquirer look like amateurish clowns. Instead of analysis, we have gameshows/reality tv. Their first attempt was "Dream Job." The winner, a painfully witless Mike Hall, has narrative style that makes the high-pitched yap of the papillon sound like Seraphims singing from the heavens. There is also the inane "Hear/Say" that has taught me one thing: of all the contestants, the NBA ballers struggle mightily when playing ESPN's version of the $25,000 Pyramid. Freakish, world-class athletic ability but the talent to form the most basic of word associations... not so much.

How did all of this happen? I never saw it coming. Did you? It's like you wake up one day and realize that the icon of sports programming decided that mere coverage was no longer sufficient, defining sport was the one true goal. Perhaps I never noticed because for all the bitching and moaning I do about this channel, it remains the #1 source for my sporting news. In fact, I'm watching it right now... one of 14 SportCenters that will be aired today and when it's over, I bet I haven't changed the channel. I would guess that I watch a good 90 minutes of ESPN each day and listen to another 5 hours as backround noise. Christ, I've inadvertently seen "3," the Dale Earnhardt biopic starring Barry Pepper, nearly four times.

I hate ESPN and yet, I can't live without it. I would boycott but where am I gonna go? Fox Sports to watch "Best Damn?" What about Rome? On top of his radio show, I can tune in to Jim Rome Is Burning and absorb his opinions while ignoring the fact that he looks like Don Johnson meets American Gigolo circa 1987. True, he's a self-aggrandizing Napoleon whose ignorance, delivered in clipped monotone, often borders on the pathological. And yes, his interviews, which, he informs us, will be great before they even begin, thrive on the provocative "non question" and obvious sports cliche. But when his opinions are actually based on fact, he's pretty spot on, and when he isn't bashing Notre Dame, he's the funniest guy on sports radio. But look at his competition. Mike and Mike? Tony Kornheiser? If you laugh at Tony Kornheiser's show, then I weep for you.

ESPN is as cool as the other side of the pillow in comparison to everything else that's out there. It's sad but true and I don't think there's anything to be done. Can I get a witness? Probably not. I guess it's just an ESPN world and I'm just a squirrel... tryin to get a nut.

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