I'll usually try to dial down the posting about ourselves stuff, but since this was quite a week for us, in that it was both our first and our biggest...well, I hope you'll begrudge me this one post.
I can't speak for my beloved partners in crime (especially that badass motherfucker Passive Voice, who seriously is one badass motherfucker), but my plan is to write a substantial post every weekday, including the next entry in the award-eligible "52 52 52" series. I'll try to post some odds and ends elsewhere (I'm working on one such right now), but that'll hopefully give you a sense of what to look out for. Honestly, I'm just trying to keep some sort of pace with Ken Tremendous, who has written more posts in the last few days than I have while taking care of a newborn child. That man truly is tremendous.
Oh, and feel free to leave comments if you have any compliments, concerns, critiques, or just generally think we're full of shit. We'd love to have a little community of anonymous basement-dwellers here at Fire Everybody, because there are only so many Joss Whedon appreciation events I can make each year and I really need to interact with people between meet-ups with ShadowChild2468 and SummerInTheGlau81. No, they won't tell me their real names; they're afraid my slightly off-putting nature is because I'm some Academy-created assassin, but that's a gorram lie. I'm just cripplingly awkward.
Huh...this post appears to have devolved into semi-autobiographical ramblings, so it's probably just time to call things a day. I'll be back soon to make fun of Chipper Jones...and why not?
Sunday, February 24, 2008
Friday, February 22, 2008
Oh Gary, you so crazy!
This isn't even bad journalism - it's the Associated Press, for crying out loud, which writes articles the way Billy Beane builds baseball teams: robots, and plenty of 'em. But it is a crazy person saying crazy things, which is more than enough for me to want to have some fun with it.
Gary Sheffield put himself in the spotlight again, and the Detroit Tigers' slugger enjoyed every second of it.
All I can say is, thank goodness for that. I was afraid Gary had mellowed in his old age.
"My family has been trying to get me to walk away for a while now because they don't like the negative stuff that comes my way. I love it," Sheffield acknowledged. "I try to explain it to them, but they think that's some psychotic thing."
That might sound like a harsh diagnosis on the part of Gary's family, but Sheffield is married to B.F. Skinner with their two kids Jean Piaget and Ivan Pavlov with Sigmund Freud retained as a crazy uncle. They travel across America, solving mysteries and looking for the spirit of this great nation. So yeah, if Sheff's family says he's psychotic, I'm inclined to agree.
Sheffield stirred things up Thursday morning by calling Scott Boras, his former agent, a "bad person," in part for going after money the All-Star says he doesn't deserve.
Yes, in part for going after Sheffield's money. The other part is that Scott Boras is a bad person. And by "bad person", I mean "really good at his chosen profession of getting maximum money for millionaires by screwing over billionaires, which for some strange reason is uncool." Also he's kind of a dick.
Sheffield declined to comment on the specifics of the grievance, but the designated hitter has said he represented himself in negotiating his contract with the Yankees.
I find that hard to believe, since I'm pretty sure there are no clauses demanding funding for further research into his pioneering racial theories, ending the current Yankee team policy of slavery, or giving him the right to legally kill R. Kelly. Hell, there's not even any mention of daily personalized shoes from his favorite celebrities, which I'm guessing pretty much starts with Bea Arthur and ends with that minx Betty White. (Check this out for the scoop on Gary's love of footwear...it's right after the ones about after him fathering two children in his teens and his involvement in an extortion plot. I may have made up his love of The Golden Girls, however.)
Sheffield vowed to say a lot of "ugly things" about various topics when the case is resolved.
"It ain't going to be pretty," he said. "No fine is going to be big enough. No suspension is going to be long enough."
What about one that keeps you about of baseball until you're fifty? What would that be...a ten-game suspension? OOH!!! BURN!!! Gary's so old he was born during the Johnson administration...the ANDREW Johnson administration. Thank you, thank you, I'm here all day. No seriously, I never leave my basement. Also Gary Sheffield is pretty old and could become shitty at baseball at almost any moment. Which is fine by me, because then he could retire and commit all his energy to coming out with batshit crazy opinions. Maybe Gary and Carl Everett could host a show where they desperately try to out-crazy each other (you know, like Skip and Woody's work on First and Ten, only more rational)...
Carl: Look, you know how I don't believe in dinosaurs, but...
Gary: Sorry to interrupt you there...
[Buzzer blares.]
Carl: No apologies!!!
Gary: No apologies!!! But you're making a great point. Paleontologists like fossils found in Latin America because they can control them, put them together however they like. They tell a Latin Australodocus that he's got to go and be a Loncosaurus, well he'll do it because it's his first time in an American museum and he's trying to get ahead. But you find that same fossil in Tampa, well now that's a fossil you've got to treat with respect. It's got to be what it's got to be, and if your classification protocols and binomial nomenclature ain't exact, then your paleontology ain't shit, and that fossil's just going to go back to who he is, which is a Australodocus bohetii that you have to respect.
Carl: You say those words are Latin, but have you ever met a Latin? I reject the existence of Latium and all its satellites of supposed imperialist oppression until Romulus himself steps through here and tells me to mother-humping "Ave!" And no, my dear Garold, Remus just ain't gonna cut it! Seven birds flying overhead my eye!
Gary: We got to take a quick commercial for a bunch of brainwashing corporate Valkyries to sell you on their poorly-produced merchandise that will likely turn you into a giant effete Pavlovian cash machine, and then we'll be back for five good minutes with Beano Cook...
"Nothing happens. Then, he comes back, `I want some more money.' That's basically the way he's acting," Sheffield said. "I don't know why. It's probably personal with him. But when it's done, it's going to be personal with me."
I honestly think Gary is trying too hard at this point, because that last part didn't even really make sense. Are you saying you're going to hunt down and kill Scott Boras after this is all over? Because that's the only reading I can get out of that. I think I'm confused because how is this not already personal to you if you're rambling at such great length about it?
I understand you're looking to ratchet up the intensity, but I feel like talking about making things personal is the Morgan-esque "my revenges need to be more consistent" of veiled death threats. At least say "I'm going to get some satisfaction", which is doubly cool because it evokes nineteenth-century dueling and because juvenile idiots like me can snicker at the idea of you getting satisfaction from Scott Boras. You know, because that implies you'd go gay for Scott Boras.
What I'm saying is, Gary...you can do better. B- on that last one, B+ overall.
Sheffield is known for saying what's on his mind.
Anonymous Associated Press writer, you have just made an understatement so incredibly understated that even you cannot comprehend how understated it is. Tell me, anonymous AP writer...are you a stoner's conception of God?
Last year, he called the investigation into steroid use in baseball a "witch hunt" that was all about "getting" Barry Bonds. The San Francisco Chronicle reported that Sheffield testified in 2003 before the grand jury that he didn't knowingly take steroids while working out with Bonds.
Look, possibly-divine AP writer, if you're going to reference Gary and steroids, don't try to take the high road by not mention the incredible "steroids is something you shoot in your butt" explanation that Gary gave to explain why he'd never, ever do steroids. Not because they're illegal, but because it might imply he's gay. Which judging by what I've been writing thus far, may be a legitimate concern for Sheff.
"Actually, I'm not supposed to be talking about this at all," Sheffield said. "But, I am anyway."
Your country thanks you, sir. Your country thanks you.
Gary Sheffield put himself in the spotlight again, and the Detroit Tigers' slugger enjoyed every second of it.
All I can say is, thank goodness for that. I was afraid Gary had mellowed in his old age.
"My family has been trying to get me to walk away for a while now because they don't like the negative stuff that comes my way. I love it," Sheffield acknowledged. "I try to explain it to them, but they think that's some psychotic thing."
That might sound like a harsh diagnosis on the part of Gary's family, but Sheffield is married to B.F. Skinner with their two kids Jean Piaget and Ivan Pavlov with Sigmund Freud retained as a crazy uncle. They travel across America, solving mysteries and looking for the spirit of this great nation. So yeah, if Sheff's family says he's psychotic, I'm inclined to agree.
Sheffield stirred things up Thursday morning by calling Scott Boras, his former agent, a "bad person," in part for going after money the All-Star says he doesn't deserve.
Yes, in part for going after Sheffield's money. The other part is that Scott Boras is a bad person. And by "bad person", I mean "really good at his chosen profession of getting maximum money for millionaires by screwing over billionaires, which for some strange reason is uncool." Also he's kind of a dick.
Sheffield declined to comment on the specifics of the grievance, but the designated hitter has said he represented himself in negotiating his contract with the Yankees.
I find that hard to believe, since I'm pretty sure there are no clauses demanding funding for further research into his pioneering racial theories, ending the current Yankee team policy of slavery, or giving him the right to legally kill R. Kelly. Hell, there's not even any mention of daily personalized shoes from his favorite celebrities, which I'm guessing pretty much starts with Bea Arthur and ends with that minx Betty White. (Check this out for the scoop on Gary's love of footwear...it's right after the ones about after him fathering two children in his teens and his involvement in an extortion plot. I may have made up his love of The Golden Girls, however.)
Sheffield vowed to say a lot of "ugly things" about various topics when the case is resolved.
"It ain't going to be pretty," he said. "No fine is going to be big enough. No suspension is going to be long enough."
What about one that keeps you about of baseball until you're fifty? What would that be...a ten-game suspension? OOH!!! BURN!!! Gary's so old he was born during the Johnson administration...the ANDREW Johnson administration. Thank you, thank you, I'm here all day. No seriously, I never leave my basement. Also Gary Sheffield is pretty old and could become shitty at baseball at almost any moment. Which is fine by me, because then he could retire and commit all his energy to coming out with batshit crazy opinions. Maybe Gary and Carl Everett could host a show where they desperately try to out-crazy each other (you know, like Skip and Woody's work on First and Ten, only more rational)...
Carl: Look, you know how I don't believe in dinosaurs, but...
Gary: Sorry to interrupt you there...
[Buzzer blares.]
Carl: No apologies!!!
Gary: No apologies!!! But you're making a great point. Paleontologists like fossils found in Latin America because they can control them, put them together however they like. They tell a Latin Australodocus that he's got to go and be a Loncosaurus, well he'll do it because it's his first time in an American museum and he's trying to get ahead. But you find that same fossil in Tampa, well now that's a fossil you've got to treat with respect. It's got to be what it's got to be, and if your classification protocols and binomial nomenclature ain't exact, then your paleontology ain't shit, and that fossil's just going to go back to who he is, which is a Australodocus bohetii that you have to respect.
Carl: You say those words are Latin, but have you ever met a Latin? I reject the existence of Latium and all its satellites of supposed imperialist oppression until Romulus himself steps through here and tells me to mother-humping "Ave!" And no, my dear Garold, Remus just ain't gonna cut it! Seven birds flying overhead my eye!
Gary: We got to take a quick commercial for a bunch of brainwashing corporate Valkyries to sell you on their poorly-produced merchandise that will likely turn you into a giant effete Pavlovian cash machine, and then we'll be back for five good minutes with Beano Cook...
"Nothing happens. Then, he comes back, `I want some more money.' That's basically the way he's acting," Sheffield said. "I don't know why. It's probably personal with him. But when it's done, it's going to be personal with me."
I honestly think Gary is trying too hard at this point, because that last part didn't even really make sense. Are you saying you're going to hunt down and kill Scott Boras after this is all over? Because that's the only reading I can get out of that. I think I'm confused because how is this not already personal to you if you're rambling at such great length about it?
I understand you're looking to ratchet up the intensity, but I feel like talking about making things personal is the Morgan-esque "my revenges need to be more consistent" of veiled death threats. At least say "I'm going to get some satisfaction", which is doubly cool because it evokes nineteenth-century dueling and because juvenile idiots like me can snicker at the idea of you getting satisfaction from Scott Boras. You know, because that implies you'd go gay for Scott Boras.
What I'm saying is, Gary...you can do better. B- on that last one, B+ overall.
Sheffield is known for saying what's on his mind.
Anonymous Associated Press writer, you have just made an understatement so incredibly understated that even you cannot comprehend how understated it is. Tell me, anonymous AP writer...are you a stoner's conception of God?
Last year, he called the investigation into steroid use in baseball a "witch hunt" that was all about "getting" Barry Bonds. The San Francisco Chronicle reported that Sheffield testified in 2003 before the grand jury that he didn't knowingly take steroids while working out with Bonds.
Look, possibly-divine AP writer, if you're going to reference Gary and steroids, don't try to take the high road by not mention the incredible "steroids is something you shoot in your butt" explanation that Gary gave to explain why he'd never, ever do steroids. Not because they're illegal, but because it might imply he's gay. Which judging by what I've been writing thus far, may be a legitimate concern for Sheff.
"Actually, I'm not supposed to be talking about this at all," Sheffield said. "But, I am anyway."
Your country thanks you, sir. Your country thanks you.
Thursday, February 21, 2008
52 52 52 Week #1: Mississippi
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.
My first stop in my 52-state tour of bad journalism takes me to Mississippi, where Tishomingo County's Woodall Mountain clocks in at a robust 806 feet. Some facts about Woodall:
1. Locals are rather charmingly self-aware about the fact that such a tiny peak is their state's highest point. You can buy a hat in area stores that proudly proclaims, "Ski Woodall." Yes, please.
2. There's a bluegrass band in Tupelo called the Woodall Mountain Boys.
3. During the Civil War, the Battle of Iuka took place in 1862 on Woodall Mountain. General William Rosecrans won victory by taking the mountain and barraging the nearby town of Iuka with artillery and plenty of it. No word on whether or not Rosecrans or his aid, Staff Sergeant Guildenstern, met their fates in the battle, although I imagine they're now dead.
Mississippi's representative in the series is Tommy Snell, who writes a column about golf for The Sun Herald, a Biloxi newspaper whose readership is mostly made up of denizens of the Gulf Coast. To the paper's immense credit, they kept publishing during Hurricane Katrina even after all their offices were devastated by the hurricane, which forced them to publish out of the Columbus, Georgia newsroom of the Ledger-Enquirer. This ultimately won them a Pulitzer Prize for Public Service. So yeah...nothing but respect for The Sun Herald.
This column by Mr. Snell? Eh, not so much.
Brandel Chamblee of The Golf Channel suggested, maybe even demanded, that Tiger Woods stands as the greatest athlete of all time.
Ooh boy. Look, I'm already going to say I'm not on board with any of this. I think "greatest athlete ever" is a really dumb topic to begin with - I mean, how the hell do you compare the relative athletic excellence of, say, Wilt Chamberlain to Gale Sayers? Let's say for a second you tried to do this scientifically. Even if you figured out how much they outperformed the average players in the sport, how do you calibrate the two marks so that it's a fair comparison? Is being the greatest pitcher ever more impressive than being the best quarterback? I've heard it argued Wayne Gretzky is greater than Michael Jordan because his stats were way more insane relative to the league averages. But does that mean he really was better or just that, for whatever reason, it's easier to outperform the mean in the NHL compared to the NBA?
Then there's the concept of "athlete." Does that mean we're talking about them in the context of their sport, or are we trying to get to some transcendent quality of "athleticism"? I suspect many people who want to argue this topic are more interested in the latter, which is pretty much wholly unquantifiable. Was Pele more "athletic" than Sandy Koufax? And speaking of Koufax, how do you deal with people with incredible athletic abilities whose careers never panned out the way they should have, like Bo Jackson or David Thompson (or even, much as I hate to say it, Michael Vick)? Should Bo or Deion Sanders get extra credit for excelling at two sports?
So yeah, all of these are valid rebuttals to the idea that Tiger Woods is the greatest athlete of all time. A much less valid but more assholish counterargument would be that his greatest rival looks like this:
When your chief competitor has man-boobs...yeah, I don't think I'm buying you as greatest athlete of all time. Honestly, there's only one worse choice than Tiger Woods that I hear when this argument comes up.
That's fast company, Secretariat would say.
And there it is. I'm not going to argue this beyond four incredibly simple words: SECRETARIAT...WAS...A...HORSE. I mean, if you're making some top fifty list of greatest athletes, I could see putting Secretariat in there somewhere to add a bit of color. But as the first athlete Tommy Snell names to refute the Tiger Woods argument? That just won't stand.
That's not a slam dunk, Michael Jordan would argue.
His Airness is a legitimate candidate for this asinine title. Also, that's a terrible...wait, does that even count as a joke?
Brett Farve's Fanatics from the Kiln would just have everyone look at the record book.
This is, I think, why I wanted to embark upon this project: to discover the weird in-jokes that dominate local sports columns. Seriously, I have no idea what the Kiln is supposed to be or how it got its name, but I'm going to assume it's a group of amateur potters who spend all their time firing clay sculptures of Brett Favre in various exciting positions, such as "throwing a potentially career-ending interception" or "sitting on a tractor." Also, those fanatics apparently love Brett so much that they haven't actually bothered to learn how to spell the man's name. I will resist any temptation to impugn the intelligence of the great people of Mississippi, but I'd really appreciate it if they didn't keep lofting softballs at me.
Oh, and Brett Favre as all-time greatest athlete? Eh, it's better than Secretariat. But I'm a little dubious of Favre's credentials for a made-up bullshit title like this. What am I supposed to be arguing again?
On a Sunday when Tom Brady and a bunch of Patriots might throw a different name into the "super" ring, it's fitting to start the argument of "greatest athlete of all time."
So this was written right before the Super Bowl. I think it should be pointed out that that sentence suggests that either the Patriots currently have on their roster several candidates for the best athlete who ever lived, or that he's suggesting the Patriots as a team might be the best athlete ever. I don't know which of those arguments is sillier. Also, "throw a different name into the 'super' ring"? I get that the word "super" is in there because of the Super Bowl, but I'm still pretty sure that doesn't make even a quantum of sense. Or solace, for that matter.
I happen to agree with Brian Hewett of TGC that Secretariat was the greatest athlete, if we can call a horse an athlete.
No, we can't call a horse an athlete. You realize why, right Tommy?
A horse is a horse, of course.
Precisely, though no points for the obvious reference. I'll see you your Mr. Ed and raise you Comet the Super-Horse.
Farve might not be playing in Phoenix today,
Since Favre is apparently the Sun Herald's local deity, I'm still shocked they can't spell his name correctly. This is the sort of thing I just assumed was a myth...I didn't honestly believe anyone was this terrible. Once again, my faith in humanity is totally unwarranted.
but as they toss 5-yard dumpoffs or 70-yard TDs, Manning and Brady will feel the grip of NFL and Packer records etched in the pigskin. Unitas, Bradshaw, Starr and Brady won't catch the USM grad this year or the next, and that's argument enough to throw down the "greatest" gauntlet in The Kiln.
Let me get this straight...with just the Super Bowl left to go in the 2007-08 season, Tommy Snell feels the 59-year-old Terry Bradshaw, the 74-year-old Bart Starr, and the dead Johnny Unitas are unlikely to do enough to surpass Favre's achievements? And just to make things clear, even another season for three men a combined 204 years of age won't do enough to edge past Favre? THAT is the Kiln's argument? That his 2008 campaign will be better than a dead guy's, even if said dead guy is Johnny U? I'm not hallucinating, right?
Man, gotta love the Kiln. They're so fucking edgy. Logic is for pussies when they're around. By the way, how has this proven anything - and I'm using "proven" incredibly loosely - beyond Favre being the best quarterback ever? When are we going to hear about how Brett Favre will throw more touchdowns next year than Georges Vezina? C'mon Kiln, step it up!
Tiger might be the luckiest athlete of all time. He conjures up shots at just the right moment.
Tommy, Tommy, Tommy, let me get this straight. As part of your argument that Tiger is one of the greatest athletes ever, you essentially write off all his obviously prodigious skill as mere luck? I'm sorry, do you just keep a gun constantly trained at your own foot? I bet the Kiln would be behind something like that, especially if they could make an erotic Favre sculpture based on that imagery. It'd be controversial, but all the better for it.
With unmatched crowds and a stadium-like setting (600,000 expected this week), he made a hole-in-one on No. 16 at the FBR Open, the loudest stage in golf.The more he practices, the luckier he gets. Cliché? Maybe, but facts are facts. More wins? More majors? As the lyrics suggest, "it's just a matter of time."
WHAT LYRICS!? I admit my cultural milieu may be slightly different from Tommy Snell's, but I have no idea what the hell he's referencing. Is it Randy Travis or Brooks Benton? Maybe Cartel? Dream Street!? Fuck it, I didn't get into this to be a musicologist.
Greatest coach? That's easy, John Wooden. Seven consecutive NCAA national championships and the greatest winning percentage (.813) of all time. When Florida wins five more in a row, we'll talk.
Did you include that just to take a random shot at SEC rival Florida? Come on, Tommy, be honest. I won't forgive you, but at least I might someday understand you.
Greatest athlete? A bit more difficult. The jury's still out, but Tiger's giving his closing remarks.
You know, I'm pretty sure when a jury is out for, you know, deliberations...well, I'm pretty sure the time for closing remarks has passed. You know, you make your closing remarks, and then the jury's out. So if this metaphor is correct, Tiger would be giving his closing remarks to an empty jury box.
All of which leads me to me to think that even if Tiger Woods is the greatest athlete in the history of everything, he's sure as hell not the best jurisprudent. Actually, I'm pretty sure that title goes to the feller from Alabama, not Mississippi.
Congratulations, Tommy Snell...you just got your local ass handed to you! I feel so big right now, you can't even imagine.
My first stop in my 52-state tour of bad journalism takes me to Mississippi, where Tishomingo County's Woodall Mountain clocks in at a robust 806 feet. Some facts about Woodall:
1. Locals are rather charmingly self-aware about the fact that such a tiny peak is their state's highest point. You can buy a hat in area stores that proudly proclaims, "Ski Woodall." Yes, please.
2. There's a bluegrass band in Tupelo called the Woodall Mountain Boys.
3. During the Civil War, the Battle of Iuka took place in 1862 on Woodall Mountain. General William Rosecrans won victory by taking the mountain and barraging the nearby town of Iuka with artillery and plenty of it. No word on whether or not Rosecrans or his aid, Staff Sergeant Guildenstern, met their fates in the battle, although I imagine they're now dead.
Mississippi's representative in the series is Tommy Snell, who writes a column about golf for The Sun Herald, a Biloxi newspaper whose readership is mostly made up of denizens of the Gulf Coast. To the paper's immense credit, they kept publishing during Hurricane Katrina even after all their offices were devastated by the hurricane, which forced them to publish out of the Columbus, Georgia newsroom of the Ledger-Enquirer. This ultimately won them a Pulitzer Prize for Public Service. So yeah...nothing but respect for The Sun Herald.
This column by Mr. Snell? Eh, not so much.
Brandel Chamblee of The Golf Channel suggested, maybe even demanded, that Tiger Woods stands as the greatest athlete of all time.
Ooh boy. Look, I'm already going to say I'm not on board with any of this. I think "greatest athlete ever" is a really dumb topic to begin with - I mean, how the hell do you compare the relative athletic excellence of, say, Wilt Chamberlain to Gale Sayers? Let's say for a second you tried to do this scientifically. Even if you figured out how much they outperformed the average players in the sport, how do you calibrate the two marks so that it's a fair comparison? Is being the greatest pitcher ever more impressive than being the best quarterback? I've heard it argued Wayne Gretzky is greater than Michael Jordan because his stats were way more insane relative to the league averages. But does that mean he really was better or just that, for whatever reason, it's easier to outperform the mean in the NHL compared to the NBA?
Then there's the concept of "athlete." Does that mean we're talking about them in the context of their sport, or are we trying to get to some transcendent quality of "athleticism"? I suspect many people who want to argue this topic are more interested in the latter, which is pretty much wholly unquantifiable. Was Pele more "athletic" than Sandy Koufax? And speaking of Koufax, how do you deal with people with incredible athletic abilities whose careers never panned out the way they should have, like Bo Jackson or David Thompson (or even, much as I hate to say it, Michael Vick)? Should Bo or Deion Sanders get extra credit for excelling at two sports?
So yeah, all of these are valid rebuttals to the idea that Tiger Woods is the greatest athlete of all time. A much less valid but more assholish counterargument would be that his greatest rival looks like this:
When your chief competitor has man-boobs...yeah, I don't think I'm buying you as greatest athlete of all time. Honestly, there's only one worse choice than Tiger Woods that I hear when this argument comes up.
That's fast company, Secretariat would say.
And there it is. I'm not going to argue this beyond four incredibly simple words: SECRETARIAT...WAS...A...HORSE. I mean, if you're making some top fifty list of greatest athletes, I could see putting Secretariat in there somewhere to add a bit of color. But as the first athlete Tommy Snell names to refute the Tiger Woods argument? That just won't stand.
That's not a slam dunk, Michael Jordan would argue.
His Airness is a legitimate candidate for this asinine title. Also, that's a terrible...wait, does that even count as a joke?
Brett Farve's Fanatics from the Kiln would just have everyone look at the record book.
This is, I think, why I wanted to embark upon this project: to discover the weird in-jokes that dominate local sports columns. Seriously, I have no idea what the Kiln is supposed to be or how it got its name, but I'm going to assume it's a group of amateur potters who spend all their time firing clay sculptures of Brett Favre in various exciting positions, such as "throwing a potentially career-ending interception" or "sitting on a tractor." Also, those fanatics apparently love Brett so much that they haven't actually bothered to learn how to spell the man's name. I will resist any temptation to impugn the intelligence of the great people of Mississippi, but I'd really appreciate it if they didn't keep lofting softballs at me.
Oh, and Brett Favre as all-time greatest athlete? Eh, it's better than Secretariat. But I'm a little dubious of Favre's credentials for a made-up bullshit title like this. What am I supposed to be arguing again?
On a Sunday when Tom Brady and a bunch of Patriots might throw a different name into the "super" ring, it's fitting to start the argument of "greatest athlete of all time."
So this was written right before the Super Bowl. I think it should be pointed out that that sentence suggests that either the Patriots currently have on their roster several candidates for the best athlete who ever lived, or that he's suggesting the Patriots as a team might be the best athlete ever. I don't know which of those arguments is sillier. Also, "throw a different name into the 'super' ring"? I get that the word "super" is in there because of the Super Bowl, but I'm still pretty sure that doesn't make even a quantum of sense. Or solace, for that matter.
I happen to agree with Brian Hewett of TGC that Secretariat was the greatest athlete, if we can call a horse an athlete.
No, we can't call a horse an athlete. You realize why, right Tommy?
A horse is a horse, of course.
Precisely, though no points for the obvious reference. I'll see you your Mr. Ed and raise you Comet the Super-Horse.
Farve might not be playing in Phoenix today,
Since Favre is apparently the Sun Herald's local deity, I'm still shocked they can't spell his name correctly. This is the sort of thing I just assumed was a myth...I didn't honestly believe anyone was this terrible. Once again, my faith in humanity is totally unwarranted.
but as they toss 5-yard dumpoffs or 70-yard TDs, Manning and Brady will feel the grip of NFL and Packer records etched in the pigskin. Unitas, Bradshaw, Starr and Brady won't catch the USM grad this year or the next, and that's argument enough to throw down the "greatest" gauntlet in The Kiln.
Let me get this straight...with just the Super Bowl left to go in the 2007-08 season, Tommy Snell feels the 59-year-old Terry Bradshaw, the 74-year-old Bart Starr, and the dead Johnny Unitas are unlikely to do enough to surpass Favre's achievements? And just to make things clear, even another season for three men a combined 204 years of age won't do enough to edge past Favre? THAT is the Kiln's argument? That his 2008 campaign will be better than a dead guy's, even if said dead guy is Johnny U? I'm not hallucinating, right?
Man, gotta love the Kiln. They're so fucking edgy. Logic is for pussies when they're around. By the way, how has this proven anything - and I'm using "proven" incredibly loosely - beyond Favre being the best quarterback ever? When are we going to hear about how Brett Favre will throw more touchdowns next year than Georges Vezina? C'mon Kiln, step it up!
Tiger might be the luckiest athlete of all time. He conjures up shots at just the right moment.
Tommy, Tommy, Tommy, let me get this straight. As part of your argument that Tiger is one of the greatest athletes ever, you essentially write off all his obviously prodigious skill as mere luck? I'm sorry, do you just keep a gun constantly trained at your own foot? I bet the Kiln would be behind something like that, especially if they could make an erotic Favre sculpture based on that imagery. It'd be controversial, but all the better for it.
With unmatched crowds and a stadium-like setting (600,000 expected this week), he made a hole-in-one on No. 16 at the FBR Open, the loudest stage in golf.The more he practices, the luckier he gets. Cliché? Maybe, but facts are facts. More wins? More majors? As the lyrics suggest, "it's just a matter of time."
WHAT LYRICS!? I admit my cultural milieu may be slightly different from Tommy Snell's, but I have no idea what the hell he's referencing. Is it Randy Travis or Brooks Benton? Maybe Cartel? Dream Street!? Fuck it, I didn't get into this to be a musicologist.
Greatest coach? That's easy, John Wooden. Seven consecutive NCAA national championships and the greatest winning percentage (.813) of all time. When Florida wins five more in a row, we'll talk.
Did you include that just to take a random shot at SEC rival Florida? Come on, Tommy, be honest. I won't forgive you, but at least I might someday understand you.
Greatest athlete? A bit more difficult. The jury's still out, but Tiger's giving his closing remarks.
You know, I'm pretty sure when a jury is out for, you know, deliberations...well, I'm pretty sure the time for closing remarks has passed. You know, you make your closing remarks, and then the jury's out. So if this metaphor is correct, Tiger would be giving his closing remarks to an empty jury box.
All of which leads me to me to think that even if Tiger Woods is the greatest athlete in the history of everything, he's sure as hell not the best jurisprudent. Actually, I'm pretty sure that title goes to the feller from Alabama, not Mississippi.
Congratulations, Tommy Snell...you just got your local ass handed to you! I feel so big right now, you can't even imagine.
52 Weeks, 52 States, 52 Posts about shitty local journalists: an introduction
This is truly a beautiful world we live in. Somewhere, birds are singing, bees are buzzing, fishes are swimming, giraffes are elongating their necks in a desperate attempt to reach the tall fruits, at least if my understanding of Lamarck is correct. Elsewhere, the sun is shining, sometimes in such a way that the Moon looks kinda cool, and through all the land groggy bloggers are awakening early in the afternoon to find a fresh round of chocolate-chip waffles and Red Bull in their basement, lovingly left there by their eternally understanding, unerringly supportive parents, who even remembered to buy them those tickets for the last night of the Star Trek festival at the revival theater (it's Insurrection and Nemesis...back-to-back!). All is right with the world.
But we must step away from our wonderment and remember how this bucolic paradise was achieved: by fighting, on the front line. I was there at the fall of the Big Lead - someday I might even come to terms with that. I remember how bad things once looked...it seemed like Mike Celizic would never stop gleefully spinning entire columns out of just glancing at the standings; Bill Plaschke would continue to shit on the legacy of every poet ever born, particularly that fucking pimp Samuel Coleridge; Skip Bayless would forever argue himself into a moebius strip of self-contradiction based on his all-consuming hatred for all life; Mike Lupica would...well, shit, just Mike fucking Lupica. I remember the spies and infiltrators they sent amongst us to dampen our spirit and destroy our resolve. It seemed like all hope was lost, until out of the bowels of Pennsylvania came a writer who reminded us all why we love ripping the shit out of crappy sports journalists. In two words or less: Mike Seate.
Mike Seate is the sort of gleefully deranged journalist who never, ever could get a job at anywhere bigger than Pittsburgh's local newspaper (not that there's anything wrong with that). His bizarre devotion to super-bike racing and preserving people's right to do dangerous stunts at 40mph over the speed limit (as long as they're on motorcycles!) is so wonderfully insane that it easily trumps whatever mild delirium Woody Paige has just transferred to the printed page. He is everything I love about small-time journalism.
And so that is why I am embarking upon this project to honor all the obscure journalists like Mike Seate out there. And by "honor", I of course mean "make fun of." And by "make fun of", I really mean "launch an unprovoked ad hominem attack against somebody who doesn't even make the kind of Bill Conlin money that would even begin to justify such scorn." For the next year, I will each week choose a new local journalist from each of these United States and point out their foibles in a mildly humorous manner. If I find even one journalist who is even half as badass as Mike Seate, I will have succeeded beyond my wildest dreams. Frankly, I just want to see just how much shit you can get away with when your paper's circulation isn't more than 200,000.
Now you might have two questions, and even if you don't I have two questions for myself. And I intend on getting some answers.
Archie, there aren't 52 states! Huh!? Wha!!??
It was either keep this at fifty and be a couple weeks short or go for broke and tap into that rich 52-themed market. So sure, there aren't technically 52 states at the moment, but hey, I've got a year, I'll think of something. You know what they say: "A year is a long time in state sovereignty." Come on Guam!
Are you going to do this in some random order? Because that would be chickenshit.
I'm not sure if that term you just used there is positive or not, but I do indeed have an order I'm going to do this in. When I first came up with this idea, I knew I wanted to have a set order so that I didn't forget any and so that I didn't need to spend upwards of fifteen seconds each week choosing which state I'd do next. But how? Alphabetically? Too obvious. By population? Too topical. Order in which they were admitted to the Union? Too state-quarters-y.
And then I remembered one of my all-time favorite sports quotes from legendary Florida State coach Bill Peterson: "You guys line up alphabetically by height." And so it was that I had my order. And make no mistake - I'm not going to alphabetize the name of the highest points in each state. However tall they are (in feet, of course...yeah America!), that's what I'm alphabetizing. So stuff starting with eight will be first and two will be last, the way nature intended.
This should be fun.
But we must step away from our wonderment and remember how this bucolic paradise was achieved: by fighting, on the front line. I was there at the fall of the Big Lead - someday I might even come to terms with that. I remember how bad things once looked...it seemed like Mike Celizic would never stop gleefully spinning entire columns out of just glancing at the standings; Bill Plaschke would continue to shit on the legacy of every poet ever born, particularly that fucking pimp Samuel Coleridge; Skip Bayless would forever argue himself into a moebius strip of self-contradiction based on his all-consuming hatred for all life; Mike Lupica would...well, shit, just Mike fucking Lupica. I remember the spies and infiltrators they sent amongst us to dampen our spirit and destroy our resolve. It seemed like all hope was lost, until out of the bowels of Pennsylvania came a writer who reminded us all why we love ripping the shit out of crappy sports journalists. In two words or less: Mike Seate.
Mike Seate is the sort of gleefully deranged journalist who never, ever could get a job at anywhere bigger than Pittsburgh's local newspaper (not that there's anything wrong with that). His bizarre devotion to super-bike racing and preserving people's right to do dangerous stunts at 40mph over the speed limit (as long as they're on motorcycles!) is so wonderfully insane that it easily trumps whatever mild delirium Woody Paige has just transferred to the printed page. He is everything I love about small-time journalism.
And so that is why I am embarking upon this project to honor all the obscure journalists like Mike Seate out there. And by "honor", I of course mean "make fun of." And by "make fun of", I really mean "launch an unprovoked ad hominem attack against somebody who doesn't even make the kind of Bill Conlin money that would even begin to justify such scorn." For the next year, I will each week choose a new local journalist from each of these United States and point out their foibles in a mildly humorous manner. If I find even one journalist who is even half as badass as Mike Seate, I will have succeeded beyond my wildest dreams. Frankly, I just want to see just how much shit you can get away with when your paper's circulation isn't more than 200,000.
Now you might have two questions, and even if you don't I have two questions for myself. And I intend on getting some answers.
Archie, there aren't 52 states! Huh!? Wha!!??
It was either keep this at fifty and be a couple weeks short or go for broke and tap into that rich 52-themed market. So sure, there aren't technically 52 states at the moment, but hey, I've got a year, I'll think of something. You know what they say: "A year is a long time in state sovereignty." Come on Guam!
Are you going to do this in some random order? Because that would be chickenshit.
I'm not sure if that term you just used there is positive or not, but I do indeed have an order I'm going to do this in. When I first came up with this idea, I knew I wanted to have a set order so that I didn't forget any and so that I didn't need to spend upwards of fifteen seconds each week choosing which state I'd do next. But how? Alphabetically? Too obvious. By population? Too topical. Order in which they were admitted to the Union? Too state-quarters-y.
And then I remembered one of my all-time favorite sports quotes from legendary Florida State coach Bill Peterson: "You guys line up alphabetically by height." And so it was that I had my order. And make no mistake - I'm not going to alphabetize the name of the highest points in each state. However tall they are (in feet, of course...yeah America!), that's what I'm alphabetizing. So stuff starting with eight will be first and two will be last, the way nature intended.
This should be fun.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Seriously...is Ray Ratto serious?
First of all, thanks so much to Will Leitch for linking to us and thanks to everybody (all 1,831 of you!) who have visited us today. If even a few of you found us funny enough in what is still very early days (seriously, this is only day three) to stick around and watch us grow...well, I'm honored, and I thank you. But either way, I've got an article to rip apart that is all about the stupidest concept in all of sports: curses. Sportsline's Ray Ratto?
Don't go all Bartman or Billy Goat on poor Dempster
I totally agree with this. Unfortunately, when your headshot is this...
I'm just not sure I can take anything you say seriously. So I'm going to have to dive deeper before deciding if your reasoning passes muster, Ratto. I'm sure you understand.
This isn't going to be just Ryan Dempster's fault. We have to see to that. Just because he says the Cubs are going to commemorate their 100th year without a World Series championship by having to start a new streak in 2009 doesn't mean he should be throttled when it doesn't happen.
He probably will be, of course, but it doesn't make it right.
Wait, Ray, I want to get this straight. It's not okay to strangle sports figures? My god, my entire world has been turned upside down (Bob Ryan's too). Seriously Ray, it's not even okay to kill Ryan Dempster? I mean, he had a 99 ERA+ last year! That's almost precisely average! How can I not feel bloodlust towards such a man?
Ray Ratto: bold stances ("strangling is bad!"), strong opinions ("it's not right!") since 1982.
(Note: I have no idea if Ray has been writing since 1982. I am willing to look up the patron saint of genital warts but not, for some reason, when Ray Ratto started writing. Draw your own conclusions.)
Dempster understands that the Cubs' entire marketing plan is based on the team's historical failures, a remarkable feat akin to Belgium commemorating its record in world wars.
Belgium in World War 1: member of the Allies for the duration of hostilities
Belgium in World War 2: member of the Allies from May 10, 1940 to the war's end
Belgium's record in World Wars: 2-0 (Just like the Marlins in the World Series! Actually I totally remember when Belgium had to get rid of Miguel Cabrera to save money. And by "Miguel Cabrera," I think I mean "the Congo.")
Ray, if you're looking for the lovable loser of the World Wars...well, Germany is the loser of the World Wars. There really isn't a loveable loser of the World Wars. I'd say it's Italy, but they switched sides in World War I, which I think makes them the Red Sox. Anyway, it's definitely not Belgium. Belgium is the Marlins. After all, who doesn't remember when in Game Six of the European Theater Championship Series, when that random fan (I think it was Portugal) got in the way of Rommel when he was trying to make that catch, and then Hermann Goring made that key error later in the inning, and before you know it Belgium came roaring back with six runs to blow the game wide open?
Wait...what?
He also understands that this feeling is four generations deep, and that predicting a World Series in year 99 or year 101 doesn't have the same goofy charm.
Ray might have a point here, but I'm pretty sure people would have found Dempster's prediction a little silly whether it was made this year or last year. If anything, it might have been more ridiculous last year, because the Cubs had just spent tons of money kind of foolishly. And by that, I mean they gave money to Jason Marquis. You know, to pitch. Just because he was merely below average instead of the biggest disaster ever doesn't change the fact that the 2007 season was one huge question mark. Frankly, it still is.
Also, the Diamondbacks are totally Czechoslovakia. Think about it.
In fact, manager Lou Piniella, who is responsible for one percent of the legacy, has already talked to his players about how to deal with all the questions about the Cubs' century.
Let me guess. "We don't let it bother us." "We just have to focus on the next game." "That's more something the fans worry about." You know...like almost any answer given by almost any player ever. And I do mean ever. I'm pretty much certain Coroebus of Elis just talked about taking the race one naked step at a time or some shit like that. Of course, he probably said it in Greek, as was the style of the time.
Breaking news: Luxembourg has announced that they are, in fact, the Kansas City Royals, in the sense that both have very little chance of winning the AL Central anytime soon.
We can assume he didn't already send Dempster out as a scouting party of one to see how many enemy snipers were up in the trees. That seems like an odd way to soft-pedal an anniversary party.
What an incredible way to fill column inches...come up with a stupid conspiracy theory that no one other than you has even thought of, and then debunk said theory. At least I'm not going around claiming Denmark isn't the San Francisco Giants (King Christian X was a total juicer with balky knees and I'm also pretty sure he was succeeded by Aaron Rowand).
The rest of the article makes some pretty tired points like "Cubs fans don't really want to win" and "Indians fans have it way worse!" I would refute these, but I don't think they really count as, you know, arguments. They're just sorta weird unfalsifiable things that help nobody (just like the various interpretations of quantum mechanics - and as I'm sure Ray Ratto would point out, the hidden variable theory is total bullshit). Also, the longer I go on, the greater the danger of falling into the trap of irritating homerism. So I will hopefully sidestep becoming an insufferable homer when my real points are...
1. There's no curse around the Cubs
2. Inventing a curse is shitty journalism (see Shaughnessy, Dan)
3. Writing an entire article around the curse when you don't even think it's really is even shitter journalism because you don't even have a story
4. If you're a sportswriter, actually having a story is something I consider a common courtesy
5. Geovany Soto should be unanimous ROY!!! WHOO!!!
Aw, shit. Too late.
Don't go all Bartman or Billy Goat on poor Dempster
I totally agree with this. Unfortunately, when your headshot is this...
I'm just not sure I can take anything you say seriously. So I'm going to have to dive deeper before deciding if your reasoning passes muster, Ratto. I'm sure you understand.
This isn't going to be just Ryan Dempster's fault. We have to see to that. Just because he says the Cubs are going to commemorate their 100th year without a World Series championship by having to start a new streak in 2009 doesn't mean he should be throttled when it doesn't happen.
He probably will be, of course, but it doesn't make it right.
Wait, Ray, I want to get this straight. It's not okay to strangle sports figures? My god, my entire world has been turned upside down (Bob Ryan's too). Seriously Ray, it's not even okay to kill Ryan Dempster? I mean, he had a 99 ERA+ last year! That's almost precisely average! How can I not feel bloodlust towards such a man?
Ray Ratto: bold stances ("strangling is bad!"), strong opinions ("it's not right!") since 1982.
(Note: I have no idea if Ray has been writing since 1982. I am willing to look up the patron saint of genital warts but not, for some reason, when Ray Ratto started writing. Draw your own conclusions.)
Dempster understands that the Cubs' entire marketing plan is based on the team's historical failures, a remarkable feat akin to Belgium commemorating its record in world wars.
Belgium in World War 1: member of the Allies for the duration of hostilities
Belgium in World War 2: member of the Allies from May 10, 1940 to the war's end
Belgium's record in World Wars: 2-0 (Just like the Marlins in the World Series! Actually I totally remember when Belgium had to get rid of Miguel Cabrera to save money. And by "Miguel Cabrera," I think I mean "the Congo.")
Ray, if you're looking for the lovable loser of the World Wars...well, Germany is the loser of the World Wars. There really isn't a loveable loser of the World Wars. I'd say it's Italy, but they switched sides in World War I, which I think makes them the Red Sox. Anyway, it's definitely not Belgium. Belgium is the Marlins. After all, who doesn't remember when in Game Six of the European Theater Championship Series, when that random fan (I think it was Portugal) got in the way of Rommel when he was trying to make that catch, and then Hermann Goring made that key error later in the inning, and before you know it Belgium came roaring back with six runs to blow the game wide open?
Wait...what?
He also understands that this feeling is four generations deep, and that predicting a World Series in year 99 or year 101 doesn't have the same goofy charm.
Ray might have a point here, but I'm pretty sure people would have found Dempster's prediction a little silly whether it was made this year or last year. If anything, it might have been more ridiculous last year, because the Cubs had just spent tons of money kind of foolishly. And by that, I mean they gave money to Jason Marquis. You know, to pitch. Just because he was merely below average instead of the biggest disaster ever doesn't change the fact that the 2007 season was one huge question mark. Frankly, it still is.
Also, the Diamondbacks are totally Czechoslovakia. Think about it.
In fact, manager Lou Piniella, who is responsible for one percent of the legacy, has already talked to his players about how to deal with all the questions about the Cubs' century.
Let me guess. "We don't let it bother us." "We just have to focus on the next game." "That's more something the fans worry about." You know...like almost any answer given by almost any player ever. And I do mean ever. I'm pretty much certain Coroebus of Elis just talked about taking the race one naked step at a time or some shit like that. Of course, he probably said it in Greek, as was the style of the time.
Breaking news: Luxembourg has announced that they are, in fact, the Kansas City Royals, in the sense that both have very little chance of winning the AL Central anytime soon.
We can assume he didn't already send Dempster out as a scouting party of one to see how many enemy snipers were up in the trees. That seems like an odd way to soft-pedal an anniversary party.
What an incredible way to fill column inches...come up with a stupid conspiracy theory that no one other than you has even thought of, and then debunk said theory. At least I'm not going around claiming Denmark isn't the San Francisco Giants (King Christian X was a total juicer with balky knees and I'm also pretty sure he was succeeded by Aaron Rowand).
The rest of the article makes some pretty tired points like "Cubs fans don't really want to win" and "Indians fans have it way worse!" I would refute these, but I don't think they really count as, you know, arguments. They're just sorta weird unfalsifiable things that help nobody (just like the various interpretations of quantum mechanics - and as I'm sure Ray Ratto would point out, the hidden variable theory is total bullshit). Also, the longer I go on, the greater the danger of falling into the trap of irritating homerism. So I will hopefully sidestep becoming an insufferable homer when my real points are...
1. There's no curse around the Cubs
2. Inventing a curse is shitty journalism (see Shaughnessy, Dan)
3. Writing an entire article around the curse when you don't even think it's really is even shitter journalism because you don't even have a story
4. If you're a sportswriter, actually having a story is something I consider a common courtesy
5. Geovany Soto should be unanimous ROY!!! WHOO!!!
Aw, shit. Too late.
Now I feel like I gotta pull my weight...
Quick-- name three or four players the Yankees are really glad didn't retire before spring training in 2007. Did you name Johnny Damon? Congratulations! You are:
a) Retarded and/or
b) Jon Heyman
Yeah, because that's not at all self-serving. I'm guessing the Yankees would rather have that money come off the books. As the good folks over at AtHomePlate point out, Johnny Damon, has pretty much zero value when he's not playing centerfield, where he played all of 48 games last year and had an OPS+ of 97. But hey Heyman, Johnny just knew these guys needed him. Certainly, more than that asshole, Rodriguez. Man, what a dickhead he is.
a) Retarded and/or
b) Jon Heyman
When Johnny Damon walked out of spring training early last year, he thought he was walking away from the game, SI.com has learned. The Yankees explained Damon's absence early last spring as "personal reasons,'' and there was a lot of wrong speculation about something or other happening with Damon's family that would necessitate the time off.
The reality is, according to Yankees clubhouse sources, Damon just wasn't sure if he wanted to keep playing and was actually seriously considering walking away from the final three years of his $52-million, four-year contract. Nobody does that, but Damon almost did.
"I was just exhausted .... Burnt out,'' Damon told SI.com Tuesday. "[Retirement] definitely crossed my mind.''
After a few days, Damon decided to return. "I knew these guys needed me,'' Damon said with a smile. How true that was.
Yeah, because that's not at all self-serving. I'm guessing the Yankees would rather have that money come off the books. As the good folks over at AtHomePlate point out, Johnny Damon, has pretty much zero value when he's not playing centerfield, where he played all of 48 games last year and had an OPS+ of 97. But hey Heyman, Johnny just knew these guys needed him. Certainly, more than that asshole, Rodriguez. Man, what a dickhead he is.
Oh, that explains everything...
Back when I read ESPN.com for more than just news and the occasional column, one of the places I liked to visit was Rumor Central, if only because I found all the potential trades and acquisitions strangely fascinating. I lost interest, however, when I came to realize I just didn't care that much about who would win the Matt Morris sweepstakes, what the Giants are going to do about Ray Durham's contract, and whether any team was going to make Cristian Guzman's comeback a reality. And these weren't even deals that had, you know, happened. They were just rumors, and boring rumors at that.
So I have to admit I was a little surprised when I happened to glance upon ESPN's NBA rumor central yesterday and discovered a rumor so juicy I could have sworn I was swimming in grapefruit:
Avery Wanted To Trade Dirk
Whoa, that's a pretty huge story, especially considering how much trouble the Mavs just went through to pull off a trade meant to solidify Dirk's position. Man...if this is true, that's a massive storyline you've got right there.
According to an infallible source,
What, Pope Benedict XVI is Rumor Central's mole in the Mavs organization? Funny, I would have figured he'd be with the...
We interrupt your regularly scheduled post to present the first in our award-eligible series, "You Choose the Punchline!
Which is the funniest team to suggest Pope Benedict XVI works for? Possibilities include...
A. The Angels - Way too obvious...what are we, sixth graders? (For the record, we here at Fire Everybody are eighth graders.)
B. The Rockies - Because they're supposedly "God's Team" and all, but honestly, wasn't that joke a cliche a year ago?
C. The Lions - Basically the same argument but entirely centered around Jon Kitna, although that reference isn't exactly fresh either.
D. The Red Sox - Plays to the strong Catholic contingent in New England, suggestion that John Henry and Larry Luchinno take orders direct from the Vatican a la ultra-conservative conception of the Kennedy administration sort of amusing. Bonus points for implying the pope is Bill James.
E. The Nashville Predators - Because suggesting anybody, much less the Pope, cares about hockey is always funny. Look it up.
Correct answer? I have no idea what the punchline should be - that's why I made this a lame multiple-choice thing.
the Mavericks' coach (Avery Johnson) pressed team owner Mark Cuban to deal Dirk Nowitzki after the NBA's MVP came up shamefully small against the Warriors in last season's upsetting first-round elimination, but was overruled.
It was a pretty huge upset, but what kind of coach is so shortsighted that he'd want to deal the reigning MVP, even after one of the worst upsets ever? I have no idea what Avery Johnson is like personally - he could be a total Deliverance-style nutcase for all I know - but I'm guessing the fastest coach to 150 wins probably has an ounce of common sense. Of course, he might be a total boss-banging hippie mystic, but someone like that would probably be all about guiding Dirk on the next phase of his cosmic journey or some shit. Also, I apologize for implicitly creating the image of Mark Cuban and Avery Johnson engaged in coitus, and I now apologize for explicitly creating it.
Johnson's ideal leader is supposed to offer positive guidance and counsel on and off the court, as well as in and out of church.
The next starting small forward for the Mavs? Saint Vitalis of Assisi. And before you accuse me of lamely using someone intentionally more obscure than Francis of Assisi, keep in mind that Saint Vitalis is the patron saint of "diseases affecting the genitals," something that should come in very handy if Vernon Maxwell is pondering a comeback. That's definitely leading when it comes to "in and out of church." Or maybe just in and out. As in the old in-out, real savage. You know...sex. I'm told players have it on occasion.
(I was thinking of splitting those last few sentences into separate lines for the sake of comedic pacing, but I'll be damned before I do anything that makes me remotely like Bill Plaschke. Frankly, I'm uncomfortable enough with sharing letters in our names.)
That disqualifies Jason Kidd.
Man, Rumor Central is really moving away from the whole "boringly reporting what random sources whisper to us" straight into "salaciously impugning the character of a guy who, yeah, probably deserves it." When did Rumor Central decide to become so...well, I'd say "interesting," but I think the word I'm looking for is "assholish." Not that I necessarily have a problem with that.
Still, one sphere of influence is better than none. Convinced a championship is otherwise beyond capture, Avery compromised his primary concern.
So wait, Avery Johnson is allegedly so concerned about the moral fiber of his team that he actually struggled in deciding it was more worthwhile to win a championship than make sure his players achieved salvation? I'm sorry, that's just insane. When did Rumor Central just start making shit up and spewing random sensationalist bullshit? Wait a tick, there's a source listed here for all this information...
-- New York Post
You know, never in the entire history of man have three words explained so much. Also, I have never been less surprised by anything in my life, and I include the sun continuing to rise daily in that statement.
So I have to admit I was a little surprised when I happened to glance upon ESPN's NBA rumor central yesterday and discovered a rumor so juicy I could have sworn I was swimming in grapefruit:
Avery Wanted To Trade Dirk
Whoa, that's a pretty huge story, especially considering how much trouble the Mavs just went through to pull off a trade meant to solidify Dirk's position. Man...if this is true, that's a massive storyline you've got right there.
According to an infallible source,
What, Pope Benedict XVI is Rumor Central's mole in the Mavs organization? Funny, I would have figured he'd be with the...
We interrupt your regularly scheduled post to present the first in our award-eligible series, "You Choose the Punchline!
Which is the funniest team to suggest Pope Benedict XVI works for? Possibilities include...
A. The Angels - Way too obvious...what are we, sixth graders? (For the record, we here at Fire Everybody are eighth graders.)
B. The Rockies - Because they're supposedly "God's Team" and all, but honestly, wasn't that joke a cliche a year ago?
C. The Lions - Basically the same argument but entirely centered around Jon Kitna, although that reference isn't exactly fresh either.
D. The Red Sox - Plays to the strong Catholic contingent in New England, suggestion that John Henry and Larry Luchinno take orders direct from the Vatican a la ultra-conservative conception of the Kennedy administration sort of amusing. Bonus points for implying the pope is Bill James.
E. The Nashville Predators - Because suggesting anybody, much less the Pope, cares about hockey is always funny. Look it up.
Correct answer? I have no idea what the punchline should be - that's why I made this a lame multiple-choice thing.
the Mavericks' coach (Avery Johnson) pressed team owner Mark Cuban to deal Dirk Nowitzki after the NBA's MVP came up shamefully small against the Warriors in last season's upsetting first-round elimination, but was overruled.
It was a pretty huge upset, but what kind of coach is so shortsighted that he'd want to deal the reigning MVP, even after one of the worst upsets ever? I have no idea what Avery Johnson is like personally - he could be a total Deliverance-style nutcase for all I know - but I'm guessing the fastest coach to 150 wins probably has an ounce of common sense. Of course, he might be a total boss-banging hippie mystic, but someone like that would probably be all about guiding Dirk on the next phase of his cosmic journey or some shit. Also, I apologize for implicitly creating the image of Mark Cuban and Avery Johnson engaged in coitus, and I now apologize for explicitly creating it.
Johnson's ideal leader is supposed to offer positive guidance and counsel on and off the court, as well as in and out of church.
The next starting small forward for the Mavs? Saint Vitalis of Assisi. And before you accuse me of lamely using someone intentionally more obscure than Francis of Assisi, keep in mind that Saint Vitalis is the patron saint of "diseases affecting the genitals," something that should come in very handy if Vernon Maxwell is pondering a comeback. That's definitely leading when it comes to "in and out of church." Or maybe just in and out. As in the old in-out, real savage. You know...sex. I'm told players have it on occasion.
(I was thinking of splitting those last few sentences into separate lines for the sake of comedic pacing, but I'll be damned before I do anything that makes me remotely like Bill Plaschke. Frankly, I'm uncomfortable enough with sharing letters in our names.)
That disqualifies Jason Kidd.
Man, Rumor Central is really moving away from the whole "boringly reporting what random sources whisper to us" straight into "salaciously impugning the character of a guy who, yeah, probably deserves it." When did Rumor Central decide to become so...well, I'd say "interesting," but I think the word I'm looking for is "assholish." Not that I necessarily have a problem with that.
Still, one sphere of influence is better than none. Convinced a championship is otherwise beyond capture, Avery compromised his primary concern.
So wait, Avery Johnson is allegedly so concerned about the moral fiber of his team that he actually struggled in deciding it was more worthwhile to win a championship than make sure his players achieved salvation? I'm sorry, that's just insane. When did Rumor Central just start making shit up and spewing random sensationalist bullshit? Wait a tick, there's a source listed here for all this information...
-- New York Post
You know, never in the entire history of man have three words explained so much. Also, I have never been less surprised by anything in my life, and I include the sun continuing to rise daily in that statement.
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