I could not leave this off the blog in good conscience, even if it WAS on Deadspin two years ago.
Monday, April 7, 2008
This Post Has Almost Nothing To Do With Bad Sports Journalism
Dan LeBatard the columnist is terrible. He is terrible in the newspaper and he is terrible on television. His radio show is, for a number of reasons, fucking brilliant. He mentioned this picture on the air:
I could not leave this off the blog in good conscience, even if it WAS on Deadspin two years ago.
I could not leave this off the blog in good conscience, even if it WAS on Deadspin two years ago.
Woody Paige...honestly, what is there left to say at this point (beyond everything I'm about to say in this post)?
As linked by Deadspin weekend daddy Matt Sussman (more on him in an upcoming post), Woody Paige is back with his inimitable brand of bizarre, impenetrable quasi-prose. The latest topic? The Denver Nuggets.
No Artest, no Miller, no place to go and no way to get there for Sacramento.
I read this three times before understanding everything that was being said. This might be acceptable if the author was James Joyce. But since Woody Paige is not, to the best of my knowledge, a drunken, half-insane Irishman rocking a killer eyepatch, I'm afraid that excuse just isn't going to fly.
Hakuna matata.
Apparently, it's 1994 and no one told me. My god, think of all the things I can do, all the people I can now save! Like, um...I imagine I can stop that asteroid from destroying the Moon, as seen in the documentary Thundarr the Barbarian, or maybe even keep Godzilla from falling into that black hole like in the vintage newsreel series Godzilla vs. SpaceGodzilla. Or at least I think that's the stuff that happened in 1994.
It means "no worries" for the Nuggets.
It actually means "no worries" for everyone. Well, it actually means something closer to "no problem". Or, if you're being cynical, it means "give Disney your money, your precious, sweet money."
Worry.
That's an entire paragraph. I think that's meant to be the imperative ordering us to worry, but I much prefer the idea that Woody just thought of the abstract concept of worrying and felt like giving it a shout-out.
Kings beat Jokers Saturday night.
Would it be so hard to include a "the" or two in there? Or would the definite article just completely destroy the faux-rhyme scheme?
George Karl should have stolen his postgame speech from a former Indianapolis Colts coach: "Playoffs? Don't talk about playoffs. Are you kidding me? Playoffs. I'm just hoping we can win a game, another game."
There is actually something absurdly appealing about George Karl repeating by rote one of the most infamously off-the-cuff speeches in history, especially if he did it in a Kaufman-esque monotone. Look, I know I'm a little on the insane side, but if that's the first thing that comes to mind, I think that might hint at how weird Woody's idea is.
Instead, Karl said: "It was going to be one of those games where we tried to outscore them, and we didn't score enough. . . . This is not the time to point the blame on anyone."
I will. Blame all of them, including Karl and especially J.R. Smith.
Far be it for me to dispute the convention wisdom that it'd be a good idea to fire George Karl, but that's a pretty reasonable quote right there. Honestly, what kind of coach throws all his players under the bus and heaps blame, deserved or not? Not a good one, I'm pretty sure, although maybe Stan Van Gundy.
Playoffs?
Of the Nuggets' eight losses at home, this was the most dreadful and distressing — and unforgivable.
Stop right there and think for a second. Eight home losses? Dude, they're 31-8 at home. Admittedly, their 15-23 away mark is absolutely nothing to get excited about, but we're talking 46-31 overall. It bears pointing out again that they'd be the fourth seed in the east. Now, I'm not saying we should radically rewrite all the playoff rules or whatever just because of a crazy freak year where as many as nine teams in the west might win 50 games, but come on. This is not even a mediocre Nuggets team we're talking about by any absolute standard. This team is only mediocre relative to the ridiculously tough conference it plays in. Let's just keep that in mind before giving them too much shit.
With time and the Nuggets' chances of winning running out, Sacramento's Mikki Moore flopped.
It was not the worst flop of the game.
Honestly, why the fuck did that need two paragraphs? That barely needs two sentences. But wait...it gets worse!
The Nuggets didn't play because of brain drain.
No show.
That's barely two ideas, let alone sentences, let alone paragraphs. I'm not even sure there's a single discernible iota of meaning to be gleaned from that. And no, providing context wouldn't make it much clearer; it would just take longer to read.
Don't blame this one on the suspension of Kenyon Martin or the officials or the moon or the Rockies' game or the NCAA Final Four.
The hackiness of that is just astounding. I'm just going to single out my favorite part, which has to be that Woody calls it "the NCAA Final Four." As though we wouldn't know which Final Four he was talking about unless he gave it the NCAA label. Which, if you're being pedantic, actually applies to both Final Fours that conceivably could refer to.
They didn't act interested. The Nuggets turned an uninspired 11-point lead in the first quarter into a five-point deficit in the second quarter.
By now, the Kings, missing a couple of kings, became fascinated, and it helped them when the Nuggets went into their "What? Me Play D" mode.
The Kings...became fascinated? Really? Did Mikki Moore put on his half-moon spectacles and, peering above his tome of astronomical data, say to Beni Udrih, "I say, old bean, do you see how those prospector-themed blaggards seem to be coming over all sluggish? Simply an astounding turn of eventualities that requires, nay demands, further inquiry." And then I imagine Beni got out his slide rule and scientifically measured just how dated Woody's Mad fucking Magazine reference was. The result? Pretty fucking dated.
The Nuggets also were busy watching the scoreboard — not for their own score, but for what was happening to North Carolina in the second game of the NCAA semifinals.
I have nothing to say other than this: I'm going to need at least a scrap of evidence to actually support that baseless allegation. Because that sounds completely ridiculous from where I'm standing. Absolutely and utterly ridiculous.
Then there's some stuff about how J.R. Smith sucks and Carmelo Anthony is awesome. But did Anthony get the ball at the end of the game? Well come on, Woody, I've set you up so obligingly...
So, does he get the ball for the tying shot? He couldn't take over at the end. Nobody gave him the ball.
Smith was busy hurling, if you get my drift.
No, Woody, I don't at all get your drift vis-a-vis Smith's "hurling." Was he...
1. Chucking the ball at the basket?
2. Playing a reasonably violent Irish sport?
3. Releasing a barrage of insults?
4. Vomiting, as described by a twelve-year-old?
I'm going to go with all except for 1. Because an unholy combination of 2-4 seems just crazy enough for Woody's mind.
If the Nuggets don't make the playoffs, this game will be why.
Hakuna blah.
Actually, that might be how a twelve-year-old describes vomiting. At least, that's how they should describe it.
I think that's as good a note to end on as any.
No Artest, no Miller, no place to go and no way to get there for Sacramento.
I read this three times before understanding everything that was being said. This might be acceptable if the author was James Joyce. But since Woody Paige is not, to the best of my knowledge, a drunken, half-insane Irishman rocking a killer eyepatch, I'm afraid that excuse just isn't going to fly.
Hakuna matata.
Apparently, it's 1994 and no one told me. My god, think of all the things I can do, all the people I can now save! Like, um...I imagine I can stop that asteroid from destroying the Moon, as seen in the documentary Thundarr the Barbarian, or maybe even keep Godzilla from falling into that black hole like in the vintage newsreel series Godzilla vs. SpaceGodzilla. Or at least I think that's the stuff that happened in 1994.
It means "no worries" for the Nuggets.
It actually means "no worries" for everyone. Well, it actually means something closer to "no problem". Or, if you're being cynical, it means "give Disney your money, your precious, sweet money."
Worry.
That's an entire paragraph. I think that's meant to be the imperative ordering us to worry, but I much prefer the idea that Woody just thought of the abstract concept of worrying and felt like giving it a shout-out.
Kings beat Jokers Saturday night.
Would it be so hard to include a "the" or two in there? Or would the definite article just completely destroy the faux-rhyme scheme?
George Karl should have stolen his postgame speech from a former Indianapolis Colts coach: "Playoffs? Don't talk about playoffs. Are you kidding me? Playoffs. I'm just hoping we can win a game, another game."
There is actually something absurdly appealing about George Karl repeating by rote one of the most infamously off-the-cuff speeches in history, especially if he did it in a Kaufman-esque monotone. Look, I know I'm a little on the insane side, but if that's the first thing that comes to mind, I think that might hint at how weird Woody's idea is.
Instead, Karl said: "It was going to be one of those games where we tried to outscore them, and we didn't score enough. . . . This is not the time to point the blame on anyone."
I will. Blame all of them, including Karl and especially J.R. Smith.
Far be it for me to dispute the convention wisdom that it'd be a good idea to fire George Karl, but that's a pretty reasonable quote right there. Honestly, what kind of coach throws all his players under the bus and heaps blame, deserved or not? Not a good one, I'm pretty sure, although maybe Stan Van Gundy.
Playoffs?
Of the Nuggets' eight losses at home, this was the most dreadful and distressing — and unforgivable.
Stop right there and think for a second. Eight home losses? Dude, they're 31-8 at home. Admittedly, their 15-23 away mark is absolutely nothing to get excited about, but we're talking 46-31 overall. It bears pointing out again that they'd be the fourth seed in the east. Now, I'm not saying we should radically rewrite all the playoff rules or whatever just because of a crazy freak year where as many as nine teams in the west might win 50 games, but come on. This is not even a mediocre Nuggets team we're talking about by any absolute standard. This team is only mediocre relative to the ridiculously tough conference it plays in. Let's just keep that in mind before giving them too much shit.
With time and the Nuggets' chances of winning running out, Sacramento's Mikki Moore flopped.
It was not the worst flop of the game.
Honestly, why the fuck did that need two paragraphs? That barely needs two sentences. But wait...it gets worse!
The Nuggets didn't play because of brain drain.
No show.
That's barely two ideas, let alone sentences, let alone paragraphs. I'm not even sure there's a single discernible iota of meaning to be gleaned from that. And no, providing context wouldn't make it much clearer; it would just take longer to read.
Don't blame this one on the suspension of Kenyon Martin or the officials or the moon or the Rockies' game or the NCAA Final Four.
The hackiness of that is just astounding. I'm just going to single out my favorite part, which has to be that Woody calls it "the NCAA Final Four." As though we wouldn't know which Final Four he was talking about unless he gave it the NCAA label. Which, if you're being pedantic, actually applies to both Final Fours that conceivably could refer to.
They didn't act interested. The Nuggets turned an uninspired 11-point lead in the first quarter into a five-point deficit in the second quarter.
By now, the Kings, missing a couple of kings, became fascinated, and it helped them when the Nuggets went into their "What? Me Play D" mode.
The Kings...became fascinated? Really? Did Mikki Moore put on his half-moon spectacles and, peering above his tome of astronomical data, say to Beni Udrih, "I say, old bean, do you see how those prospector-themed blaggards seem to be coming over all sluggish? Simply an astounding turn of eventualities that requires, nay demands, further inquiry." And then I imagine Beni got out his slide rule and scientifically measured just how dated Woody's Mad fucking Magazine reference was. The result? Pretty fucking dated.
The Nuggets also were busy watching the scoreboard — not for their own score, but for what was happening to North Carolina in the second game of the NCAA semifinals.
I have nothing to say other than this: I'm going to need at least a scrap of evidence to actually support that baseless allegation. Because that sounds completely ridiculous from where I'm standing. Absolutely and utterly ridiculous.
Then there's some stuff about how J.R. Smith sucks and Carmelo Anthony is awesome. But did Anthony get the ball at the end of the game? Well come on, Woody, I've set you up so obligingly...
So, does he get the ball for the tying shot? He couldn't take over at the end. Nobody gave him the ball.
Smith was busy hurling, if you get my drift.
No, Woody, I don't at all get your drift vis-a-vis Smith's "hurling." Was he...
1. Chucking the ball at the basket?
2. Playing a reasonably violent Irish sport?
3. Releasing a barrage of insults?
4. Vomiting, as described by a twelve-year-old?
I'm going to go with all except for 1. Because an unholy combination of 2-4 seems just crazy enough for Woody's mind.
If the Nuggets don't make the playoffs, this game will be why.
Hakuna blah.
Actually, that might be how a twelve-year-old describes vomiting. At least, that's how they should describe it.
I think that's as good a note to end on as any.
I'm going to shoot myself in the mind.
MMQb time! Let's just skip right to the thinkathinkathinkathinks, non-football division:
d. Tuesday's Sox home opener, Detroit-Boston, looked like a gem a couple of weeks ago. They're a combined 3-10 now. Gotta love the weirdness of baseball.
e. David Ortiz is hitting .115. Here's my quite unwanted advice: Poke three singles to left against those asinine shifts. The only way you can get a hit to the right side is by hitting it over the fence, Papi.
f. Gabe Kapler has two home runs. David Ortiz. Alex Rodriguez, Jason Bay, Bobby Abreu, Adam Dunn and Prince Fielder, combined, have two home runs.
e. How about Rick (six games, three homers, six RBI) Ankiel?
f. The San Francisco Giants might lose 115 games.
FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK.
That ends in "ck" somewhere off screen. Anyway, it has been, for most teams, 6 games. There are exactly zero conclusions to be drawn at this point. I know, it's been fun and wacky, or whatever, to watch the Tigers play like the old Tigers. But the season is 1/27th over (I think; it's really late and I just tried that in my head). What exactly will it mean if, 4 minutes into the 3rd quarter of the Cowboys' first game next year, Tony Romo is 7-for-15? My guess is it rhymes with "blabsolutely fucking nothing, because it's so goddamn blurly in the season my brain hurts just thinking about it". Blurrrrrrrrrrgh.
And MY GOD do you not think it's ever occurred to FUCKING ANYONE IN THE ENTIRE RED SOX ORGANIZATION that Papi should, if able, "poke three singles to left"????????And PLEASE allow me to bet against you on the Giants thing.
Sunday, April 6, 2008
52 52 52 Week #7: Virginia
In which I examine crappy local sports journalism on a state-by-state basis, progressing through the states in terms of an alphabetical ordering of the heights of their tallest points. Because I can.
First of all, major props to Passive Voice for his excellent work this week; it really allowed me to rationalize not posting, which was nice. Also the posts were awesome. Seriously, go read them, though preferably after you've read this one.
Now, I've been more than a bit quiet on the posting front lately, and for that I apologize. I'll try to get back into more of a groove next week, but honestly, who knows? As much as anything else, I just haven't found too many terrible articles lately. A lot of "meh" nonsense, but not as much truly awful shit. Besides, it's hard to truly hate sports after seeing something this beautiful:
Man, I love life. But if there's one thing I love even more than life (and all its life-related accessories, such as fish), it's making fun of obscure local journalists and dispensing random factoids about the state highpoints. This week? Virginia and its beautiful Mount Rogers, which soars majestically to 5,729 feet. Here's what you need to know about Mount Rogers:
1. Mount Rogers is apparently the only place in Virginia that still shows signs of ancient glaciation. So I'm guessing if you're looking to save money on a refrigerator in Virginia, leaving all your soda atop Mount Rogers is an option. That's how cold works, right?
2. According to Wikipedia, "It is more widely accepted that the conifer decline on and around Mount Rogers is the effect of Acid-rain and parasites." I guess that's one way to dismiss my supposedly radical "Virginia Governor Tim Kaine is eating all the conifers!" theory. I'm the last angry man, dammit, and I'm going to keep on telling the truth until they shut me up. Huh, there's a knock at the door...the fist sounded burly. Maybe shouldn't answer that...
3. It's located in Grayson County. Hmm...Grayson. What does that make me think of?
Look, if you already know which acclaimed Batman-related fake trailer I'm about to embed, congratulations, you've forged a special unspoken bond with me. (And if you happen to be Playmate and supposed computer nerd Raquel Gibson, let's grab lunch sometime.)
With all that embedded craziness (and, to a more linked extent, hotness) out of the way, let's talk this week's article, which is by Bob Molinaro of The Virginian-Pilot. On some level, I wish it actually lived up to its name and was for airplane pilots of a Virginian persuasion, but sadly it's just the paper of record for most of Virginia. The newspaper apparently did some Pulitzer-winning work on desegregation back in the day, which was quite likely courageous. Good for them.
But...writing a piece about Brett Favre? In April? That takes a whole different kind of courage. The courage...to be shitty.
Something about Favre says he's not coming back
Maybe the fact that he, you know, retired? I mean, he cried about it and everything. Still, I'll humor this, because what else do I have to do? (Hint: Nothing.)
Wondering: If Brett Favre actually has interest in coming back for another season, it's fair to assume he'd only sign with a playoff contender. But don't bona fide contenders already have good quarterbacks? Isn't that what makes them contenders?
Mandatory mentions of Trent Dilfer and Brad Johnson to refute that, double mention of Rex Grossman, brief survey of shitty quarterbacks on playoff teams this year, random reference to British science fiction, and...we're golden.
Sorry, that point was so easy to refute I figured I'd just outline how I'd go about doing it. What, you want the real thing? Fine...
In his one year with Baltimore, Trent Dilfer threw 1502 yards with a 58.9% completion percentage, had a split of 12 touchdowns and 11 interceptions, and sported a 76.6 QB rating (disclaimer: I don't like the QB rating for a number of reasons, but it's roughly useful). Maybe not the most terrible stats ever, but that's strictly average quarterbacking. Brad Johnson was much, much better, but again, he wasn't the real reason why Tampa Bay won the Super Bowl. And Rex Grossman? For fuck's sake, we're talking 20 interceptions. Dear lord...
Fucking Rex Grossman. Seriously.
The point, of course, is that it's been repeatedly shown that a staunch defense can carry a lackluster, even outright shitty, quarterback to the Super Bowl. And hell, the defense doesn't even need to be that good if all you want to be is a playoff contender. Just ask Vince Young, Philip Rivers, and, yes, even Eli "Made His Entire Career on One Drive" Manning.
And now, for no reason other than I promised I'd reference British sci-fi, my favorite opening credits of all time:
God, you can just taste the groovy.
Add Brett Not to belabor the point, but didn't Favre just retire from a playoff team?
Yes, yes he did. Brett Favre is sort of an ass that way. Of course, it's really just been his agent looking into other teams, but still, I think the thesis is that Favre wants to play for a team with more weapons around him. You know, a team that would be a contender without him. Whether or not the Packers fit that bill is now up to Aaron Rodgers, commonly known in Wisconsin by his nickname, "Who the fuck is Aaron Rodgers?" Well, probably, "Who the frick is Aaron Rodgers?" I'm not sure Wisconsin has discovered actual profanity yet. But the intent is there.
Quick hit The NFL's proposed ban against long hair gives new meaning to the term "split end."
For this joke to work, I think Troy Polamalu would have to have shitty hair with lots of split ends. Clearly, that isn't the case:
Also, that joke has several equivalents involving the term "tight end." Needless to say, they're all porn-related.
Prudes Judging from the reaction - and overreaction - to pictures on the Internet of Matt Leinart frolicking in a hot tub and joining in drinking games with young women, Joe Namath couldn't play in today's NFL.
Wait, did I miss the part where Matt Leinart got cut by the Arizona Cardinals and had to go play with the Tulsa Talons of af2 (so fucking minor it can't even afford to capitalize its initials)? Dude, a couple idiots wrote editorials and the whole thing went away. Joe Namath would probably not be quite as unquestioningly idolized as I assume he was back in his heyday, but I'm sure the man would have no trouble keeping a job in the modern NFL.
Hue's your daddy? The Final Four men's teams all feature a shade of the same school color. If your bracket didn't include North Carolina, Kansas, UCLA and Memphis in San Antonio, you blue it.
Love the wordplay, of course. I mean, it's one thing to do the whole "hue" thing at the start, but then to end with "blue"? That's a chiasmus of color puns, that's what that is. And I fucking love it.
You know what the really sad part about that observation is? That's probably how a few idiots chose their brackets. Well, that and the "They're all number 1s thing!" But I'm sure some idiots said, "Blue's my favorite color, so it must be a sign!" And they beat all the so-called "experts" in the office pool. Actually, I'm OK with that last part. The "experts" are kinda jerks themselves.
Alienating everybody, yes sir. I wasn't kidding around when I named this blog.
Next step It's impossible not to be impressed with Tennessee's Candace Parker. She's got it all - height, ability, looks, grace. From a basketball standpoint, all she's lacking is a fitting stage for her talents after college. The WNBA? Puh-leeze.
I'm at a loss as to what his point is. I mean, sure, the WNBA sucks. But so what? It's the best out there for female basketball players, and that's partially reflected by the simple fact that female players are, on average, inferior to their male counterparts. And until the day we achieve the level of athletic quality seen in that mixed-gender football game in Starship Troopers, I'm not sure what else there is to say regarding Candace Parker's future. Well, I do have one idea, but it's way too East German for my tastes.
Spin City So Barack Obama bowled a 37 while making a campaign stop in Pennsylvania. That's very embarrassing. Even so, his score was higher than President Bush's approval rating.
Although the 37 was out of 300 possible points, while Bush's 28% rating is out of 100 sorta by definition. So Barack really scored a 12.3% on a transformed scale, I think. Wait...what the hell am I saying? Good point, Bob Molinaro, I think, assuming your point is that Barack Obama's bowling score isn't relevant beyond the simple fact that my goodness, he sure does suck at that there bowling.
[Editor's Note: We would be remiss if we didn't embed the following image to show that perhaps there is an inverse relationship between skill at bowling and integrity, though we recognize Obama may still, in fact be a creepy demagogue of Eli Sunday-esque proportions.]
Reality check This week's breathless reports that Indiana hire Tom Crean is taking over at one of the country's premier basketball factories was another example of the media not allowing the facts to get in the way of a good story. Outside parts of the Midwest right now, Indiana is barely relevant.
Weren't they 17-1 before the Kelvin Sampson shit hit the proverbial fans? And they were in the championship game a few years back. I mean, I imagine sanctions are going to hit them hard and all, but they're not exactly Michigan...yet.
Hoops du jour ESPN's relentless promotion of women's basketball gives the impression that it's more popular than it really is. In Greensboro, N.C., on Tuesday night, high-profile UConn and Rutgers played a regional final before an intimate gathering of 4,623.
Which kinda calls into question why you think anybody gives two shits about Candace Parker's future. Doesn't really sound like she has the proper showcase now, let alone at the next level. I'm just saying is all.
Good stuff I was watching TV late Thursday night when David Beckham scored a goal, then executed a cheeky little pass to Landon Donovan for another score. You know I'm talking about soccer, right?
Yes, because those are two of the most famous soccer players in the world, especially David Beckham, who despite his utter failure to bring soccer to the US is still a pretty legitimate celebrity. That joke only works if you reference, I dunno, Peter Vagenas and Michael Gavin. Or something.
Help defense The NFL eliminated the push-out rule on sideline pass plays - a bad move, if you ask me - to relieve officials of a judgment call. What exactly are the zebras out there for if not to make judgment calls?
*HERE COMES A CHEAP SHOT*
I believe they're there to provide Bill Simmons with rationalizations for subpar Patriots performances.
*THERE GOES THE CHEAP SHOT*
Ah, it's good to be back.
First of all, major props to Passive Voice for his excellent work this week; it really allowed me to rationalize not posting, which was nice. Also the posts were awesome. Seriously, go read them, though preferably after you've read this one.
Now, I've been more than a bit quiet on the posting front lately, and for that I apologize. I'll try to get back into more of a groove next week, but honestly, who knows? As much as anything else, I just haven't found too many terrible articles lately. A lot of "meh" nonsense, but not as much truly awful shit. Besides, it's hard to truly hate sports after seeing something this beautiful:
Man, I love life. But if there's one thing I love even more than life (and all its life-related accessories, such as fish), it's making fun of obscure local journalists and dispensing random factoids about the state highpoints. This week? Virginia and its beautiful Mount Rogers, which soars majestically to 5,729 feet. Here's what you need to know about Mount Rogers:
1. Mount Rogers is apparently the only place in Virginia that still shows signs of ancient glaciation. So I'm guessing if you're looking to save money on a refrigerator in Virginia, leaving all your soda atop Mount Rogers is an option. That's how cold works, right?
2. According to Wikipedia, "It is more widely accepted that the conifer decline on and around Mount Rogers is the effect of Acid-rain and parasites." I guess that's one way to dismiss my supposedly radical "Virginia Governor Tim Kaine is eating all the conifers!" theory. I'm the last angry man, dammit, and I'm going to keep on telling the truth until they shut me up. Huh, there's a knock at the door...the fist sounded burly. Maybe shouldn't answer that...
3. It's located in Grayson County. Hmm...Grayson. What does that make me think of?
Look, if you already know which acclaimed Batman-related fake trailer I'm about to embed, congratulations, you've forged a special unspoken bond with me. (And if you happen to be Playmate and supposed computer nerd Raquel Gibson, let's grab lunch sometime.)
With all that embedded craziness (and, to a more linked extent, hotness) out of the way, let's talk this week's article, which is by Bob Molinaro of The Virginian-Pilot. On some level, I wish it actually lived up to its name and was for airplane pilots of a Virginian persuasion, but sadly it's just the paper of record for most of Virginia. The newspaper apparently did some Pulitzer-winning work on desegregation back in the day, which was quite likely courageous. Good for them.
But...writing a piece about Brett Favre? In April? That takes a whole different kind of courage. The courage...to be shitty.
Something about Favre says he's not coming back
Maybe the fact that he, you know, retired? I mean, he cried about it and everything. Still, I'll humor this, because what else do I have to do? (Hint: Nothing.)
Wondering: If Brett Favre actually has interest in coming back for another season, it's fair to assume he'd only sign with a playoff contender. But don't bona fide contenders already have good quarterbacks? Isn't that what makes them contenders?
Mandatory mentions of Trent Dilfer and Brad Johnson to refute that, double mention of Rex Grossman, brief survey of shitty quarterbacks on playoff teams this year, random reference to British science fiction, and...we're golden.
Sorry, that point was so easy to refute I figured I'd just outline how I'd go about doing it. What, you want the real thing? Fine...
In his one year with Baltimore, Trent Dilfer threw 1502 yards with a 58.9% completion percentage, had a split of 12 touchdowns and 11 interceptions, and sported a 76.6 QB rating (disclaimer: I don't like the QB rating for a number of reasons, but it's roughly useful). Maybe not the most terrible stats ever, but that's strictly average quarterbacking. Brad Johnson was much, much better, but again, he wasn't the real reason why Tampa Bay won the Super Bowl. And Rex Grossman? For fuck's sake, we're talking 20 interceptions. Dear lord...
Fucking Rex Grossman. Seriously.
The point, of course, is that it's been repeatedly shown that a staunch defense can carry a lackluster, even outright shitty, quarterback to the Super Bowl. And hell, the defense doesn't even need to be that good if all you want to be is a playoff contender. Just ask Vince Young, Philip Rivers, and, yes, even Eli "Made His Entire Career on One Drive" Manning.
And now, for no reason other than I promised I'd reference British sci-fi, my favorite opening credits of all time:
God, you can just taste the groovy.
Add Brett Not to belabor the point, but didn't Favre just retire from a playoff team?
Yes, yes he did. Brett Favre is sort of an ass that way. Of course, it's really just been his agent looking into other teams, but still, I think the thesis is that Favre wants to play for a team with more weapons around him. You know, a team that would be a contender without him. Whether or not the Packers fit that bill is now up to Aaron Rodgers, commonly known in Wisconsin by his nickname, "Who the fuck is Aaron Rodgers?" Well, probably, "Who the frick is Aaron Rodgers?" I'm not sure Wisconsin has discovered actual profanity yet. But the intent is there.
Quick hit The NFL's proposed ban against long hair gives new meaning to the term "split end."
For this joke to work, I think Troy Polamalu would have to have shitty hair with lots of split ends. Clearly, that isn't the case:
Also, that joke has several equivalents involving the term "tight end." Needless to say, they're all porn-related.
Prudes Judging from the reaction - and overreaction - to pictures on the Internet of Matt Leinart frolicking in a hot tub and joining in drinking games with young women, Joe Namath couldn't play in today's NFL.
Wait, did I miss the part where Matt Leinart got cut by the Arizona Cardinals and had to go play with the Tulsa Talons of af2 (so fucking minor it can't even afford to capitalize its initials)? Dude, a couple idiots wrote editorials and the whole thing went away. Joe Namath would probably not be quite as unquestioningly idolized as I assume he was back in his heyday, but I'm sure the man would have no trouble keeping a job in the modern NFL.
Hue's your daddy? The Final Four men's teams all feature a shade of the same school color. If your bracket didn't include North Carolina, Kansas, UCLA and Memphis in San Antonio, you blue it.
Love the wordplay, of course. I mean, it's one thing to do the whole "hue" thing at the start, but then to end with "blue"? That's a chiasmus of color puns, that's what that is. And I fucking love it.
You know what the really sad part about that observation is? That's probably how a few idiots chose their brackets. Well, that and the "They're all number 1s thing!" But I'm sure some idiots said, "Blue's my favorite color, so it must be a sign!" And they beat all the so-called "experts" in the office pool. Actually, I'm OK with that last part. The "experts" are kinda jerks themselves.
Alienating everybody, yes sir. I wasn't kidding around when I named this blog.
Next step It's impossible not to be impressed with Tennessee's Candace Parker. She's got it all - height, ability, looks, grace. From a basketball standpoint, all she's lacking is a fitting stage for her talents after college. The WNBA? Puh-leeze.
I'm at a loss as to what his point is. I mean, sure, the WNBA sucks. But so what? It's the best out there for female basketball players, and that's partially reflected by the simple fact that female players are, on average, inferior to their male counterparts. And until the day we achieve the level of athletic quality seen in that mixed-gender football game in Starship Troopers, I'm not sure what else there is to say regarding Candace Parker's future. Well, I do have one idea, but it's way too East German for my tastes.
Spin City So Barack Obama bowled a 37 while making a campaign stop in Pennsylvania. That's very embarrassing. Even so, his score was higher than President Bush's approval rating.
Although the 37 was out of 300 possible points, while Bush's 28% rating is out of 100 sorta by definition. So Barack really scored a 12.3% on a transformed scale, I think. Wait...what the hell am I saying? Good point, Bob Molinaro, I think, assuming your point is that Barack Obama's bowling score isn't relevant beyond the simple fact that my goodness, he sure does suck at that there bowling.
[Editor's Note: We would be remiss if we didn't embed the following image to show that perhaps there is an inverse relationship between skill at bowling and integrity, though we recognize Obama may still, in fact be a creepy demagogue of Eli Sunday-esque proportions.]
Reality check This week's breathless reports that Indiana hire Tom Crean is taking over at one of the country's premier basketball factories was another example of the media not allowing the facts to get in the way of a good story. Outside parts of the Midwest right now, Indiana is barely relevant.
Weren't they 17-1 before the Kelvin Sampson shit hit the proverbial fans? And they were in the championship game a few years back. I mean, I imagine sanctions are going to hit them hard and all, but they're not exactly Michigan...yet.
Hoops du jour ESPN's relentless promotion of women's basketball gives the impression that it's more popular than it really is. In Greensboro, N.C., on Tuesday night, high-profile UConn and Rutgers played a regional final before an intimate gathering of 4,623.
Which kinda calls into question why you think anybody gives two shits about Candace Parker's future. Doesn't really sound like she has the proper showcase now, let alone at the next level. I'm just saying is all.
Good stuff I was watching TV late Thursday night when David Beckham scored a goal, then executed a cheeky little pass to Landon Donovan for another score. You know I'm talking about soccer, right?
Yes, because those are two of the most famous soccer players in the world, especially David Beckham, who despite his utter failure to bring soccer to the US is still a pretty legitimate celebrity. That joke only works if you reference, I dunno, Peter Vagenas and Michael Gavin. Or something.
Help defense The NFL eliminated the push-out rule on sideline pass plays - a bad move, if you ask me - to relieve officials of a judgment call. What exactly are the zebras out there for if not to make judgment calls?
*HERE COMES A CHEAP SHOT*
I believe they're there to provide Bill Simmons with rationalizations for subpar Patriots performances.
*THERE GOES THE CHEAP SHOT*
Ah, it's good to be back.
Friday, April 4, 2008
Audit Jon Heyman
I think Jon Heyman and I have been in a communication-less marriage for 31 years, because every little thing he does pisses me off at this point.
The pitiable, primitive Reds simply could not fathom that their #2 pitching prospect (after fellow stud-to-be Homer Bailey) could pitch a good ballgame. But those wise old scouts just nodded slowly, sagely. It had been foretold in the scriptures, after all. They knew this day would come long before Johnny Cueto's mother had met Johnny Cueto's father.
I'm not here to say Ryan Zimmerman's not going to be awesome, but it's been 18 ABs. Why not "AJ Pierzynski's lack of not-being-an-asshole gave some teams pause. Pierzynski has already hit .529 this season for the White Sox". Because it's ridiculous? I thought so.
So [Johnny Cueto's] gem Thursday, where the only blemish was Justin Upton's solo home run in the sixth inning, almost seemed to come out of the blue for the Reds. Though, not to the scouts who've been following him.
The pitiable, primitive Reds simply could not fathom that their #2 pitching prospect (after fellow stud-to-be Homer Bailey) could pitch a good ballgame. But those wise old scouts just nodded slowly, sagely. It had been foretold in the scriptures, after all. They knew this day would come long before Johnny Cueto's mother had met Johnny Cueto's father.
Scout's take: Cueto
(At least once a week, I'll provide a scout's in-depth look at a player.)
"His arm action is as clean and loose as you can get. When you see this guy, you think he can be a guy who goes deep into a game or [can] be a closer. He has a better arm than Homer Bailey, who was a No. 1 pick. He's legit. He's where he should be. A lot of scouts will say he's a little on the small side. But that arm is big. He has an explosiveness to his fastball that's a treat to watch.''
(What emphasis? Who's asking?)
Translation: "Good mechanics, he seems like he can be good for both long and short periods of time, he's better than a good guy, he's good, ????, some say he's small but I say he's good, his fastball is good".
When shoved through a useful information filter: good mechanics, good endurance, fast fastball.
Useful information not included: what type of pitches he throws (other than an erection-inducing fastball) and which he's relatively good at, whether he has good control, whether he's a groundball/flyball/strikeout pitcher, nebulous-but-maybe-important stuff like competitiveness.
HOLY FUCKING SHIT HE'S ON PACE FOR 81 DINGERS!
• Ryan Zimmerman was considered a fabulous defensive third baseman when he was drafted out of the University of Virginia in 2005, but a lack of power (he hit just five home runs in his final season there) gave some teams pause. (But as one scout pointed out, Virginia plays in a "pasture.") Zimmerman has already hit two big home runs this season for the Nats.
I'm not here to say Ryan Zimmerman's not going to be awesome, but it's been 18 ABs. Why not "AJ Pierzynski's lack of not-being-an-asshole gave some teams pause. Pierzynski has already hit .529 this season for the White Sox". Because it's ridiculous? I thought so.
Brian Bannister may turn out to be a bigger loss to the Mets than Scott Kazmir.Great work, Jon. You've identified the other half of a 2-option situation. And you've stated your position in vague enough terms that you'll look clever if it goes down, but no one will remember if it doesn't. Let me be the first to say that you may be involved in a freak broken bat incident at a Phillies game in July.
Thursday, April 3, 2008
Jon Heyman is a Lazy Bitch
A few days ago, I made a "joke" concerning this Jon Heyman article thing. I specifically thought this
was funny, for immature reasons. [I actually didn't notice until now that it says "harder" rather than "hard". Neither here nor there.]
Anywho, imagine my surprise when I refreshed firejoemorgan for the 114th time today to find yesterday's Jon Heyman thoughts getting Junior'd:
To sum up: Jon Heyman sucks worse than I'd imagined.
Troy Tulowitzki had a big spring, hitting six home runs. "He's got a swagger about him. He believes,'' one AL scout said. "He's got a lot of Jeter in him.'' It's harder to think of a better compliment.
was funny, for immature reasons. [I actually didn't notice until now that it says "harder" rather than "hard". Neither here nor there.]
Anywho, imagine my surprise when I refreshed firejoemorgan for the 114th time today to find yesterday's Jon Heyman thoughts getting Junior'd:
Tulowitzki appears determined to win the Gold Glove after losing out to Jimmy Rollins last year."Swell", thought I, "I sort of beat FJM to it!" Then I realized that no, I hadn't. The J-Hey Kid just reused his goddamn scout quote from two days before and, worse, added his own shitty "what a good compliment, fwah fwah fwah" commentary."He has a swagger about him -- like Jeter,'' one AL scout said, paying about as high a compliment as you can pay.
To sum up: Jon Heyman sucks worse than I'd imagined.
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
[Deep Belly Laugh]
BWAAAAAAAAAA HAAAAA HAAAAA HAAAAAA HAAAAAAAA.
SI.com's Extra Mustard page (whose purpose I can't figure out) tells funny jokes. They compiled a list of the 25 toughest athletes. My initial reaction was that it should probably place various martial artists in the top 100000 spots with a sprinkling of football linemen, rugby scrum guys, marathon runners, hockey players, and iqiruktuk...um...iqiruktukers.
So, the envelope please (come on Eckstein, come on Erstad)...
Seriously, what the fuck are you even talking about? I know it's a stupid "look at us!" article (they come close to saying so themselves), but still. Why even bother, at this point, continuing? You placed a golfer first. You got some 'splainin:
Uh huh. So there you go. The long-sought toughness equation: Bad Shrimp+Putting=INTENSITY.
Anyway, for hysterical reference, here's #2:
Putting aside the fact that his athletic achievement amounts to depending on dogs, the man had throat cancer and then stood for days on frost-bitten feet. And placed behind "walking around and vomiting".
They at least came to their senses and included Red Sox pitcher Jon Lester. Oh, my bad. They picked Josh Beckett. Because he talks trash.
SI.com's Extra Mustard page (whose purpose I can't figure out) tells funny jokes. They compiled a list of the 25 toughest athletes. My initial reaction was that it should probably place various martial artists in the top 100000 spots with a sprinkling of football linemen, rugby scrum guys, marathon runners, hockey players, and iqiruktuk...um...iqiruktukers.
So, the envelope please (come on Eckstein, come on Erstad)...
What makes him tough: Otherworldly talent, determination and focus that enables him to dominate his sport at 64 PGA wins and counting, including a recent streak of seven in a row. No one is better at sealing the deal when the heat is highest.
1 Tiger Woods
Seriously, what the fuck are you even talking about? I know it's a stupid "look at us!" article (they come close to saying so themselves), but still. Why even bother, at this point, continuing? You placed a golfer first. You got some 'splainin:
Defining moment: Winning by 11 strokes at Bay Hill in 2003 despite the ravages of food poisoning that made him greener than the winner's jacket at August and blowing chunks in the bushes between shots. He finished at 19 under. A mortal golfer would have been six under - as in feet.
Uh huh. So there you go. The long-sought toughness equation: Bad Shrimp+Putting=INTENSITY.
Anyway, for hysterical reference, here's #2:
What makes him tough: Caginess and steadfast refusal to quit in the face of throat cancer (2001), hostile terrain and 40-below temperatures. He did the impossible in sled dog racing -- win the 1,000- mile Yukon Quest and 1,100-mile Iditarod within a month - not once, but in two straight years, most recently this year on frostbitten feet that hadn't fully healed after the Quest.
2 Lance Mackey
Putting aside the fact that his athletic achievement amounts to depending on dogs, the man had throat cancer and then stood for days on frost-bitten feet. And placed behind "walking around and vomiting".
They at least came to their senses and included Red Sox pitcher Jon Lester. Oh, my bad. They picked Josh Beckett. Because he talks trash.
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