The Dumb Jock

Mets win, Willie Randolph loses

2008-06-17T01:39:00.000-07:00

I went on Mets.com at 3:30 in the morning to check out next week's schedule only to find out that Willie Randolph has finally been put out of his misery. As expected, pitching coach Rick Peterson and and first base coach Tom Nieto have also been assassinated.

Bench coach Jerry Manuel will become interim manager / scapegoat. Life expectancy: however long the 7 train full of angry Mets fans takes.

Thumbs up for irony!

The report was apparently written at 3 am and ESPN hasn't even reported it yet. The dismissal comes only hours after a pretty impressive victory over the Angels in Anahiem (for non-Mets fans: impressive victory = not common).

So, after months of disappointing play during Shea's final year, Omar Minaya fires Randolph after a win...on the road...at 3 in the morning?

I guess the Mets wanted to keep emphasizing the whole "bad timing" thing. Typical.

- K.H. (Welcome to the jungle, Jerry)

In defense of Paul Pierce

2008-06-07T17:44:00.001-07:00

Although I've lived in LA my entire life, I've been a Celtics fan for eight long years and I've always considered Paul Pierce my favorite player. However, he has come close to being replaced during these playoffs mainly because he's guilty of what I consider a mortal sin in sports: flopping. Yes, I will admit it, during these playoffs, Pierce has flopped, he's flailed, he's even done the Vlade every now and then.

And yes, I do agree that the whole "popped"-knee-wheelchaired-off-come-back-with-Rocky-music-playing was unnecessarily dramatic. I agree that he probably didn't need to be carried off (well at least Brian Scalabrine did something) like a pregnant woman in labor. And I agree that his knee probably wasn't and isn't that sprained, if it is at all. And by the looks of it, so does Pierce.

"Ten years in hell and I get this?! Why, Brian, why?!"

But I do not agree that "The Truth" is a a) bitch, b) crybaby, c) pussy, d) baby, e) any other derogatory term that isn't exactly flattering. Trust me, living in LA, I've heard all of them.

Because throughout the past eight years, Pierce endured playing with starting lineups that included the likes of Raef LaFrentz and Jiri Welsh. He endured six years tag teaming with the NBA's worst crybaby Antoine Walker. He endured four coaches, none of them very good. He endured the infamous season last year, in which they did not even land either Kevin Durant or Greg Oden (thank god).

Hell, the guy even got stabbed eleven times once. ELEVEN TIMES!

...IN THE FACE!

So, basically, he endured a lot of stuff that would've forced a lot more than one trade demand from Kobe, who told his fans he had to leave after one bad season.

And how many times did Pierce publicly announce a desire to be traded from the hellhole of Boston? Well, if he has at all, I don't remember it at all.

This is not about his comparison to Kobe (I know what Kobe has that Pierce doesn't). Yes, ten years in purgatory doesn't justify an over dramatic scene that should never have happened.

But in the Finals, especially during most intense season of my lifetime, we all get a little hypnotized by the drama. Flailing our arms just a little more, falling a little louder on the hardwood, screaming a little more often.

Lebron did it. Rip did it. Ronny Turiaf has been doing it all season. I mean, this is the NBA, where even Robert Horry is still creating drama.

And Pierce is no different. And neither is everyone around him. I'm certain the Celtics superstar didn't tell the trainers "I need to be carried off and I need a wheel chair NOW!" With the entire nation gasping (or cheering) once he fell awkwardly, the rest of the series of events happened inevitably.

Pierce falls, he looks like he is pain, he gets wheelchaired off, he realizes that it's not as bad as it felt in front of millions of viewers, he returns to the court a la Willis Reed, he drains two threes in a row, Celtics win, David Stern sleeps easily.

Like all the drama in the world, it just sorta happened. And the spectators are as much to blame as Pierce because at the end of such an incredible season, we (Pierce included) don't want anything to come easy. Especially a championship.

And again, the guy got stabbed eleven times!

- K.H. (Never thought he would ever type the name Jiri Welsh again)

Sam Cassell reportedly interested in buying some weed

2008-06-07T16:57:00.000-07:00

According to ESPN.com rumors, Celtics ugly duckling Sam Cassell is apparently "interested in Nuggs." NBA pals Rasheed Wallace and Damon Stoudamire are reportedly "hogging their grass because they don't want to be smoking on dat dro with Sam."

Yes, he is.

The Celtics guard, visibly stressed because his lack of playing time in the playoffs, loudly screamed to reporters "I just want my nuggs!" moments before meeting up with Martinez behind the bus stop on 13th and 2nd. He spent "$24 on a few grams."

This is really an unfortunate event in the NBA, a league that claims it really "cares." Why can't a grown man just get a damn nugg in peace?!

Ricky Williams declined to comment.

- K.H. (Go Green!)

Honoring Marshawn Lynch's driving abilities

2008-06-05T16:41:00.000-07:00

So not much funny news lately in the spots world, besides Bills gold-teefed running back Marshawn Lynch's car being involved in a hit-and-run in Buffalo. By the way, Lynch was spotted in the area of the hit-and-run and refuses to speak to police. Also, the woman involved in the hit-and-run is quoted for telling police "Bills running back Marshawn Lynch was driving the automobile that hit me." I don't know you guys, but I sense something fishy.

Anyways, to honor Lynch's shady driving skills, here's a video of the athlete driving recklessly back in his college days:

Don't do drugs, kids.

- K.H. (No Kevin Everett jokes here)

Someone forgot to tell bald man that the ABA doesn't exist

2008-06-03T17:34:00.000-07:00

Matt Mosley of Hashmarks reports that DumbJock favorite and Seahawks quarterback Matt Hasselbeck has declared his predictions for this year's epic NBA Finals.

...in 1936

"I'm making a prediction," Hasselbeck told reporters after practice today. "I'm thinking Celtics in three. That's how good they are. They're so much better than the Lakers."

Aww, how cute! The bald man still thinks this is a five game series! "The Celtics in three!" This is almost as classic as when Vinny Testaverde picked the Spurs in 13!

In a eerily familiar scene, the disillusioned Hasselbeck added, "Garnett is going to get the ball and he's gonna score!" The Seahawks quarterback then took out his dentures, put down his cane, and proceeded to watch The Price is Right.

- K.H. (START SENECA!!!)

Rodney Harrison is N0T going crazy about the gotdamn Superbowl, okay?!

2008-06-02T00:40:00.000-07:00

Just in case you were wondering, Patriots BAMF Rodney Harrison is not haunted by that miraculous Manning-To-Tyree play (name still pending) of Superbowl XVII. Although Harrison was covering Tyree during his improbable catch, boston.com reports that the Patriots veteran has finally accepted "the catch" as "inexplicable."

"Not in a million years does he make that catch again," said Harrison. "I don't have any regrets on it. I saw the ball, went up for it, and did my best to grab it out. It goes on his head, so what can you say?"

This photo does not exist in Rodney Harrison's imagination.

It's almost four months past the Superbowl, and now Harrison finally accepts Tyree's catch as crazy? I know just about every New Yorker accepted the catch as crazy once they took another shot of Jack Daniels after thinking Eli was sacked. Trust me, I know...*sighs* gotdamnit Kenny.

But as well as I remember that play (which I don't), "the catch" was definitely inexplicable, something sent from the football gods to finally destroy the Patriots, including their ever-cocky safety. Unfortunately, some don't take losing so well and resort to profound existentialism:

"I think you have to understand that certain things happen that you just can't explain."

Sounds like somebody's got a case of the SUPERBOWL PWNG3! If only we could all just cheer him up with a BrianBillickesque kiss.

- K.H. (Took four months to get over that hangover)

Sasha Vujacic does not care about your money

2008-05-31T15:31:00.000-07:00

CNBC's Darren Rovell reports that Lakers guard Jason Schwartzman, ahem, Sasha Vujacic just might have cost sports bettors a total of $100 million. In an celebratory asshole move, Vujacic shot a completely unnecessary three-pointer in the final seconds of Game Five of the Western Conference Finals against the Spurs:

"While Vujacic’s taking of the shot was a joke in the Lakers locker room, it turns out it was hardly a laughing matter for people that had bet on the Spurs to cover the spread. The line opened with the Lakers being eight-point favorites, but quickly moved to 7.5 points, meaning that Vujacic’s heave either cost people money (who bet on the Spurs) or turned their winning bet into a push."

Sasha wants to screw you over

Fortunately, this still means the Spurs are out of the Playoffs. Though it also means at least four more games of watching the biggest European dumbass in California (aside from the Governator of course).

But I guess when your name is Sasha and you wear a snapped condom on your head, even Kobe thinks your an asshole.

- K.H. (That doesn't include you, Sasha Baron Cohen)

Vlade Divac thankful he retired

2008-05-30T01:06:00.000-07:00

According to ESPN.com, the NBA is finally imposing a rule that, y'know, makes sense. League officials announced at the pre-draft camp that it will begin fining athletes for clear cases of "flopping."

If you're unfamiliar with the term "flop," let me define it for you. Flop (n.) - 1) the unique wavy pattern of Mel Kiper's hair, 2) the intentional act of falling backwards onto the floor in order to warrant a charging foul from the referee, extremely annoying, 3) the act of flipping pancakes.

Vlade explains "the flop"

This comes at a crucial time for the NBA, when flopping seems to be at an all-time high with talented floppers like Manu Ginobili and Raja Bell dominating the game. However, several athletes aren't too excited by the NBA's move.

Pistons thug Rasheed Wallace explained politely, "All that bull[expletive]-ass calls they had out there. With Mike [Callahan] and Kenny [Mauer] -- you've all seen that [expletive]," Wallace said. "You saw them calls. The cats are flopping all over the floor and they're calling that [expletive]. That [expletive] ain't basketball out there. It's all [expletive] entertainment. You all should know that [expletive]. It's all [expletive] entertainment." In case you didn't know, those [expletive]s are just Rasheed's way of saying the f word.

Next up: Italian soccer.

- K.H. (I [expletive] agree with 'Sheed)

Joey Dorsey is a shady guy

2008-05-29T17:42:00.000-07:00

According to SI.com, Memphis forward and NBA hopeful Joey Dorsey isn't too high on his teammates. In an interview at the NBA pre-draft camp, Dorsey explained that he "knew" that fellow Tiger Derrick Rose wouldn't be selected first overall by the Bulls.

Do not underestimate this man's knowledge

"They're going to take Beasley. I've got the inside," insisted Dorsey, "They're going to take Beasley. I won't tell you how I know. You'll see June 26. I can't say any more." Dorsey then handed the reporter a stack of $100 dollar bills and a bag of cocaine before scurrying off in his trench coat.

It must be sort of disheartening for Rose to hear his teammate declare that he won't be playing in his native Chicago. The Bulls are denying any knowledge of telling Dorsey anything about the draft, but in a league that hired the infamous Tim Donaghy, any shady business possible.

UPDATE: Joey Dorsey just "joshin' around."

- K.H. (Does not have the inside)

Streaking should be more common in Italy

2008-05-29T17:08:00.000-07:00

In America, streakers are typically looked down upon as usually obnoxious, generally unattractive males with exposed body parts. In Italy, streakers are highly attractive females also with exposed body parts.

Totally not fair.

- K.H. (Translate this: Vafanculo)

Brian Scalabrine and Walter Hermann are the only white guys in the Eastern Conference

2008-05-29T15:41:00.000-07:00

So I haven't been into this whole blogging thing for a few weeks. I apologize but I'm back, I think.

In the 240 minutes of basketball that has already been played in the five games of this Eastern Conference Finals, not one white athlete has played a single second. Even with probably two more games left, I think it's safe to assume that Celtics ginger kid Brian Scalabrine won't be leaving his courtside seat anytime soon. And I don't think the Pistons are rushing to activate their Fabio lookalike Walter Hermann by Friday either.

"If I wasn't so lame, I would call you guys racist!"

Unfortunately, I dont have John Hollinger's enthusiasm for researching to actually research if this is the first time such an occurrence has happened in NBA Playoff history, but I would definitely put my money on it. And I guess it shouldn't be so surprising either considering that eight of the thirty NBA teams have entirely African-American starting lineups (that's if you consider Mike Bibby black).

So a black senator from Hawaii is probably going to be our next president, Michael Jackson is now officially white, and the once Bird/McHaled Celtics have not played one Caucasian man in the playoffs. Well, at least Darko's doing his part.

- K.H. (Predicts entirely Asian-American lineups soon)

My 100th post (sucks)!

2008-05-12T23:12:00.000-07:00

So I've been Jorge Posada-ing it lately, taking a week's break after a good two week run. You can blame finals, studying for finals, testing for finals, waiting for grades for finals, and most importantly, dreaming about the NBA Finals.

Anyways, I'm back with The Dumb Jock's 100th post. Thanks to my mom for reading this much. And to all of you non-existent readers, welcome back and I apologize beforehand.

- K.H. (Commemorative 100th Anniversary shirts not available)

Report: Marvin Harrison is indeed a wide receiver in the NFL

2008-05-02T18:05:00.000-07:00

According to ESPN, Colts receiver and the NFL's only "nice guy" Marvin Harrison was involved in a shooting outside his bar in North Philadelphia earlier this week. Supposedly, the perennial Pro-Bowler got into an argument with one of his patrons before the man left in his car, where he was then shot in the hand. Reports claim that the weapon fired, registered under Harrison's name, was a "custom, Belgian hand gun that shoots .50 caliber bullets." That's almost as bad as Maurice Clarett's AK-47 under the passenger seat.

This is the best off-field action shot of Harrison I could find.

To any football fan not living under rock for the past decade, this whole thing is really weird. I'm legitimately shocked by the fact that a) Marvin Harrison is possibly involved in a crime, b) Marvin Harrison is from the ghettoes of North Philadelphia, c) Marvin Harrison owns a bar, d) Marvin Harrison owns a gun, d) I'm writing a post about the most boring athlete in NFL history. Honestly, I envisioned Harrison spending his free time playing chess, perfecting his moustache, or something else that's more boring than playing in Indianapolis for 12 years.

But, since this is the NFL, where receivers are only signed with a three-crime minimum, I guess I'm not that surprised. I mean, as long as Peyton isn't caught with hookers or anything.

- K.H. (Really hopes he doesn't regret that last sentence)

Dwyane Wade enjoys old, botoxed "friends"

2008-05-02T10:54:00.000-07:00

So rumor has it that virtually retired NBA star Dwyane Wade is dating the monster known as Star Jones. Yeah, that Star Jones (I don't know what other Star Jones you were thinking of), the big woman with the fat that disappeared overnight. Though Wade claims that the two are just "friends," they've been spotted together at a few events and D-Wade seems to get noticeably awkward whenever his pal Charles Barkley brings it up. Recent reports claim that Wade has finally removed Barkley from his "five."

Stayne Jades?

I'm not big into celebrity gossip, but this is too hilarious to pass up. Although I'm sure that Wade and Jones are indeed just "friends," you gotta feel bad for Miami's soon-to-be has-been. Only two seasons after winning his first championship, he leads the Heat to the league's worst record while losing his supposed best friend in the process. And now, he's rumored to be dating Star Jones, who ironically enough was once mistaken for Shaquille O'Neal.

But, like they say, "fall down seven, stand up eight" Unfortunately, Star really just needs some help standing up.

- K.H. (Not in Dwyane Wade's five)

Paul Pierce is not a crip

2008-04-29T23:48:00.000-07:00

During my high school years in LA, my friends and I created a video clearly voicing our allegiance in the everlasting Bloods and Crips war. So, it really pleases me when I see that one of my beloved Celtics Paul Pierce, straight outta Inglewood, also "throws it up." (Check out Pierce's hand gesture at the :30 mark)

Video of Al Horford crip walkin' has yet to hit Youtube.

- K.H. (Blood member #293 - "Chino loco")

Beckham vs. Ahmadinejad just not happening

2008-04-29T23:20:00.000-07:00

According to SI, the Los Angeles Galaxy have denied a statement by the Iranian Football Federation claiming that the club was scheduled to play a friendly against the Iranian national team. A representative of the Galaxy explained that "it is very rare for the Galaxy to play any national team. The Galaxy likes to play top-tier friendly matches against other clubs and let the U.S. national team play the friendlies against other national teams."

After the Galaxy's refusal, the captain of the Iranian team angrily responded "تاجيكى!"

America's ultimate villain and President of Iran Mahmoud Ahmadinejad later responded in a text to metrosexual Galaxy star Landon Donavan, "dude wtf?!"

There's a few funny things to note here: a) the fact that the Iranian Football Federation scheduled a match with the L.A. Galaxy without letting them know, b) that the Galaxy representative said that the team likes to play top-tier friendly matches, c) the image of the too cool David Beckham traveling to Iran as his homeless teammates carried his bags / children, and finally d) the MLS in general.

Honestly, it wouldn't be such a bad idea for the Galaxy. The rare publicity would do...something? Maybe the athletes could finally live up to their team name and travel somewhere else in the galactic universe. Yeah, sure, some Americans would be shot and/or killed, but is that really any worse than being in the MLS in the first place?

- K.H. (Only writes top-teir posts)

Report: Black man plays basketball in North Carolina

2008-04-29T22:17:00.000-07:00

In his continuous effort to prove that he is indeed just anotha brotha, Senator Barack Obama played some hoops with the North Carolina basketball team on Tuesday. The presidential candidate hung out with famed UNC coach Roy Williams shortly before he posed for cameras, pretending to actually play basketball. By federal law, Williams was required to "sub in all the white guys."

Obama posting up against "one of the white guys."

"Let me tell you, these guys are big" Obama explained while hitting the showers, discreetly pointing to Tyler Hansbrough's schlong. When asked about his thoughts of the Senator's relations with Rev. Jeremiah Wright, a confused Hansbrough added later, "I dun' even no who dat dam' [expletive] is."

So this makes a total of four posts devoted to "O'bomber's" basketball life in this blog. Though I'm a strong Obamanite, it's a little unsettling thinking that a presidential candidate could gain a large amount of votes just by shooting hoops with some jocks. It's actually a little sad, really. But hey, at least he didn't lose in Kansas!

- K.H. (fully enjoyed using the word "schlong")

Darren McFadden's mom hates me

2008-04-25T18:51:00.000-07:00

According to the LA Times, the mother of prolific Arkansas running back / street thug Darren McFadden doesn't like New York City, which is apparently "too big" for her. Why does this matter? Well the Jets are one of the primary candidates to draft McFadden on Saturday, and earlier today, the Arkansas native told fans at the Draft Preview (myself included) that he would "love to play in New York."

Her baby is just too cultured and intelligent for New York.

The other likely future home for "Run DMc"? The Oakland Raiders, who select only two picks before the Jets. But too bad, Mama McFad doesn't like California either. The state is also "too big" for her baby.

She supposedly would rather have the running back play in the cultural hotspots surrounding "the Atlanta Falcons, Dallas Cowboys, whatever team they've got there in Tennessee." Unfortunately, the Oilers already have Lendale White, who is also "too big."

I live in New York now and am about to return home in California. So, though I'm a big believer of "D-Mac," I guess Mother McFadden and me wouldn't really see eye-to-eye in terms of our lists of "places I would like to live." However, I wouldn't mind taking a trip to whatever city they they've got there in Tennessee.

But until we meet Mrs. McFaddy, welcome to New York, where nobody knows where the hell Little Rock, Arkansas is.

- K.H. (Is also too big)

He's in the big leagues, you idiot

2008-04-24T11:28:00.000-07:00

Mets pitcher Joe Smith was heckling back at some rowdy Cubs fans in Wrigley Field the other day. Fortunately, there's this new internet innovation called YouTube that has a lot of videos:

I think my favorite part is when the man with the camera tries his best to narrate the scene, explaining clearly that "Joe Smith is heckling the fans over here." I guess when you're name is Joe Smith and you're just some dude in one of the major league's best bullpens, you've gotta get recognized somehow.

And telling baseball fans "you're not shit" is probably not the best way to start.

- K.H. (Not in the big leagues, you idiot)

Dallas weather forecast: Rain

2008-04-23T18:58:00.000-07:00

Stipper beater and talented cornerback Pacman Jones will be "making it rain" in Dallas after the Titans traded the troubled athlete to the Cowboys for a fourth-round draft pick. Jones, who has been public about his desire to play for the Big D, is living proof for children that you can have whatever you want in life, even if that means paralyzing an innocent man in Las Vegas. While being suspended by the NFL, Pacman has spent his time well: taking up new a new hobby in wrestling and promoting quality music.

He loves prison!

Good luck Pacman. We're all sure that you and Terrell Owens will be the most well-rounded, morally fulfilled tandem in the league. Now let's go make it rain on dem hoes!

- K.H. (Does not know any hoes)

Mike Bibby bandwagon is officially dead

2008-04-23T18:34:00.000-07:00

Shrek-lookalike and Hawks guard Mike Bibby doesn't take Celtics fans (myself included) too seriously. After a 104-81 playoff loss in Boston, Bibby explained to reporters in his Kermit voice: "They were kind of loud at the beginning. But a lot of these fans are bandwagon jumpers trying to get on this now. I played here last year, too. And I didn't see three fourths of them. They're for the team now and they might get a little rowdy but that's about it."

Mike Bibby takes time out with Mike Bibby bandwagon.

Keep in mind, this is after Bibby went 2-for-10 shooting and continued his reign as the league's most ambiguously raced point guard. "That's Mike Bibby speaking his mind," Celtics god Kevin Garnett responded "I wouldn't say it's the smartest comment, but that's Mike Bibby." (Translation: Mike Bibby ain't shit.)

Honestly, why do professional athletes insist on trash talking Boston? Usually, some good smack talk is directed towards the Clippers and Raiders of sports, not the Celtics and Patriots. Bibby's comment is almost as sad as Chargers token Russian Igor Olshansky's manly "Who?" when asked about the undefeated Pats.

Anyways, as both a Lakers and Celtics man, I couldn't hate Bibby much more anymore. But I would at least have some sympathy for him if he still looked like a cancer patient.

- K.H. (Proud member of Celtics bandwagon for seven years)

Marvin Lewis does not speak Spanish

2008-04-22T17:58:00.000-07:00

Despite Bengals star receiver Chad Johnson's publicized dissatisfaction with the franchise, coach Marvin Lewis is adamant that "Ocho Cinco" jugare para los Bengals en el estacion proximo. The Bengals even turned down a stacked offer from the Redskins, which included a first-round pick in this weekend's NFL Draft. And although the gold-teefed superstar insists that he will not play another game for Cincinnati, Lewis called his bluff, telling Johnson that he should just keep his promise instead of looking for a new home.

Please, Chad, just don't be so..sad?

If you know me, you know I've loved the "Ocho Cinco" even in the sad Jon Kitna days. I model the very small amount of my touchdown celebrations after his creative antics and I too cry when my team is 4-1. But, cool Spanish nickname or not, I really don't like it when quality athletes like Chad would rather waste their talent than prove why they deserve attention. So, Chad, if you can hear me (or if you can read), just give up, por favor. Do it for Cincinnati, for your pretend cheerleader wife, for Spanish-speaking football fans, and for all of your former teammates in jail.

And if you don't? Championship!

- K.H. (Habla Espanol)

Tiki Barber released by Seahawks

2008-04-22T17:24:00.000-07:00

Tiki Barber clone and former NFL MVP Shaun Alexander was released by the Seahawks today, not a surprising move considering the franchise had recently signed former Cowboy Julius Jones and the tub of muscle known as T.J. Duckett. The onlyambiguously gay Seahawk, Alexander has been pretty disappointing since his record-setting season three years ago, which I'm assuming is also the reason Matt Hasselbeck has pulled out all of his hair in frustration.

Alexander "released" only moments after this photo was taken
You've gotta feel bad for Seattle sports fans. The Seahawks always tease the city with pretty impressive performances, yet consistently manage to choke when it matters the most. The Sonics are Oklahoma bound and the Mariners have been pretty disappointing. Well, at least they're about to become home to the MLS's worst soccer team, a title only slightly better than the U-12 girl's AYSO champions.

But anyways, farewell, Shaun Alexander, thanks for being the NFL's worst ever MVP. Have fun preaching celibacy to your new teammates!

- K.H. (Hair For Hasselbecks club president)

Barack Obama is good at basketball

2008-04-20T21:09:00.000-07:00

I wrote a post a few months ago about a certain Barry O'bomber's skills on the court. HBO's REAL Sports with new NFL Network enemy Bryant Gumbel decided to top my blog (the first to ever do so) with a great feature on the Illinois Senator's career on the hardwood. If you don't have 15 minutes to spare, at least watch from 8 minutes in to see candid video of the future president ballin' up some Marines.

Go back to the WNBA, Hillary.

- K.H. (Can at least beat McCain on one-on-one)

Report: Jeff's "Michael Vick Night" idea wasn't a joke

2008-04-20T17:32:00.000-07:00

According to ESPN, the Kansas City T-Bones of the Northern League planned to have a Michael Vick-themed "Welcome to the Neighborhood" party "complete with prison uniforms, spotlights and escape sirens. Other events promoting caring for animals also were planned." No, seriously.

"Stop makin' fun of me!"

Unfortunately, the idea was dropped following a substantial amount of complaints. Though, it's a funny idea and I guess it could be beneficial in raising animal abuse awareness. But when the Vick fiesta involves "a dog parade, pregame dog adoptions and entertainment by Rockin' Ray and the Sky Dogs," I'm not sure if the concept of getting imprisoned for hurting your pets would really strike a chord in the crowd.

In related news, the Las Vegas Cathouse Softball Team is holding a Pacman Jones-themed "Make It Rain" night, complete with strippers and violence.

- K.H. (RSVP'd already)

Steve McNair retires, thinks he's Brett Favre

2008-04-20T16:57:00.000-07:00

Steve McNair retired a few days ago, concluding his overrated career which features a co-MVP (along with the somewhat more famous Peyton Manning). Don't get me wrong, McNair was definitely one of the quality, classy quarterbacks of the league and I once even called him my favorite football player during his on-and-off-injured-reserve days. Coming from the less than illustrious Alcorn State University, he's also probably one of the best small school stories in professional sports.

The "Air" ends his "Airness"

But McNair should've retired years ago because A) his body basically retired a few decades ago, B) he was transitioning from a legendary career in Tennessee into the ever-disappointing Ravens squad, and C) KYLE BOLLER!!! So really, this was old news. Bleh.

Thanks McNair for the memories. And always remember: don't regret, just blame Kevin Dyson.

- K.H. (THE Alcorn State University)

Michael Beasley does not take Michael Beasley seriously

2008-04-20T16:28:00.000-07:00

Last week, Kansas State superstar Michael Beasley, 19 (approximately 4 years old mentally), entered his name in the 2008 NBA Draft. However, the likely No. 1 pick, an admitted Sponge Bob Squarepants fanatic, seemed a little too comfortable declaring his eligibility. Beasley whispered sweet nothings into coach Frank Martin's ears just moments before bursting into laughter while he (in)formally announced his intentions.

For conventional standards, this isn't really the best way to begin the recruiting season. Beasley has been notorious for being more of a punk than an athlete (he once Sharpied his autograph on his high school principal's car in a competition taken way too far). Even though Beasley-advocates claim he's "grown," I can't really picture Manhattan, Kansas to be the most culturally enriching places on Earth.

So good job, Michael Beasley, for assuring NBA scouts that think you're an asshole that you are indeed an asshole. Just another day in the NBA.

- K.H. (Be Easy)

...And we're back!

2008-04-20T16:26:00.001-07:00

Apologies to my very few readers, I've been busy with schoolwork, tomfoolery, and what not. I'm thinking that this blog will get a lot more serious about the whole "daily post" thing once summer comes around. Until then, keep reading, tell your friends, and give me money.

- K.H. (Lied about the schoolwork, but not the tomfoolery)

Report: Something happened in Women's NCAA Tournament

2008-04-08T23:26:00.000-07:00

Aside from yesterday's historic men's championship game between Kansas and Memphis, reports claim that something actually happened in the women's NCAA tournament. Some team named the Lady Volunteers, which I'm assuming is some World War II army nurses organization, apparently won a basketball game that included some amount of importance.

Florence Nightengale?

Yeah, I don't know what the hell is going on either.

- K.H. (Misogynist)

Michael Vick agrees to lucrative 4-year, $.12 contract with Big Tito's Bitches

2008-04-06T15:13:00.000-07:00

Puppy murderer and former NFL star Michael Vick has decided to continue his football career behind bars, playing quarterback for both teams in a prison football game. Apparently, Falcons guido owner Arthur Blank has been keeping in touch with Vick by letter and explained to the press that his imprisoned superstar has been "keeping in shape" (which is thug for "dropping the soap"). Blank also stated that Vick is making $.12 an hour washing pots and pans, a task more difficult for him than learning Bobby Petrino's offense.

Vick threw for 135 yards and 1 touchdown just before taking a "extra long" shower.

It's hard not to laugh when imaging Blank and Vick sending letters to each other: Blank getting his hair did while gunshots are blasted just outside his apartment in the Spanish Harlem projects, and Vick taping explicit pictures of his former boss on his cell wall.

Funny imagery aside, I sort of feel bad for Vick now. I mean, he was raised to become a legendary quarterback that redefined his position (which he did), and now he's at the very bottom of the ladder of life, doing things his $130 million contract didn't really mention. I'm even surprised the guy can write a letter. And now, we all have to watch Joey Harrington throw amazing interceptions while donning that ever-intimidating Falcons jersey. It's sad for us sports fans, really, though I'm not sure if our friends at PETA would be so sympathetic.

Well, at least we've got Vick's clone holding it down in Minnesota.

- K.H. (Does not root for Big Tito's Bitches)

Celtics are the best team to be the worst team the year before

2008-04-06T13:11:00.000-07:00

With a victory over the Bobcats last night sans The Big Three, my beloved Celtics clinched the NBA's best ever turnaround in a single season. To put things in perspective, Paul Pierce (I'm deliberately not even mentioning the team) won 24 games last season. So far this year, the squad has won 61 games with a few more left on the schedule. Yeah, I guess you can say the additions of KG and Ray Allen had a lot to do with that, not to mention the team's best offensive threat: Scot "Dopeman" Pollard.

I really love this whole winning thing, but honestly, my inner basketball emotions are a bit ambivalent. On one hand, I legitimately begin to tear up at the very possible possibility of the Celtics winning it all (and I'm bawling if it's against the Lakers in the finals), but at the same time, I kind of miss *gulp* sucking. It's kind of like Bill Simmons explained a few seasons after the Red Sox finally broke the curse: sports are just so much more personal when you're desperate. Yes, I love watching The Big Three dominate the league, but it was always captivating watching Pierce and a handful of D-Leaguers just praying for a victory.

The good ol' days

And when it came to pride, losing made it so much more worth it. This past decade has been arguably the worst of franchise history, yet I fell in love with the Celtics just about seven years ago. This means almost seven years of having to defend my love for a team that temporarily became the 21st century's Clippers. So, there was always a sense of truthful honor whenever a friend asked me how the Celtics enjoyed being killed by the Bobcats. Or looking at Rajon Rondo's alien face and imagining Brandon Roy teaming up with Pierce. Or just hoping that one day, just one day, that Sebastian Telfair might actually do something. Or putting a noose around my neck when we didn't even get the 2nd pick of the draft (I'm serious, you can thank KG for saving my life). Or wondering what the hell we were gonna win with Jiri Welsh starting. Or peeing my pants when I heard Allen Iverson was a Celtic, and then shitting my pants when I found out he wasn't.

And despite all these low, low points, Celtics fans endured Danny Ainge's dubious promises and still stayed committed to the hope of "maybe next season." In a sense, we were sort of like the Spartans from 300, who knew they couldn't win but still fought on. Except in our case, we ultimately beat the Persians.

But sometimes the bad ending is just more appropriate. So, I guess that means I'm an Oklahoma City Sonics fan now.

- K.H. (Kidding about that last sentence)

Update: Marko Jaric - 2, Andy Roddick - 1, Me - -1

2008-04-04T12:43:00.001-07:00

Apparently this is old news for everyone else, but I pay no attention to either sports or women, none at all:

So a few days after I posted about Andy Roddick's engagement to Swimsuit goddess Brooklyn Decker, I find out that actual goddess Adriana Lima is dating ... Marko Jaric?

Adriana Lima, so hot right now.

Yes, my friends, Marko Jaric as in the Timberwolves point guard who looks he could be the bastard child of Collin Farrell and an elf. This guy doesn't have many things going for him. First, he plays on the Timberwolves. Second, he's from Belgrade and definitely dresses like it. And if you think Adriana's finds him intelligent, the dude once ran onto the court with his jersey backwards. As far as I know, she's the only woman in Minnesota that, y'know, exists.

So yeah, nobody really gets the logic behind this relationship. My guess? Adriana is just using Jaric to finally reach her ultimate crush: Mark "Mad Dog" Madsen.

- K.H. (Not from Belgrade)

Ohio State defeats Nantucket Institute of Technology

2008-04-04T11:38:00.000-07:00

Only a year after their Greg Oden-led appearance in the finals, Kosta "Darkness" Koufas and the Ohio State Buckeyes won something called the NIT yesterday. Congratulations Buckeyes!

- K.H. (Prefers Michigan)

Father of Little Punchingbearisms found shooting hoops in Alabama

2008-04-04T08:36:00.000-07:00

The Alabama State basketball team seems pretty unremarkable at first glance: at guard, you've got Brandon Brooks and at forward is Joel Bosh. However, when one looks closer at the roster, one notices that at center is the 7'1" Chief Kickingstallionisms. No, that isn't a typo and no, it isn't a sentence either.

"How, I'm Chief Kickingstallionisms"

Kickingstallionisms's talent, originally born Grienntys Kickingstallionisms in his native Florida, apparently doesn't live up to the brilliance of Kickingstallionism's name: Kickingstallionisms only scored four points and racked zero boards in 18 minutes of play against Jackson State. Kickingstallionisms later told reporters, "Chief Kickingstallionisms want white people off land!"

Note: No stallions were hurt in the writing of this post.

- K.H. (Kickingstallionist)

Milk was a bad choice

2008-04-02T17:48:00.000-07:00

Russian tennis player Mikhail Youzhny is a weird guy. After sending a ball into the net during his match at the Sony Ericsson Open on Monday, Youzhny repeatedly hit himself in the head with his racket very, very hard. A few seconds later, the Russian positioned himself to begin another set, until, not surprisingly, a stream of blood came flowing down his face. This incident, of course, means instant YouTube celebration:

"I immediately regret this decision"

I can't decide which part of this video is the funniest. It's between Youzhny's coach who just quietly stares at him while he's murdering his own face or when Youzhny's opponent comes over (around the 1:30 mark) and just laughs at him.

Either ways, this is proof that Wii Tennis is in fact safer than real tennis.

- K.H. (Cannot pronounce Youzhny)

Kobe is scarier than Chris Kaman's face

2008-04-02T15:37:00.000-07:00

The Los Angeles Times reported today that a Sports Illustrated poll of NBA athletes voted Lakers team ball-hog Kobe Bryant is the scariest player in the league. Like any competition, Kobe truly went balls to the walls, earning 35% of the vote while other somewhat scary players Lebron James, Dwight Howard, Kevin Garnett, and Shaquille O'Neal combined for only 24%.

Congratulations Kobe!

I agree that Kobe is definitely the most intimidating human being with a basketball in his hand. 81 points in a single game, three championships, and one innocent white girl in Colorado. I mean the dude just owns the hardwood, pun intended.

But scariest in the league? That shouldn't be a compliment. It's almost as bad as the fat kid who won "Best Attitude" in middle school. When I think of the scariest in basketball, I imagine Sam Cassell's teeth, Gheorghe Muresan's shoulders, Chris Kaman's beard, Shawn Bradley's whiteness, Manute Bol's legs, Vlade Divac's body odor, Kyle Korver's lesbian face, Robert Traylor's penis, Tay Zonday's voice and Brady Quinn's ambiguous sexual orientation all served on Kevin Durant's two ounce skeleton. And by law, I'm required to mention former Maverick Popeye Jones when discussing ugly basketball players.

So, please, NBA athletes, reconsider your definition of "scary" before Carrot Top starts reconsidering his career plans.

- K.H. (Thinks Kyle Korver is a lesbian)

The French may soon know where Seattle is

2008-04-01T23:58:00.000-07:00

Speculation about the world's best soccer players playing in America is always cute. I remember rumors of Zidane, Raul, and the tub of goo known at Ronaldo effectively enjoying retirement in the MLS, yet we've only ended up with some douchebag who's more into himself than the sport. But wishful thinking aside, I peed my pants just a little when I read of the possibility of French star Thierry Henry joining the yet-to-be-named Seattle franchise that will join the league next year.

Kevin Durant can't touch this.

It makes sense: Henry loves America more than Americans hate the French. Microsoft chairman and club owner Paul Allen will most likely be willing to shell out a few of his kabillion dollars to lure one of the sport's most popular faces into the Emerald City. The 30-year-old striker hasn't really lived up to the hype in Barcelona, where he's scored only seven goals in 24 matches. Plus, the Frenchman hasn't really been so happy in the distant land of Spain, where he's divorced his wife and has faced kidnapping threats. And with the Sonics on their way to lovely Oklahoma, another big name with odd pronunciation (aside from Ichiro and Lofa Tatupu) just might fill the void.

I know it'll never happen, but until then, I can wait and imagine. Or maybe Beckham will finally, just finally, make soccer exciting in the States.

Beckham update: he doesn't plan on making soccer exciting the States anytime soon.

-K.H. (Bienvenue vers Seattle!)

Andy Roddick - 1, Me - 0

2008-04-01T23:22:00.000-07:00

I'm going to be honest: I love swimsuit models. I really do. But what don't I love? When pretty boy tennis players who somehow manage to look charming in sweat-drenched Lacoste polos decide to marry those swimsuit models.

So, where is this hate coming from? Well, America's tennis spokesman Andy Roddick has reported on his website that he is now engaged to masturbatory muse Brooklyn Decker. Decker, 20, is known for her scantily clothed poses in Sports Illustrated's latest Swimsuit Edition and, of course, for her great personality.

"Note to self: keep playing tennis."

Especially when guys like George Clooney are dating sorority girls, you've got to despise Roddick, who wrote that "I have to admit all the attention in a bit surprising. We have been laughing at some of the stuff we have seen. Supposedly she is pregnant and I didn’t bother to tell my friends and family about the engagement… ha ha… I mean really?" When announcing that you impregnated a supermodel is followed by the words "ha ha," you know you live the life.

Report: Andy Roddick has just increased his position on the national list of "Assholes who lie better lives than mine," just two spots ahead of Jessica Alba's puppy.

- K.H. (Still single, swimsuit models)

Gilbert Arenas living the most boring / most interesting life in the NBA

2008-03-26T10:49:00.001-07:00

Please. Just vote for the man.

NBA class clown and 3-time All-Star Gilbert Arenas posted in his famed blog yesterday. However, whereas most of these NBA.com-sponsored blogs update on a player's thoughts about his stats and/or his video game career, Arenas (who will now be referred to as "Hibachi") lets his fans know how he spent his son's birthday:

My son's birthday party was a different story.
That was the bomb. I spent a total of $30.
I went to Safeway and bought him a nice little cake, and then I went to 31 Flavors and bought me a cake. I needed a little ice cream cake of my own.
Then I had Doritos in the house, and the milk and orange juice in the house. So snacks and beverages were covered.
Then I bought two lollipops, because if my son has a lollipop my daughter would want one too.
Then I bought a balloon without the string, because I couldn’t find somebody to put the string in.
And I bought one candle.
While we were singing “Happy Birthday,” my daughter was singing, “Happy Birthday to me,” even though it was her brother’s birthday.
“Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me.”
I have a big deejay booth downstairs in my house and we had a lot of fun. I played music and they danced and they spilled and they ate everything.

As an amateur sports blogger, I think this is both hilarious and relieving. It's great knowing that even the most prominent athletes I write about get a kick out of the stupid stuff. Hibachi especially is well known for his dude-ness, let's-get-a-beer personality. And according to his blog, he enjoys shooting teammates with paintballs, "shaving down there," funding an children's internet cartoon, and spontaneously buying things from infomercials. I've also heard numerous stories of him bowling with fans who randomly approach him. Thus, since he is one of the few naturally cool guys in sports (which does not include Damon Jones), it's not much of a surprise to see stuff like this.

Or this.

Or even this.

- K.H. (Buys balloons without strings)

The Oklahoma City Kevin Durants?

2008-03-25T19:03:00.000-07:00

According to ESPN.com, the Seattle Supersonics, who look closer and closer to relocating to Oklahoma City next season, are considering changing their team name. The franchise, with a storied history in the Emerald City lasting over forty years, has flaunted some of the NBA's more interesting characters: Gary Payton, Detlef Schrempf, Shawn Kemp, and my personal favorite, nerd-turned-punk Robert Swift. Thus, it's not surprising to see some nationalistic movements against the possibility of the Sonics in the buzzing metropolis of Oklahoma City.

And as one-half of the NBA's real estate in the Pacific Northwest and of the famed I-5 rivalry (along with Trail Blazers), the Sonics' relocation will leave the national basketball map a bit lonely on the left hand side. The gray, rainy city of Seattle will now only have hairless Matt Hasselbeck and the Seahawks to devote their depressed selves to.

Especially if they do change their team name, I will genuinely miss the Sonics. I grew up watching Kemp's thunderous dunks, Payton yelling at referees for no reason, and Shrempf's European crew cut. And although I almost threw up at the first sight of skinny boy Kevin Durant in that green and yellow, I've come to appreciate him as the face of that city (just after Hendrix, of course). And besides, how could you not love a team with the same name as your favorite hedgehog?

And please, in the name of WNBA babe Lauren Jackson, just don't take the Storm too!

-K.H. (Robert Swift's high school bully).

Home entertainment center annihilates Brandon Marshall

2008-03-25T17:30:00.000-07:00

Broncos star wideout Brandon Marshall will miss up to four months during the off-season after requiring surgery on his right arm in the upcoming days. Why, you ask? No, not because he tried too hard in the weight room or because John Lynch was being extra rough in practice.

"I just wanted hash browns and some McNuggets," said the despondent Marshall.

Marshall, 24, will be missing four months (which, in football time, is equivalent to 2.93 decades) because he slipped on a McDonald's bag while engaging in "horseplay" with his family during vacation. Of course, a paper bag can't manhandle the 230-pound receiver, but a television set can: Marshall attempted to contain his balance after slipping by reaching for something, that something being a home entertainment center. Reports explained that Marshall, after putting his arm through the center, "sustained right forearm lacerations to one artery, one vein, one nerve, two tendons and three muscles." The home entertainment center, equipped with a switchblade, was later arrested after being discovered belligerently drunk in a strip club with Pacman Jones.

I can't help but feel bad for the Broncos, who have apparently pissed off the football gods in recent years. Cornerback Darrent Williams was shot to death after their final game two seasons ago. Running back Damien Nash collapsed to his death during a charity basketball game. Talented Buckeye star Maurice Clarett was caught drunk driving with an AK-47 and other dubious objects only months after the Broncos wasted a 3rd-round draft pick on the Furby lookalike. Jake Plummer's beard retired, sort of. Mike Shanahan's veins are still are about to implode. And now, arguably their best offensive threat was mugged by two inanimate objects.

Quick, somebody call Shannon Sharpe!

- K.H. (Still misses Terrell Davis)

The NBA. Where gringo happens.

2008-03-19T11:51:00.000-07:00

Last week, the Shaq-powered Suns defeated the Spurs in the US Airways Center. But apparently the NBA didn't get the memo that this game was played in Phoenix, not Tijuana. In an effort to involve the Hispanic community more in the sport, both squads donned jerseys labeled with the team names "Los Suns" and "Los Spurs." A few days later, the Heat (who really can't get any sadder right now) followed the trend in their match against the Magic, wearing uniforms under the name of "El Heat."

"Que's up amigo?"
"Nothing mucho hombray!"

I understand that the NBA is doing a great job of expanding the sport's fan base beyond American borders: the reigning MVP is German, China watches more basketball than America, and Argentina has been dominating the international scene. But if David Stern is going go bilingual on us, can he and his amigos at least get their Spanish right?

I'm stealing a little from celebrity blogger Paul Lukas, but seriously, this ignorant attempt at Spanglish is just like that one dude who orders food at Taco Bell with "el large-o drink-o" and "extra cheese-o." Yes, embroidering Los Soles or El Calor on those super expensive jerseys would be a bit drastic, but c'mon, what would be next? Les Celtics, Die Lakers, 雄牛 Mavericks?

Plus, Eduardo Najera would finally not look so damn awkward.

- K.H. (Hablo espanol)

Raider Nation continues to act accordingly

2008-03-16T20:49:00.001-07:00

In some non-surprising news yesterday, the dog-drowning Falcons agreed with the ever-so-badass Raiders to send cornerback DeAngelo Hall for Oakland's second-round pick in this year's draft. Hall, who once recorded a ridiculous 4.15 40 (hand-timed), was once one of the most talented corners in the league just before that time he became a complete douchebag. The VA Tech alum continued to claim that he was the best at his position in the league, that is, before realizing he was on the 4-12 Falcons doomed for destruction by the hands of PETA.

Al Davis doesn't enjoy life.

Wait, a cocky, self-absorbed (but talented!) athlete to the Raiders? No, please, don't be surprised. Hall is just another example of why I believe Raiders owner and soon-to-be skeleton Al Davis is merely in the business to be the league's biggest asshole. It's true, the evidence is obvious:

a) Wisconsin tackle Anttaj Hawthorne, once expected to be a first-round lock, was expected to go undrafted after failing a drug test. Hawthorne was picked up by the Raiders in the 6th round, proving that living like Harold and Kumar does indeed get you somewhere in life.
b) Even after Randy Moss's very, very unsportsmanlike conduct with the Vikings and during his "Once-in-a-blue-moon" weed-smoking habits, the Raiders fed Moss millions in contract money even while he was lower on the depth chart than Johnnie Lee Higgins.
c) The Raiders drafted Florida State kicker Sebastian Janikowski with their 1st round pick (only one of the three kickers drafted in the first round) in 2000. This happened, of course, after Janikowski was charged with bribing an officer after he was caught partying and fighting in a bar. After being drafted, Janikowski didn't take the hint: he was caught with a date-rape drug, charged with DUI, and, once again, got himself into a bar fight. So damn classy right now.
d) After his Superbowl victory with the Colts last year, running back Dominic Rhodes decided to take the party on the road, driving at 81 on a 55 mph zone with a .09 blood-alcohol content. The Raiders saw incredible upside in Rhodes' ability to accelerate in traffic, immediately signing him to $7.5 million contract.
e) Only a year after they had lost to Tampa Bay in the 2003 Superbowl, the Raiders signed longtime Buccaneer and the NFL's most overweight asshole Warren Sapp to a seven-year contract. Sapp's proudest moment is definitely when he freakishly blind-sided Packers lineman Chad Clifton (ending his season in the process) and followed by calling coach Mike Sherman a "lying, shit-eating hound."
f) As any Raiders/football fan will probably agree, longtime Raiders linebacker Bill Romanowski epitomizes the douchebag-ness of the franchise. Known for his uber-manly eye-paint and tendency to yell like Biff from Back to the Future, "Romo" has probably spent enough money on fines from the NFL to send the entire Raider Nation to group therapy. Now a horrible actor, he once spit in J.J. Stokes' face during a Monday night game and threw a football at Bryan Cox' crotch, thereby warranting one of the most ironic moments in NFL history. Romanowski is also well-known for the creating every single player in the popular N64 football game NFL Blitz.

The list goes on, really. From legal troubles to players throwing stuff at each other's crotches, the Raiders have intentionally become the wretched, but miserable, villains of the sports world. Thanks, Raider Nation, for somehow making the Falcons seem moral.

Hope you survive next year, Mr. Davis!

- K.H. (Rich Gannon Fan Club V.P.)

Tom Brady literally sucks face

2008-03-15T06:03:00.000-07:00

I stumbled across this photo and just had to post it. The world's saddest Patriot Tom Brady has always been the photogenic type (See above), but I just can't imagine the awkwardness of the moment the photographer snapped this action shot. Seriously, that's like more awkward than, say, going 18-1.

"How about you suck my boot later?"

- K.H. (Tom Brady hates me right now)

Lebron loves 17-year-olds

2008-03-15T05:05:00.000-07:00

This is a bit of an old story, but last week, NBA's trophy boy Lebron James agreed to meet 17-year-old Anthony Erskine, the foolish fan who rushed onto the court during the final minutes of his spectacular performance in Madison Square Garden (check out the delayed blog!). Erskine, one of five million to be donning a James jersey that night, was arrested and banned from the Garden. According to the Daily News, Lebron's gay lover (who "dashed onto the hardwood to profess his twisted love") explained how he aptly "juked out" a security guard before mentioning that he was a member of the powerhouse Mount Vernon High basketball team.

"Sorry, you must be mistaken, Renaldo Balkman's on the other bench."

Poor Erskine, I definitely get a sense of a mature ambition when I read: "He said, 'I'm going right now, it's mandatory,' said Anthony's cousin Dakaari Denton, 12, whose mom had to pick him up after Anthony was arrested." Yep, that's right, his 12-year-old cousin stuck by his side just until he had to go to recess.

Now, I'm not a big fan of this...fan, and the fortunate ending to his story. I remember the days when running onto the court was accepted as crude and you would soon be knocked out by the likes of Jermaine O'Neal. But Erskine is definitely lucky that Lebron happens to be so gotdamn humble (so handsome, and just so talented) to meet a crazed high schooler with an eloquent little cousin. But I sort of admire Erskine's courage though, not even Wally Sczerbiak hasn't gathered up the cajones to meet "The King" yet.

So let me cut to the chase: at the next Timberwolves game, I hereby declare that I will be running onto the court to finally meet my idol Michael "Sugar Daddy" Doleac.

- K.H. (also has to run because my mom's picking me up)

Tisch students should start playing football

2008-03-14T02:09:00.000-07:00

In an AP interview yesterday, Giants co-owner and NYU film school namesake Steve Tisch explained that the Big Blue's Superbowl trophy was "more satisfying" than the Oscar he received for producing Forrest Gump. Shortly after the interview, the kazillionaire gave a homeless man $50 to do a funny dance.

Tisch's interpretation of school spirit

Unfortunately, we don't have a football team here at NYU, so Mr. Tisch (owner of all things NYU) is forced to devote his loyalty somewhere else in the city. I can't imagine many Tischies complaining about his statement in between filming, smoking cigarettes, and shopping at American Apparel. But when your school's president destroys the best part of your non-existent campus, your tuition is literally costing you your first-born, and Writing the Essay keeps you trapped in the library, it isn't too much of a boost to your self-esteem when Mr. Tisch hints that you should stick to football.

Breaking news: Sternies have nothing to say, at all.

- K.H. (CAS Class of '11 - Hayd3n ruLz!)

Nicolas Cage is Italian and sort of a member of Real Madrid

2008-03-14T01:20:00.000-07:00

During a crucial Champions league match between Real Madrid and AS Roma two days ago, Paolo Calabresi, an Italian TV personality, infiltrated the opposing Bernabeu headquarters with ease by impersonating...Nicolas Cage. Yes, like the Lord of War/National Treasure/Con Air Nicolas Cage.

Calabresi's costume (straight out of Gone in 60 Seconds) and voice, still dressed with a slight Italian accent, were so convincing that Real president Ramon Calderon hosted "Mr. Cage" and gifted him a personalized jersey. Even Brazilian child-star Robinho, all 3 feet of him, was delighted to finally meet his favorite Ghost Rider (that is, before the team lost 2-1).

I'm still a bit confused about the entire story. Beckham's neighbors Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes were present when Real won La Liga championship last year. Antonio Banderas and Rafael Nadal are apparently devoted followers with some ties to the club. But America's most dull actor? For some reason, I can't imagine hordes of Madridistas lining up to shake even the real hand of Sean Connery's supporting actor in "The Rock." But because Real is the most prestigious soccer club on the planet, I guess any publicity will welcomed, even if that means showing off Hollywood's worst receding hairline.

But let's not make fun of those Spainards. In truth, this is really just another great example of that Italian affinity for acting (please click!) when it comes to soccer. Forza azzurri!

- K.H. (Sorry Tony!)

I'm not dead, I swear.

2008-03-13T12:29:00.000-07:00

So the past week I've been buried with mid-terms and other incredibly fun school-related activities. I know you Dumb Jock readers have missed me, but now I'm finally enjoying my long-awaited spring break. Expect many posts in the very, very near future.

Just let me take a nap first. Thanks.

- K.H.

O.J. Mayo is smarter than 95% of you

2008-03-10T17:24:00.001-07:00

I was doing some preliminary research on a post I was about to write about how thug-turned-USC star O.J. Mayo is actually the reincarnation of USC star-turned-thug O.J. Simpson. However, I stumbled upon some unsettling information on Wikipedia (a college student's best friend): apparently, Mayo scored a 29 on the ACT, placing him in the 95th percentile of all students taking the test, thereby contradicting the very title of this blog.

O.J. Mayo: Dumb Jock?

At first, I assumed it was some wikinerd in Los Angeles likening his idol's intelligence to that of Etan Thomas. But after some further investigation, I found that Mayo's incredible ACT score is in fact true. For any late teenager who spent several miserable months devoting himself to SAT practice and application essays, it's difficult enough to witness basketball's newest asshole accept himself into a great school. But when that slam-dunking, cotton-headed ninny muggins also beat you in the only thing you had going for yourself (your test scores), well then, there's not much to look forward to in this life. Thus, you resort to writing in a amateur blog and smoking crack cocaine.

And, as we all realize at some point in our life, the dumb jock wins again. Boogers.

- K.H.

David Harrison will (expletive) kill you

2008-03-09T22:25:00.000-07:00

Pacers center David Harrison was suspended one game for telling an official that he was going "to (expletive) kill" Spurs ginger center Matt Bonner after a seemingly offensive offensive foul. While being escorted off the court, Harrison was so (expletive) pissed off that he (expletive) threw a (expletive) tantrum on the way to the (expletive) locker room that he need a few (expletive) stitches in his head.

Moments later, Chris Kaman was found (expletive) dead under the basket.

Considering that Harrison is, in fact, an Indiana Pacer molded under the unparalleled guidance of Stephen Jackson and Jamaal Tinsley, this shouldn't be much of a surprise. Well, considering this is the NBA, this actually should be expected. Players like Bonner should actually be...well, (expletive) killed.

Upon notice that Harrison was suspended, Bonner, who happens to be the only man on the Spurs roster with a sense of humor, responded, "You only get a technical for that? Will Ferrell got ejected for that in Semi-Pro." In the Spurs locker room, jokes are rare, but you know what they say, 60 percent of the time, it works every time.

In a rare, yet captivating, emotional moment for San Antonio forward Tim Duncan, the ten-time All-star replied, "Ha."

So, touche to Mr. Harrison and Mr. Bonner for allowing me to quote Anchorman for the first time in this blog. Just don't (fucking) kill yourselves!

- K.H.

In creative advertising campaign, G2 Gatorade makes Dwyane Wade lose G2wice in one night

2008-03-08T19:46:00.000-08:00

The NBA has been complicated lately. Shaq is wearing a Suns jersey. The Rockets have won 18 games straight without Yao. Kevin Durant is still 38 pounds.

But the league doesn't really get much more complicated than the two games (TWO!) played between the Heat and the Hawks tonight. The Heat have the league's worst record despite their championship season only two years ago and division title last year. The lottery loitering Hawks, under the wings of four uberathletic point forwards, are now on pace to finally reach the playoffs for the first time in the century. The times are a-changing, folks, so you better trade for an old, washed-up veteran with too high of expectations!

Quinn: Shawn Marion's on the Heat?
Bibby: I'm on the Hawks?
Pachulia: WTFioeiurcznbkj?!

Both squads were involved in the league's first replay (sorry: re-play) since 1983 after their Dec. 19 game, in which a currently deceased Shaq was wrongly cited for six fouls. Before the normally scheduled matchup tonight, the teams played the final 51.9 seconds of the first game with the Hawks ahead 114-111, thus proving that time travel is indeed possible.

Apparently, one of the officials couldn't help but make a disturbingly funny joke: "That was the best game I've ever had," he said at the scoring table. "I didn't make one mistake." Moral of the joke: NBA referees are supposed to make mistakes. Oh, okay, I get it now! That's one of those jokes you hear your creepy uncle make about molesting a child, which you still laugh at for no apparent reason.

In those extremely riveting, back-and-forth, edge-of-your-seat 51.9 seconds, neither team scored...at all. The Hawks continued their oddly successful night by beating the Heat again in a 48-minute game behind Joe Johnson's 37 points. Gotdamn, that's almost an hour long!

So, the sorry Hawks beat the celebrityish Heat twice in one night. The NBA. Where wtf is happening to the NBA happens.

- K.H.

UCLA Basketball isn't not bribing the referees

2008-03-08T18:00:00.000-08:00

Lately, I've been leaning towards UCLA in that everimportant crosstown rivalry back home (Breaking News: I just lost half of my readers). And honestly, I'm not really sure why. Maybe it's because Westwood is one of my more liked spots in LA, or maybe it's because I always love the underdog and USC athletics isn't one of the most humble programs in the nation.

However, though the Bruins look bound for a No. 1 seed in this year's tournament, the team's past two victories (against Stanford and Cal) have made me question my newfound loyalty. Yes, Kevin Love is exceeding high expectations, Darren Collison and Russell Westbrook are combining for one of nation's best backcourts, Luc Richard Mbah a Moute makes memorizing how to spell his name worth the effort.

But really, an overtime win at home against an overrated Stanford squad? Correction: an overtime win that should never have even gone into overtime. You should be disappointed in yourself; John Wooden is turning his grave as we speak. 2nd Correction: John Wooden is actually turning in his...bed...alive and...very healthy. Well, this is awkward.

This, kids, is a great example of the non-contact foul.

And then, earlier today, you barely sneak out a win against the pot-smoking hippies of Berkeley (why do we call them "Cal" anyways?) led by his whiteness Ryan Anderson? Really? Not only did you win by 1 point, but you had to blind the referees with mace and summon the soul of Lew Alcindor just so Josh Shipp could make the most improbable game-winner of all time? Well, at least those cheerleaders were especially attractive tonight ("Psst...Wooden's not looking!")

So, after these very low high points in Bruin athletics (or very low low points) and the very high low points of recent Trojan sports, I've changed my mind yet again: let's go CSULA Golden Eagles!

- K.H.

Barry "O'bomber" Obama smokes clowns like you on the b-ball court

2008-03-06T17:51:00.000-08:00

In the previous post, I kind of assumed that everyone knew that Senator Barack Obama is indeed a hardcore balla. Well, unfortunately, assumptions are bad and may lead to unintentional racist remarks. So, I thought I should enlighten my readers by including some pretty interesting articles about Mr. Obama's day job: a southpaw, agile shooting guard with a deadly outside shot and a George Gervin finger roll.

Wonkette: St. Barack of Obama Also Walks On Air

NPR: Obama on the War, Race, and America's Future by Farai Chideya
Finally, we've got a lighter note from David McWeeney. You're going to like this, because you've been described as a really aggressive basketball player back when you were at Harvard. So he wrote, "Senator Obama, you've said that if you become president that you will install a basketball hoop in the White House. Do you happen to know where?" But we did a little digging. It turns out the White House already has a half-court. Will you expand that to a full court, and who are you going to play?

"You know, I was just with Charles Barkley a couple of days ago. He came down to Birmingham to campaign with me, and Alonzo Mourning is doing an event for me down in Miami in a couple of weeks, so I think we could put together a pretty good all-star team. I don't want to guard any of those guys. They'll be on my team, and then you know, maybe if you want to play you can come up with some folks of your own."

Youtube - Classic Obama: His highschool basketball days

The NY Times: The Primary Season is Embracing Sports Images by George Vecsey
The way I see it, the younger generation is much more cool about racial, religious and gender differences than the older generations were. There are a lot of jerks among athletes, but young voters follow sports enough to be familiar with Shaquille O'Neal’s goofy jokes and Tiki Barber’s burning ambition and Dontrelle Willis’s warm smile.

Obama is of mixed ancestry — a white mother from Kansas, a father from Kenya — like some admirable sports figures, including Tiger Woods, Derek Jeter, James Blake and Herman Edwards.

Although agreeing that mixed ancestry might be a factor, Dawson noted that “Woods and Obama have a similar self-image, that it’s not about race.”

“It’s a central part of Obama’s campaign,” Dawson said. “He can transcend race.”

Youtube - Score! Obama Shoots A Three

AA Statesman: Obama tries to take inspiring vision to the White House by Bob Dart
In his memoir, "Dreams from My Father," Obama wrote about inner turmoil over his racial identity at Punahou, where most of the other students were white or Asian. However, outwardly, he got along well with his classmates, most of whom were more affluent. He played varsity basketball — earning the nickname "Barry O'Bomber" because of his long-distance jump shots.

The NY Times: One Place Where Obama Goes Elbow to Elbow by Jodi Kantor

Mr. Robinson, now the coach of Brown University’s men’s team, said the 6-foot-2 senator is too skinny to be an imposing presence, but he is fast, with good wind even when he was a smoker. Mr. Obama is left-handed, and his signature move is to fake right and veer left, surprising players used to guarding right-handed competitors.

Sports Illustrated: One-on-one With Obama by S.L Price
So it's no surprise that Obama bit at the chance to play one-on-one. We met at the YMCA in Spencer, Iowa, in a gym with signs scolding, do not dunk balls or hang on rim! No problem. We both graduated high school in 1979, and the days when a soda bottle could roll beneath our jumping feet have long passed. At 6' 1 1/2", Obama is all lefty, quick with long arms. Before we start, he grabs some opposition research from my son, who readily says I'm "not in basketball shape" and will thus spend his teenage years peering through the barred windows of our basement.

Playing B-Ball with Barack Obama by Marshall Poe
Barack had game, and he was even then a natural leader. He was tall (I’d say about six-four), but very thin, and this shaped his style of play. He couldn’t really hold his own in the paint, but he had good ups and would snatch rebounds over slightly shorter and heavier players in a graceful motion that reminded me of Karem. He was relatively fast and agile, but had no outside game that I recall. I do remember him bringing up the ball from time to time, which was probably not a good idea (though I don’t think he had a bad handle). It suggested that he wanted to be in charge (I did the same thing sometimes, much to the chagrin of my teammates).

Barack Obama Led Occidental Basketball Team In Scoring In 1979 by SportsByBrooks
Jim Acho on why the media has eschewed taking it to the Barack: “Obama was considered 'a George Gervin type’ by one ex-coach I spoke to, but I wonder why it gets no mention. Maybe the Obama camp is playing it down for fear of some type of ‘black man and basketball’ stereotype/reprisal.”

- K.H.

KJ to challenge Obama as best African-American basketball player in politics

2008-03-06T12:16:00.000-08:00

Three-time NBA All-Star and dunk-o-matic Kevin Johnson* will be running for mayor in his hometown of Sacramento, a oddly foreign city which declares itself the capital of California (Is this the plot of some Will Ferrell movie or something?!).

This fade is gettin' federal on yo ass.

I usually don't like it when athletes become politicians. Coached athleticism really shouldn't be an advantage to any legislator, no matter what district, state, or department. However, I may consider Johnson as a rare exception to that rule. The man simply known as "KJ" was one of the first NBA icons that I remember from my childhood. I was around 5 years old when I secretly wanted that sweet fade on my head just like Johnson. Unfortunately, I never got that fade and some bald, white guy named Jason Kidd replaced KJ.

However, as a politics major, I now may be able to reconnect my childhood ties with the former Suns guard in future. Who knows? Maybe you'll see a 2024 Johnson-Hsu ticket with the campaign slogan "Rock the Fade."

- K.H.

*Not to be confused with heavily moustached Browns wide reciever Kevin Johnson.

Kobe mistakes old lady for Sasha Vujacic

2008-03-06T11:27:00.000-08:00

There are plenty of conspiracy theories being thrown around concerning the extremely disturbing material found in this video. Hopefully, this doesn't hinder the Lakers' amazing season. Just please, God, please just don't hurt Andrew Bynum, I'm begging you.
My theory? Well, I think that Kobe's accuser from his notorious rape trial in Colorado is still lurking around the Lakers' territory, trying desperately to salvage her one shot at fame. However, Kobe managed literally masked her final chance to be seen on national television. That's clutch.

- K.H.

Delayed Blogging of the Cavaliers Knicks game!

2008-03-06T03:39:00.000-08:00

Like a true sports nerd, I went alone to the Madison Square Garden last night to watch the Knicks take on Lebron and the Cavaliers. It was definitely one of the better adventures I've taken on during my time here in New York. Anyways, I wanted to do one of those fancy live blogs tracing my excursion throughout the night. However, I realized that this was indeed impossible, even with an iPhone (!!!). But fortunately for you, I have found this new phenomenon called "delayed blogging," in which an author blogs several moments after an event happens. Anyways, without further ado, the first "delayed blog" of the Dumb Jock:

March 5th, 2008
Pre-game
6:45ish - The A-Train doesn't suck all the time
I get on the A-Train just as I arrive at the West 4th station, only to find myself front row and center for two children breakdancing! Their ability to do back flips on a moving subway compels me to donate at least $5, so I give them 50 cents.

Free tickets to breakdancing children!

7:00ish - Renaldo Balkman is "The Defender"
Upon entering the Garden, it's difficult to not notice the massive poster with action shots of all the Knicks stars (which, in this case, is an extremely relative term). But the best part of the poster is barely visible at the bottom, labeling all the nicknames for each Knick. Most of the pseudonyms are fitting and somewhat exciting, Malik Rose is "The Veteran" and Nate Robinson is "The Energizer." However, Renaldo Balkman, the only disappointingly solid player in the NBA, is nicknamed "The Defender." Only somewhat fitting and not exciting at all. I think "That Guy We Drafted. Yeah, Him. No, Don't Shoot Us" would've done the job.

7:05ish - The MSG security sucks, in a good way
I honestly could sneak in Osama Bin Laden and even if they did catch me, watching the Knicks play basketball couldn't be much worse than any other thinkable punishment.

7:15ish - The MSG is nice, empty, and explorable
My seat in section 201 is pretty decent, but arriving half an hour early means nothing is happening, so I decide to walk down and see how close I can get to the court without looking like a creep.

7:20ish - Walt Frazier is a robot
I am meeting Mr. Frazier, one of the greatest Knicks ever and now an on-court reporter (see kids, it's not that hard!), equipped with a Dumb and Dumber suit. He signs autographs with a frozen smile and, at one point, he stares at a little kid taking a picture of only his face. Some guy asks him who he's rooting for and he responds like he was trained, "the Knicks." I ask for a photo and he just looks at me with that frozen smile. I frozenly smile back.

Will - take - photo. Will - like - photo.

7:25ish - Spike Lee really isn't doing it for publicity
He is sitting alone in his usual seat eating nachoes in his Obama shirt. I stand at the barrier just behind his section and yell his name. He looks back with a somewhat surprised look on his face and kindly waves to me. I want to yell out something along the lines of "Who you pulling for?" as a joke, but I am too shocked that he is so casual, so I just give him the dorky wave back.

7:30ish - New York loves Lebron
The Knicks came out of the locker room and fans begin cheering. A few seconds later, the cheering erupts into a hollering and I look at the other end of the court. It's Lebron and he's dunking 3-pointers. The attention towards him is almost tangible, not one person even notices that Isiah Thomas is feeling up every cheerleader at mid-court.

7:32ish - Lebron loves New York
Now I don't go to many basketball games, let alone many Cavaliers games, but I can't imagine Lebron is always this quiet during warm-ups. I always imagined him as the laughing, goofing-around-during-pre-game type (Don't See: Tim Duncan) and I'm actually pretty sure he is. But he doesn't say a word to anybody for a while since coming out of the tunnel, not even the little kid asking for an autograph (seriously). At first, I think he's just thinking about how badly he misses Larry Hughes, until he spontaneously throws down one of the most amazing dunks I've seen in person, which was scarily familiar to Nate Robinson's 5-hour dunk from the dunk contest two years ago. And now I realize why he has been so silent: he's busy imagining that #23 in blue and orange.

7:40ish - Nate Robinson really is shortDuring the National Anthem, the 5'9" guard stands still in between two forwards. I think that if that guy is taller than me, then these men really are superhuman. Hours later, I go on wikipedia to find out that Robinson is indeed 5'9". I am 5'6".

7:50ish - Nobody likes Ike, everybody loves Nate, Malik Rose is still alive
During team introductions, the announcer barely mutters underneath his breath "coached by Isiah Thomas." I cringe at the collective "BOOOOOOOO!!!!!" which seems to fill the entire island of Manhattan. Somewhere, Larry Brown is sleeping comfortably. The starting line-up is announced and the fans give a modest applause for each player, except for Robinson, who gets an ovation almost as loud as Lebron's. Then, Malik Allen is introduced...nothing happens.

Gametime
7:55ish - Correction: New York will give Lebron oral sex
There are easily more Lebron jerseys than Knicks jerseys in the crowd (the fashion at the game was strictly three categories: Knicks jerseys, Cavaliers jerseys, business suits). Lebron begins the game with a few layups and impressive assists and the entire crowd goes nuts after each one. Eddy Curry has a nice slam and the crowd applauds out of obligation. This reminds me of when our high school basketball team played Harvard-Westlake, which was then equipped with North Carolina center Alex Stepheson. We rooted for our friends on the court, but not-so-secretly hoped that Stepheson would just break our backboard with every dunk so we could rush the court.

8:10ish - Damon Jones is a loser
Cliche mohawk and all, Jones reminds me of the requisite I-suck-but-I'll-pretend-that-I'm-just-joking-around guy at every pick-up game. During the pre-game, he missed a an easy lay-up and looked around at his teammates and burst out in laughter for no reason. Years earlier, he shows up to the dunk contest in the most foul suit ever made alongside NBA icon Tyronn "Fishy face" Lue.

8:15ish - Wally Szczerbiak is so white right now
While we're talking about pick-up game stereotypes, Szczerbiak is definitely the white-guy-who-tries-so-gotdamn-hard. He has a solid game but, with an injured Zydrunas Ilgauskas, chokes under the pressure of being the only white guy on Cleveland. He hears you, Brian Scalabrine.

8:20ish - Both teams need a point guard
Lebron is taking every inbound pass and has 5 assists in the first quarter. Robinson is manning the floor general duty until Dumb Jock alum Stephon Marbury remembers to play basketball again. I begin to daydream about the idea of Chris Paul playing with Lebron and then I fantasize about a team in which Lebron doesn't need to play every single position. I wake up once my friendly neighbor from Queens spills beer on my shoes. "Don't wurray about it," he tells me. I never apologized.

8:40ish - Lebron isn't human
He just finished the half with a spectacular 3-pointer from just inside half-court. The crowd/the alcohol is louder than ever.

8:45ish - Halftime is boring
Little kids playing basketball. Crowded bathroom lines. I buy overpriced french fries and head down to see if I could get on the court again. I am mere feet away from Jeremy Piven, but the guard sees me and tells me to return to my seat. I pretend that I'm Lloyd. It doesn't work.

8:50ish - New Yorkers are always New Yorkers
The two drunken Guido men behind me are yelling obscenities that would make Pistons fans scared. My two neighbors from Queens spend a good fifteen minutes reciting Ari Gold quotes after realizing Piven is in the building. The thuggish-looking men on my left are awkwardly kicked out of their seats when the actual owners of those seats return wearing I Love New York shirts while explaining on the phone that they are "at a basketball game in New York!" Two typical Staten Island girls get cat calls from the Knicks bench. I am saying all of this aloud. Shit.

9:00ish - Randolph Morris exists
Morris is known as the Kentucky alum who tried to get drafted twice, but failed miserably. The Knicks picked up him up straight out of college out of desperation for...well, for athletic individuals, which allowed Morris to become one of the only players to wear a college jersey and an NBA jersey in the same week. Zing!

9:30ish - Where in the world is Zach Randolph?
N/A

9:45ish - Lebron is even more inhuman
He is now heaving up 3-pointers around the Knicks like his old Powerade commercial. No Knick seems to want to defend him, so he lets Damon Jones put on a Knicks jersey just so he could dunk on him like this again.

9:50ish - We still love every single Giant
Some of the NFL Champion Giants are in attendance. No, not Eli Manning or Michael Strahan, it's Chase Blackburn! Barry Cofield! and defensive coordinator Steve Spagnuolo! You might as well just bring out the entire Hall of Fame. Yet, the crowd is louder than all of Lebron's dunks combined. Meanwhile, Tom Brady inbounds the ball to Robinson.

10:00ish - Fight? Fight!
After Lebron seals his 50-point game, the crowd continues to erupt even going into the timeout. A few sections begin to cheer "MVP!" Suddenly, everyone's eyes divert to the Cavaliers bench, where a large group of players and security guards are hoarded together with an obviously drunk fan wearing a Lebron jersey. I immediately think we're headed for the Malice at the Palace Pt. II and I'm about to run onto the court so I can go home saying I got in a fight with a Cavalier (which sounds cool in two ways). I strategize and reason that my best bet is against Szczerbiak. I pull out my shank, but then the drunken fan is quickly escorted out. I still manage to shank my neighbor from Queens.

Where's Ron Artest?!

Post-Game
10:10ish - I don't regret this decision
The game is over. Lebron thanks the crowd like Diablo Cody at the Oscars as the Knicks walk to the lockers in shame. This is easily one of the best games of Lebron's career. I leave the Garden satisfied, until it takes 20 minutes to catch the A-train back home. I look at my wallet. It's empty. Ha, welcome to New York sucker.

- K.H.

Alexi Lalas thinks David Beckham is better than you, and you, and you...

2008-03-04T22:17:00.000-08:00

General manager Alexi Lalas, the ginger kid responsible for David Beckham's $250 million immigration to Los Angeles, has been the face of the Major League Soccer administration for the past few years. But even with arguably the world's most popular athlete, the MLS hasn't necessarily been headlining any ESPN broadcasts lately, so you would think Lalas would at least be a tad bit modest about his career as a general manager. If Lalas really did want more Americans tuning into those extremely exciting Galaxy matches, you would assume he would promote the MLS and its athletes politely to potential fans.

Apparently, Mr. Lalas doesn't like being polite. In an interview last week with humble hosts Steve and Nick of Fox Football Fone-In (which, sadly, is probably the most popular soccer show in America), the Galaxy manager explained that Becks was "too big" for the show and for the American soccer community in general. Ouch.

After an intimate night with Beckham, Lalas reasoned that he was indeed "big enough."

His explicitly offensive response was prompted by Steve and Nick's complaint that the Englishman refused to appear on their show along with an L.A. Times article that derided Beckham's celebrity. T.J. Simers, author of the article, explained the futility of trying to contact the soccer star who has scored a whopping one goal for his team:

Talk to Galaxy GM Alexi Lalas and he sounds as if Beckham's work is already done here, proclaiming Beckham "is at an entirely different level" than Tiger Woods and Michael Jordan.Beckham might be Leiweke's "favorite athlete," as he says, but he dismisses Lalas' remarks by noting Beckham "isn't even as big as Kobe Bryant."
I thought he was brought to L.A. to put soccer on the U.S. map and make MLS or MSL or whatever they call the soccer league that ranks here right up there with the Arena league into something more meaningful.
Beckham is not a goal-scorer, and apparently not much of a talker, making him a strange choice to be a pitchman in this country. Kwame Brown delivered more than Beckham last year. -Simers, L.A. Times

As a member of that American soccer community that he felt so free to condemn as unworthy of the god known as David Beckham, Lalas' comments disturb me as much as the screaming Irishman Kenny on the World Soccer Daily Podcast, who asked "After spending the day with Snoop Dogg, Beckham has no time to call the show when he's out stuck on the 405?" It's pundits like Lalas and disappointments like Beckham that keep the beautiful game below Arena Football here in the States. And they wonder why us Yankees can't compete in the World Cup.

It's difficult not to feel bad for the Fox Soccer Channel, Lalas abusively berated the only channel (that is barely on air) willing to show some MLS matches, claiming it wasn't "big enough" for the only hope the league has. This phrase "big enough" is ironic and slightly amusing because Lalas, whose only shining moment is wasting $250 million dollars on a metrosexual geezer, is not "big enough" to even be a footnote on Sky Sports News. This asshole thought he was "big enough" to declare that Beckham could be bigger than Pele. But, American soccer fans, should we really intimidated by a guy whose name is Alexi?

So seriously, somebody please give this man an Eric Cantona karate kick to the face before the soccer community finally becomes "big enough."

-K.H.

Chad Ford's NBA mock draft is for nerds

2008-03-04T21:29:00.000-08:00

Chad Ford and a group of geeky web interns created this year's NBA interactive lottery mock draft, which simulates an arbitrary order of lottery teams and predicts each team's ultimate draft choice at each selection. Yes, all 2,184 combinations are possible. Even if you're not a basketball fan, it's fun just clicking "Play Lottery" every time and seeing how often you can get Derrick Rose as the first pick.

Chad Ford cares about these two men. Do you?

I'm not really sure why I like this interactiveness so much. Maybe because I'm a nerd, maybe because I enjoy imagining Michael Beasley playing alongside Dwyane Wade, or maybe because this is the first year in a while I don't have to keep on clicking to see how often the Celtics can get the first pick.

-K.H.

Brett Favre pretends like he's actually retiring this time

2008-03-04T08:27:00.000-08:00

Packers quarterback and Manly Man Brett Favre finally announced his retirement earlier today after 17 years as the face of the historic franchise, the bored city of Green Bay, the entire state of Wisconsin, and the football in general.

Brett Favre is the reason Jesus was born in Green Bay.

I was one year old when he was drafted by the Falcons (as Brett "Fav-row") and two when he started his legendary career with the Packers. So it really is extremely difficult to imagine anyone else under center for the Packers, throwing long bombs in that Lambeau snow which perfectly camouflaged Favre's graying beard. The man owns some of the most impressive records in all of sports (seriously, 253 consecutive starts? I can't even think of a witty joke to follow that).

My best memory of Favre was one of his famed Monday Night Football performances a few years ago against the Raiders, in which he passed for 400 yards and four touchdowns only hours after his father had passed away. I specifically remember him throwing an insanely accurate deep ball to one of his many receivers in double coverage, probably one of the most godly plays I've seen in football. I also remember not being surprised because, after all, it's Brett Favre. Millions of people hate Michael Vick, even more despise Tom Brady, but there aren't many that really dislike Favre. With that humble Southern drawl, fatherly looks, and BAMF swagger, there's not much to hate. Oh yeah, and he's got three MVP awards, biotch.

Anyways, this is starting to sound like a eulogy. I'm sure we'll be seeing a lot more of Favre as a disappointingly awkward analyst on ESPN or Fox Sports, but until then, I'll remember him as easily the best quarterback of my generation. Thanks for the memories, Brett. Maybe now you'll have some time to reconsider the spelling of your name.

-K.H.

Greg Oden is not running for president

2008-03-03T20:24:00.000-08:00

A few days ago, I wrote a post about Greg Oden's flattering endorsement of Barack Obama for this year's presidential election. Like most Obama supporters, Oden reasoned that the Senator provided significant "change" from the shameful eight years of President Bush.

So, Oden should know that Senator Obama is opposed to President Bush. He also should know that President Bush is married to Laura Bush, who is also known as the First Lady. Then, he should also know that introducing the First Lady virtually contradicts his endorsement of Senator Obama. However, the man-child apparently didn't get the Spark Notes on this whole politics thing:

Can he really be considered a "professional basketball player" if he hasn't, y'know, played?

-K.H.

Celtics to give Brian Scalabrine more help

2008-03-03T18:49:00.000-08:00

Professional journeyman and E.T. lookalike Sam Cassell is expected to sign with the Celtics after clearing waivers with the Clippers. Cassell will likely back up 18-pound guard Rajon Rondo, who has been playing surprisingly well against teams not named the Pistons.

As a Celtics supporter for the past 10 years, this season has become for me the light at the end of the tunnel known as "sucking." So, any potential disturbance to the team's late success scares me, especially when that disturbance is an old, washed-up bald man who might find it unsettling to play behind a 2nd year point with no shot (who also happens to look like an alien). Anyone who has watched a Celtics game this season is forced to notice the team-first chemistry on the court (See: James Posey on bench whenever anybody dunks...anybody), which hasn't necessarily been a defining quality of recent Boston rosters. Adding a demanding veteran risks might interrupt the brotherly love that Danny Ainge sold his soul for.

Phone TD Banknorth Garden!

However, I understand the move and, at the end of the day, would probably advocate it. After all, how can I smack talk Ainge after what he's done to the team in the past year? (Please don't remind about the past 9 years). Cassell has always been a proven winner and serves as a potent alternative to guarding the Chauncey Billupses of the East. Plus, he helped Garnett lead the Timberwolves to the Conference finals, where they were a Luke Walton away from the Championship, and also led the less than flashy Clippers to the Conference semifinals only two years ago. And as far as splitting time with Rondo, Cassell grabbed his only two championships while splitting minutes with Kenny "Barkley's Bitch" Smith on the Rockets.

So, yeah, I guess the deal is worth the squeeze (does that make sense?). And now the Dumb Jock would like to welcome Mr. Cassell to Boston, just don't screw it all up for us...E.T.!

-K.H.

Told you so

2008-03-03T17:27:00.000-08:00

Randy Moss signs 3-year deal to stay with the Patriots, thereby making probably the most hyped scenario in the free agency anticlimactic. Way to go, Randy, way to go.

Three-year contracts make good rolling paper.

-K.H.

Chuck Klosterman + Celtics = Peace on Earth

2008-03-02T15:57:00.001-08:00

Renowned pop culture journalist Chuck Klosterman wrote for the New York Times Play Magazine, what I think is the most well written sports magazine, about Kevin Garnett's impact on the Celtics this season. I really enjoy when talented authors like Klosterman spend time between compiling best selling collections to write about sports, especially when its about the Celtics. Anyways, if you have some time, here's a great read:

What a Difference a Freakishly Long, Ungodly Talented, Defensive Wizard of a Man Makes
by Chuck Klosterman

-K.H.

This will be anticlimactic

2008-03-02T12:22:00.000-08:00

The biggest name in the free agency market right now is undoubtedly Randy Moss, the Patriots receiver who broke a record much older than Brady-surpassing-Manning. Despite his ridonkolous season with New England, Moss continues to listen to offers from other teams that don't have last year's MVP under center. This includes Mr. Jones' Cowboys (who would wear No. 81?), the same Packers who tried to get Moss last year, and any team interested in reuniting him with good ol' buddy Daunte Culpepper.

Ironic, huh? A talented but troubled receiver (such a rare breed!) finally finds his mojo with easily the best pre-Superbowl team in history, breaking one of the everlasting Jerry Rice records in the process, and now he's thinking of leaving?

"See ya next year Boston!"

It's good drama, really, that immediately make people like Len Pasquarelli erect. "Moss to join Favre? Moss to join T.O.? Moss to join Arena Football?" are all eye-catching headlines that do indeed allow ESPN to make money, lots and lots and lots of it.

But if I have learned anything from sports (there's not much), it's that hype is always anticlimactic. Over the years, I've heard endless trade and signing rumors involving celebrity names and massive contracts only to be disappointed because the athlete merely stuck with status quo.

It took about 4 years of processing for Allen Iverson to finally be traded after he demanded it. 10 years for Kevin Garnett. And 100 and counting for Kobe. Before last year's season, Bears linebacker Lance Briggs promised he would never play another game for Chicago. Breaking news: Briggs has signed a six-year deal with Chicago. Dumbjock icon Stephon Marbury was told earlier this season that he was "free to leave," which we all assumed meant he was no longer a Knick. But we all know what happens when we ass-u-me. After the Yankees' disappointing playoffs run, MVP Alex Rodriguez pissed off New York by opting out of his contract, only to opt back in a few days later.

Anyways, you get the point. At the end of the day, the requisite hype of hes-going-there, especially with big names, is always doomed to disappoint. Yes, in recent months, this hasn't been true, but there are always exceptions. But really, professional athletes thinking of moving always disappoint. It's kind of like when you're watching that shitty movie and thinking about leaving the theater early, but decide on staying put just because you put too much time into it. Because like Tyson Chandler told us in his blog, it sucks leaving home.

So my prediction for where Moss is going to be catching deep balls in 2008? Answer: Dance with the one that brung ya.

-K.H.

Sorry, most posts lately have all been about the Patriots. I guess its true: trouble makes headlines.

His name begins with "Yourhigh"

2008-03-02T01:33:00.000-08:00

A few weeks ago, high school football recruit Yourhighness Morgan from Bushnell, Fl. committed to play linebacker for Florida Atlantic. No, that's not a typo, and it's not an honorific either. His mother could've played it somewhat safe with "King" or "Prince," which don't sound that weird rolling off the tongue and are slightly more...relevant? Instead, she took the more ancient Byzantine route. I'm trying to predict the potential chants by drunk Owls fans when Yourhighness makes a nice tackle or just simply shows up.

Thou most excellent majesty may wear whatever sweatshirt he desires!

This just in: Yourhighness apparently has a younger brother named Handsome.

-K.H.

"Pown Bitch Pown! Pown, pown, pown, pown, pown!!!"

2008-03-02T01:25:00.001-08:00

At my high school, the term "pwn3ge" was used pretty liberally, mostly motivated by pretty tongue-in-cheek sarcasm. However, this video reminds us all that America's youth does actually consider "pown" a word, defined as a verb just a step above of the actual word "own."

This tweeny Patriots fan repeatedly explains Brady must "pown" the Giants in the Superbowl despite his suspect boot injury. However, the video appropriately ends after Randy Moss's only touchdown of the game, which seemingly sealed the perfect season. But as any American citizen knows well, the "powner" is now the "powned."

-K.H.

Report: The Patriots are still crying

2008-03-01T14:38:00.000-08:00

Former Patriots cornerback Asante Samuel seemed pretty rushed to get out the hell out of New England, agreeing a six-year contract with the Eagles with the free agency market open for about six seconds. Though I'm sure the deal ultimately came down to the money, Samuel's swift foot to the signing table does tell you a lot about the Patriots' catastrophic downfall. Though I do think that he's a bit overrated, Samuel was a central part of their defense who managed to have a great season despite early insistence on holding out. Now, he's gone, veteran linebacker Roosevelt Colvin is gone, and their best offensive weapon (including Brady) Randy Moss isn't so sure on joining the team. Who's next?! Matt Gutierrez?! Even linebacker Zach Thomas was sure on rejecting an offer to join undoubtedly the league's best roster last season.

Undercover Patriot Asante Samuel preparing to infiltrate Eagles practices.

Add all this what-have-you-done-for-me-lately drama to the incredibly shady Spygate controversy (which is still being blackballed by Commissioner Goodell as I type), and you've got yourself a sad, pitiful tragic hero. Now, even with a demoralized squad and less star power, Bill Belichick* is burdened with the "2nd times a charm" expectations of those always optimistic Boston fans. But at least he's still got Troy Brown!

-K.H.

*This marks the first time I've spelled "Belichick" correctly on a first try.

The Jaguars take Black History Month seriously

2008-02-29T12:07:00.000-08:00

In what has already been an extremely busy free-agency season (which started about 12 hours ago), one of the lesser known deals was that involving former Dolphins quarterback Cleo Lemon signing with the Jaguars. Lemon, known mainly as the gunslinger who threw that historic pass in overtime to seal an incredible victory over the Ravens, joins a quarterback corps that already includes David Garrard and Quinn Gray.

Reportedly the last photograph taken of a white quarterback in Jacksonville.

Why is this interesting? Well, it's not. Except for the fact that Garrard, Gray, and Lemon are all African-American and that the Jaguars have not played a white quarterback since the third week in the 2003 season. Holy Michael Vick! That's going to be at least five years without a Caucasian man under center! That has to be some sort of record. Marlin Briscoe should be proud today.

-K.H.

Tyson Chandler gets personal on yo ass

2008-02-29T11:44:00.000-08:00

They look so...happy.

Hornets center Tyson Chandler reflected on last week's trade deadline mayhem in a much more personal way than, say, your average John Hollinger (who sees players only as numbers and nothing more). The Hornets traded guard Bobby Jackson, apparently an extremely close friend of Chandler's, and a few other players for Mike James and Bonzi Wells, which I thought was a pretty good trade for New Orleans. However, Chandler made me cry out of guilt in his post titled "The Other Side of a Trade," which explained:

His daughters are four and seven, and they're like sisters with my daughter. They spend so much time together, and I've seen how much my daughter has grown, being able to play with his daughters, because they're so much older. When she wakes up in the morning, she calls their names because she wants to go over their house.

Actually, one of the first names that she got down was Bobby's, because she was always like "Bobby, Bobby." It was just hilarious the way she said it. So, I would pick up his girls sometimes and he would do the same. They're like sisters. They fight, they run around the house together and they get into stuff together.

Gotdamnit, Tyson, why must you make us feel so bad?! Stop all unexpected trades now!

-K.H.

Ah, the "that's what she said" possibilities...

2008-02-29T01:37:00.000-08:00

Lauryn Edwards, a nine-year-old girl and aspiring tennis player, was banned from her local club in Australia...for grunting. So, I guess my favorite part about tennis (c'mon, Sharapova's grunt sounds like a character from Street Fighter) is slowly being removed, beginning with nine-year-old girls in Australia.

Anyways, I just wanted to write the following fact out for giggles: Grunting is prohibited when hitting balls down under.

"It feels natural to do my noise. I'm not faking it," Lauryn said.

And no matter what those Aussies say, I'm still grunting when I play Wii Tennis.

-K.H.

What now, Durant-Hillary supporters?!

2008-02-29T01:15:00.000-08:00

I'm proud to see (potential) stars like Greg Oden extend their social influence off the field and become somewhat political. Yes, I'm a bit biased because he just happened to endorse a certain Senator from Illinois with a funny name that I also endorsed on this blog. But still, it's great seeing athletes defy the dumb jock stereotype and getting their Bill Bradley on every now and then.

Let's put those extra pounds to good use!

Of course, Oden shouldn't get too much credit. After all, he hasn't played one game in the NBA and is probably bored out of his 50-pound mind (that is, when he's not becoming "too big" for the Trail Blazers). For all I know, he just saw this picture of Barack and thought it cool that he might be able to post up against potentially the world's most important man. Anyways, moral of the story: stay political, dumb jocks, even if you don't know what that means.

-K.H.

Taking off the Hsu

2008-02-28T12:28:00.000-08:00

As you may have noticed by now, this blog is no longer The Hsu Fits. I've been planning major blogging renovation for a while and actually have spent many hours in the past nights trying to figure out this whole internet thing. I'm liking this new design and face, but the changes don't stop there. I'm planning on writing shorter, more efficient posts (See: every other blog on the web) to keep this thing much more active and involving. However, I'll still have my usual long, unnecessarily deep posts occasionally. Also, I've bought thedumbjock.com (for the whopping price of $7.95) so I guess I'm moving on to higher ground. I'm praying it'll be worth it.

Anyways, thank you to The Hsu Fits. Sports writing never seemed so...fitting.

And welcome to The Dumb Jock! Please, read, enjoy, laugh, share, argue, comment, question, ponder, existentialize, but please don't forget to click on the ads.

-K.H.

The Onion becomes more legitimate source than Sportscenter

2008-02-25T21:09:00.000-08:00

I haven't been posting a lot (or at all) lately, so here's a short post to keep my nonexistent readers interested. But I do hope to get some steam steaming in the near future. Also, I met sports blogging legend Will Leitch tonight at his book signing, which somehow inspired me to begin brainstorming radical reform within my blogosphere career. Stay tuned:

Foul on No. 36 for expressing...emotion.

So with the professional leagues going Phillip Wellman on just about everything nowadays, I thought that this report written by The Onion sports page just about sums about how ridiculous the authorities of the sports world have become. Yes, rules weren't made to be broken, but c'mon, let's just play the damn game.

-K.H.

To An Eli Dying Young

2008-02-19T19:05:00.000-08:00

I don't really mean everything from this post. Of course, I want to see Eli under center next for the Big Blue. But anytime I can relate sports to quality literature, I'm on it. Enjoy:

A.E. Housman's poem "To an Athlete Dying Young" beautifully recounts the story of a heralded athlete who died while in his prime, after setting a championed record. Instead of mourning the young man's death, the poet congratulates him:

"Eyes the shady night has shut
Cannot see the record cut,
And silence sounds no worse than cheers
After Earth has stopped the ears"

So yeah, the poem pretty much solidified my opinion on Vinny Testaverde (because we all have opinions on him, right?). I mean, I really am tired of all these old geezers - and in today's sport, being able to legally consume alcohol is now considered "old" - clawing to hold on to something they lost long before they were being considered future Hall of Famers.

Because how often do we see gifted, celebrated athletes slowly get sacked into obscurity? They fall deeper and deeper into the abyss known as "aging," trying to reach for the heyday they once enjoyed, without ever taking a look in the mirror. For some, the pinnacle of their careers may lie in Superbowl rings, and for others, in high school yearbooks. A sick knuckle ball or bulls-eye right arm earned the chance to be a man amongst children, to literally be hoisted on the shoulders of zealous disciples. Above politics and arts, sports is the best medium of immortalizing any man of any origin or age. Seriously, when your hair is gray and retirement is going great, you'll remember Joe American, the star quarterback, more than Tom Goody, the class president.

But like all things in this world, nothing lasts forever. Peaks ultimately peak and muscles eventually grow tired. And the man with the flashy slam dunks is now riding the pine of any team that can give him a chance, desperate to "go out with a bang." But unfortunately, time is never on an athlete's side. Disciples quickly convert and talented rookies immediately fill the void. Now, with two busted knees, a jersey with the wrong colors, and a paycheck worth as much as Lebron's new shoes, memories of the glory days are exactly that: memories. And instead of the bang, the lasting image frozen on ESPN is a wrinkled, old man shagging balls for the Mr. Now. I think it's what the kids today call a "has-been." But look on the bright side, he's a "great locker room presence!"

While it's good, Elisha, while it's good.

So, what does Eli Manning have to do with all of this?

Eli has the opportunity that only few before him have held. A Superbowl MVP, a historic upset, a play for the ages, and a jealous big brother. This is Jordan's buzzer beater against the Jazz, Bettis's unlikely championship in his hometown, and even Zidane's headbutt on the world's stage. Eli is on the plateau that has rarely been reached, just short of Jessica Alba's husband.

So, really, there is only down for Eli. He will never conduct an upset as significant and will never throw a pass as ridiculous. But he does have the chance to buy lasting real estate on this near-godly heaven. Here, he can forever enjoy the status above the endless other athletes who could no longer pay the mortgage. He can forever enjoy the company of buddy Tiki Barber and Barry Sanders, while looking down from the cliff and rightfully laughing at the Shaqs, the Testaverdes, the Karl Malones, the Craig Biggios, and yes, the Brett Favres (Yeah, I said it).

Housman also writes in his poem,

"So set, before its echoes fade,
The fleet foot on the sill of shade,
And hold to the low lintel up
The still-defended challenge-cup."

A Lombardi trophy and a key to immortality in hand, Eli has the choice to forever keep his smiling baby face glorified in the long-term memories of the world "before its echoes fade." Or he can be diagnosed too late and "die" too old. David Tyree can come too.

-K.H.

Madden Jr. Need Not Fit

2008-02-14T21:26:00.000-08:00

I've been meaning to write a post titled "The Requisite Mission Statement Post," which basically articulates the purpose of this blog. However, I think I'll settle with this, maybe. Enjoy:

An acquaintance of mine once labeled me a "Madden Junior," or as defined by the Facebook group so wittily titled "Summary of 99% of the people you will ever meet in college":

"This student's life revolves around sports. He can quote sports scores, character stats, and just about anything from some obscure game last week. Not only did he watch it, he studied it while his classmates were studying for that quiz he failed. He usually arrives in class approximately 10 minutes late wearing his favorite sports team hat and jacket, only to talk about sports for the entire class. Interestingly, the Madden Jr. rarely, if ever, has any athletic ability of his own, and is often obese due to a diet consisting entirely of nachos."

Though it's not the most flattering of descriptions, I can confidently state that "Madden Junior" accurately describes my character, albeit with some obvious flaws (I mean, c'mon, I am an absolute beast on the basketball court, I hate nachos, and I don't own either a hat or jacket of my favorite team). I actually can quote sports scores and stats with ease. I subconsciously memorize obscure details (I can tell you any player in the NBA's jersey number within seconds). I can even tell you the average number of soiled pants following any of Dwight Howard's dunks.

Apparently, I'm a junior version of this guy. Great, huh?

However, I understand that this receiving this character analysis isn't supposed to be a compliment. The classic stereotype of the sports geek is the fat uncle stuck to the couch eating a Philly Cheesesteak while screaming at a televised Brett Favre in his ambiguously stained jersey, especially around the armpits. The social world (y'know...Facebook) would rather you obsess over politics, arts, science, history, sex and even drugs, but please, anything but sports. I mean, after all, it is just a bunch of dumbasses throwing around a ball. "Please, get a life."

I would get a life, honestly. But then you must tell the same insult to Thomas Friedman, to Ebert & Roeper, to Howard Zinn, to Bill Nye the Science Guy because they too devote their lives to something they love. So, please, go ahead.

I have witnessed too many moments in sports that have inspired more masses than any election-year Congressional vote, any historic independent movie, or any breakthrough in evolution to simply allow the sports world to be reserved for us "Madden Juniors." I've read that the Celtic-Rangers rivalry induces more fear than the Cold War USA-Russia. I've learned that cricket's bodyline bowling was more a result of differences in political will than in game plan. I've seen that one football game can create massive riots in downtown Manhattan. I've watched the German soccer team play like Germans and the Brazilian soccer team play like Brazilians. I've visited the nytimes.com, only to see Roger Clemens "misremembering" face multiple headlines above the latest UN report of the Sudan. I've had fellow sports enthusiasts base their political values on baseball loyalties. I've heard about towns in Kansas where football is virtually the only reason for living. I've taken a glimpse at the sorrow in Englishmen's eyes when their football team cannot make a tournament (and it was bloody terrifying). I've found out that the free agency wasn't always free. I've been on the other end of a war when the Iraqis found hope in their soccer team, and also when they lost it. Hell, I've even forced this Hsu to fit.

So to other Madden Juniors who may read this blog, and to the other 98% of the people you will meet in college (especially the "Babbling Idiots"), be whoever the hell you are, even if that means eating greasy nachos and arriving to class late in a Yankees cap. Some study biological science, others commit to public policy, a few master in Norwegian folk music, and us Madden Juniors love something that just isn't a ball being tossed.

Besides, at the end of the day, they're the ones reading this shit on Facebook.

-K.H.

Harvard, anyone?

2008-02-05T22:38:00.000-08:00

I follow high school football closely. And yes, I am a lonely, slightly depressed lard ass.

Last Tuesday was an significant day for just about every type of American. For the sports geek, the Giants held their ticker-tape parade down Broadway to celebrate their Superbowl victory. For the political savvy, Super Tuesday gave us a clearer outlook on the future residents of the White House. For some guy named Larry, it was his niece's 9th birthday.

But February 5th also marked an occurrence that just might have topped the rest for us high school football people (yes, we're people, I swear): National Signing Day. Yes, those uber athletic teenagers who still live with their parents have an entire "Day" devoted to their college decisions. The semi-national holiday is officially the first day a high school senior can officially sign a letter of intent to play for that college that put way too much time into recruiting him.

Most of these prodigies commit (a term that has recently hasn't meant much) to a university well before National Signing Day, which keeps fanboys like Kenny constantly visiting sites like Rivals.com. However, a handful of the top players like to keep high school and college football fans in suspense until "the day," when they finally choose a school, usually in an awkwardly anticlimactic fashion.

This handful includes Terrelle Pryor, a VinceYoungesque quarterback from Jeanette, Pennsylvania, who is generally ranked as the top recruit in the nation today. His insistence on postponing his decision has caused serious buzz among football fans of all levels, enough to prompt Sports Illustrated's Stewart Mandel to headline "Pryor announcement to be most anticipated in history."

He'll look good in that Crimson, trust me.

Bold statement, eh? Actually, not really. High school commitments had never really been a nationwide "thing" until recent years. Faithful NFL fans can envision the image of Paul Tagliabue mispronouncing Brett Favre's name on draft day or Vernon Davis sobbing when the 49ers selected him way too early. But even the most devoted fans have no recollection of when Jimmy Clausen (arguably the most popular high school recruit in recent history) signed with Notre Dame or when Peyton Manning decided to not follow his dad's footsteps to Tennessee.

With sports media consistently getting deeper and deeper into the foundations of the game, the hype around Pryor's pending decision has symbolized a growing sensationalism infecting sports. There's a good (/great) chance the talented quarterback will fail to live up to expectations. The top ranked quarterbacks of the past four years include Clausen, Mitch Mustain, Rhett Bhomar, and Mark Sanchez, each of whom will certainly not be making any early Heisman predictions. Though despite the obvious inaccuracy in these rankings, Pryor (who is also an all-state forward in basketball) has still managed to escalate to national headlines. Sports fans are obsessing more about the decision of this one quarterback who is destined to disappoint, and ignoring the steroids problem, the bad sportsmanship trend, and oh yeah, the game.

So, what am I getting at?

Let's just say that if I met Mr. Pryor right now, I would tell him to forget Ohio State and Michigan. "And where else would I go?" the 6'6" kid younger than myself would reply. I would glance at Mr. Pryor with a confident stare, unlike the countless recruiters who continuously bat their eyes in his direction. "Harvard Crimson."

"Why? Because like Chris Matthews taught me in Hardball, 'always concede on principle.' And committing to become the quarterback for a school that has produced more Nobel Peace Prize winners than touchdowns is principle at its finest. Surely enough principle to catch more ESPN headlines than becoming a Wolverine, Buckeye, or Nittany Lion. Yeah, you may have the opportunity be the next in line for a college's legacy of great quarterbacks, but ultimately Terrelle, it is simply a 'line.' If you do succeed and win the Heisman, you will not be Terrelle Pryor of now, but instead the 'modern day [insert overrated quarterback here]' (seriously, how many times did you hear the name Wuerffel when Tim Tebow won it this year).

Any star high school player can play football for Michigan or Ohio State, but only those with some real cajones can dare to make their own legacy in a university who proudly brags that it produced Ryan "One Game Wonder" Fitzpatrick. You might not win a national championship, you might not hoist up the Heisman, you might not bang the hottest Midwest chicks in the country, but your name will outlast the Reggie Bushes, Vince Youngs, and hell, even the Troy Smiths of football. We've seen every 'shocking' story possible in sports: Eli beat Tom and George Mason went Final Four, but the story you have in your hands right is Montana-to-Clark on steroids. Also, if you're worried about Harvard not being the right system offense for you, here's a suggestion: you are the system.

And then there's that startling statistic: More African-Americans are in prison than in college. I know you're not the sharpest tool in the shed (I swear classes at Harvard won't be that hard), but this goes beyond your GPA and QB rating. 'Pryor rouses black community by Harvard committment' sounds slightly more inspirational than 'Pryor breaks leg in unnecessary QB draw; out for season or until he is drafted in 6th round.' Committing to the world's best university is the much needed slap in the face to the fanatics who are trapped in believing higher education is just football and beer. The NFL loves those 'character guys' anyways. Maybe they'll see your moral commitment and Harvard degree and you'll back up the 2010 version of Michael Vick and become the next...Michael Vick.

Look, Terrelle, let's face the facts. You're destined to disappoint us. I know it. We know it. Mark Sanchez knows it. You know it. And don't give me that 'defying destiny' crap, this isn't Remember the Titans. So, if you're doomed now, why not go out with a bang? Maybe you'll be remembered as the harbinger for the new age of Harvard football, maybe you'll be the first Harvardite to actually win the Heisman, maybe you'll find the cure for cancer. But this is fact: you are capable of writing the story of the century without ever completing a pass. Hell, you might even learn a thing or two.

So, how about it, Terrelle?

I know you're just dying to play in front of those crazy Cambridge hooligans.

Okay, let me just ask Harvard."

-K.H.

*Note: does anybody have Terrelle's e-mail?

Tragic Hero XLII

2008-02-04T08:56:00.000-08:00

Before I begin this post, I am required to suggest that you read this amazing piece of journalism (by our favorite Bill) by law. If you do read it, hopefully you won't care that the following blog sounds a little familiar:

The irony is incredible.

The undefeated Patriots, heading into Superbowl XLII as the de facto champions, fall to the 10-6 Giants, led by the quiet kid next door. As the coaches and players of both teams insist in post-game interviews, "it's a story that can't be scripted."

But, in truth, Superbowl XLII was scripted. Actually, we all read this story long before Eli Manning's Miracle Play To Be Named Later. The historic game from Arizona was in our school books, our copies of Julius Caesar, The Great Gatsby, and Macbeth. As the final ticks wound down and Brady heaved his last prayer to a double-covered Moss, us football fans mystically experienced vivid flashbacks like the newest character in Lost.

Spygate, Randy's catch against Miami, The Boot, The Record Setter in week 17, Gisele, Belichick wearing a Santa hat, a pregnant Bridget Moynahan, Brady laughing at Plaxico's prediction, a Spanish reporeter in wedding dress, Asante Samuel holding out, the '72 Dolphins not uncorking the champagne, Bart Scott hurling the yellow flag, No. 12 headbutting his O-linemen, Junior Seau and his paperboy hat, and above all, Tom's All-American smile.

Actually, it was always more of a smirk, that perfect 5 o'clock shadow surrounding those pearly whites.

Two minutes after Randy seemingly sealed the game by supermanning dat ho (followed by Seau and Tedy Bruschi hugging like the Bash Brothers from Mighty Ducks), Eli and David Tyree* did the impossible and Plaxico followed his easy touchdown by humbly kneeling in prayer. Tom walked into the tunnel with blue and red confetti falling on his stained (!!!) jersey, knowing it was the other team's colors.

But then that final, lasting image emerges as we gazed at the plasma screen: the euphoric Eli hoisting up that trophy, his babyface still squeezed in between his pads. Tom Coughlin and his prune fingers stand in awe at his side. We asked ourselves hesitantly, "did that just happen?"

Down goes the hero.

Yes, we were confused, but for some reason, not that surprised. We all expected a close game, assuming New England had the higher score, of course. Football fans and haters alike knew the Patriots like the school jock you talked to once in Math class, yet secretly revered. Though, we never counted the Giants out not because they had a talented pass rush or solid running game, but because we knew it couldn't be that easy for the tragic hero. His downfall was bound to happen sometime; it just turns out that it was a lot worse than we expected.

Throughout the entire season, the hero's hamartia grew until it was impossible to ignore, but still we were too afraid to admit that tragic end. Hubris was leaking when Tom was socializing with Donald Trump and Co. on the sidelines (still masked in his Stetson cologne), when Randy clarified that he was a good boy all year, when Belichick began to...smile? Through a one minute TMZ video of absolutely nothing, just about every American flipped after noticing that Tom enjoyed limping around in a boot in the Village.

And despite the Patriots' infatuation with winning (confidence?), we rarely faulted them. They ran up scores and passed 200% of the time, but we reasoned "they're just that good" and "they're trying to prove something."

That "something" referring to their only embarrassment of the season, which provided a convenient motive in the first week. Spygate, in essence, was the ultimate sin in sports: cheating. Still, we allowed the Patriots continue to chase perfection, suspiciously edging a few games in the process, just because "they were that damn good." And in sports, "that damn good" automatically translates into more commercials, more magazine covers, and more 4 AM Manhattan nightclubs. Soon enough, their celebrity breached outside the field in the same way Obama was campaigning in front of Kanye's beats. (See: previous post).

And if you didn't love the Patriots, you loved to hate them. But no matter what, we all felt something.

They trampled over the Jaguars and Chargers as we expected, sort of, and just moved on to the Superbowl. I began writing my "Tom Brady, retire now while you're great" post in my head and Bill Simmons planned out his intro paragraph to his reflection on the perfect season. Tom practiced his "I'm going to Disneyworld!" speech and Bostonians started to chant "19-0!"

Then 48 hours before kickoff, some dude named Matt Walsh accused the Patriots of filming the Rams before Superbowl XXXVI (a.k.a. cheating) and all signs pointed to yes (sorry Tony). Suddenly, that lovely upset victory back in 2002, which basically ignited the dynasty, transformed into the nasty prequel to Spygate, on steroids. With the accusation looming and Roger Goodell destroying tapes, the Patriots soon realized they were no longer the inspiring band of brothers that once embodied class and humility. As a devoted Bostonian, Simmons wrote,

"This time around, we were the Rams. We were rooting for the unlikable double-digit favorites with an unstoppable offense. We were the arrogant fans who dismissed the chances of the other team. We had the Super Bowl postgame party looming that had been a hot ticket all week. Then the game started, and everything went right to hell."

Ah, the poetic justice started to kick in. It was the classic reversal of fortune, when Macbeth realized that even the kingship did not guarantee trust. This was getting scary.

Paula Abdul frightened, Jordin Sparks sang, and Joe Buck screwed up again. The game started. The Giants held on to the ball...for a very long time, keeping a bored Tom sleeping on the bench. But Laurence Maroney pranced into the end zone and the onslaught was about to be begin.

Except it never came.

And this is about when the confusion began to sink in. Yes, the Patriots were winning but they didn't have it, y'know, that "it." The "it" that defined the entire season when Brady and Moss played catch and Belichick grinned underneath the hoodie. Fans were confused when the score lulled at a dismal 7-3 for...the...entire...damn...game. I mean, this was the team that average 542.39 points a game, right? The team that played the deep ball on 1st and 10 like you do on 4th and 30 in Madden? And they were running the ball? What is this?! A West Coast offense?!

Nope. This, my friends, was the tragic hero falling...hard. Or as Tom Petty so fittingly sung at half-time, this was the hero "free falling."

It was sort of sad, actually. Seeing Tom wrangled by the massive Justin Tuck, Randy constantly being overthrown, and Bruschi not looking so macho was all so disgusting in that unfamiliar way. Our guts turned the same way it did when we learned that Jay Gatsby never got Daisy and when Othello wrongfully murdered Desdemona. My ecstasy after Eli and Tyree executed Miracle Play To Be Named Later almost felt sadistic, as I shouted profanities when New England virtually perished on the national stage. Immediately after the game ended, I ran into a neighbor's room in celebration, only to find a friend from Boston legitimately crying. We were witnessing the Patriots fall from a peak as high as any team in modern American sports to a valley lower than Pacman Jones, Roger Clemens, and the Knicks combined. This was a victory speech turned into an assassination.

I ran onto the streets chanting "ELI! ELI! ELI!" I joined other drunken Giants fans and we all chanted "Let's go Giants!" (much to the dismay of the NYPD). This routine of chants continued through most of the night until I began hearing a newer chant ringing through Bleecker St at around midnight:

"18-1! 18-1! 18-1!"

In a way, this new slogan symbolized the future legacy of this momentous Superbowl. The Giants came into the Superbowl with nothing really to lose and everything to win. The Patriots, on the other hand, had built a much different scenario. I'm sure Bleecker and MacDougal still would've been rocking had New England won, but that wasn't the case. So, as the night ended and I heard this new chant, I stared at the television above the bar and saw that image of a dejected Tom sitting down on the field after another sack. He was down. The Patriots were down. But I joined in on the chant, "18-1!" knowing that, sadly, this Superbowl was not and never will be a Giants victory.

One defining image is still ingrained in my head: As Tyree came down with the "supernatural" catch while being awfully manhandled, the 230-pound Rodney Harrison looked down at the Giants receiver in complete disbelief. There was no requisite flail-arms-and-yell-like-Spartan moment, but instead a dazed Harrison, looking down, completely clueless. Anagnorisis - the discovery or recognition of the tragic flaw. And they said this couldn't be scripted.

Alas, the final and most poignant quality of the tragic hero, as defined by Aristotle: "The audience must feel dramatic irony for the character."

So, Superbowl XLII will be undoubtedly one for the ages, not because New York won, but because the New England fell at perfection's feet. With the historic loss, the Patriots ensured that that tragedy does indeed make history. Ironic enough?

-K.H.

*Good and irrelevant story: A friend of mine was actually in the same public fantasy league as Tyree's mother, who actually passed away during the season. Apparently, she wouldn't stop bragging about her son and insisted on drafting him in the early rounds. Guess she would be proud now, huh?

The Hsu Fits endorses Sr. Barack Obama

2008-02-01T15:29:00.000-08:00

Here at The Hsu Fits, we don't only care about sports, and every few days, we like to write politics. This post was inspired our highly influential sister blog, which shares the same headquarters as us. This endorsement was written by editor Kenneth Hsu, Ph.D, on behalf of The Hsu Fits crew.

I shook hands with Sr. Barack Obama last September during his rally at Washington Square Park. As anyone who has done the same would agree, exchanging greetings with the man himself definitely feels like a special moment.

Moments before The Handshake.

But, as I ran back to the dorm and bragged about my new "friend," I secretly thought to myself, "Should I feel this excited about a politician?"

I mean, after all, this is...politics. Before college, I was relatively apathetic about federal affairs. I had read Audacity of Hope, but wasn't the type to read the Times everyday or check the latest polls on the Iowa caucus. As this blog suggests, I was always more into Sports Illustrated and Eli Manning's QB rating, y'know, the dumb stuff.

But why, then, did this one handshake best the thousands of other handshakes I've made in my life? I've locked fingers with Tom Cruise, given a high five to Ronaldinho, hell, I've even pounded fists with McLovin'. Yet Barack's simple handshake, my right arm extending over the ten or so other Obamaniacs in front of me, far surpassed all the other hand-to-hand contact (ooh) that I've made with the best of celebrities.

This seemingly insignificant story explains exactly why I believe Sr. Obama should be the next President.

In terms of policy, I favor Sr. Clinton much more. Her education and health care plans trump Obama's. Her plan for Iraq is much more realistic. She has an impressive history in reforming our immigration system. Sr. Edwards wielded comprehensive proposals that especially addressed the increasing poverty within our borders. All of these issues are extremely important in my political beliefs.

However, Obama compensates for his lack of magnificent policy with something that has so rarely been identified with the political world: change. Wait, no, screw that. Noticeable change.

I believe the most urgent and appalling issue with the American democracy today is the fact that not enough Americans care. Voter participation in recent decades is shameful. Prior to the "Vote or Die" era, the young (and old) generations never thought it "cool" to be interested in politics. Sure, it was American, whatever that means, and something considered noble and intelligent. But, in truth, not much of us felt any attachment to the affairs of our democracy, even after P.Diddy thought he did.

When politics tried too hard to be legit.

And after all those senators and presidents thought they could be "groovy" by appearing on MTV or throwing a football every now and then, it never worked. That is, until Obama showed up, doing not much more than being himself. Yes, he entered rallies to the Kanye's beats and smiled on GQ, but Obama appeared on the sociopolitical scene with simply a story, his story, to tell. Yes, what a story it was, his father dreamed and his hope was audacious. Obama was a real-life fairy tale story, except if Cinderella was a black man from Hawaii / Indonesia with a troubled past. Oh and her middle name was Hussein.

And, indeed, we all believed that "what is past is prologue." Obama overcame heavy criticism about his weed-smoking, experience-less, Islam-lover, big-eared image to become the victor in the Iowa caucus after it once seemed declared Hillary-land. He played his cards right, owning the debates and knocking on doors, and the country fell in love with the handsome black man.

But, remembering that this is politics and not a Disney movie, I heard the voices of Democrats and Republicans alike that Obama was just too "rockstar." This was at the same time Hillary serendipitously "found her voice." Now, the electorate had on its hands a cocky, seductive jock and a humbled, truthful neighbor.

Although I cannot argue that Obama isn't an asshole (though, by all accounts, he isn't), I do firmly believe this "rockstar" quality is not a flaw, but rather an honorable phenomenon that is simply...unfamiliar. Obama's story and ability to get Americans, young and old, black and white (and Asian) to actually give a damn is what redeems him of falling short of ideal policy. His "rockstar" quality educates us and involves us; it eduvovles us in a way no "groovy" president has ever. Obama's "rockstar" is the reason why turnout records are being set in the primaries, why every American (right wingers too) cares more about the Democratic primaries than the Republican ones, why Obama girl is owning YouTube, and why I'm writing this post right now (though, probably not why you're reading this). His "rockstar" is less Tommy Lee and more John Lennon. His "rockstar" makes us care, for once, and because we're not so used to that, we impulsively label it is as a fault.

But this, my friends, is the noticeable change. We we're once too apathetic to even say that Americans were too apathetic. Now, although apathetic isn't considered "lame," actually involving oneself in the political realm is finally "cool." Prior to this election, citizens who refused to vote or educate themselves about politics claimed that federal affairs never really affect me. "Yes, we can vote. But changes in health care plans, tax rates or Cabin members don't really matter at the end of the day." Indeed, the change was never enough for us to really believe we made a difference.

But after this sensation called Obama, we can all notice this when we hear lunch table discussion about the caucus or when we see teenagers defend their opinions on recession against professors or when we see some hipster wearing a campaign sticker. Obamaniac or not, this is change we can notice.

Noticeable change.

If he causing me to care this much when he's not even nominated, I can't imagine how much this country will change when he's in Washington. This is why Obama has my vote.

It's funny, really, that change only took a handshake.

-K.H.

How Mo Lewis Explains the World

2008-01-29T00:19:00.000-08:00

I know I shouldn't be, but I really love thinking about the What If's in life. And by life, I mean sports. So, Page 2 stuff like this really interests me. Basically, it lists the end results of Mo Lewis tackle which injured Drew Bledsoe before the Patriots' first title run of the decade. Hopefully it can also prove that Kawika Mitchell should be the new Mo Lewis.

"Click on this before I Mo Lewis you up"

Sports! Books! Deadspin! Oh my!

2008-01-23T19:08:00.000-08:00

If I had a section in this blog titled "Currently Reading..." this book would be in that section. Unfortunately, I'm not that open about my literary life. I don't write many book reviews. Actually, I've never written a book review before, but maybe I will after I finish this one.

...Or maybe I won't, bitch.

Thank You Elisha

2008-01-21T14:13:00.000-08:00

Lawrence Tynes is clutch if you give him enough chances.

Living in the franchise-less LA my entire life, I've long had troubles finding "my team." I fell in love with football long after the Rams and Raiders left, so I had no ties with either club unlike many of my friends. In elementary school, I insisted on saying the Lions were my favorite team because I loved playing with Barry Sanders on my Sega Genesis. In early middle school, it was the Vikings because of Randy Moss on Sega Dreamcast. After I grew out of the video games I sucked at and started actually watching the game, I stumbled across the NFL's latest sensation who was to be my hero for a few years: Ricky Williams. I swear I would live and die for the Dolphins, then...y'know, that happened. So, my cousin moved to Seattle and I arbitrarily chose Marcus Trufant as my favorite player. I became a devoted fan of the Seahawks and backed them until they lost to the Steelers in Superbowl XL, when I decided they had become too mainstream for me.
See, I have this weird affinity for losing, blue collar teams that are perpetually supposed to be "next year's team" but always find a way to disappoint (See: Celtics of recent history). So, for the past few years, the title of "my favorite team" has continuously flirted with different franchises like Paris Hilton trying to find "the one." The Browns, Bills, Lions, and yes, even the Patriots (because they've been so terrible lately) have all been the team.

I came to New York last year thinking I would become a Jets fan. But I guess "Well Dressed" Amani Toomer had different plans.

"Bitch, I better be your favorite player too."

Tune in next year when I choose my next "my team."

(Note: As for the title of this post, turns out Eli isn't his birth name.)

Yeah, What He Said

2007-12-15T04:22:00.000-08:00

I haven't posted in a while because my laziness didn't really let me to, but I'm hoping to write more consistently as the new semester begins. Enjoy and click on the ads:

"It was a good game. We gave a strong effort and I think we did our best. Now we just have to look ahead to our next game."

Sound familiar? Yeah, that one guy said it in that post-game interview of that game you never watched. Thankfully, he told you that he and his teammates tried their hardest and that they're now preparing for the future. Otherwise, what could the fans expect? Maybe their favorite players might forget how to play their respective sport ... or maybe they unexpectedly lost the will to try to win. Please, just please, let us know that you are indeed "working hard" and are "hoping to win" or else we'll all have no choice but to watch *gulp* the actual game.

Annoying sarcasm aside, any sports fan is prone to hearing hours of trite interviews filled with the usual cliches. "We tried our best," "It was a tough loss," and "We're playing as a team" are all bound to fill Sportscenter minutes in between highlights. And after a few minutes of watching any typical sports interview, that locker room banter becomes boring, pointless, and ultimately, a waste of time. The dialogue of Laguna Beach is more enriching than Kobe's routine explanation of how the Lakers are trying to "remain focused."

Of course, athletes and coaches have reason for dishing out the usual vocabulary. The greedy political and business aspects of sports keeps a close eye on what is said with little regard of who said it. Virtually any figure in sports is capable of ruining a career or franchise by uttering anything out of the usual (See: John Rocker). Thus, players and coaches alike keep their salaries and reputations secure as long as their jargon stay boring.

But there are reasons why sports fans adore the Chad Johnsons, Allen Iversons, Manny Ramirezez, and yes, even the Terrell Owenses of the professional leagues. The talk-before-you-think type give audiences reason to stay tuned even after the game is in the books. I don't know of many basketball fanatics fast forwarding through highlights to hear what Tim Duncan has got to say. But unlike TD and basically all the Spurs, the athletes and coaches who don't stick to the norms make all that off-the-field stuff fun(ny), which is rare in a sports culture that often emphasizes winning instead of merely enjoying the game.

Anyone seen my jockstrap?

Yet those who "trash talk" or say "inappropriate" remarks - a term which is now as flexible as Yao Ming - are often vilified by officials and pundits for acting outside of the game. Although I don't advocate improper chatter by sports figures, nor do I think it should go ignored, I think we must question why we give them the microphone so often in the first place. If we're so ready to shut down anything out of the norms they have to say, why sneak into locker rooms and parking lots to elicit responses that may possibly get someone in trouble? After all, don't we already know what they all want to say? "We're working harder." "I'm staying positive." "It was a devastating outcome."

Yes, trouble may be good news. But in sports, the more we spend discussing about what the latest no name player said about the Patriots (or even worse, listening to Kornheiser and Wilbon argue about it), the less we lose sight of what actually matters: the game. This isn't the case overseas, where even the best of world's soccer players enjoy life without having to awkwardly undress in front of crowded journalists wielding nosy cameras. Only managers give the usual, hackneyed remarks after the game, and you've got to watch the extremely slow Sky Sports before you hear any of that. Unlike American sports figures, the rest of the world doesn't even need to tell fans that their play will do the talking.

And all that boring talk we're so used to in the States has become ... boring. Instead of asking and hearing exactly what we heard last time, we should allow professional athletes to practice more fundamentals on the field rather than practicing their stage presence in front of the camera. Athletes working without the distraction of a sensationalist media should translate into more talented and skillful competition that rewards those who play the game correctly (a la Marvin Harrison and Steve Nash) rather than those who talk loudly. Sure, we'll give Chad or AI the mic every now and then so they can keep us laughing, but fans will expect the cameras to be only pointed in the one rightful direction: towards the game.

The Mitchell Report Report

2007-12-13T07:42:00.000-08:00

After yet another all-nighter, I'm not much in the mood to spend the time to write a substantial post. Thus (I am a college student and so I can say "Thus"), I will reflect on the incredibly annoying hooplah about this yet-to-be-revealed Mitchell Report, which according to SI.com polls, may or may not forever change baseball culture. My initial reactions:

1) Wtf?
2) Change the channel asshole, CourtTV sucks.
3) For US history buffs (shout out to Jules!), this sounds oddly familiar.
4) Wtf?
5) Change the channel asshole, baseball sucks.
6) For sports buffs (shout out to you!), this sounds oddly familiar.

Anyway, I'm pretty sure / I hope that sporting culture is grounded enough into American society that some double-spaced Word document won't change the fate of the nation's precious pastime. Though I wouldn't mind if this Mitchell Report completely replaced broadcasts of baseball games with more football, basketball, and soccer (you know, the stuff that requires athleticism), it's hard to imagine that this guy can be taken that seriously:

The True American Election 2008

2007-12-10T16:08:00.000-08:00

As the primary elections for the Democratic presidential ballot near, one question dominates common discussion among American citizens across the nation, attracting around-the-clock media attention, causing disruptive debates amongst all social classes, dividing closely-knit families and life-long friends: who is the NFL’s best quarterback?
Oh, and the Democratic ticket is pretty important too.
But if the polisports-oriented individual really thinks about it…what really is the difference between the race for football’s best slinger and George Bush’s long-awaited successor (unless GuiliRomney deflects the pass)?
Because, all sarcasm aside, the everlasting Brady – Manning debate is scarily similar to the intense Hillary – Barack election. Sure, comparing and contrasting the two contests might provide an interesting insight into the obvious differences between federal and athletic concerns, but I won’t be resorting to that because, together, the two races combine for one freakishly familiar competition:

One of the few times the candidates meet eye to eye.

Meet Hillary Brady. She’s been at the top for a while. She rarely smiles with her attractive-in-the-1960s-Clint-Eastwood-way face. But when she does smile, she fucking scares the shit out of you. Opponents cringe in fear in the same way they react to the dentist who smirked as he insisted that it’s not going to hurt “too much.” Her sex appeal is not for the faint of heart or for children, but only for those up for the challenge of being the inferior one in the relationship.
Aside from personal qualities she boasts an impressive resume, especially in recent history. She’s been dominating the contest lately and has long been associating with some of the most influential men in the in the profession. Her brawny hands boast three studded rings and hold a perpetually swaying pen capable of upsetting more lives than one. Her crowded shelf shows off just a few ultra-shiny trophies and the oversized key to New York.
But from a Bostonian background with an All-American swagger, she’s relatively quiet, but certainly not reserved. That cliffhanger attitude (just enough to keep the audience wanting more) isn’t advertising cookies on Saturday mornings; it’s selling cologne during late night commercials on Bravo. It helps that she has has marital problems before, but has somehow managed to get away with the forgive-and-forget philosophy and, in one situation, a child once she found consistent success. And though she has had her disagreements with past leadership, she strides while confident that everybody knows who’s wearing the pants now.
She does come off as a bitch, the result of a grim work face and a stereotype for her position. But aside from the unfortunate judgment, there’s not much to pick out of her character. She has no blameworthy qualities or gaudy statistics to back her (well, besides this year) except for a natural inclination to lead. Is that her opponents’ jealousy trying to undermine her?
And if all else fails, she can always rely on the usual African-American support, whether it’s merely by her last name or her ability to guide them to success even in heavy coverage [by sensationalist media].

Rain or shine, the war is always on.

Meet Peyton Obama. He’s cute, lovable, and just so darn nice. If his pearly whites haven’t already adorned your television, he’s already knocking at your front door ready to shake your hand. His recognizable voice is trustworthy, attracting all the major broadcasters, and he’s willing to be the class clown every now and then (even SNL loves him).
Audiences tend to love him when he’s not at work, admiring his congenial personality and next-door-neighboor looks. Despite a high status, he boasts a New York Times Best Seller background, with a father that has been mentioned more than once, that keeps him grounded to his roots. Did we mention he’s the industry’s best talker? And with a humble yet billboard-worthy persona, he’s got an entourage of big name stars just behind his back. Anybody who’s anybody wants to be on his side.
But modesty can come with a downfall: does he have the cajones to do what it takes to be the best? Can he go balls to the wall? Sure, he may be able to the maneuver away from the critics, but victory is best determined during crunch time.
Surprisingly, he’s enjoyed extreme success in the past year, ending any doubts about his lack of experience at the world’s highest stage. He has a rare and noticeable knack to adjust his gameplan given any scenario. Especially in these crucial instances, his words speak just as loud as his actions. His craft in avoiding the mistakes typical of most candidates is characteristic of any leader. Yet, he still faces questions about his production in comparison to other candidates. He hasn’t always had the best defense to support what he brings to the table against challengers. Sure, he’s been great lately, but is he worth the hype?
With a Mr. Rogers smile and a knack for leading, he has the capabilities to rise from behind to win it all. But even if he doesn’t, he has no need to worry: he’s got the name.

With both platforms addressed, who will the electorate ultimately choose as the country’s next leader? This is not a matter of QB ratings or exit polls, but instead an issue of who will step up when America needs him / her most. Forget CNN. Forget ESPN. This is America.

And in our next post: Tony Romoney and Brett Guiliani discuss this year’s darkhorse candidate: Tarvaris Gravel.

American Football: Still Segregated!

2007-12-03T13:47:00.000-08:00

Of the 64 starting cornerbacks in the NFL, not one of them is white. Actually, of the 200 or so cornerbacks in the league, all are African-American. Yes, all. 100%. No honkies here. It's so obvious that I didn't even need to do research to back up that statement.

And yes, Jason Sehorn is retired.

Apparently Sehorn lives in Hidden Hills, the most racially diverse neighborhood in America. *chuckle*

This shouldn't be too shocking, however, considering that the sport the NFL network entitled the "America's game" doesn't really promote venturing outside racial expectations. The same athletes who dedicate their lives to football from elementary Pop Warner days are subconsciously limited by the color of their skin. Such a statement is frightening for any American living in the 21st century to hear and it's just as difficult for me to say it. But if viewed from the eyes of an oblivious outsider not worried about the scoreboard, distinctions of race in all levels of football are clear how ever uncomfortable it may be to admit.

Naturally, such divisions create stereotypes. Like cornerbacks, running backs are virtually entirely African-American (thanks Brian Leonard). Wide receivers too, although there have been exceptions ... good ones (see below). At arguably the most popular position in sports, "the black quarterback" is still scarce in comparison to the long lived Favre-type. 75% of NFL players are African-American, yet only 6 of the 32 starting quarterbacks can say they they're a member of that club. And in that small population of Michael Vicks and Vince Youngs of the league, only Byron Leftwich seems to be the only one not subject to the good-legs-strong-arm-poor-accuracy typecast. Even The Onion is smart enough to mock the stereotype of the black quarterback, with its headline story: "Donovan Mcnabb Has A Perfect Game For A Black Quarterback".

Wes Welker. Talented. White.

Why pick out these specific positions? Well, it's [offensively] ironic that these three strictly African-American positions - cornerbacks, running backs, and receivers - are the three most obvious position that require the typical "black" qualities: speed, quickness, agility, etc. The awfully inappropriate assumption that African-American men are fast, athletic, and run a lot is just exaggerated in football, a sport that has constantly challenged baseball as most symbolic of American values. On the other hand, the quarterback and the center, the only positions that require more brains than brawn, remain primarily Caucasian. White coaches are so predominant that the biggest storyline of last year's Superbowl wasn't Peyton Manning vs. the Bears defense, but instead Tony Dungy and Lovie Smith "making history" as the two first black coaches in the championship game.

And the result: a sporting culture segregated on and off the field. It's definitely not subtle, even TVs without High Definition can prove it. But notice of the lack of diversity is freakishly quiet, discreetly creeping around American tradition with football fans too afraid to admit it...yet it's still there. It's the classical image of the All-American high school athlete: blonde-haired, blue-eyed Johnny Heisman from Anytown, Texas. It's the American practice of father and son playing catch on the mowed, white-picket-fenced lawn. It's Remember the Titans before Denzel. This is the American Dream's sport.

It is not the 6'5", 220 pound, corn-rowed Rasheed from Birmingham, destined to be the world's next great dual-threat quarterback. It is not late nights kicking field goals between two garbage cans in Harlem. It is not Michael Vick being ... well, being Michael Vick.

Of course, this defined distinction between races must be taken in context. Although football never really needed a defining breakthrough event like baseball, we must always appreciate the fact that minorities are even allowed to play in the league fairly (Note: African-Americans were almost banned from the NFL in the 1930's due to reaching Jim Crow laws, but did enact segregation policies that lasted over a decade).

But if no Jackie Robinson is needed, a March on Washington is. Discussing the racial split in football is not even mentioned when building the ESPN agenda. And even after people read this blog, a common response still might ask "So what?" Others might explain that the sports world would benefit more if it spent more time filtering future Maurice Claretts and Pacman Joneses rather than worry about this position segregation.

But I've written this post not to challenge the personal beliefs of the readers, but to discuss an issue that it is rarely (if ever) approached. And, as anyone who knows me understands, I love sports more than most things in this world, but this passion is more on the field than off. To address the problems of misguided athletes like Clarett and Jones, we must first attack the shortcomings of the most important component of football: the sport itself.

In the time I've written this post at Starbucks, three African-Americans have sat next to me. America is diverse. And, as this post hints, America loves football. So why shouldn't football be diverse. Yes, it is when team rosters are glanced at. But when watched with the oh-so-white voice of Al Michaels guiding the viewer, this football segregation, whether trivial or life-and-death to the sports fan, is obvious and disgusting. So, please, let's recruit some more Jason Sehorn, for America's sake.

Reggie Roby. The best black punter (of three).

And on to my next topic: the Asian free safety.

Athletes? Humans? Confusion.

2007-11-27T10:30:00.000-08:00

When I first read the headline explaining that Sean Taylor had died from a bullet wound, my first reaction was instinctive: "Shit." A completely normal, human response expected from anyone who understands the implications of such a story.

However, it's the second thought that passed my mind seconds after my discovery that truly worries me: "Thank God they drafted Laron Landry."

Yes, it's an almost comically rude statement, putting football before...well, death. Most people, sports fans and non-sports alike, would scold me for such immature thoughts. But you can chastise me all you want, the simple fact remains: I am a devoted sports enthusiast and I fear thinking of athletes as actual people.

I'm not proud of this. Actually, none of us are because none of us really understand this concept of this complex of the inhuman professional athlete. But if we closely examine our ESPN-watching behavior, we realize that we are afraid of imagining the athletes we watch on the field as actual human individuals, with...lives...y'know, with daily struggles, fears, losses, etc. like the rest of us people. And the sports fan inside of us pisses his pants like a pre-schooler giving up his lunch money when he hears the most earnest theme mentioned in between Sportscenter highlights: death.

This shouldn't be surprising considering how athletes have always been viewed. Especially in football, where masked men are almost robotic in their aggression, athletes are trained to not express vulnerable emotions on the field. Emotion means weakness and weakness means loss. An athlete must be prepared to endure years of humiliation if he's caught crying on the sidelines. He is fired under intense scrutiny by teammates, coaches, and even worse, the fans, if he bursts out in frustration. To those with glued eyes to the television, athletes are not merely individuals competing for a win ... they are soldiers numb to common human fallibility, bred to achieve only one goal by any means possible. They are chess pieces, only moving to win, never feeling.

Which is why stories like Taylor's (and also more recently, Darrent Williams, Eddie Griffin, Joe Kennedy) are downright frightening. Off-the-field issues and, in the gravest situations, death destroy the idea of athletes as these numb figures just designed to win championships. They create the ridiculous idea that these athletes are, in fact, humans. And we instinctively try to compensate the confusion with the only thing we really know: sports.

Wah? Suicide? Where's Tony Romo?

When Mike Vick was first convicted, there were few stories on the conditions of the dogs, but ESPN continued to roll tapes of Joey Harrington taking snaps at training camp. Days after Darrent Williams was murdered, fans were glad that Dre Bly would improve the secondary situation. America freaked out last year when TO was accused of attempted suicide. Even today, Len Bias (who overdosed on cocaine days after being drafted by the Celtics) is remembered more for a wasted draft pick than a tragic death.

I guess there's no escaping this complex. Sports will always be intense competitions played by athletes who prepare rigorously everyday. This vision is inevitable, a necessary evil in the shallow world of sports. Until fans understand that the same players they draft in their fantasy leagues are prone to human nature, if ever, unfortunate stories like Sean Taylor's will continue to leave us simply confused.

RIP Sean Taylor

2007-11-27T10:20:00.000-08:00

If Adrian Wilson wasn't such a beast, Sean Taylor would easily be my favorite safety in the league right now. I'll remember him by incredible talent that I first witnessed when he was sitll donning a Hurricanes jersey and I can't wait to tell my kids about his infamous hit on Brian Moorman at the Pro Bowl. I'll also remember his constantly troubled background, but from what I've read / heard, it sincerely felt like he was a young man getting his life on track. It's yet another tragedy the sports world is forced to endure.

RIP Sean Taylor.

Long Time No See

2007-11-27T10:17:00.001-08:00

So I'm going to start writing in this thing again with a pretty different style. Ideally, I would post daily. But I'm realistic enough to realize that that won't happen. I'm going to try to stick to longer posts too, but since time is valuable, especially in New York City, the writing probably won't be so proofread-friendly, so bear with me. I'm not Bill Simmons...

...yet.

NBA Pants Party Predictions

2007-11-01T21:38:00.000-07:00

So apparently the NBA season started two nights ago and I didn't really notice. That only means one thing...the beginning of Kevin "Darkness" Garnett's rampage in Boston. Ideally, I would predict a perfect season for the Celtics, but I'm trying not to be biased. But the Green going to the finals doesn't sound too biased. Anyways, I don't feel like typing anymore so I'm just going to post my predictions:

Division Winners
East
Atlantic – Boston Celtics
Central – Detroit Pistons
Southeast – Miami Heat

West
Northwest – Denver Nuggets
Pacific – Phoenix Suns
Southwest – Houston Rockets

Playoffs
East
1) Detroit Pistons
2) Boston Celtics
3) Chicago Bulls
4) Cleveland Cavaliers
5) Miami Heat
6) Toronto Raptors
7) Atlanta Hawks
8) Washington Wizards

West
1) Houston Rockets
2) Phoenix Suns
3) Dallas Mavericks
4) Denver Nuggets
5) San Antonio Spurs
6) Utah Jazz
7) New Orleans Hornets
8) Los Angeles Lakers

East Champion – Boston Celtics
West Champion – Houston Rockets
NBA Champion – Houston Rockets

MVP – LeBron James
ROYOTD (Rookie of the Year other than Durant) – Acie Law
Coach of the Year – Rick Adelman
Defensive Player of the Year – Ben Wallace
Sixth Man of the Year – Manu Ginobili
Most Improved Player – Josh Smith
Draft Lottery Winners – Los Angeles Clippers
Darkness Award - tie between Kevin Garnett and Scot Pollard

Woo NFL Predictions

2007-09-23T13:01:00.000-07:00

The NFL is all about predictions...devoted fans spend days perfecting their mock drafts before draft day, ESPN analysts commit entire months trying to forecast the playoff picture, and spreads in betting on football are as important as any other sport.

So, I guess it shouldn't be surprising that I list my predictions for the new football season on this blog...and never for any other sport. Why? Because predicting the NFL can be even more fun than watching it.

Without further ado (I wrote this 2 weeks ago but I never posted them, so don't tell me I cheated):

AFC
North – Baltimore Ravens
East – New England Patriots
South – Indianapolis Colts
West – San Diego Chargers
Wildcard – Denver Broncos
Cincinnati Bengals

NFC
North – Chicago Bears
East – Dallas Cowboys
South – New Orleans Saints
West – Seattle Seahawks
Wildcard – Carolina Panthers
Green Bay Packers

AFC Champion - New England Patriots
NFC Champion - New Orleans Saints

NFL Champion – New England Patriots

MVP – Tom Brady
Coach – Wade Phillips
Defensive POY – Shawne Merriman
Offensive POY – Peyton Manning
Defensive ROY – Paul Posluszny
Offensive ROY – Adrian Peterson
Comeback Player – Randy Moss

Wattup.

If you're going to win it all, at least show some more Eva Longoria commercials

2007-06-15T17:20:00.000-07:00

The San Antonio Spurs just won the NBA Championship...and nobody cares.

Not even ESPN, some golfer named Phil Casey is actually on the front page of their web site right now.

So here's some advice to future NBA Champions, if you're going to win a championship, please don't do it the right way. Despite what Bill Stern and every parent says, it's good to get in a little trouble, do some drugs, shoot guns, gang bang...you know, the fun stuff. Why do you think we were all rooting for the Warriors?

That's also why we actually cared about the Finals when the Lakers (during Kobe's more sexually charged days) played. Most of us hated them, but hey, we actually cared to watch.

Sure, I congratulate the Spurs for winning another one and respect their leadership, team unity, and overall fundamentals...but could one of you at least do something mildly interesting? Maybe get some tattoos? Can Ginobili please shoot somebody? Can Tony please talk smack against Lebron? Can The Admiral please come back and completely suck? Can Tim please say something...anything?

Oh and please change your team colors because black and silver are just way too badass.

I wish I could remember why I like them

2007-05-24T00:02:00.000-07:00

So a lot has happened since my last post, but probably nothing as ridiculous as this. Reading through Celtics blogs and Bill Simmons posts, it feels like some terrible natural disaster destroyed the Garden or some phenom from Maryland overdosed on cocaine two days after being drafted #2 overall in a post-championship year (oh wait...).

To give you a little hint of the emo-ness that has hit the few Celtics fans that haven't committed suicide yet, here's the opening lines of a fan's blog I found:
"Waking up this morning, I don't feel any better.
I feel a little sick in my stomach.
I'm sure Celtics fans all across the world feel the same."

"Red's watching over us."

Bend [Over] It like Beckham

2007-02-22T13:53:00.000-08:00

This picture tells so much. Two Englishmen, one playing for a Spanish team and one for a German team, are having a little "fun" while playing the world's game. John Amaechi would be proud.

Remember this name

2007-02-17T17:15:00.000-08:00

Seeing that I can legitimately brag about foreseeing the beast that is Kevin Durant more than a year ago...I'm going ahead to predict yet another future hardwood star:

Monta fuckin' Ellis. There's a lot more future-stars on my list but my crystal ball showed Monta the clearest.

P.S. I've been posting pretty short posts lately, not like any of you care/not like anyone actually reads this blog, but stay tuned...

Not the best time to be a Celtic fan

2007-02-07T22:57:00.000-08:00

Red Auerbach is turning in his grave. So are Bill Russell and Larry Bird and they're not even dead yet.

Best Campbell's Chunky Soup Ad Ever

2007-02-06T19:09:00.000-08:00

Mcnabb can't even do that.

Don't tell me I didn't see this coming

2007-01-31T19:23:00.000-08:00

Because I did. Celtics?

Worth Every Penny

2007-01-20T02:21:00.000-08:00

+

=

So, if you haven't guessed yet, I'm going to talk about Beckham...yeah, that pretty douchey looking guy who plays some sport called soccer over in Europe. Yeah, him. The ones those Europeans always talk about.

Oh and he's also the guy who's getting $250 million to kick a ball.

...and the guy who might, sorry, who will actually make soccer a sport here in America.

Now, I know that Becks is a bit dodgy at this point in his career and his prime ended (and by prime, I mean his god-status) once he went to Madrid. He barely gets any playing time with such a stacked roster and he even got booted as captain (skipper?) of the England team, only to "retire" a few days after.

But still, despite his suckiness, I am convinced that this one British man who can still "bend it," a talent which doesn't seem to have declined with age, will take soccer beyond the level of AYSO in the States. Well, actually, I think he's already done that even if he's still a few months away from putting on an ugly Galaxy jersey.

Because now, the MLS actually exists. My dad was arguing that the whole $250 million thing was ridiculous because now every other player in the league will envy Becks' money (and wife) and widespread anarchy will ensue in a league that gets about 2 seconds of ESPN time a year. I explained to my dad that, just by talking about the MLS as he was, Beckham has already made himself worthy...or at least about $50 million of his contract. Before the signing, I doubt that more than 5% of sports fans had even thought about the MLS. But now, the Galaxy is selling season tickets like hotcakes and the MLS will actually be...on...television. Thankfully, he's more a celebrity than an athlete so that means MTV, E! and 12 year old girls are interested too.

It also won't hurt that Becks will be one of the best players in the league despite his age and dodginess*. His presence on the pitch alone will rise the awfully low talent level of the MLS along with the ticket sales. Although he can't single handedly turn the league into the Premiership, at least now foreign players/populations will actually consider the MLS as an option. Edgar Davids is supposedly really close to joining Dallas FC (who recently got Shaka Hislop). Chicago Fire was really close to signing Zidane. Unfortunately, he's a Colts fan. Ronaldo and Raul are also possible as members of the retirement home known as the MLS. Yeah, they're all old, but who's counting? Before Dave, the only name the MLS got was Freddy Adu, who's now seriously considering departing for ManU.

So yeah, I could go on ranting about how the MLS is going to be so much better and will actually get some good airtime, but I think Beckham's immigration goes much further than improving a dismal league. His celebrity status + Galaxy uniform = lots of Americans saying "whoah, grown men play soccer?"

I think Dave's salvation of soccer will be comparable to Jordan's resurgence of the NBA, which was looking at major downfall before #23 came to make the league what it is today. Irony: Beckham's current jersey number: 23. Not an irony: Beckham's got the MLS to deal with.

I'm not saying Becks will have the same impact as MJ. He won't. But I think that he'll just might be even more significant in a transition of American sports/culture...just not as directly.

Obviously, Beckham will get at least some more citizens across the nation to start tuning into at least some soccer games. Hopefully, these same citizens will start to actually grasp why the rest of the world loves the sport and then soccer won't just be limited to 5 year old kids. Kicking a ball will actually seem intriguing and "attacking midfielder" would eventually become a highly respectable occupation similar to "designated hitter," "point guard," or "XFL victim." Then, kids would actually start to see these soccer players just like they see any other player donning an NFL or NBA jersey. They'll look up to them and consequently attempt to emulate them. Most still won't make it past grade school playing soccer, but at least some more will.

So what I'm trying to say is: even if Beckham won't be on par with Jordan, the Englishman's presence will eventually allow for someone who can be. And sooner than later, we'll see some more Landon Donovans and Clint Dempseys. The States could then ultimately be top competitors on the global stage thanks to a footballer from the country that gave birth to the original colonies. For even more irony, it would be funny if America won the World Cup before England salvaged itself from decades of misery. I know it's wishful, but it's worth a laugh.

If none of this does happen - if no one even turns into one MLS game, if kids keep graduating from soccer after AYSO, if no American's change their view of the world's game - then I give up. I think SI put it best: "If Beckham can't sell soccer, no one can."

But I'll pray to Pele he can.

*dodgy - English for crappy. See Landon Donovan.

Barack always speaks the truth

2007-01-10T01:53:00.000-08:00

[discussing the futility of political editorials]
"After a few paragraphs, the reader can conclude that Republicans and Democrats are just bickering again and turn to the sports page, where the story line is less predictable and the box score tells you who won" (Audacity of Hope).

If you know me well enough, you know I'm on the Barack bandwagon like every other righteous person in the country. I love the guy not only because he's virtually all my ideals and principles in the form of a legitimate presidential candidate, but also because he wrote the quote above, which basically explains why I love sports and why I wish I didn't love sports.

Barack Out.

I'm probably gonna get ejected too

2006-11-06T22:02:00.000-08:00

Ah...my NBA predictions that will probably be laughed at by season's end...unless the Celtics actually make it. But here goes nothing! (It's a couple weeks into the season, so these are a little guided)

Western Conference:
1) Dallas Mavericks
2) San Antonio Spurs
3) New Orleans Hornets
4) Phoenix Suns
5) Utah Jazz
6) Los Angeles Lakers
7) Houston Rockets
8) Los Angeles Clippers

Eastern Conference:
1) Chicago Bulls
2) Miami Heat
3) Cleveland Cavaliers
4) New Jersey Nets
5) Detroit Pistons
6) Washington Wizards
7) Orlando Magic
8) Indiana Pacers
Freebie spot!) Boston Celtics

Western Conference Champions: Dallas Mavericks
Eastern Conference Champions: Miami Heat
NBA Champions: Dallas Mavericks

Most Valuable Player: Lebron James
Rookie of the Year: Brandon Roy
Defensive Player of the Year: Ben Wallace
Most Improved Player: Hakim Warrick (too real)
Sixth Man of the Year: Andres Nocioni
Coach of the Year: Jerry Sloan

Slam Dunk Champion: James White
Robbed of All Star Roster Award: Gerald Wallace
Waste of Talent Award: J.R. Smith
Never Gets Traded Despite Endless Rumors Award: Kevin Garnett
He's Still Alive? Award: Vin Baker
WHY Are You Still Alive? Award: Gary Payton
Funny Name Award: Pops Mensah-Bonsu
Mark Madsen Award: Mark Madsen
I Hate You Award: Terrell Owens
Behind Bars Award: Stephen Jackson
Dwight Howard's Next Victim: Everybody in the league