There's Your Karma, Ripe As Peaches

Is Al Davis Dying or is Hell Freezing Over?

The Foolish Hubris Files: Eric Mangini & Me

As I'm sure you've ascertained, I was appropriately pwned for betting on Radiohead in the Breeders' Cup Juvenile on Saturday. I know it was dumb but I couldn't fight the compulsion. Sadness abounds. In any case, Radiohead never contended for the win and finished a middling 7th in the 13 horse field. On the bright side, this not so mighty emo steed surely hasn't the skills to qualify for a Triple Crown race, so I don't have to worry about foolishly screwing myself out of money in a few month's time.

---

In other news, Eric Mangini, head "coach" of the Cleveland Browns took stupidity and hubris to a new level today when he refused to announce whether Derek Anderson or Brady Quinn will be the one whose life comes to a sad, unfulfilled end at the hands of Ray Lewis next Monday night. According to reports, Mangini knows who he's going to choose but plans to make his QBs and, laughably, the Baltimore Ravens defense, sweat it out a little.

Ray Lewis should slap this bitch around just for having the nerve.

When you're the conductor of the biggest on-field trainwreck in the NFL, you have no right to be secretive or clever or coy. In fact, as a dead man walking, you have no rights. The only things on your mind should be:

• Finding ways to improve the team
  
• Making the final three months as painless as possible
  
• Showing NFL owners that you're a competent head coach in a bad situation

Mangini has struck out looking on all of the the above, but even worse is that he's arrogant (or delusional?) enough to think the Ravens will buy into his bullshit. What, like they'll develop two game plans? The Browns could start G-d and still lose by 30. Even G-d would tell ya that. What He'd also tell you and what the Ravens already know is that Brady Quinn will be under center on Monday night. Not because this QB selection process was like choosing between agony and despair and despair tasted a little better, but because throwing Quinn back in the mix at week 9 allows the Browns to boost his trade value without triggering $10.5M in performance incentives in his contract.

If I can figure that out, so can the rest of the league, Eric. It's not rocket science. I just wish I could go back in time and un-do that Radiohead bet, so I could throw 5 grand down on the Frowns to be torn limb from limb, set aflame in a funeral pyre and then sent out to sea.

I would have been the winner on that one. 

Gruden (v): To Perform Shameless Verbal Fellatio on NFL Player

You know, a lot of people have been talking mess about Jon Gruden for adding absolutely nothing but energetic inanities to the weekly Monday Night Football broadcasts.

Now maybe some people don't like him because he reminds them of that evil high school boy who they secretly hoped would get the emotional shit kicked out of him by life after graduation. Or maybe its because he spews rubbish like this:

• "When the Dolphins run the 'Wildcat,' they want positive yardage. They don't want negative plays"
• "Great players have to step up and make big plays in big games"
• "Jake Delhomme leads the league in grit"
• "Mike McCarthy is one of the best challenge coachers in the league"
  
• "This guy will blast you and like it"
• "We used to call this the VICTORY play"
  

All are completely valid reasons to hate on the man (guess which one is mine), but I think it's time we stop criticizing and give this championship coach the credit he's due. You see, Jon Gruden just successfully called a 3.5 hour football game with Brett Favre's cock lodged balls deep in his throat.

What, like you could do the same? Please.

But you know what? I bet tonight was a pretty cool experience for the old chap. Even though it goes without saying that Gruden always had a mouth like a Hoover, I bet he never imagined he'd reach the highest heights as the Champ Kind to Brett Favre's Ron Burgundy when he was the Packers receiving coach in 1992 (did you know he had that job?). So let's give a hip, hooray and huzzah to Jon Gruden. It's time we tip our hats to him for a job well done.

UNSEXY UPDATE:

After giving Gruden the Maypole dance of a lifetime, Favre got the rest of ESPN drunk, made sweet love to them under the Minnesota stars and then cooked pancakes and sausages for them this morning.

What really scares me now is the possibility that the Vikings could somehow end up in the Super Bowl. Normally, I'd take solace in the fact that after week 12, Favre starts shitting the bed, but now he has Adrian Peterson and the Jared Allen defense. Who's going to stop them? And more importantly, who is going to stop the media from shoving it down our throats? ESPN has monopolized sports broadcasting and the rest of the media takes its cues from the Worldwide Leader's example.

We're in serious trouble. 

Hey Al, Is Keyshawn Next?

After the Raiders signed safety Gibril Wilson a few weeks ago, I had a glimmer of hope that this off-season just might go well. This was a fantastic FA get. Sure, we massively overpaid (7 years, $39M) but it's reasonable to believe that Wilson - one of the most consistent safeties in the league - will turn out to be worth the cash. At least, he will be until he realizes he plays in the Bay and completely flakes out a la Charles Woodson.

But then we signed DT Tommy Kelly for an insane $50M dollars and then Kwame Brown - a middling OL that didn't start a game last season - for $16M over three years. And now, Al Davis has emerged from his oxygen chamber to cock things up yet again.

I'm sure most of you saw the news last week that the Raiders signed malcontent Javon Walker and his irreparably shredded knees. Even in Walker's diminished condition, I'll take him because we have a wide receiving corps that consists of Ronald Curry, To Be Determined and To Be Determined. In a situation like this, it's hard to be picky.

But in his infinite wisdom, Al Davis has somehow found a way to make this the worst move of all time. Instead of paying beaten up, broken down, waiting on a new hip Javon Walker what he's worth, the Crypt Keeper is giving him $55M for 6 years. My first reaction was, "Well, I'm sure it's totally backloaded, so no big deal." And while that is somewhat true, Walker still gets $16M in guaranteed money and $27M for the first three years. Hell, if he gets cut this season, he still gets $11M and if he's cut in 2 seasons, he's got $16M! 

What's next, Al? Gonna pull Keyshawn Johnson out the ESPN-abyss with a guaranteed 1-year, $25M deal? I assure you that he's a lot more functional right now than Walker, he of the 28 catches, 287 yards (200 of which came in the first 2 games), 0 touchdowns and 8 games in 2007. Former Pro Bowl, 1000 yard receiver or not, this is pure madness. The only thing I can see explaining this mentally defective contract is if the price of bribing formerly capable players to waste their careers on our shores has ballooned to an additional 85% of market value.

Speaking of ballooned, there are rumors that Stay-Puft, also known as Jamarcus Russell, is currently weighing in around 300 pounds. Now, if that's true, what does it matter who we sign when we've got a heifer for a quarterback that might be tempted to eat the damn ball?!

2 thumbs down! 

Massholes Petition Final Ticks of Super Bowl XLII

So check this out - a throng of Massholes Patriots fans have united in petition over the outcome of the Super Bowl. Unhappy with three Super Bowls and an undefeated season, these spoiled gits now "demand that the National Football League and Commissioner Roger Goodell review the last 1:40 minutes of the Super Bowl held February 3rd 2008. At 1:22 in the fourth quarter, after Jacobs attained a first down the clock was stopped." They then go on to list all of the rules of game time clock management, as if the NFL was unaware of how that all worked. After that comes the rationale that only a bitter rotter liquored up on Samuel Adams could provide:

"Nowhere in the above rules does it state that in the conditions of what was happening on the clock should be stopped. Also in addition to this six seconds were added to the game clock. Had this illegal clock stoppage not occurred there would have been 40 seconds less time on the clock, 46 seconds less if you consider the six seconds added on after the play. This means that after that play, if the clock was running the way it is supposed to by the rulebook, there would only be 42 seconds left on the clock. Furthermore if this was not enough on the subsequent play time was not taken off during the play followed by a random flashing of numbers on the clock.

What?

"The following drive took the Giants a total of 52 seconds on the game clock from the point that six seconds were added to the clock. However if the time was managed the way it was supposed to be there would have been no time left on the clock after Eli Manning was tackled at :50 seconds on the game clock. This irrefutable proof demands that Super Bowl XLII be reviewed from the point of the first illegal stoppage."

The petitioners then provide the commissioner ways in which he is permitted to respond - again - as if he does not know.

All in all, the petition has been signed by 24,611 people thus far... Brilliant, reputable chaps like Dave Rosenthal, who "can't believe this isn't a big story. I mean, we should be 19-0, but the NFL hates that Pats, so instead we have to go through this the rest of our lives knowing we got jipped." And others like "Number One Pats Fan," whose intelligence serves as a true beacon of light with, "Good job Giants, you cheated and won a SB. Try to win one on an even playing field. Also, why don't you try to win a game by more than 3 points once, then we'll talk."

But please understand, I don't say this out of bitterness forged from rivalries in other sports and situations. Victors are entitled to bump their gums for as long as they see fit. It's one of the perks of winning. But when you lose, gripe for a day or two and then shut the fuck up. It's as simple as that. Trust me, I know. I'm a Yankee fan that went to Notre Dame. From birth through three diplomas, I have been trained in the art of self-righteous, obnoxious, irrational fangirl-ery. Hell, my sense of entitlement alone is bigger than your house. But even I understand that when defeat comes - and it comes far too often these days - there's a grace period for sulking and then you need to admit defeat, shut your mouth and go home. And New England, that's where you are now. You haven't just cornered the market on post-season assholery, you've gone off the deep-end. It's time to recognize that the Patriots lost, not because of a clock snafu in the final minutes but because Justin Tuck, Osi Umenyiora and Michael Strahan had Tom Brady on his back more than Giselle and Bridget Moynihan combined. If he could have completed more than 3 passes in a row, maybe you wouldn't have lost by the skin of your teeth. But he couldn't and now the world has to spend another season being reminded that Mercury Morris is still alive.

So instead of wasting your time with this, maybe you ought to petition the Giants' speed rushing corps for turning Tom into a bitch. Better yet - why don't you put together a petition requesting an explanation for why Richard Seymour, Adalius Thomas, Jarvis Green and the entire secondary were all but holding their dicks while Eli Manning was pulling a Joe Montana with David Tyree?

Might be fruitful.

Time Waits For No Man, Unless that Man is Brett Favre

All the props in the world to the New York Football Giants, who managed to resist the temptation to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory on Sunday night. But I have a sneaking suspicion that this occurred only because the NFL did not properly communicate the contents of the Favre memo, which I imagine read something like this:

"Look, we'll crap on the Seahawks, Packers and Cowboys, enabling you to skate relatively unscathed to the Super Bowl if you can do us just one solid -- let Favre win. I know you think this is ludicrous but if you look at the big picture, this really is for the best. Remember back in 2002 when he was kind enough to give Michael Strahan the all-time sack record by going down faster than a hooker at a prison rodeo? Well, that's all we ask you to remember here - pay it forward. He took care of one of your own when that chap needed it most and now, we at the NFL need you to take care of us, and, really, everyone outside of Wisconsin. No more will he or won't he. No more self-righteous indignation. No more biased, obnoxious commentary. Think about the greater good (and the money we can make), Giants. See ya at Lambeau."

God forbid the Giants cooperate. You know, for a while, I thought they might be on board with the plan; at the very least, Lawrence Tynes was. But I guess there comes a point where you're just too damn close to keep hooking kicks and you have to send one through. As such, Favre will be back for his 18th season - not because he has anything left to prove or the itch to lead what is likely the best young nucleus in the NFL to the Promised Land is so great, but because he can't leave the game with such an offensively bitter taste in his mouth.

When a legendary champion like Brett Favre takes his final walk in the sun, he's supposed  to go out in a blaze of glory or die trying, not walk away following a mistake-riddled travesty that he'd rather block out than think about again.

So after 6 months of obnoxious, gratuitous speculation, we'll see him again and frankly, that just fucking sucks. I'm trying not to be a hater on this one, which is rare for me, but I AM SO SICK OF BRETT FAVRE. And the thing is, it's not even his fault!

Favre is one of the most admirable sportsmen of the last 20 years and whether he's throwing 5 touchdowns or 5 interceptions, watching him play is always an absolute joy. But I just can't handle hearing about him anymore. Not that stories about Adam Jones or Michael Vick are better but the way the media tongues his balls from August to January and then waits around Hattiesburg like lost puppies looking for a bone in the off-season has completely crossed the boundaries of reason. Just the other day, that beached whale Chris Berman actually said, "Cheering for Brett Favre is like cheering for America!" Are you kidding me? I know I'm being selfish and that I'm in the minority on this one but since Favre isn't going away for at least another season (nor should he, to be honest), is it too much to ask for the media to give it a bloody rest for once? Or maybe, perhaps, can we just call Greenpeace and have Berman towed back out to sea?

I'm sure one of these options is totally within reason.

picture via: citypages.com 

The Raiders Are Kings of the World!

I kid, of course. But allow me to congratulate Coach Lane Kiffin and the Oakland Raiders on ending the 17-game losing streak of pure AFC West shame and, barring a freakish miracle, nailing the 3rd and final win of the 2008 NFL season. That's a 50% improvement on Art Shell's gross incompetence, so huzzah to the boys.

I'll be honest, I actually thought we'd pull down 4 wins this season. Crazy but true. After a summer listening to Kiffin's stuttered song and dance about innovative methods and youthful vision, I had about a half inch of hope going into the season. That grew to a whole inch after a near miss in Denver and two straight wins going into week 5. At that point, I couldn't help but sit back and think, "Dare I believe?" ... Well, I didn't and we dropped 6 games in typical Raider fashion.

As such, I didn't have much hope for Sunday with the Chiefs. I figured we'd make a battle of it before pissing the game away with a minute to spare.

But while thinking about everything that could go wrong for the Silver and Black, I failed to consider the one thing that could work to our advantage at the end of the 4th quarter: Herman Edwards.

The 2004 New York Jets aside, no Herm-led team has had a winning record after 6 games. Add that to the fact that Edwards is not only one of the worst clock managers of all time but also one of the worst in-game field generals since Gen. Ambrose Burnside, and I should have known that the odds were just too high in our favor for things to go wrong. 

Go Raiders and thanks Herm!

Fanball Drops More Useless Information

Because I'm a neurotic fantasy everything player, I get baseball and football fantasy updates from every free service on the internets. Around midnight, I got this little nugget from Fanball: 

Oh, really, Fanball? Back stiffness? Are you sure?

Vinny Testaverde has gotten to the point where I'm surprised his old balls aren't being referenced as being "in the war." If it wasn't his back, it'd be his knee or his wrist or his prostate or the finger he uses to slide open bags of Werther's Originals. By simple virtue of having old, saggy balls, Vinny Testaverde should be questionable EVERY WEEK. He's not Julio Franco. These days, he'd get a hernia watching porn.

So come on, Fanball. Stop sending alerts about Testaverde's status, as if it's some type of fantasy-impacting revelation. Anyone that actually needs that tip doesn't have a team that's worth a damn anyway. And as a side note, there is nothing Steve Smith owners want to hear other than: "Steve Smith traded to team with viable quarterback." Get serious and give me some information I can use.

Colts Fan Offends My Sensibilities

So I'm leaving a pizza joint the other day when my friends and I happen upon this monstrosity parked next to my car. After my eyes stopped burning, I whipped out my cell phone for documentation:

I'd ask myself what type of society would find this acceptable but having lived in Indiana for almost 7 years, I simply know better. When I first arrived for college, I didn't know what to expect of this place. For me, the American Midwest may as well have been that area on the Lenox Globe denoted by the warning "here be dragons." But in the time that I've been here, I've come to realize that though it is not as bad as people make out, it is still the only area where driving a vehicle so hideously ugly that people get mad looking at it is not only normal but celebrated.

I can only imagine the kudos that the owner of this tragic heap of a mess has received. I showed this picture to my neighbor only for him to say, "That's fantastic! I'd like that. Just Bears!" Ugh. It only figures. This is the type of dude that thinks a drive to Indianapolis, Chicago or Detroit is  as exciting and revolutionary as a trip to the moon. Hoosiers, ya know?

Now, I'm sure some of you are saying, "That PT owner has every right to display his or her Colts pride! Who are you to judge?"

Look, I'm all for people supporting teams and displaying allegiances. Magnets, stickers, decals - it's all good. Let your affections be known. But if you're a person that thinks its reasonable to drive a vehicle that looks like a mini-van with Down Syndrome, just stop right there. That tells the world enough about you already. We don't need your ridiculous fanboy decorations. Your car is already an offensive, obnoxious vulgarity. Frankly, I'm surprised it didn't turn me to stone when I tried to take these pictures. Considering that, forcing further attention upon it is nothing short of a crime. Shame on you Colts Fan PT Cruiser owner. Shame.

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.

Hell Should Be Freezing Over... Shouldn't It?

Thanks for Ruining Another NFL Sunday, Al Davis

My most recent Sunday, like most occurring in the fall since 2003, was sour and distressing. But it wasn't really the Raiders performance that left me in ruin. You see, I braced myself for the inevitable loss to the Detroit Lions when Jon Gruden left for Tampa Bay, so I could anticipate game-changing misses by Fatty McSeabass, gruesome interceptions, laughable fumbles and random moments of false hope. But all of that could have never prepared me for the pain I felt when I saw this:


or this...



or... this :(



Thanks, for fucking nothing, Al Davis!! We have Randy Moss, the most dangerous receiver in the NFL for, what, three years and this guy couldn't accomplish dick. And it's not like he rolled into the Bay with his typical "Yeah, I'm the laziest SOB on the planet. What of it?" attitude either. In the beginning, Moss was actually trying! But positivity is hard to maintain when your offensive coordinator is using the NFL as a sabbatical from his job at a bed n' breakfast and Martin Lawrence is "throwing" you the ball.

Contrary to popular opinion, Randy Moss hadn't suffered a debilitating loss of skill nor was he critically diminished. He'd just been Raiderized. And now the mercurial receiver has emerged like a phoenix rising from the ashes, putting up nine receptions for 183 yards and a touchdown from Mr. Tuck Rule himself. Pardon me while I vomit.

With every Moss reception on Sunday, the bile rose further and further from my stomach. By the time he caught a touchdown, I was so engulfed with rage and fury that I got dizzy and fell out of my chair. Soon enough, Moss will have a ring and a 1,000 yard season to hang it on. That's just fucking great.

Thanks again for another great start and end to the NFL season, Al. I won't soon forget it.

Apparently, Michael Strahan Has Options

While perusing NFL.com this morning, I spotted this headline: "Agent: Strahan has not made decision, still considering options."

Options? His wife gave him a proper rogering in the divorce proceedings, receiving $15.3 million, a New Jersey mansion, $18,000 a month in child support, another $311,000 in back child support and 91 percent of their two kids’ private school tuition. And now, after trying to bully the Giants into giving him more money to make up for having half of his assets jacked, Strahan is facing replacement and $485,000 in fines! But instead of having an agent that does his job properly and gives actual advice, he's being told that he has options.

Earth to Michael: Go back to work! You have no options! Your wife took your money, the Giants called your bluff and now you're deluding yourself into you've got hand. "Take that Giants, you'll see!" No, Michael, they won't see and you'll be broke. There is nothing out there for you. Keyshawn Johnson has already taken the position of "newly retired player with huge knot in tie" on ESPN, and Jerome Bettis, Sterling Sharpe, Cris Collinsworth and Tiki Barber have cornered the "randomly insightful" retiree spots on NBC. The only real tv option out there is joining Rodney Peete and John Salley on Best Damn and if that's the case, you may as well throw in the towel and see if George Foreman wants to partner up on a new grill.

Not even Al Davis is foolish enough to go for this one, not with the way we're going to make it rain over Michael Vick in 3 years. So stay in New York. Even if 80% of your ridiculous salary is going to your ex-wife, at least you can make a little flash money doing "more meat" commercials with Subway Jared and his weird, melted, cock sucking lips.

If you keep up this hold out madness much longer, your only option will be to bubble wrap your balls and remaining shreds of self-respect and mail it all to your ex-wife and John Mara with a note that says, "You win :( Regards, Mike" And no one wants that, least of all me, a petty, bitter Raiders fan that reveres you for being a complicated, ferocious animal that has singlehandedly filled the photo album for the NFL's Gayest Headshots of All Time.

Michael Vick & CNN Team to Boost Idiocy Rates

I've finished my transition back into the real world. Go ahead, stop holding your breath. I know you've been anticipating this for months.

So how many of you check out cnn.com on a regular basis? I usually don't but someone called my attention to one of their outrageous breaking news alerts about something mundane like Whoopi Goldberg joining The View, so I headed over. I spotted a story on Michael Vick in the headlines and took a gander only to happen upon one of the most troubling things that I've seen in months: bullet point summaries.

Has anyone else noticed this?? Why doesn't CNN just slap us around, pass out dunce caps and call it a day? I understand that we live in an instant gratification, ADHD, fast-food society, and that we are literally growing dumber by the minute but can't we at least rely upon news organizations to, I don't know, put forth a modicum of effort to keep us not only informed but literate? Is that so much to ask?

It's not as if AP and Reuters were beating us down with prose from honors English or complicated language from a PhD dissertation on the Bundle Theory. Their articles are, at most, 180 words, broken down into five, two-sentence paragraphs that are written at a fourth grade level. Take, for instance, this 104-word story about a Serbian man eaten by bears at a beer festival...

BELGRADE, Serbia (Reuters) -- A 23-year old Serb was found dead and half-eaten in the bear cage of Belgrade Zoo at the weekend during the annual beer festival.

The man was found naked, with his clothes lying intact inside the cage. Two adult bears, Masha and Misha, had dragged the body to their feeding corner and reacted angrily when keepers tried to recover it.

"There's a good chance he was drunk or drugged. Only an idiot would jump into the bear cage," zoo director Vuk Bojovic told Reuters.

Local media reported that police found several mobile phones inside the cage, as well as bricks, stones and beer cans.

Once you discount the time you spend laughing, it takes about 45 seconds to read, comprehend and move on. There are no monosyllabic words to stand in your way. No compound sentences. No string of thoughts more complex than "See Dick with no protection. See Jane with an infection." I'd like to think Reuters was doing us enough favors but apparently not. We need highlights.

• A 23-year old Serb was found dead and half-eaten in bear cage
  
• Naked body was found in enclosure at Belgrade Zoo
  
• Zookeepers believe man was drunk or drugged

I have to admit some surprise at not seeing "Devoured man must've been an idiot" as the fourth highlight.  

In the coming weeks, I anticipate another tragic article where some schmo laments falling literacy rates and the United States placing 13th in the "educated nations game" and, strategically placed in the upper-right hand corner, will be CNN's bullets explaining the rising idiocy rate in 40 words or less while directly contributing to the problem. I suppose the only irony to all of this is that the genius that thought up this plan likely proposed his ideas via power point - the only form of expression for braindead, communication addled business executives.

God bless American journalism.

And before I forget, you may now realize that the title of this post had nothing to do with anything at all. I just figured I'd jump onto the hate wagon with the hip kids since I'm so behind the curve.

But while we're on the topic, it's entirely too bizarre, not to mention quite unnerving, that the masses want Vick to catch a shank in the prison yard for breeding and killing animals when, if he'd raped a girl or been a partied to a murder, it'd be forgive and forget by Christmas...

Now excuse me while I dig out my Ray Lewis jersey and do a rousing squirrel dance for the upcoming NFL season on the lawn.

Joe Gibbs Can Tolerate Clinton Portis But Not Budweiser

My NASCAR knowledge is fairly limited. I know of Talladega, Darlington, Daytona and the Brickyard 500. I know that Bristol is raced at night. I know that Tony Stewart has had one Twinkie too many and that Robbie Gordon seems to be a bit of a dandy. I know that Carl Edwards #99 car is 10th in the standings - but only because my friend Chad is on his PR team and I try to keep a look out. This is where it begins and ends. But since I believe that I should know as much as I can about something before trashing it, I've been keeping up with the "sport" a little more lately. The only danger to this plan is that I might end up liking it.

In any case, the big news these days is Dale Earnhardt Jr's departure from DEI... something about his step-mother being a money-grubbing, power hungry demon. NASCAR is wholly consumed with the Earnhardt watch - will he go to Hendrick? Joe Gibbs? RCR? The most likely candidate, according to rumors, was Joe Gibbs Racing. Not only is Gibbs the coach of Earnhardt's favorite NFL team, his group has also managed three Nextel championships since 2000. Who can resist that type of winning tradition, especially when it's also the home of the aforementioned Twinkie pounder? 

This type of union would be ideal but there's one problem -- this Bud is NOT for Joe Gibbs.

"For us it would be hard. It'd be hard," said J.D. Gibbs, president of Joe Gibbs Racing. "They've been a great partner of the sport and do a lot for us but personally that would be a hard deal for us to do. I'll just leave it at that right now." - Yahoo! Sports

Personally, I would object to owning a Budweiser sponsored car because that shite tastes like gnat piss but the JGR rationale centers around its evangelical beliefs and religious objections to the consumption of alcohol. Fine. You'd think that Gibbs' willingness to forge his livelihood in two beer-soaked industries would create a conflict but I suppose there's a little hypocrite in all of us.

That brings me to my actual problem -- if Gibbs is going to use his religious beliefs to object to Budweiser and, in turn, Junior, shouldn't he pass that same judgment onto Clinton Portis, who is quite possibly the stupidest man in America?

On Michael Vick's dog fighting operation: "It's his property, it's his dogs. If that's what he wants to do, do it... It can't be too bad of a crime. There's a lot of stuff that's crimes, you know. It's killers on the loose over here and you want to hunt down Michael Vick over fighting some dogs... I'm sure some police got dogs and fight them, some judges got dogs and everything else."

How can you condone one and not the other? How can one tolerate, and at times, champion, a person too stupid to understand the fundamental immorality of dog fighting (or anything else, really) and yet be too high and mighty to own a car with a beer logo on it... especially when JGR driver, JJ Yeley, already races like he's drunk. I guess this is the type of sterling logic that is leading the Redskins back to Super Bowl glory.

Look, I know Gibbs has little to no control over the Redskins roster but for a man of such high values and principles, he seems to tolerate the behavior of criminals and amoral, braindead asshats extraordinarily well.

Warning! Raiders Draft Does Not Compute

Being a glutton for punishment, I tuned in to the NFL Draft on Saturday equipped with 2 six packs of Rogue Brutal Bitter and a box of Kleenex. I was going to need both for a variety of reasons with Oakland's continued commitment to mediocrity being one of my primary concerns.

While the talking heads ran their mouths about nothing in particular, I began entertaining thoughts of a draft day trade where the Raiders ended up with Calvin Johnson, a free agent quarterback, and a bevy of draft picks. These delusions of grandeur got a little running room when Ed Werder appeared with rumors and conjecture but I snapped back into reality when Roger Goodell announced the obvious - the Raiders, attempting to make up for missing Matt Leinart and Jay Cutler in 2006 - were going with Jamarcus Russell as the #1 pick in 2007... Color me disappointed... I see "bust" written all over this kid and if that's true, our franchise will be set back another ten years. I hope I'm wrong.

I downed six beers over the course of the first round but then, in the second, something magical happened: "The Oakland Raiders draft Zach Miller, Tight End, from Arizona State."

The number two tight end on the board? I couldn't help but wonder if the Raiders were taking this draft seriously. Where were the DBs? The lightning-quick athletes with no actual position? The D-IAA or DII lineman that dominated the Directional Liberal Arts Conference? I could only conclude that someone in the war room must have realized that the Raiders haven't had a tight end that could catch since Dave Casper Todd Christensen*.

I'm not even sure where our current crop of tight ends came from. The starter, Courtney Anderson, is a 7th round pick from 04 who has no redeeming qualities but I can't make heads or tails on the rest of our guys. I remember Doug Jolley being on the roster but I'm not sure what happened to him. At some point, we were also pained with non-skill of Teyo Johnson, a Stanford product who is likely making pancakes these days in Michael Huff's IHOP. Hmm. Well anyway, Mel Kiper called Miller a poor man's Todd Heap (we passed on Heap to waste money on Derrick Gibson) and I'll take it, gladly.

From there, the goodness just piled on. Quentin Moses (DE), Mario Henderson (OT), God smiled when we picked up RB Michael Bush out of Louisville, and then, the most glorious news of all: Randy Moss to the Patriots! Granted, we got him in exchange for a sack of dirty towels and a bottle of Tide but I don't really care.

I have sat in seething hatred of the New England Patriots since the Tuck Rule ruined my hopes way back in 2002. Though I have developed reasons to root for them every now and again, that pain will never leave and a part of me is always rooting for their demise. Being excited about Randy Moss making a new home with them, especially when he still rips a 4.29-40, is in complete opposition to that. But Randy Moss and his quitter's attitude was a cancer in the Raider locker room. He has made no secret of his distaste for the new staff, new system, and new quarterback, and if we are to get anything accomplished with Opie Taylor leading the way, he had to go. While it would have been nice to get more for him than a sack of dirt, no team would have ever gone for it. What's he done in the last three years other than bitch, moan, and take plays off? No GM in their right mind is paying top dollar for a POS like that. Oh well. It's going to sting like mad when Tom Brady lights Moss up for 7 touchdowns at the next two Super Bowls but we're better off in the long run.

All of this good draft news notwithstanding, I still got sodding rat arsed. It was just too much to handle all in one day. System overload, I suppose. By the time Day 1 was over, I was out of beer, out of sorts, and out of commission. All in all, however, a Bravo to Al Davis and the Raiders. I don't know how they managed to not cock this up but I know better than to ask too many questions.

Draft Grade: B
Explanation: Jamarcus Russell = -10 percentage points. Sorry. I'm just petty that way.  

*A fine chap named Barry C corrected an oversight, advising that we actually have had a tight end that could catch since Dave Casper - the mighty HOFer Todd Christensen.

Calvin Johnson to Oakland Suddenly More Realistic

If I had to guess, 75% of players eligible for this year's NFL Draft have used marijuana. Hell, 10% are probably using as I type. But three players out of that 75% (or whatever the number happens to be) are projected to be top-10 picks in a couple of weeks; one of them is Calvin Johnson.

Now, I want to make it clear that I don't care that Johnson has smoked marijuana. The dreadful odor aside, I can't find any negatives that would rank lower than those associated with alcohol, cigarettes, or any other mind-altering substance. For all we know, the sweet ganja is what makes him so sleep, smooth and refreshing.
But his admission is pretty important and should be given proper focus. Why? Because the Oakland Raiders' number 1 draft pick is at stake. 

You see, I admire Johnson for doing the right thing by admitting to past behaviors that others may look upon unfavorably. It's incredible courageous, especially when millions are at stake. But this act didn't just show coaches, fans, and general managers that he can tell the truth. This admission caused Al Davis to turn his hearing aid up a notch. Do you realize how crucial this is at T-15 days to draft time? Suddenly, Duante Culpepper Redux ain't lookin so hot! Though what I'm really hoping for is a decision to trade down for more picks, this may be the best non-Jamarcus alternative that Al will agree to, so consider my hope restored!

Al loves the "troubled but talented and trying to reform" routine and if that's what it takes to snag Calvin Johnson at number 1, then please Calvin - keep smoking and telling us about it! You can do it, buddy.

The Oakland Raiders need you.

My sanity needs you... and so do my ulcers.

[IMG: CalvinJohnsonOnline] 

Vick Donates More to Valtrex Than Victims' Families

Michael Vick, who is likely the richest and most well-known former student of Virginia Tech University, felt so sorry for the victims of this massacre that he donated not $100, $500 or even $1000. Nope, this kind citizen chipped in a cool $10,000! And if you're mocking his contribution, shame on you. $10,000 is some serious paper at work for a guy who has the highest NFL contract in the history of the league and pulled in $23,102,750 from the NFL alone in 2005. What can you really expect? Besides, it wasn't long ago that the NFL fined him just as much for flipping off Atlanta Falcons fans, so I could see how he might think it fit to lay the same amount of cash on 32 families whose loved ones were just lost in a senseless tragedy. That said - making any donation at all is a great thing but I can't help but think that a man of such substantial riches who sees it fit to spend tens of thousands on frivolities like rims for cars he drives a few times a year could have done a little more. I guess my logic is this - if you can drop $100K on a customized H2, why not this as well? I dunno. Maybe I'm being unreasonable.

Anyway, earlier this morning, Vin from SportsColumn sent me an IM, asking if I thought he was a jerk for thinking Vick's drop in the bucket donation was an act of superdickery.  I did my best to help disavow him of such notions...

Sportscolumn

Flash Warner: It's completely dick, especially when he probably spends more than that a year on his Valtrex prescription. Michael Vick is a complete waste. He was fined just as much for flipping off Falcons fans last year. Maybe this is his designated charity for the funds..

SC: Exactly. What's 10k? After his accountant gets through with it, he's out 5k. I realize that his name adds something to this cause... but what? It's not like this is some niche charity that needs his celebrity.

FW: This was a completely insensitive move. I assure you, the 24s that one of his 8 Escalades is sitting on cost double. My guess is that the donation will go up after the mockery and outrage starts to increase

SC: Right. If you're going to make a donation, make it one that is more than the jewelry you allegedly lost in your non-marijuana holding water bottle. “When tragic things like this happen, families have enough to deal with, and if I can help in some small way, that’s the least I can do,” said Vick

FW: Some small way is right maybe they can have pizza at the memorial now

SC: How about you put down the bong and fly up to Blacksburg to talk to the kids. You're a loser, a terrible QB, and a dick but you're still a legend up there.

FW: How long do you think it'll take him to come to that conclusion though? Even with the water bottle thing, it took him 3 months to realize that we needed an explanation beyond "that's mine. they can't take it" He is completely consumed with himself. The only way Virginia Tech is getting more money from him is if they promise to put his name on the stadium. It's pathetic.

SC: Michael Vick just called and said, "Did i donate 10k? If I'm donating, don't criticize me. That' all I'm saying." By the way, overlooked in our hatred for Michael Vick is the fact that he did donate *something*. Too bad he's such a douchebag and can't count. He probably thinks it's a lot of money.

FW: I think it's great that he at least made an effort but he's probably the richest and most well-known former student they have he can't find it in his budget to give a little more? If there was a massacre at Syracuse, I can't imagine Donovan McNabb sending a $10K check and calling it a day

SC: I wish Randy Moss would come out and donate $20k cash and say "what's 20k to me? ain't shit. Michael Vick can s%$ my dick"

FW: That will only work if he throws out a "straight cash homey" in there as well

Something to Consider: Caning Athletes

"I expected the suspension, but for a whole year for a guy that hadn't been charged with nothing? I really didn't agree with it. But for the most part, I'm taking it like a man. I'm going to appeal it."

Team offenses = 3 licks 

Thanks for Nothing, NFL Scheduling Committee

For a number years, Al Davis has claimed that the NFL is out to get the Oakland Raiders, using the regular season schedule (and the opening game, in particular) as his evidence. In all that time, I have never believed him. The schedules are predetermined with 14 of a team's 16 potential opponents set from 2002 - 2010. The other two games are determined by a team's record the previous year. There is no conspiracy.

As such, I blew off Davis' remarks as the rants of a crazy old man whose brain was being decimated by the same flesh eating virus that was destroying his face. And while that is likely the case, when Al complains about the NFL trying to put the wood to us this year, he'll be dead-on-balls accurate.

You see, after a putrid 2-14 season, the Silver & Black have been tasked with the hardest schedule in the league. Our opponents managed a .539 winning percentage last year and all three opponents in the AFC West finished .500 or better. What's next, NFL? Gonna make us trade our #1 pick for Josh "out of the league for 3 years" Booty? Oh wait, we already signed him. Nevermind.

2007 Regular Season Schedule
Week 1 – vs. Detroit
Week 2 – @ Denver
Week 3 – vs. Cleveland
Week 4 - @ Miami
Week 5 – BYE WEEK
Week 6 - @ San Diego
Week 7 – vs. Kansas City
Week 8 - @ Tennessee
Week 9 – vs. Houston
Week 10 – vs. Chicago
Week 11 - @ Minnesota
Week 12 - @ Kansas City
Week 13 – vs. Denver
Week 14 - @ Green Bay
Week 15 - vs. Indianapolis
Week 16 - @ Jacksonville
Week 17 - vs. San Diego

At least we open with Detroit. If we get lucky, Jon Kitna's 3rd quarter meltdown will lead to a couple interceptions that we can turn into field goals and this dramatic 6-point swing will help us notch a W before getting slaughtered after the bye week (Can we temporarily stop the bleeding at week 9? Maybe. Just maybe. Hope springs eternal). That said, a schedule like this is like setting a man on fire after someone else has already riddled him with bullets. Good lookin out, assholes.

Jerry Porter Plans to Crap on Tim Brown's Legacy

I have sported three Raiders jerseys over the course of my life – a Jack Tatum onesie (1983), Tim Brown (1987-2004), and Jerry Porter (2005). I had a Bo Jackson one as well but never wore it because my dad told me not to be a bandwagon jumper. As it turns out, he was talking about switching allegiances to other teams, not players, but I was about 7 at the time and didn't really understand the difference.

Anyway, the year before last, I decided it was time for a change and settled on Jerry Porter’s #84. I thought Porter was a jerk with serious personality problems but there was no one else that was worth a damn on our team. Besides, I thought he'd team up with Randy Moss to become one half of the most feared wide receiving tandem in the NFL.

Shame on me for trying to overlook the negatives.

Al Davis gave Porter more than $10M in guaranteed money with a pre-season signing bonus; Porter responded by sleepwalking through 2005. He posted two 100-yard games, a seven-reception game high, and a 12.4 yards-per-catch average. Awesome effort, Jerry. Good lookin out.

After that stirring display of mediocrity, he clashed with Art Shell and demanded a trade. I became so enraged that I poured gasoline on his jersey and burned it in the street. That's when I brought ole trusty #81 back out the closet; I could always wear that with pride, right? No. Not even close.

Now in the good graces of both Coach Lunch Money and Tim Brown, Jerry Porter is trading in #84 for Brown’s #81.

"I talked to him yesterday, and he feels some people might trip, but it's been four years since I had that jersey on,” said Brown.

Some people might trip? Tim, you're Mr. Raider. You’re the leading receiver in the history of the goddamn franchise. Let’s pass your number on to the obnoxious cunt in the gold-plated heavyweight title belt! That sounds like a great idea! Come on.

According to Porter, this is all okay because he's turning a new leaf and he needs the most dignified number in the Raiders franchise to make the transition complete.

"I am truly honored and excited about changing my number to 81," Porter said. "For me, the new number represents a new start, a new beginning and new attitude."

Well it's too bad you didn't do this last year. Maybe we wouldn't have ranked last in the NFL with 16 total offensive touchdowns, asshole.

This new leaf business is total bollocks. The expectations of wearing #81 aren't the same with the Silver & Black as they are with, say, the Eagles or the Cowboys. It requires more than playing with a steely resolve; it necessitates a willingness to do whatever is necessary to help this franchise no matter what adversity stands in the way. Is Jerry Porter honestly capable of that? I'm all for this fresh start of his but a tiger can't change his stripes.

It will require a complete re-wiring of Porter's brain for him to come close to being anything like Tim Brown. And I don't say that because I think Brown is God or a legendary, Hall of Fame-caliber receiver whose number should be in the heavens. He was neither. Tim Brown was simply very good and very reliable for a long period of time. But he exuded class and professionalism every day of his 17 seasons in the NFL, proving himself as an incomparable leader and a tireless worker. If anyone is going to wear his number, let it be the guy that embodies what he was all about, not a #2 receiver that takes his cues from Terrell Owens.

Hattip: The Hater Nation 

Tony Dungy Does it "The Lord's Way"

So a few of us went to the Super Bowl this weekend, which was amazing until we were eating breakfast on Sunday and noticed the rain. But even then, we were in good spirits because the local weather-types were pretty sure that the chance of rain at kickoff was only 30%... thirty percent... meaning, "eh... I suppose it's possible but whatever." These people can eat a bag of dicks. The way it was raining out there, a huge green circle must have been hovering over the city the way skank hangs over Pigpen from Peanuts. 30%. If you're allowed to be that wrong and still keep your job, then I need a new line of work.

Anyway, I spent the game with a wet arse and bad hair - *small prices to pay to see Prince perform live but annoying all the same. That said, I was more confused about the rain's presence than annoyed by the discomfort it caused -- rain on Super Bowl Sunday is supposed to be a myth, spook story you tell to little kids particularly in Miami where rain is simply too gloomy and unattractive to survive. What could it possibly be doing there on the last great sporting event until Opening Day? I know God was looking to make this process as hard on Peyton Manning as possible but did he have to give the rest of us a rough go as well? It wasn't exactly fair. But I will take the soggy knickers, chills, and sniffles every day of the week over the horror that awaited me this morning. 

I had to be at work at 0530 for speed training, which put an axe on partying all night and returning later this afternoon. But while it was brutally cold when we left, I had no idea that we'd return to -6 degree weather and a windchill of -25. As if it was any consolation, the weatherman was happy to report anticipated high for the day of 3.

When it's 3, why say anything at all? 3, -3, -33. Isn't it all the same? It's not like I'll be able to forgo the scarf knowing that the temperature will rise from -6 to fucking 3. To add insult to injury, my metal barbell in my tongue froze to my lip when I was walking from my car to the building this morning...maybe I could've avoided it had I waited until we hit 3 degrees.

But before I comment on the Christians, I'm going back to Prince. He is the greatest live performer that I've ever seen and easily one of the best living American musicians (and guitarists, in general). So while last night was a throwback to 1984 with a few shite covers thrown in, I thoroughly enjoyed and appreciated the opportunity to see him play again. And frankly, I'd rather hear "Let's Go Crazy" and "Purple Rain," in the driving rain no less, than Justin Timberlake, Jessica Simpson, or any other TRL superstar. i'm only disappointed that we weren't treated to "When Doves Cry" and some bare buttcheeks. Either one could have added something really special. 

Christians: I saw the following postgame quote from Tony Dungy in the New York Times this morning:

“I tell you what, I’m proud to be representing African-American coaches, to be the first African-American coach to win this,” Dungy said. “It means an awful lot to our country. But again, more than anything, I said it before, Lovie Smith and I, not only the first two African-Americans, but Christian coaches showing you can win doing it the Lord’s way. We’re more proud of that.”

What, exactly, is the Lord's way? Is it just not being from the Vince Lombardi School of Verbal Assault? Is it being calm and collected? Because I'll tell you, the fire and brimstone God that I know - Christians will know him from the Old Testament - isn't about calm and chill. Though it's true that he is a loving, compassionate God, He is also vengeful, hot-tempered, and will not hesitate to kick you in the teeth with his Mighty Boot of Justice, also known as Samael, the Angel of Death.

This method is a lot more fierce than cussing and berating your players. Don't get it twisted, Tony. Your way isn't necessarily God's way. And in the unlikely event that it actually is, your Super Bowl win isn't more sanctified as a result. Get over yourself.

*The rain didn't ruin my experience. Was it annoying? Yes. But it was still a great time.  

Yawn: Giants vs. Dolphins at Wembley

The jig is up, kids.

Boss recently discovered that I have a weekly Friday installment at Sports by Brooks and he was not down with the conflict of interest. After a long discussion where he talked and I stared at him while thinking about the bowl of Lucky Charms growing soggy on my desk, we decided (as in, he decided and I nodded my head) that it was best for me to resign my little post.

So head over to check out my last day of work and ogle some boobies while you're at it because you're stuck over here from now on and I won't be showing you tits (mine or anyone else's) before each installment of anger and sarcasm.

In other news, the Giants and Dolphins are the two unlucky teams slated to travel to London this fall for a gridiron battle in front of rugby fans with nothing better to do.

Now, correct me if I'm wrong but isn't the whole point of this overseas madness to broaden the reach of the game - gain some new fans, sell some more jerseys?

If so, how did the NFL ever rationalize scheduling such a snoozer at Wembley Stadium?

If their reasoning is that there's no use in sending a marquee team (or a team with a marquee player) because England is owned by soccer, rugby, and cricket - fine. I can accept that. Should that be the case, then sending the Giants actually sounds like a good idea. They won't be able to put Tiki on parade and give the English a sense of Johnny Wilkinson but they can showcase Eli and then sell both his and Peyton's jerseys in the concourse. It's like a two-fer. Most of the English won't know the difference and will simply assume that they're buying home and away kits for the same bloke.

But if they're trying to give this whole "real men play football like Americans!" display, then send out some real teams! Or at least a real player! You can't come correct showing up with Eli Manning, Ronnie Brown, and a guy on the DL that does bizarre commercials with Subway Jared! Having been knocked out of playoff contention by the end of October, the Dolphins will be wholly uninspired and the Giants will be in the process of commencing their annual 5-game skid. But now that I've talked this out, maybe that's what the NFL is on about... this whole plan is like killing four birds on a wire with a shotgun - give the English a little pickle tickle, take Jeremy Shockey out of the trailer park and get him a little culture, and make a few dollars all without destroying any real team's hope at a Super Bowl run!

I think I get it now. Bravo, NFL! 

Al Davis Hires Doogie Kiffin, O.C.

The coaching job no one wanted is finally filled. After garnering little interest in the coaching world, the Raiders were left with the following options: Steve Sarkisian, James Lofton, and anyone on the planet who thought being an NFL coach would be pretty cool. I suppose I could add Dennis Green to that list but he didn't interview, opting instead to let his 16-32 record over the last 3 years speak for itself. Unique strategy.

It's really a shame about Green though. I thought he was the perfect candidate to lead this Raider ship on the final leg of our journey into the bowels of NFL Hell but I guess he had better things to do. Not surprisingly, so did Steve Sarkisian, USC's 32-year-old assistant head and quarterbacks coach. Always the front runner over Hall of Famer and Chargers receivers coach James Lofton, Sarkisian was all hearts and stars after his first interview. But when an offer was made, he ditched the job with a "Thanks for the rep boost, Al. Rather than let you put my balls in your desk drawer, I'm gonna stay down in LA and collect championship rings until a real job comes along."

That left the Raiders back at square one, so we turned to Lane Kiffin, a bloke that recently interviewed for the vacant OC position.

Other than rumors of his involvement in a Pete Carroll power play against Norm Chow, I know little about him. He's 31. His dad is Buccaneer defensive coordinator Monte Kiffin, architect of the Tampa Cover 2. He became the OC at USC two years ago and his NFL experience is limited to a season of bitch work defensive quality control for the Jags.

And now he's the 16th head coach of the Silver & Black.

Hiring this guy was so fucking clutch!!

Al Davis likes to hire young, innovative coaches with offensive minds.. he loves giving these blokes their first shot. But Jesus Christ. Lane Kiffin's innovation extends to re-numbering the pages in Norm Chow's playbook! Is there anyone in Oakland who takes this seriously? Here's a snippet from the press release:

Under Kiffin's leadership in 2006, the Trojans finished first in the Pac-10 in passing efficiency, averaging 264 yards per game, produced two 1,000-yard receivers (Dwayne Jarrett-1,105, Steve Smith-1,083) and a 3,000-yard passer (John David Booty-3,347).

In 2005, Kiffin was named one of the nation's Top 25 recruiters and served as coordinator of an offense that ranked in the top six nationally in every offensive category, including tops in total offense (579.8 yards per game) and second in scoring offense (49.1), and set Pac-10 records for total offensive yardage, first downs, points scored, touchdowns and PATs. The Trojans, who scored 50 points a school-record seven times, won games by an average of 26.2 points.

Kiffin's play-calling and design enabled Bush to capture the 2005 Heisman and the Trojans to become the first school to have a 3,000-yard passer (Matt Leinart-3,815), a pair of 1,000-yard runners (Bush-1,777, LenDale White-1,319) and a 1,000-yard receiver (Dwayne Jarrett-1,274) in a season.

No! No! No!

1. USC could have finished first in the Pac-10 in passing efficiency if the bush baby from American Idol was in the booth! When the system for an offensive juggernaut has been in place since, at least, 2002 and your players are absurd NFL talents, there's no real way to take credit for their inevitable  success! The real challenge of that job was doing your best to stay out of the way and avoid fucking up a sure thing!
2. Recruiting skill means dick. If that's so important, then here's what he needs to do -- limber up those texting thumbs, fuel up the Raiders jet, and start making home visits to the blue-chip free agents on the market this off-season. If he's such a masterful seller, sign the talent. I want to see what you can do when you're selling a laughing stock franchise and an owner that has the Ebola virus on his face instead of Pete Carroll, rings, and Paris Hilton's va-jay-jay.
3. Kiffin taking credit for the plays that won the Heisman for Reggie Bush is like the wind taking credit for Carl Lewis's gold medals. When play-calling and design is summed up by the words "Give Reggie the ball and watch the magic," that is not impressive.
   

But in settling back to reality, what choice did we really have? No one with functioning neural pathways wanted the job. We'd been turned down by college coaches - one without any head coaching experience, no less - two years in a row. And with a desperate Jerry Jones on the loose, anyone that could be swayed would head to Dallas long before signing up to be the new Manchurian Candidate in the Bay. It's like we're Jim from American Pie and we've been so widely mocked and despised for so long that our only choice was to settle with the band chick from USC...

But hey, maybe it's really not so bad. I mean, Jim did lose his virginity on the night of prom, which was the goal all along! So maybe Kiffin will pop our figurative cherry and lead us to heights unimagined -- crazy stuff like NOT leading the NFL in sacks allowed, NOT finishing with the fewest points (168) in franchise history, and NOT being held without an offensive touchdown for eight straight games. Who knows, with a little luck and a lot of smooth talking, we could get Lane Kiffin to coach us to three wins next year!

Go Raiders!

I'm Glad the Saints Lost

I couldn't be happier that the New Orleans Saints went down in flames to Chicago on Sunday.

I had no dog that fight. My proximity to Chicago notwithstanding, I have no loyalties to the city nor the team unless you count my waning support of Brian Urlacher, a native son of the great state of New Mexico... and even that stems from my high school days when we'd watch Urlacher blow people up while the rest of the Lobos did their best to walk and chew gum at the same time. As for the Saints, I couldn't have cared less. Yeah, I told people it'd be nice to see them win - you know, for the city of New Orleans and all - but I was lying. I'll admit it. I wasn't against New Orleans but I wasn't for them either.

So when the NFC Championship game was set last Sunday, my enthusiasm could best be described with an indifferent "meh." The biggest excitement I got was telling people that the NFL had fixed the outcomes and that I was gonna get to the bottom of it. But then came the media, who bombarded us with carefully crafted montages of Drew Brees and a devastated Big Easy, Reggie Bush and the contaminated, brackish water, the Superdome and refugees on rooftops, Marques Colston and fans on poverty-stricken streets.

If "Our Country" taught us anything, it was that these images should cause us to salivate, press the red button, and hop on the bandwagon. We had to care about the team from the city that care forgot and spur them on to victory because they deserved it. Why, exactly, did they deserve it? Because citizens are hurting and they need this team to lift their spirits. Because football is the magic elixir; the remedy to a negligent government, homelessness, violence, and poverty. Give New Orleans a Super Bowl and you'll give it instant normalcy.

To me, this was total bollocks. And the more the media peddled that tripe, the more I hoped the Saints would get blown out. Maybe that makes me a bad person but it didn't really matter; the guilt kept me silent. To be against the Saints was to be against the triumph of the human spirit. My insincere facade hid the fact that by Tuesday, I hated the story; by Thursday, I hated the Saints; and by Saturday, I'd put money on the Bears.

Now, I'll be the first to admit that the Saints were an incredible story. How do you root against a gritty, determined bunch whose weekly battles on the gridiron were representative of the fight for life endured by their fans? How do you root against a team that has re-energized and brought hope to a city and her people? How do you root against the rallying point and one, true sign of recovery amidst heartbreak and devastation?

Well, in the regular season, you don't. You pull for the team on its inspirational journey and you pull for the city they represent  because you know they need the boost. And with 16 playoff spots open, there is plenty of room for Cinderella's team of destiny.

But when the playoffs come, it's time to play football. It's time to put the stories on the back burner and focus on the game at hand. This isn't the Olympics and this isn't a chick flick. Matthew McConaughey and Ben Affleck don't star in this drama. This is sports. This is competition and teams have to go out and play the games. Teams don't get to win because they have the magical combination of a better story and Rex Grossman as an opponent. Would a New Orleans win have been great for its people? There's no question. But while football is a nice escape, it's not a cure-all; and soon after the games end, it's back to reality. That wouldn't change if the Saints had lost in the first round or won it all.

Look, I don't mean to downplay the ghastly aftermath of the hurricane or ignore the fact that it was made even more disastrous because of human failure and negligence. It will take generations for that region to recover. But at some point, this had to be about the game. It had to be about actual football. And given the media's obsession, that was never possible. The Bears had to go up by 20 before Joe Buck would consider giving up the cause and even then, a spectacular comeback for a devastated piece of our nation was still in reach. Had things gone differently, we'd be looking forward to Peyton Manning Is Due vs. A City that Deserves it. Thanks but I'll pass.

The Autumn Wind's Stench Hurts My Braincase

This post is dedicated to John, an ace chap from the great state of Washington who spends his days eating apples and creating acoustic magic. Here's to your fix, mate.

So it's been about a month since I posted with any regularity and then I went and lied to you by promising to be back two days ago. Well kids, I'm finally here to deliver. After four weeks of being completely up against it and having it end in humiliating futility, I'm on vacation and ready to yak at you.

I've missed far too much to comment on it now but I'll touch on a couple of the more irritating things that happened to me over the break..

I went down to Indianapolis a few weeks ago to watch the Colts and Bengals duke it out on Monday Night Football. I'm not a fan of either team but I'm not one to pass up tickets to what was supposed to be a solid contest. So we're in our seats for about a minute when this drunken reprobate shows up in the preceding row with a $12 beer. It took him about a minute to turn around and shout "WHO DEYYYYY!" in my face with breath so strong that it singed my noise hair and made my eyes water. He was rank. Absolutely foul. He was an abomination. And he danced to that goddamn Who Dey chant for the better part of a half hour. When the game finally started, he sat down and took off his coat. That's when I noticed this - the epitome of all jersey offenses:

Lemme tell you something, Bengal fan. It is the complete assclown, and he alone, that sports the number 69 after graduating from high school. But it is another person entirely who does so on an authentic NFL jersey that also has HMFIC on the back. After taking a picture of it, I gave him a tap and asked for a definition. "Acronyms aren't really my strong suit," I said. "Baby baby baby, I am the H.M.F.I.C. I am the HEEEEEAD Motherfucker in CHAHHH-GE!... WHO DEY!! WHO DEY!! WHO DEY THINK GON-" You get the rest. Up until that point, I had remained fairly calm with this twat's antics but that really was the last straw. What bothered me even more is that if anyone in this situation was supposed to be the head motherfucker in charge, I assure you, it was definitely me - who was acting as the sober, sane one for once in my life.. I spent the better part of the night eating nachos and fantasizing about kicking him in the teeth. But on the plus side, I made a brief "appearance" on Sports Center, as a highlight was shown of a Bengal fumble recovery that occurred directly in front of my seat. While chumpy engaged in song and dance, I stared at him with hateful disgust. Huzzah (kinda).

Beyond that, I can't recall anything of note that occurred - well nothing that I need to weigh in on 15 days after the fact, at least.

Let's see... I have an update at SportsbyBrooks, so check that out. Aside from obvious snippets about Art Shell and Bill Cowher, you can also check out the Daniela Cicarelli (Ronaldo's ex-wife) sex video, a Utah boy that found hardcore porn in a case of Madden 07, and from the "Like Clay Aiken, Some Schmo is Getting Hotter Ass Than You" Files, Jim Lampley got drunk, zooted, and then administered a beatdown on his girlfriend - Miss California 2003. I like to assume that the poor girl said something that reminded Lamps of Larry Merchant and he lost his head.

The most important news of the day is that the Art Shell experiment has come to an unceremonious end. It seems he had a meeting with Al Davis and the two came to the mutual agreement that Shell move into the front office rather than continue to pilot the Raiders on a way ship to hell. When Davis hired Shell, I posted that this is how the process made me feel:

Raiders DE Tyler Brayton Is Not a Man

On most Monday nights, one can find an interesting matchup or, at the very least, a good team whose performance will hold your attention for a few hours. This is usually helpful in cancelling out the mind-numbing commentary of Theismann, Kornheiser, and, when he's not sleeping, Mike Tirico. But tonight's game between the Raiders and a Seneca Wallace-led Seattle had so few redeeming qualities that I can't imagine many of you tuned in.

And even if you did, you had to hang in until the waning moments to catch the first action of the evening. 

With 1:54 left to play, Mack Strong made a solid 4-yard run to keep the clock moving. But long after the play had ended, Raiders DE Tyler Brayton and Seahawks' TE Jerramy Stevens were still going at it. There was a lot of pushing and grabbing before the volatile Stevens made what appeared to be a half-hearted attempt at kicking Brayton in the knee.

Brayton responded by kneeing Stevens in the jimmy.

I couldn't find a picture of Brayton's cowardly act, so here's one of Cristina Ronaldo of ManUre.

Cristina is pictured in Lisbon carrying his man purse while sporting "see my bulge" jeans and carefully bleached ends.

He is an abomination. He is not a man.

And what Tyler Brayton did tonight is the type of shite Cristina would pull.

I have no truck with kicking a man in the groin but as a woman, I'm protected by a double-standard. If I need to neutralize a hazardous situation, a swift kick to the goolies will aid my cause. But this is not acceptable behavior for man-on-man aggression.

Jerramy Stevens has proven himself to be a wanking git, time and time again, and tonight was no exception. But at no point during the game did his behavior warrant such a weak dick move.

If a man has the stones to go after another, be it on the football field or otherwise, I expect him to fight like a man, not like me.

Had Brayton ripped off Stevens' helmet and beat him in the face, fine. If he had wrestled him to the ground and got a few licks in, okay. But when his first course of action was to kick Stevens in the sack, he should have left the field, showered, and hopped a red eye to meet Cristina Ronaldo at Louis Vuitton. He has more business getting a Mystic and a manicure in a London salon than playing football with the Oakland Raiders.

Growing up a fan of this team has numbed me to random acts of thuggery and craziness but it did not prepare me for players kicking others in the knackers and then justifying said actions by blaming "emotions."

That excuse is pure bollocks and wholly unacceptable. 

Art Shell was clearly lying when saying he planned "to show them the way, the 'Raider Way.'" Apparently, it's not enough that we continue to play like pussies; now, we have to fight like them too!

Two Games in a Row Makes a Streak!

Don't look now but my Oakland Raiders are officially riding a winning streak!

When we stopped the Steelers with about 2 minutes left to play, I tempered my enthusiasm. If I know anything it's that the Raiders will find a way to crap on my heart but luckily, Najeh Davenport's ineptitude got in the way.

I never would have thought a team could amass 51 passing yards, 83 rushing yards, and one interception and still come away with a 7 point win but thanks to Ben Roethlisberger's ever-deteriorating brain function and Bill Cowher's complete refusal to insert Charlie Batch, this impossibility came to fruition.

Drew Bledsoe's Ego & Other Concerns

While watching Monday Night Football, a few things crossed my mind...

• On ESPN's MNF, the days of introducing yourself and paying homage to your university/high school/elementary school/neighborhood playground are long gone. Now, a featured player from each team's offense and defense handles the task. But has anyone noticed that not all the names are said?
  
  On the defensive side, you get to find out who the ends are, a couple cornerbacks, and maybe a linebacker. And on the offensive side, we're treated to the quarterback, the wide receivers, a guard, and probably the TE. If we're lucky, we even get to hear their wacky nicknames.
  
  But what about the guy that doesn't get the mention? Tiki Barber went through every part of the roster, from Eli Manning to the guy that runs Gatorade bottles out to the field, and neglected to mention Jim Finn - the ONLY fullback on the Giants roster.
  
  What, do you need a Madden '07 rating at 80 or above to qualify for a mention? I'm pretty sure this theory holds water... Ethan Albright certainly didn't get introduced when the Redskins played Minnesota in Week 1.
  
  
• Tom Brady, JP Losman, and now, Tony Romo. If you're Drew Bledsoe, what's going on in your head now that you've been replaced three times for a younger product whose most immediate upside is that he's not slower than molasses?
  
  The thought of being replaced is enough to nauseate me but not choking on my own uptight arrogance probably has something to do with that.
  
  Bledsoe has been entrenched in the pompous so-and-so category since the early 90s, so it wouldn't surprise me if he thinks Parcells' halftime decision was anything more than temporary punishment.
  
  This is, after all, the guy who was telling Buffalo reporters that the Bills were still "his team" after security had packed up his locker and set the contents on a curb in the Ralph Wilson parking lot.
  
  But at bump #3, even the cockiest sumbitch starts questioning his effectiveness, right? And in that end, you'd have to see this as the end of the road, unless, of course, you want to take your ability to get sacked out to the Bay. Andrew Walter needs another 3 years of mentoring before he officially emerges from the wings of development.
   
• I would rather swallow thumbtacks than suffer Tony Kornheiser's voice. He's like Larry David without the wit, sense of humor and random shenanigans. Thank God for Heroes, the greatest 9-10p EST distraction on television.
  
  Hopefully, the writers will be kind enough to not leave the viewers in a twisted mess of questions and confusion unlike the jokers responsible for turning "Lost" into a love-hate relationship. Speaking of Lost, does anyone think Desmond is suffering from Merlin's sickness? Matt brought it to my attention but since the writers won't clue us in for another 3 seasons, I'd like to check with others now.
  
  
• Cesc Fabregas recently signed an 8-year contract with The Mighty Arsenal, solidifying himself as the future foundation for the post-Thierry Henry era. I cannot express how excited I was to read this news. Though Thierry recently signed a contract that will keep him at The Grove until his most productive years are behind him, I was already concerned about Arsene's plans for the days when he eventually leaves us. Unlike the crisis of leadership suffered at Patrick Vieira's exit, The Arsenal will be ready to re-load.
  
  
• In related news, I have a brand new Cesc jersey that I wore to work yesterday. Since I have older, undamaged Arsenal kits and was in no real need of a new one, Boss asked why I'd done so before replacing Jerry Porter. As you know, I set my authentic Jerry Porter jersey on fire after becoming enraged by his betrayal. It's going to be a while before I'm ready to take a new NFL player into my life. Thanks, Jerry. Cunt.
  

We Did It!

The Autumn Wind is a Raider,
Pillaging just for fun,
he'll knock you around,
and upside down,
and laugh when he's conquered and won (a game!)

Bill Parcells Advisory System

It's another week, so it's only natural that Terrell Owens would have another gripe.

Last week, he was mad that he wasn't scoring enough touchdowns and was rewarded with three touchdowns in Dallas' rout of the Houston Texans. Like any spoiled brat, TO has found that whining makes the world go round and is now irritated that he doesn't have enough catches in the first half.

"For me, the game is getting boring, you know? In the first half of the last two ballgames, I'm not in the ballgame. That's not to say I'm not working hard. I'm not sure what the case may be. "It's not really anybody's fault," he said. "I just feel like it's something that needs to be (addressed). ... I feel like I need to be in the offense, involved a little bit earlier in the ballgame."

Over the last two games, Owens is actually correct but even the sun shines on a dog's ass from time to time. The truth is, Owens has been perfectly balanced through five games with 11 receptions in the first and second halves over five games. Further, he's totaled more yards before halftime (156) than after (121) with all his touchdowns coming in the final two quarters.

My guess is that has more to do with bitching out anyone involved with the offense over halftime than anything else but it's more likely that with Owens still learning the offense and getting in sync with Bledsoe, it takes a half to get things going.

But not if you ask Owens.

"I feel like any time I step on the field I can make plays," Owens said. "As I've said all along, it's all about the opportunities that I am given."

If I'm following my new Parcells Implosion Advisory System, I'd put the current state of alert for Valley Ranch right around orange.

Leinart & Urlacher Team for an NFL First!

At least, I think it's an NFL first...

In late 2004, Paris Hilton left a Las Vegas club on Brian Urlacher's back with a broken stiletto heel in hand. Soon enough, she was spotted at a Bears game wearing an Urlacher jersey.

In early 2006, Hilton was spotted all over LA with Matt Leinart and even showed up in Phoenix a couple times.

Now, we all know Paris Hilton gives it up for candy bars, so it's fair to assume that both players had a piece.

So what I'd like to know is this - has a starting quarterback and an opposing starting linebacker facing off in Monday Night Football ever had publicized relationships with the same girl? In every NFL town, the ratio of groupies to players is 100:1. Unless the two players went to the same college or play in the same town, the odds that a quarterback and the man assigned to plant his face in the dirt have shacked up with the same woman are pretty low. Granted, we are dealing with Paris Hilton, who would probably do me if I had a strap-on and a million dollars, so that may skew the odds a bit. But still. I'm on to something... I'm also drunk... I'm now pretty sure I'll feel like a goon for writing this by the morning.

+

In other news, Denny Green went batshit after the Arizona Cardinals pulled a Michigan State...

T.O.'s Logo Openly Mocks Dallas Fans

A few days ago, I fell into a funk and found myself simultaneously bored and lazy. It was unfortunate. But eventually, I transitioned from bored and lazy to just lazy and decided to waste some time with the internets.

While checking out the online store at TerrellOwens.com, something caught my eye -- popcorn. "TO's Exotic Popcorn Getcha Popcorn Ready" popcorn, to be exact. And yes, all of that is the name. One can get 3-1 pound bags of mix and match flavors that sound about as nauseating as all the coverage that whining tart has received all week -- Blackberry Brandy, Fruit Fantasy, Banana, Salt & Vinegar... mmmm, right?

Sure.

I don't mean to add to the T.O. overkill that's out there but this stuff cracks me up. So if you've had enough Owens coverage, click away now.

Still around? Good. Let's roll through some other absurdly priced, obnoxious items that could only be found at TO.com:

• An autographed copy of "T.O." for an appropriately priced $81.00 [Buy the unautographed copy on Amazon for $16.50 (or less)]
• The Fan Club package for $59.00, which gets you a hat, 4 plastic cups, and 5 "free" downloads of his craptastic rap single, "I'm Back." What 5 free downloads gets one fan is anyone's guess, as typically people only download an item once. But I'm sure TO has a perfectly rationalization for this.
  
• Autographed football marked down from $249 to $199. I can do the "Buy it now" on eBay and get a mounted, autographed Jerry Rice ball for $179. T.O., sir, you are no Jerry Rice.
• The Philadelphia Eagles Terrell Owens player replica mini helmet - and it's autographed too! Surprisingly, the price has been knocked down from $129 to that magic number of $81. Perfect for Philly fans looking for something to shoot bullets at during Sundays game.
• Blue & Silver "Terrell Owens" wristbands. It seems T.O. missed the boat on why people have wristbands (you know, that whole charity thing). The $10 you spend on a wristband, however, will give 10 more reasons to be alive.

+

In other news, head over to SportsByBrooks and take a gander at a few of my musings for the day. They include:

• Koren Robinson manages the longest drive of the Packers season
• Something interesting happens to Barry Bonds when he doesn't shave his head
• Johnny Drama spotted at Shea Stadium, according to Steve Lyons
• The Seven Deadly Sins are shaping the Super Bowl chase
• Philly fans craft Terrell Owens haikus
• and many more...

I Finally Realized the Painfully Obvious

I grew up unintentionally rooting for nearly every team the masses love to hate courtesy of my father's brainwashing. Though a Chiricahua Apache, he was raised an orphan on the Mescalero Reservation and since there was no television, his sports knowledge revolved solely around a couple books an elder let him read about Mickey Mantle, Alabama football, and Jim Thorpe.

So when my grandparents adopted him, my Zayde's passions - namely, the Oakland Raiders - became his own. And in the time between his adoption and my birth, my father saw the Silver & Black go to the playoffs ten times, play the chump to the Pittsburgh Steelers three times, and win the Super Bowl twice.

Soon after I came along, it was Super Bowl time yet again. Clad in a Jack Tatum onesie, I attended Tampa Stadium with my family and slept soundly while the Raiders completely annihilated the Washington Redskins to win Super Bowl XVIII 38-9.

This marks the last time the Oakland Raiders won the Super Bowl. I only wish I'd been old enough to recognize and remember it, as I might live another 150 years and not see us win another.

Look, I know - I'm being melodramatic. I've never felt true pain like fans of the Bills, Browns, and other agony-inducing losers. I don't know suffering where the NFL is concerned (you all know about my misery as a tortured England fan). And while these losing years have been irritating, three seasons ago I was skipping practice to attend Super Bowl XXXVII. I have no right to complain.

But I'm allowed to make an observation, right? ... and maybe whine a little?  

Thanks! 

As most of you know, I've been openly wishing for Al Davis to die for nearly two years but I now realize that this won't solve the Raiders' woes. Even if he kicks off tomorrow afternoon, the Raiders will be in the abyss for years to come because the way the team is run won't change after he's gone. How can it?

The Raiders organization and fanbase have long been under the delusion that this team doesn't rebuild, it reloads. When my dad was first becoming a fan, that was certainly true, but nowadays, that belief is folly.

I used to think that Al Davis' decisions were based on misprioritizing wants over needs and that he was only interested in the big splash. But I now see that it's really a case of overconfidence. If you ask him, the Raiders are only a couple players away, and if we can just add those missing cogs to the gear, domination won't be far behind.

When you think you're in that situation, there's no reason to consider a rebuilding effort. And I'll give credit where it's due - that formula worked for twenty years, but nowadays, the cost of picking up guys like Warren Sapp and Randy Moss have only served in making things go from bad to worse to impossibly frightful.

The Moss signing epitomizes this doomed approach.

In early 2005, Oakland was (and still remains) in dire need of linebackers, safeties, and offensive linemen. I was looking forward to those holes being filled through free agency and the draft but then ESPN had breaking news - Randy Moss had joined the fold! Hello, Playoffs! But looking back, I can't understand how the organization was so short-sighted.

We had recently re-signed Jerry Porter to a ridiculous contract and he, along with Doug Gabriel, Ronald Curry, and Johnnie Morant, made up a competent receiving corps. Why pile on with Moss? I'm the first to admit that I saw 40-point games and an 11-5 record in the stars but having the best receiver in the league is pretty useless when our incompetent quarterback can't stay on his feet long enough to throw the ball.

Hindsight is always 20/20 but we lost far more than we gained, as a former and future first rounder went to the Vikings. It wasn't enough that we shipped off linebacker Napoleon Harris, that #7 pick could have been Shawne Merriman or Demarcus Ware or David Pollack - all of whom would have filled a dire need. Instead we have the still interception-less Fabian Washington and a future Hall of Famer that wastes his Sundays running routes with no destination.

Signing players like Moss under the delusion that it's the key to the Promised Land creates unrealistic expectations, both for the organization and the fans. This, in turn, heaps an incredible amount of pressure on the head coach. And when you're dealing with mediocre coaching talents like Norv Turner, Bill Callahan, Joe Bugel, and Mike White, this is a recipe for disaster, as they fail to meet expectations in short order. Soon enough they get the boot, making the new coach a lame duck before he's through the turnstyle.

If you're a player in this chaotic, unstable situation, how can you respect the coach or the organization? How can you buy into the system of a man who may be gone in a season's time? How can you make yourself care in an environment that breeds such a losing mentality? I know, as professionals, they're supposed live and die for their team no matter the situation in which they find themselves but that's not reality anymore. It's not 1972.

The Raiders spent 40 years mortgaging the future to create a winning franchise but sticking to that method for so long lead us to this sad state of affairs. It will take a serious change in policy in Oakland after Al's gone for things to improve.

Good thing I'm young. This could be quite a wait. 

+ By the way, Ahmad "Highway 28" Carroll was released today. I've got $500 says that we sign him tomorrow. Who's game?

T.O. Needs Shauna, Not Kim Etheredge

I'm not really sure what one could say about the Terrell Owens situation that hasn't been presented by a million media outlets, so what I'm offering to this discussion is beyond me. But I should probably get it out of the way, especially since I haven't managed to talk about anything else...

When I first heard the news about the alleged attempt and that publicist, Kim Etheredge, called 911, I said, "Of course. At least he skipped Tonya Harding's kidnap plot and went straight to the end game." Only on Planet Terrell Owens would a person attempt suicide and have emergency medical assistance summoned by their bloody publicist. The only thing that could have been more appropriate is if Drew Rosenhaus had met the EMTs in the street and advised them to meet the troubled receiver in the middle of the driveway... just look for the lights from the tv crews.

I initially believed that TO, haunted by internal demons and now troubled by the fact that he 1) gets less catches than Terry Glenn, 2) is 34, hurt, and on the last legs of his career, and 3) still can't find any friends that aren't on his payroll, orchestrated the ultimate act of selfishness to shine attention on himself. I don't mean that he faked the attempt and went all Mr. Burns, waiting in devious glee until the tv trucks arrived. But I did believe that he's dysfunctional enough to take a page from the book of Costanza and try to go out on a high note. If he survives, he gets an outpouring of emotion and attention that 1,000 Sharpie incidents couldn't muster. If he dies, he'd be an instant legend, achieving the love and admiration in death that he never could in life.

But having thought it over, I doubt he's a sick enough twist for that level of plotting. My guess is that this was a the valid attempt and a true cry for help. Those contemplating suicide often fire warning shots in situations where they can be saved but who knows. Maybe TO just out-TO'd himself. Maybe he didn't. He has been so ridiculous for so long — ostensibly crying wolf so often that I've grown too numb to care.

+

After watching nearly 24 hours of spin and speculation, I have a question -- is there such a thing as publicist school? Where do you train for this? Is there a degree?

I graduated with a double major from a pretty reputable institution, I have a year and a half of post-grad under my belt, and I've carefully studied Shauna the Publicist in each episode of "Entourage." I'm a tough, no-nonsense girl with an abrasive personality. I'm incredibly articulate but can drop f-bombs like nobody's business when necessary! And my accent grants me the luxury of sounding incredibly sophisticated and intelligent even though I may not know what day it is. Further, foolish people give me a pass for acting like an arse and making nasty comments because they've mistaken the behaviour for "dry British wit." [If I sounded like I was from the East Coast, people would just call me an asshole.] But I digress... So now I'm wondering if all of my "education" is enough for someone to say, "Hey, she's qualified!" because, frankly, I could handle spin creation for the TO camp just as "well" as this Kim Etheredge character.

What a useless clown.

Only Terrell Owens could allegedly attempt suicide and have the masses react with skepticism, scorn, and jokes like "Even TO wants to kill TO!" (thanks, Matt). A person may have issued the ultimate cry for help and millions of us are thinking, "Nice stunt, jerk."

And that's where the publicist steps in ... or not, if you're Kim Etheredge, a woman who has been publically dropping the ball since TO was apparently misquoted about being misquoted in his own book last year.

The national sports media has been held hostage over this issue for more than a day and no one from the Owens camp has taken proper advantage. Once mention of suicidal tendencies flies out of the box, you have no choice but to own it because that's not something you can just bury with denials, cover stories, and glib behavior in a press conference. It's rare that a situation looks like suicide (or attempt) but actually isn't and while TO's story is plausible, I don't know who's buying it.

Amazingly, this situation created the best opportunity for the Owens camp to show the world that Terrell is a sympathetic character... that we shouldn't buy into the persona or the rumors... that Terrell Owens is a fragile man in an unfortunate situation - embrace him, learn from him, and wish him a healthy, speedy recovery, so he can rejoin the Dallas Cowboys and play the game he loves.

Look, I know all too well that no athlete wants to be branded as being weak or a head case but since The Catch II, TO has proven his mental toughness to us again and again. His strength of mind on the field hasn't been questioned in nearly a decade but before yesterday, who of you didn't think he was at least a little nuts? Who didn't think the guy wasn't suffering from some type of mood disorder?You can be a rock on the field and a crumbling mess off it, trust me.

Though Team TO runs the risk of the Cowboys finding cause to put him on the non-football injury list and wriggling out from under his $5 million salary, Jerry Jones makes the final decisions and he's not about to take the "I told you so" beating from the national media over an issue like this. So why not take advantage and prey on our sympathies? I know it didn't work with TO's "book" but tugging at heart strings is easier when the act isn't motivated by profits... It wouldn't be a publicity stunt. It'd be spinning the information in your favor.

But rather than hit the easy button, the spinmeister opted to get aggressive and drop this snide bomb at the close of her press conference yesterday:

It's not family or football or a love of life that keeps him going. It's the 25 million bones and as long as he has it, the future Mike Tyson of the NFL will be blessed. Such a solid reason for living and such a great commentary to a nation of fans, the majority of whom who only have thirty thousand reasons not to kill themselves - or less.

But hey, maybe she's doing us a favor. It's her word choice that is preventing us from getting caught up in the emotion. See, with that comment, she reminded us that there are 25 million reasons to doubt everything her client does... that there are 25 million reasons for her client to keep acting like an ego-tripping douchebag. It's pretty hard to feel sorry for a clown but I very nearly did. Thank God Kim Etheridge was around to snap me back into reality.

Mrs. Manning: He'll Always be My Little Peytee-Pie

While watching the Today Show this morning, I caught an interview with Peyton & Eli Manning's mom. Her name escapes me but is it really of any consequence? In any case, she spent the entire interview sharing a bevy of inappropriate things that no mother should say about her NFL sons (or any son for that matter).

Eventually, the interview turned to nicknames and when asked if she had a special nickname for Peyton she said (her voice oozing with Southern charm),

"He'll always be my little Peyteepie."

Yes, you read that correctly: Peytee-Pie. 

Now, to Peytee's credit, he's seen pleading with his mother not to call him that on television but the attempt was futile.

The conversation then shifted to Eli, who Mrs. Manning previously called out as a mama's boy... Does he have a nickname?

"E-pie." Because he was jealous of Peyton being Peytee-Pie.

There simply cannot be anything worse than being a quarterback in the NFL (who is not too fleet of foot, might I add) and having your mother bust you out like that. Who knows, maybe she wants her boys' faces beaten in... after watching all of the Manning commercials, I can see how even she might be fed up with their awkward, socially inept attempts at marketing.

But Eli and Peyton being about as animated as those puppets they used on Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood shouldn't give Mama Manning carte blanche to be the most inconsiderate NFL mother in the land. Of all people, a woman whose been around the game for 30 years ought to know better! But when you think of E&P Pie as nothing more than little boys playing 7th grade football at Newman, I suppose consequences for comments like this don't enter your mind.

Oakland Raiders Sign Jeff George

Ya know... there's only so much I can handle and signing Jeff George is really pushing me to the edge.

I know George wasn't picked up to be the starter; he's an insurance guy. After all, we are oh so blessed to have Aaron Brooks, a quarterback who may peak before the pre-season is over, and Andrew Walter, who will wait in the wings until he's unceremoniously cut the way Marques Tuiasosopo is about to be.

But with this signing, the state of the Raiders went from depressing to completely surreal. 

Interested in keeping his own job, Art Shell backed the move, stating "I've always been intrigued by the guy... "He still has that zip, he still has that quick release and was very impressive."

"I've always been able to throw the ball, I've been blessed to throw the ball. And I think I'll be able to do that till I'm 60," George said. "Football's football, plays are the same, terminology's a little bit different..."

Yeah, Jeff. And you're still the same collossal dick. 

I cannot understand how Al Davis expects us to believe that this is the best insurance policy in the whole of the quarterbacking world. There isn't someone in the whole quarterbacking world whose most recent achievement is better than coaching the run-and-shoot offense of his fourth grade son's team? Or, at the very least, a guy not championed by Jason Whitlock?

I know Al is all about giving Raiders another chance but goddamn. If we're going to sign some old balls quarterback, put a neck brace on Rich Gannon and see what he can do. Or better yet, drop a couple million to bring Flutie Magic to the Bay. You know that'd raise our potential for wins from 2 to 4.

What's that you say? Even a guy from Backup College has his standards? Yeah... maybe you're right.

Aston Villa Finds Its Fairy Godfather in Lerner

Sometimes I wonder what will happen when I die. Will a guardian angel with wings and a harp scoop me up and take me to the light? Will I reincarnate as a tapeworm or something else befitting all the shitty karma I've created? Will Death show up a la Family Guy to escort me straight to hell? I'm putting my money on the hell scenario and as such, I try to imagine what Death will look like.

All my questions were answered last night when prior to kickoff of Monday Night Football, the camera got up close and personal with Raiders owner Al Davis. I know I've said that he's the undead on previous occasions but he really took things to a new level last night. To make matters worse, it looked like someone carved his teeth out of a bucket of Parkay. Gross.

On the plus side, the Raiders managed another victory thanks to decent defense and Seabass' suddenly accurate leg. As usual, however, we were peppered with 4,000 penalties on both sides of the ball and the offense only had one moment of brilliance courtesy of Andrew Walter. Walter, who may be "waiting in the wings" until the End of Days, threw as beautiful a rainbow as you'll ever see in an indoor stadium.

Raise the total of bright spots in the Raiders offense thus far to one.

+

In other news, Aston Villa has found its fairy godfather. Cleveland Browns owner, Randy Lerner, is following Malcolm Glazer to the English Premier League, but unlike Glazer, he won't be met with harsh opposition. Long-suffering Villa fans exasperated by the miserly reign of "Deadly" Doug Ellis will welcome Lerner to Villa Park with open arms, as the promise of a major new transfer kitty will boost their hopes for the season ahead.

"It is my belief and the basis for my bid to acquire Aston Villa Football Club that it can compete at the highest level within the Premiership and in Europe... "The club has a rich history and a long tradition of passionate fan support." - Randy Lerner

Lerner is buying Villa for £62.6m and with the way he has turned around the Browns in such short order, it begs the question... could the Villans be on their way back to the middle of the table and a record hovering around .500 as well? It's anybody's guess!

I kid, I kid. Aston Villa were founding members of not only the Football League in 1888 but also the Premier League in 1992, and are one of the oldest and most successful football clubs in England. The Villans are also one of an elite group of 7 clubs (Arsenal, Aston Villa, Chelsea, Everton, Liverpool, Manchester United and Cuntenham Hotspur) that has played in every Premiership season....

As a Gooner, I couldn't care less about any of that nonsense. I hope they all choke and die. But from the perspective of an English football fan, the success and strength of the Villans is good for the game; the same can be said for Chelski, Liverpool, Manure, Cuntenham, and Everton. When these clubs are down, the EPL landscape just isn't the same and it sure isn't as much fun, unless, of course, you're a senseless tosser. [Yes, I know I just ripped myself off]

So good luck to Lerner and congratulations to Villans around the world. I can't wait until you self-loathing fucks are good again. It'll make the taste of victory that much sweeter when the Mighty Arsenal beats the hell out of you!!!

No Friday Plans? Hit the New NFL Millionaire's Club!

Are you gonna be in Hotlanta tonight? If so, get ready to shake your ass and show no class, as you party with future Titan legends Pacman Jones, Lendale White, and Vince Young!

As you can see from the graphic below, the dress code is "sexy" and I know you know what that means, ladies! Slip into that glittery halter top and matching skirt with the three-inch inseam, put on your platforms, make sure that cleavage is right, and head over to the Vision Nightclub on Peachtree.

By the way, you'd best get there early. With three recent millionaires on the prowl, I imagine the line of chickenheads will be a long one. It'll be a dogfight (catfight?) trying to make it in and not only get past a second velvet rope/bouncer barrier but also gain access to the club's exclusive inner sanctum: the cozy VIP lounge that is sure to be awash in a hazy red glow. With the potential baby daddies with money to burn seated around the room, it'll be a site to behold, and your ascent through the club will feel like you've risen from a thick darkness into an intimate light of presents and sex...

Oh, and fellas: mind the dress code, good luck enjoying the groupies that weren't hot enough to get to VIP level, and be sure to leave your weapons at home. I'm sure Pacman will have enough for the crowd.

*By the way, this party made me wonder - when will the media crow about Vince Young being a little too much playboy and not enough playmaker? Every time a picture surfaces of Matt Leinart drunk and stumbling, people harp, bash, and complain... as if his Hollywood, playboy lifestyle is any more egregious and damaging than that of his fellow rookies (and new millionaires) who are teaming together to hold what amounts to groupie auditions. Sure, Leinart let Paris Hilton give him herpes and his best friend is a boy band douchepump, but why is he bagged on while other players are given a free pass? I suppose that's a silly question. Not dating a woman whose vajayjay has been by everyone between the ages of 13 - 85 might help create a more positive image.

*Edit: Original flash video replaced with picture

Michael Irvin: The Playmaker Becomes The Matchmaker

Romance seemed like the next reasonable step in their relationship but Bennett was reluctant. She'd been "involved" at work before and wasn't keen on taking the plunge again, least of all with her closest platonic friend.

Enter The Playmaker.

In late 2001, much was made about Michael Irvin's self-proclaimed new lease on life. With the help of friends and family, Irvin supposedly abandoned the world of drug abuse and sexual license for that of born-again Christianity, and the skeptical sports media was champing at the bit for the story.

Real Sports sent Dolin and Bennett to Dallas to get the exclusive, and they met Irvin at the home of the Good Reverend Deion Sanders. But soon after the interview began, Irvin turned the tables on the Dolin and Bennett, and asked why they weren't a couple.

According to reports, their faces turned beet red in embarrassment, but we all know that The Playmaker left no time for the awkward silence often found in situations of this nature. He pressed them on their status, insisting that God put them together for a reason.

"I had to say something," said Irvin. "In that other world, that spiritual world, that soul mate world, there was something going on soul to soul, not body to body."

Though these facts are probably only known to the Dolins and Irvin, I know one thing: if his talk was anything like his locker room speech with the Miami Hurricane football players before their game against Florida State last season, this union would could have been in the gutter before ever getting off the ground.

Fortunately, Irvin gives better trumpet calls for romance than he does rivalry football games (the Canes lost their season opener to FSU, 10-7). His words planted the seeds of possibility and last December, Nick Dolin proposed to Lisa Bennett.

The couple recently married at a TriBeCa restaurant and while reception guests dined on a do-it-yourself cheeseburger buffet, the newlyweds were greeted by a video message from Michael Irvin:

"Your love, even when you were not together, it was a beautiful thing to watch. You were like two little kids playing together." ,em>Irvin continued to wax poetic, suggesting that the Dolins name their soon to be born baby after him. "Michael, or Michaela if it's a girl."

Until now, I thought the only thing Michael Irvin could hook me up with was a fifth of Hennessey, a fur coat and the location of the nearest crack den. But look at the Playmaker, taking his skills to the next level. It's almost too good to be true, isn't it?

NFL Draft 2006 - 8 Random Day 1 Thoughts

• After they discover fire and the wheel, which (former) Ohio State linebacker will celebrate by ordering the roast duck with mango salsa at dinner - AJ Hawk or Bobby Carpenter?
• By drafting safety Michael Huff with the 7th pick of the draft, the Raiders have now taken 10 DBs since 2001. Here's hoping Huff becomes the first one to not be a bust and/or a total waste of time and money the way Fabian Washinton, Stanford Routt, Stuart Schweigert, Nnamdi Asomugha, Sideeq Shabazz, Philip Buchanan, Keyon Nash, and Derrick Gibson have been. Also, here's also hoping he's not Charles Woodson - the douchepump that didn't blow up until after lulling us into a false sense of security during his rookie year.
• Remember how the Scarecrow put all of that fear powder in the Gotham City water supply during Batman Begins? Maybe the same type of thing is going on in Buffalo, only with something called "Jump the gun 2 rounds premature" powder.
• What fuckup came up with this "Click Clack" Under Armour campaign? This is the worst commercial ever.. no really, EVER.. and it ran on nearly every commercial break. Don't get me wrong -- I don't think the other Under Armour commercials were worth a damn either but at least I got to rip my shirt off, look to the sky, and scream "WE MUST PROTECT THIS HOUSE!" at the end. That never failed to be an exciting time.
• ... I really miss Terry Tate, Office Linebacker.
• No Michigan player taken on the first day... it warms my heart 
• I really wanted Ringo Starr Brodie Croyle in the 3rd round. Dammit.
• Since the Titans took Vince Young (thus preventing Al Davis from doing so) I didn't drink myself into a stupor before the end of the first round. But then Paul McQuistan happened. Who knew Weber State had a football team? Al Davis sure does. The king of the undead wasted our third round pick on some random unproven that struggles dominating the DI-AA non-athletes in Big Sky country.
• Houston Texans fans seem to be the only people happy about passing on Reggie Bush. Someone may want to share this fact with Michael Irvin, who seems to be ready to grab a pitchfork and lead a mob down to the Texans facility for a riot.

Raiders Draft 2006: Further Down the Spiral

When talking to friends about the draft, they inevitably ask who I'd like to see the Raiders take in the first round. My initial thought tends to be, "The opposite of what Al Davis likes." Then I remember Fabian Washington and think, "Someone who actually deserves to be in the first round." After that, I spend another minute or so being depressed before shaping up and sharing my wish list.

As one can expect, I'm more worried about this draft than those of previous years. My Raiders are in a precarious position and it's a surreal feeling being consciously aware of the fact that we've reached the proverbial fork in the road. Sometimes teams fall apart and you don't realize it while it's happening. But 10 years down the line, you look back and can easily pinpoint the beginning of the end. Losing Jon Gruden was our beginning of the end but the damage can be reversed - at least somewhat - if things go right this year. It's true that we're lead by a senile pimp and Captain Mediocrity but with a great draft, maybe there's hope for the future... maybe we can reverse our free fall into the NFL abyss. With our track record, however, I don't think it's gonna happen. The last draft that would qualify as solid was 2000. I was still in high school and the only people I had to get excited about were: Sebastian Rape-ikowski, who could be great but can no longer see his penis because his stomach is in the way; Jerry Porter, who I love but really let me down last year; and Shane Lechler, the lights out punter. Two kickers in six picks... maybe THAT was the beginning of the end.

But back to the point at hand -- I'm terribly frightened of what Al Davis will be on about tomorrow. I keep reading reports that he's fallen in love with Vince Young.. that he'll do anything to have him.. that our draft hopes rest on being able to land Texas Rico. We desperately need a quarterback but in the short term, the only good thing I can see about drafting Vince Young is that the cameras for his BET reality show might catch Al Davis emerging from his coffin in the bowels of the Coliseum, thus proving that he is, in fact, the undead. And while Young might be great in the long run, the Raiders are on the brink and don't have time for a project. We can't wait for this kid to learn the game and get his mechanics together and even if we could, we don't have anyone to teach him! Resident mobile QBs - Aaron Brooks and Marques Tuiasosopo - shouldn't help elementary kids play neighborhood football after school, let alone act as guiding forces for a multi-million dollar investment! But I don't know why I'm complaining... we're going to draft Vince Young and I'm going to spend hour three of the draft tomorrow in tears, knowing that by midnight Sunday evening, Al Davis will have sealed our fate as the Arizona Cardinals of the 21st century.

I wish I could drop a bomb on the Raiders' war room. I'd replace the decision makers with trained seals and put together the best draft since the Kicker Special of 2000. We'd start by taking the 6'4, 305 pound DT from Oregon - Haloti Ngata - to fill the gaping hole left by the monstrous Ted Washington. If he's gone, we'd go with Texas DB Michael Huff, mostly because our secondary is decimated and the Bay Area needs a good IHOP..

In any case, I plan to be thoroughly liquored up this weekend in order to numb myself from the inevitable pain. So cheers to all. I hope your draft day treats you better than mine will.

Aaron Brooks Is a Raider... :-(

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Scary, er, Kerry Collins - Cut Yourself!

Dear Kerry Collins:

Your arrival in Oakland in May 2004 depressed me so much my sex drive slowed to an idle and I stopped eating. Soccer aside, food and sex are the only things that matter to me, so it's more than fair to say that you temporarily ruined my life. Things shaped up for me over the summer and I allowed myself to feel joy once again but then, in game 3, Rich Gannon pulled a Crash Test Dummy move near the goalline and you officially entered our lives like a stake through the heart. I cried that night and many nights since... 28 to be exact. With you under center, the Raiders were 7-21 and during that time, you threw 31 interceptions, got sacked 63 times, and either threw the ball away or dumped it off to someone like Tyrone Wheatley or Lamont Jordan for a 3 yard gain because you panicked before seeing Jerry Porter and Randy Moss breaking away from the secondary far too many times to count. Now, I know I've said this before but it bears repeating -- You are an underachieving trainwreck that handles pressure about as well as Barney Fife. Outside of fantasy football (where you're the equivalent of the Stay-Puft Marshmallow man), your existence only offers value to the opposing team's defense. You'd think that if Randy Moss could get Chad Pennington into the NFL, he'd be able to turn you into a demigod but oh no, not you. Your inability to turn big stats and huge plays into wins made me wonder if we should be checking your bank account... who can lose that badly without putting for an effort to do so? In all this time, I've learned that you are only capable of three things: prancing to the sideline after pussing out in the pocket, tossing interceptions, and overthrowing everyone on the field by 15 yards. You always talked a better game than you played and had more courage when facing media and critics than when you were facing a blitz. And now that you're supposed to be gone, my fuckwit compatriots in Raider Nation are calling for the now-second string, Andrew Walter, to be the player that takes us back to the Super Bowl. I suppose Walter, who couldn't even manage to take the second string job from the horribly ineffective Marques Tuiasosopo, can't be any worse than an inept pod who looks like he seeks out glory hole action in the restrooms of parks and truck stops. Hell, Walter could be the savior! As one delusional poster of Raiderfans.net notes in a Vince Young vs. Andrew Walter thread:

"We should try Walter first and address the other pressing needs of the team. Young is not a once in a lifetime QB. Walter sheds men off him like Brady/Elway, so I wouldn't worry too much about that mobility issue."

Sheds men off like Brady/Elway... well case closed then! We're on our way back! See what you've done to these people, Kerry? Raiders fans have enough problems... and delusions of grandeur was already one of them. Why'd you have to pile on? Looking at your sad, pointy face through your little helmet after you overthrew the open man by 15 yards (again) made me ill. Seeing your confusion, as you failed to sell the play action for the 18th time only to be sacked made me want to get violent. Watching you drop back 28 fucking yards after every snap drove me to absolute distraction but you know what? That's just fine! That's okay because we can make it all better if you just cut yourself. Waive yourself. Walk away. Last night, I went to bed so full of happiness because I finally found out that we'd tossed you aside but then today - you've been UNcut! Over the last 3 years, I've said a lot of prayers about this and even though you didn't die like I wanted you to, it really seemed that the NFL's salary cap issues would do the job instead but alas, you're STILL HERE. I'm supposed to be patient. I'm supposed to accept that things happen in "God's time" and He works in mysterious ways but I'm sick of waiting on God! God is slow! God is chillin out! God doesn't care!!! Kill yourself, Waive yourself, Cut yourself, JUST LEAVE THE BAY! Please!

Cheers & good luck ruining the lives of other fans,
Flash Warner

Reports False - Young Pounds Out a 16

Feel that breeze? It's the sigh of relief collectively being exhaled by Vince Young, Vince's agent, Mack Brown, UT, UT fans, the New Orleans Saints, the Tennessee Titans, and anyone else interested in Vince Young's skills and marketability... brace yourself for it... the rumors have been proven false, as its been revealed that Young's previous Wonderlic exam was incorrectly scored. Luckily for the Young camp, he pounded out a 16 on the retake, which erases the functionally retarded score of 6. I don't like anything related to UT or its putrid fans but Young seems like a good kid, so hurrah - that's good news.

Houston Chronicle
Indianapolis Star
Foxsports

Vince Young Possibly Scored SIX on The Wonderlic

That's right - the savior of Texas Football may not have managed his jersey number. Even Forrest Gump could've pooped out a Jeff Georgian 10 if that Army recruiter hadn't snagged him for Vietnam first. For the uninformed, the Wonderlic is a 12-minute, 50-question test that is written at a 6th grade reading level and is used by many corporations, as well as the NFL, as a makeshift IQ test. The average score for incoming NFL rookies is 19 (1 in 100,000 get a perfect 50), and if these rumors are correct, Vince Young has the lowest recorded score for a quarterback of all time... what about Terry Bradshaw, you ask? Sorry, the NFL has only been using the Wonderlic for 25 years.

Anyone who follows recruiting knows that Young didn't score much higher than dullard when he left high school but in the fall of 2002, he managed to be named to UT’s Athletics Director’s Academic Honor Roll. I'm now getting the feeling that UT's definition of "Academic" differs a bit from the accepted meaning... either that, or the FBI needs to head down to Austin for an investigation into their academic integrity - this is a government caliber cover-up and we all know we can't trust the NCAA to have the stones to figure it out.

But still assuming he really did score a six, how will he handle the complexities of an NFL playbook?  At UT, the playbook had one page and it looked like this:

1. Hike to Vince
2. Wait to see what Vince does
3. React

And while that type of playbook might work for the Falcons, it's not quite the NFL way. So what late first round team will splash millions on Young and the guy that took all his tests and wrote all of his papers? What, you don't think that guy needs to be on the payroll? Without him, Young has project written all over him. He throws like Uncle Rico and must adjust to playing UNDER center instead of 5 yards behind it. They'd better draft his illegal test taker in the following round so the guy can convert the playbook into into paint-by-numbers pictures. Otherwise, it won't be three years before Young will need to petition Michael Huff for a job at his new IHOP.

If you'd like to see what Vince and the boys were up against, ESPN has 15 sample Wonderlic questions for your egotistical enjoyment. Good luck.

 
*This story is running on the Rumor Mill at ProFootballTalk.com, so take it for what it's worth.*

Art Shell Ends the Raiders Coaching Search

The Original Comments

Is It Really So Much To Ask for Al Davis to Die?

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The Original Comments

I Need a Roethlisberger Break

Congratulations, Jerome

But always remember, if you'd lost to this guy...

... we mighta disowned you :)

The 25 Most Annoying Super Bowl Party Guests

Even Jeff Garcia Thinks Matt Hasselbeck Looks Gay

• Anna Benson's plan to "christen"Camden Yards
• Jerome Bettis' possible post-NFL career as long snapper coach for Notre Dame (yeah, I know - wtf?)
  
• The petition to turn Super Bowl Monday, or Day After Big Game Day, into a national holiday
• Troy Polamalu and Norah Jones, separated at birth?
• and more..

Please Die, Al Davis

Larry Johnson Whines About Kansas City Citizens

"I'm just very uncomfortable with the people here and the way they see me and the way they sometimes treat me. It has nothing to do with football. It has to do with when I'm out on the town."

Why Is Norv Turner Still Employed?

Yes, I Did Fall Off the Earth. It Was Nice.

Tedy Bruschi's Best Moments from Sunday Night Football

**Update - this link was a stream from a radio station and no longer works, which is a true shame. If I ever find another copy, I'll repost.

*** UPDATE 2 - thanks to a bloke named Sid, we have a fresh copy... I tried to thank him through e-mail but the address he provided bounced. So thank you, Sid, wherever you are!
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Original Comments

No More Bruschianity!

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Original Comments

Ray Lewis Makes Me Laugh

Since 98% of you don't know what I'm talking about, I'm not going to ramble on about this. Just know that I'm bursting with fruit flavor. In other news, I still hope Sven-Goran Eriksson chokes and dies.

Side note: The Coors Light NFL recap song on ESPN is back for yet another year of brutal rhymes and twins. When I heard, "And I... LOVE... WEEK ONE!," I gave up hoping for a new campaign from Coors, a beer that tastes like burnt wood. I suppose we'll just keep dealing with twins and the one that talks about how cold the goddamn beer gets when it's brewed. I guess with this Rocky Mountain High process, Coors Light changes from tasting like it was made with water drawn from the woods after a forest fire into tasting like cold piss.

+

Now, moving back to things that amuse me: Ray Lewis.

I know people hate Ray Lewis for various reasons but there's something about him that leaves me wholly amused every time he does something. Don't mistake me for a Lewis apologist; he just makes me laugh.

Something I've noticed over the last few years is that if something is going on, #52 is there. He may not be in on the play or the situation but if you look closely enough, you see his irrational exuberance in the background - if you can't see his face, look for a leg kickout, excessive clapping, and sounds of "Woooooo!!" and "Yay-uh!!"

Naturally, one expects to see Lewis in the picture where his defense picks off a pass or there's a big sack but start looking for him in other situations as well - Jamal Lewis' big rushing plays, special teams touchdowns, good deeds in the Red Lobster parking lot... Ray Lewis will be there.

His ability to position himself in the camera's line of sight to engage in celebration in any situation is nothing short of amazing.

Luckily for me, I tuned in to the Ravens-Colts debacle last night just in time to see Ray Lewis perform his "Squirrel" pregame dance. As he lunged to the right and then to the left, high-stepped forward at an angle, had some thigh action, and then did the full-body thrust/jazz hands finale, I started to wonder how one comes up with a dance like that.

I have my well-known celebratory butt dance where I turn my back on the target, crouch just a little, look over my shoulder, and shake my arse around in a taunting manner. But that is more of a spontaneous activity, not anything I've spent time and effort choreographing. So how did Ray Lewis put his together?

Maybe in its infancy, his dance was just that lunge to the right; an involuntary movement of passion. Somewhere things went wrong. Maybe he has OCD and he had no choice but to even it out with a move to the left or go insane. But if that's the case, how did the thigh action get involved? Maybe he needs air "down there" but it looks fairly dangerous for the groin.

What I'm most concerned about are the jazz hands. Take a moment and imagine Ray Lewis in front of his bathroom mirror, as he works tirelessly through the off-season on this intense production. I can't help but think some moves were thrown out. A shimmy here, the running man there. These are moves to which Ray Lewis said, "Nah dawg, I can't be seen doin that. But this move where I push my penis out to the crowd and follow it up with my head tilted back Liza-style and my jazz hands on parade is tight.... WOOOO!"

I tried the dance in my office today and got caught in the middle of the thigh action. Luckily, I haven't been fired. There is no pretending to be doing something else when you're caught in the middle of the Ray Lewis dance. There's no pretending to stretch.

There is no falling down directly into pushups or a pulling off a forward flip after you trip over the feet that are too big for your body - both things that, I am sad to say, I've actually done. When you're caught doing the Ray Lewis Dance just own up to it, sit down, and look out your window... look out for at least 20 minutes. The crowd that's likely gathered to point and laugh at you when you unsuspectingly walk into the hall has likely dissipated by that time.

GO RAIDERS + Post Game Thoughts

What NFL Rookie Had the Longest Holdout?

I was wondering -- in the history of the NFL, what first round pick had the longest holdout before signing his contract? Did he pan out or was he a bust? There isn't much in it for you on this... if I'm in a good mood, I might give you a cookie out of a batch that I bake for myself.

2009 Update! (based on being flooded by thousands of Michael Crabtree related hits): The longest hold out by a top pick was Bo Jackson. In 1986, the Tecmo Bowl legend opted to take his once-in-a-generation talent to the Kansas City Royals rather than toil with the Tampa Bay Buccaneers. He re-entered the NFL draft in 1987 and was selected by the Oakland Raiders in the 7th round. Other fun facts: Emmitt Smith held out for a ridiculous 48 days. Anyone else who decided to hold out for an absurd length of time has proven themselves an unmitigated disaster. For recent evidence, see: Jamarcus Russell.

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Ever seen commercials from the Christian Children's Fund? They have an Ernest Hemingway looking oldster that hangs out in an unidentified, 3rd world hellhole with a little boy or girl that is inevitably barefoot and plagued by flies. The child stares into the camera with his or her sad, vacant eyes, all but daring you not to feel guilty while the old guy briefly explains the child's plight. A few seconds later, the man is lead through the village/leper colony/shantytown and we see other frightened, terribly depressed children that are desperately clinging to inanimate objects. Then Ernest pipes in. "Maybe you're too busy with your day to day life. But these kids don't have time to wait for when you're ready to make a commitment. 4,200 kids died last night but a lot more can be saved with the help of sponsors. Only 80 cents a day and little whomever can learn to read and get penicillin. Why not now? You'll be a better person. Heaven's in it for you... You know what I think it is? I think you just forgot the number." Then the man walks out to some railroad tracks (I guess he didn't tool up to the village in his Range Rover) and while a random train passes, we see the 1-800 number. It's the same formula every time.

About 20 minutes ago this commercial aired again. The casual yet worldly man was hanging out with a terrified little girl named something obvious like Guadalupe. The commercial seemed par for the course until Hemingway said, "and she lived in a cardboard hut on the edge of a cliff until a storm blew it away." ... [I'm gonna give you a second to absorb that - or laugh. Take your pick.] Who in the hell does the Christian Children's Fund think it's fooling? I've had enough of their trying to make me feel guilty about 80 cents a day. For all I know, the 80 cents is going to salaries of the jack-off writers that come up with storylines like this one. Living on a cliff in a cardboard hut. Maybe Lupe's grandfather should have tied it to a palm tree before he succumbed to lepresy and the other afflictions that could have been prevented if he had a sponsor. How about that, writers? The only time a child has been saved was in Garden State, where Titembay was able to parlay 80 cents a day into admission to Rutgers. Unbelievable.

*Disclaimer for idiots: I feel bad for the children. I just hate the commercial.

Wanna Smoke a Bowl with Randy Moss?

"I have used, you know, marijuana ... since I've been in the league. But as far as abusing it and, you know, letting it take control over me, I don't do that, no."

When pressed on whether he still gets blazed, Moss said, "I might. I might have fun. And, you know, hopefully ... I won't get into any trouble by the NFL by saying that, you know. I have had fun throughout my years and, you know, predominantly in the offseason."

Predominately in the offseason? He hopes he won't get in any trouble by the NFL by saying that? Thanks, Randy!! You fucking assbag!! GAH!!!!! My Raiders are in dire straits as it is. The last thing we need is Moss picking up a suspension because he wants to be coy with Bryant Gumble, which causes the league to get wise and test him every 5 minutes.

"But, you know, I don't want any kids, you know, watching this taking a lesson from me as far as 'Well, Randy Moss used it so I'm going to use it.' I don't want that to get across. Like I say ... I have used marijuana in the past. And every blue moon or every once in a while I might."

I guess it's good that he apologized in advance for any absurd on or off-field antics but I hate him anyway... and if he doesn't catch 55 touchdowns this season, I'll hate him extra.

Limbaugh Wants to Bring Love to McNabb-TO Feud

"I'm a uniter. I believe in compassion and understanding and bringing people together ... I like to heal rifts out there and there's a huge rift that has developed here on the eve of the National Football League season and somebody needs to do something about it."

"This rift cannot be allowed to continue, ladies and gentlemen. It just can't, and I would like to offer this program as a means of getting these two Americans and star players back together. They may not want to talk to each other face-to-face, but perhaps they would join me on this program and speak to each other telephonically via this program and settle this."

Madden Update + The Severe Beating List

Our writers went to the lab to scientifically uncover the 50 people most in need of a vicious beating. We aren’t talking about a run-of-the-mill beat down. We are talking about an “I’m gonna call a couple of hard, pipe hittin’ niggas to come down here and work on the homes with a pair of pliers and blow torch” kind of beating. We are talking about the kind of battery that leaves you thankful just to be alive—an Alberto Gonzales-approved-enemy-combatant-bring-you-back-from-the-dead-
with-a-defibrillator-and-then-beat-you-some-more kind of working over—the kind of shit that leaves you with a lazy eye and lisp. We are thinking some Jack Bauer “24” shit, but without the dramatic Sean Callery score.

Yeah, I know American Pie 2 fucking sucks but I'm going to watch it anyway. Stop giving me that disappointed look you pretentious prick.

The Professional Hater. It is one thing to dish out humorous hate on a comedy site. It is a very different thing to do it for real under the guise of credible journalism. Skip is just a punk who can’t craft an interesting story without resorting to blatant bashing and baiting. Do your fucking job and cover sports like a sportswriter, you sensationalist hack.

You mean to tell me you had the opportunity to call Tom Cruise out on his creepy fake-romance with a girl who used to have his posters on her wall as a child and you didn’t do it? Unforgivable. Do everyone a favor and put “How to Give Great Head” on your book list. Imagine how much more pleasant this country would be if all those chubby housewives were at least handling their business in the bedroom.

The moral of the Robin Williams story: never stop using cocaine.

Who knew that being an actor prepared you for so many jobs? Tom Cruise is neurological science expert; Sean Penn is a journalist… who needs college anymore? To be fair, Sean Penn has done a few political thrillers and Tom Cruise probably picked up some things from Kurt Russell (who played a psychologist) on the set of Vanilla Sky.

Dr. Phil managed to parlay a chance job helping Oprah win a lawsuit with the cattle industry into a multi-million dollar TV gig. All for doing little more than spouting asinine, over-simplified, backwoods common sense at a bunch of degenerate fuck-ups in order to make fat, lonely housewives feel better about their pathetic lives. How much do you want to bet me that everyone of the mouth-breathing apes he "helps" on his show are back to their same hijinks by the time their episode airs? I’m all in.

Is an explanation really necessary?

My Best Hits Border On Felonious Assault

Warren Sapp Sends Kris Jenkins To Abyss

The low point came after the Panthers’ Nov. 7 loss to the Oakland Raiders, when Jenkins was forced to watch Warren Sapp, a player he dislikes intensely, celebrate on Carolina’s field. “When we played Oakland and we lost to Sapp, I stopped going to the games then,” Jenkins said Thursday. “I was going to the games up to that point. I couldn’t go to the games anymore. After that, that’s when … I’ve never been an alcoholic, but I upped my consistency of it.

“He talks too much, he doesn’t make sense, he’s fat, he’s sloppy, he acts like he’s the best thing since sliced bread. He’s ugly, he stinks, his mouth stinks, his breath stinks, and basically his soul stinks, too."

Kellen Winslow, Jr. Assaulted by Curb

CLEVELAND (Sept. 20, 2004) -- Kellen Winslow Jr. broke his right leg during the Cleveland Browns' loss against Dallas and is expected to miss a major portion of his rookie season. The Browns said the tight end has a broken fibula. Typically, the injury will sideline a player for 6-to-8 weeks.

WESTLAKE, Ohio (May 2, 2005) -- Browns tight end Kellen Winslow sustained internal injuries when he was thrown from a motorcycle, the team said. Winslow, who missed most of last season with a broken right leg, also has swelling in his right shoulder and right knee. The extent of those injuries won't be known until further tests are performed and the swelling subsides. The Browns didn't provide details of Winslow's internal injuries, but said they are not life-threatening. Winslow had complained of chest pains after he was injured May 1. Winslow is being treated at the Cleveland Clinic by the team's medical staff, Browns spokesman Bill Bonsiewicz said. He will be hospitalized overnight and there is no timetable for his release, the team said.

The 21-year-old Winslow was wearing a helmet, but it wasn't strapped on and flew off his head... He landed in a landscaped area at the edge of the parking lot, falling hard enough to tear out a small tree... He was testing the bike out learning to ride.

This stopped being funny about

Sonya Elliot v. Michael D. Vick, a/k/a Ron Mexico

Minor Complaints of Sport. Argh!

Pats 34, Eagles 17

Leinart: 49ers or 69ers? Announcement Today.

Option 1: Mad green, groupies, L'Oreal Styling Gel commercials
Option 2: BCS, groupies, 2 Heismans

The poor guy has expressed a severe amount of difficulty in making a decision. I can't say I blame him because I'm sure that's a real toughie. Were I a man, this would be a seriously taxing decision! Of course, there's the whole money issue but all things being equal, it's gotta be tough when a football player has to make a decision on where he'll be able to scoop up a higher percentage of the cat. NFL... USC... USC... NFL... Song girls or groupies... Cheerleaders or MILFS...Bay Area Women or LA Women. It's enough to make ya dizzy! And I'm sure it's worn him out. The poor thing. He goes to class and awaiting him are 8 girls - all bleached blondes with C-cups, new nose jobs, and 26 inch waists, their legs quivering as they itch to be at his beck and call. "If I stay another year, we can make history." But then it's a rainy day in LA and he heads out to lunch. Where are the girls? They're not on campus, they're not in the streets - well, no one but the Rainy Day Women, at least. And that's when it hits him... it's time to really consider the NFL. Norm Chow could be gone to the Ravens.. The quality of the Song Girls has diminished in the last couple of years. Is there any part of Troy that he's yet to conquer? When one has the opportunity to move to a higher level, it is incumbent upon that individual to do so. Life is about challenges... it's about tackling adversity. The harder you try to meet and beat those challenges, the more you strive to rise to the occasion, the more one gets out of life. To settle for another year at USC is cowardice** AND (oh yes, there's an "and") lunacy. Onward and upward, Mr. Leinart.

It's BootyTime!

**Disclaimer - I don't think he's a coward. I was just being a jerk. He's a great player, I know this. Al Davis, Please draft him. I can't survive another Kerry Collins season.
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Original Comments

Super Bowl Predictions: Mascot Style