Posts filed under 'Football'
Continue Reading May 16th, 2008
The shirtless drinking photos of Titans quarterback Vince Young have been circulating around the internet for the past 12 hours, with all sorts of questions as to what in the name of all that is Nelly is going on here. The photos, allegedly sent from a tipster who saw Young swigging and jigging at some sort of shirts-optional party in Texas, were first featured on the blogxilla site.
To be fair, some sites have suggested that this may be a private Down Low convention where bruthas and bears alike can get all Blue Oyster-y in peace. But, that seems a bit extreme; let’s not jump to conclusions and start the Kordell Stewart comparisons just yet, considering that, yes, there are a pack of ladies milling around in the back of the club in some of the photos. Besides, what guy hasn’t been to a shirtless party in the last few weeks, right?
Either way, Vince seems much more interested in glug-glugging the tequilla bottle than anything else.
Calls to Tennessee Titans rep Robbie Bohrens (you know, why not?) were not returned. I’ll just insert his exasperated “no comment” right here for now, pending some kind of official statement that they have no reason to make anyway. (UPDATE: Titans did return a call. They gave a “no comment” that was not that exasperated.)
Vince Young: Shirtless, Patron-swilling at sausage party [Fanhouse]
Continue Reading May 16th, 2008
Boston Herald Patriots beat writer John Tomase promised an apology — and an explanation — after it was revealed that his February 2 story about the Pats taping the Rams’ walkthrough before Super Bowl XXXVI wasn’t true. (The tape failed to materialize and never existed.) Boy, did he ever come through.
In what has to be one of the lengthiest mea culpas in journalism history, Tomase painstakingly revisits his process in putting the story together and then comes to the forgone conclusion that his main source had essentially pulled the story from deep inside their smoking rectum and handed it over to him.
What can you say to all of those Pats fans and Herald readers who’ve been vituperatively protesting the piece since it first ran? Well this:
What happens from here? I intend to continue covering the Patriots to the best of my abilities, and that means pursuing every storyline, good or bad. I have relationships to mend within the organization and with my readers. The process of regaining your trust will not be an easy one.
At the end of the day, I’m human, and humans make mistakes. Mine happened to be very significant and very public, and it’s something that will always be with me.
I’m confident it will make me a better reporter. Last year, Patriots safety Rodney Harrison [stats] pulled me aside to discuss a story he believed had unfairly attacked him. He felt it had gotten personal and wanted me to put myself in his shoes.
I thought I knew where he was coming from, but in reality I didn’t. Now I do. This perspective will only help moving forward.
I take immense pride in what I do and the paper I work for. I truly believe it’s a privilege to serve as a link between the fans and their team.
On Feb. 2, I let you all down. Today I hope to begin the long road back.
Based on the 250+ comments that have been written so far in reaction to the story, he’s still got a few thousand miles to go on that road. We’ll see how long Tomase can deal with comments like these after each story he writes: “Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah….didn’t even bother reading, Tomase. It’s probably chock-full of BS anyway. “
Good luck with that.
Tomase’s Explanation [Boston Herald]
Continue Reading May 15th, 2008
You say you like the Athletes Making Babies site? Well, then you’re gonna love the tale of the smooth operator that is Bears linebacker Lance Briggs.
The Chicago Sun-Times, getting a real kick out of itself with its “Baby mamas bear down on Briggs” headline, details just how much Briggs paternity madness is going on right now.
n court Wednesday, Briggs’ ex-girlfriend Brittini Tribbett, 21, again pleaded for Briggs to provide adequate emotional and financial support for their baby girl, while another pregnant woman stood by, listening to talk of how she’s set to deliver a Briggs baby.
Briggs, 27, wasn’t in court. He is living in Arizona with yet another woman who recently gave birth to another daughter of Briggs, those involved in the case alleged.
Yep, Briggs is only 27; he has so much more time with which to plant seeds. Supposedly Briggs’ lawyer is close to reaching a settlement. Sweet. Time to get back to work.
Baby Mamas Bear Down On Briggs [Chicago Sun-Times]
Continue Reading May 15th, 2008
Was it really 10 years ago that the Indianapolis Colts made the fateful decision to draft Peyton Manning over Ryan Leaf in the NFL draft? To mark the occasion, Leaf is showing off his No. 16 Colts jersey — yep, one such exists — which he found while rummaging through some personal belongings recently.
Leaf tells the tale to Sports Illustrated, via Larry Brown Sports, of What Could Have Been.
It’s ironic: I had some of my storage stuff from Montana shipped down to Texas, and I ran across — I forgot I even had it — an Indianapolis Colts jersey, number 16, with LEAF on the back, that I think they had ready for draft day. I’m thinking about auctioning it off for charity. There’s no reason for me to keep it.
Of course this would not be quite as valuable as my Chicago Bears Favre jersey. Other valuable collectibles:
• Barry Bonds Red Sox jersey.
• LeBron James Knicks jersey.
• Fred Thompson White House stationary.
• Romo-Simpson wedding invitations (with envelopes).
Greatest Sports Collectible Ever? [Larry Brown Sports]
What If The Colts Had Chosen Ryan Leaf Over Peyton Manning? [The Red Zone Report]
Continue Reading May 15th, 2008
It’s easy to forget that the Miami Dolphins will once again have Ricky Williams in the backfield in 2008, but he’s received Bill Parcells’ support (amazing) and is rehabbed and ready to go for next season. In an interview with the Austin American Statesman, we find out that Williams, at 31, is much more focused, in great playing shape, and ready to do what he can to salvage a football “legacy” that has been marred by weed smoking and existential wackiness.
But, thankfully, we also find out that the hippie haze of one too many pulls off the hookah still lingers.
Take, for example, Williams’ thoughts about declining an invitation to attend Cedric Benson’s notorious boat party from two weeks ago:
I think if I had come down, things might have worked out a little bit differently.I find I have a calming influence on people when I’m around.
Yes, it’s pretty clear that if Williams had attended the boat party, the atmosphere would’ve been much, much different. Instead of a bumpin’, drink guzzlin’ boat jam, it would’ve been more like a floating yoga party, with jugs of pomegranate juice being passed around and sporadic yelping sessions in an attempt to communicate with sperm whales. The cops wouldn’t be anywhere near that party.
Ricky Williams Ready For Football — Finally [Austin American-Statesman]
Ricky Williams Wishes He Had Been On Benson’s Boat [AOL Fanhouse]
Continue Reading May 14th, 2008
Most of us not in the Kansas City-area probably heard first about former Chiefs’ defensive lineman Joe Phillips’ troubles through the fascinating HBO Real Sports segment from last January titled “Family Burden.” The story focused on a handful of wives of ex-NFL players going through hard times physically, financially and emotionally. Phillips’ ex-wife Cynthia was featured prominently in the piece and she painted a very scary picture of the former popular defensive lineman. In the story, HBO suggested that Phillips was on the lam in Oregon on a DUI charge and was nowhere to be found. Apparently, he’s out of hiding and he’s now got his own creepy, unnerving blog.
“His” first post is long, rambling and, not surprisingly, a little unhinged. Here’s a sampling:
While I was doing everythng to save my family, I was accused of drugs and alcohol abuseI said fine you say I am crazy or on drugs I do what ever it takes. I sought extensive professional advice. It turned out to be a good thing, they could vouch for me, my actions and my stability. One analyst after being involved in a deposition and review of the case and the facts said alcohol may have kept me sane! I was never diagnosed by them with anything other than depression.
I went so far as to have myself tested before and after ever visitation with my children. I t to was a good thing as we used the tests in court when she accuse me ob being on drugs during a visitation with my children. With over 2 and 1/2 years of random testing, testing before and after seeing my children at times and sites of Cindy’s chosing I never tested positive for anything.—nothing—ever—inspite of this she continues to make allegations. I ask people to look at the facts not just her assertions.
Per Chris Thorman at Arrowheadpride.com, the only real clue as to whether or not this is really Joe Phillips or not some elaborate, wacky prank can be found on another Chiefs’ fan blog, Arrowheadaddict, where a Joe Phillips chimed in on the message boards to thank them for a positive post about him last April and then pointed them to his own blog.
Of course that doesn’t really prove anything either, and the boys at Arrowheadaddict have yet to get back to us to actually confirm if it’s him or not. (UPDATE: They have. They say it’s him.)
Randy Covitz, sports reporter for the Kansas City Star, who penned a lenghty piece about Phillips rapid downward spiral in 2006, says that he doesn’t doubt that those are Phillips words, but would be shocked if Phillips is actually typing them. Covitz says Phillips’ thoughts and protests are probably being funneled through a family member, most likely, his sister who has also popped up on Chiefs’ message boards to defend her brother.
So why is this coming up now, a few months removed from the airing of the special? Most likely, Phillips is out of money and trying desperately to generate some interest in his side of the story to anybody who still cares at this point. That’s even more depressing than some of the things revealed in the “Real Sports” special.
Crazy Joe Phlilips: Former Chief On The Lam [Arrowhead Addict]
Joe Phillips Speaks: The Other Side Of The Story [Arrowhead Addicts]
Football to fugitive: The Fall Of Joe Phillips [Free-Lance Star]
Continue Reading May 14th, 2008
During yesterday’s Spygate meet-and-greet with the press, Roger Goodell and Matt Walsh revealed everything and nothing as to how this whole misguided mess actually transpired. What we do know? According to Goodell, Patriots coach Bill Belichick continues to be full of shit about his misreading of the rules excuse, the Patriots won’t be punished any more and Matt Walsh can safely return to relative anonymity of his tony golf course.
It was also revealed was that the Patriots did not tape the Rams walk-through before Super Bowl XXXVI, even though the Boston Herald reported on February 2 that those tapes did exist. This story prompted yesterday’s amusing little chest-puffing match between NFL Live’s Trey Wingo and the Boston Herald’s Mike Felger. Wingo asked if an apology or retraction would be forthcoming for this erroneous report, and Felger basically gave him the whole I’m-not-the-boss treatment.
Apparently, it was enough, as today the Herald issued a formal apology for the story this morning. One look at the comments section shows their readers aren’t happy:
• ” I am never reading the Herald for the rest of my life, and I hope the writer of that article, who everyone knows by now, is severely punished for this. To publish a false report, of this magnitude, the day before the Superbowl, is unforgivable.”
• “Damn, I thought I’d see fatty’s resignation letter here. The Herald’s apology mentions ’sources’.. Tomase’s original article mentioned a ’source’. That’s unforgivable journalism. He and his editor should be fired.”
• “Boston Herald sucks! Let me get this clear - you ran the story without having the tape, seeing the tape or anyone who had seen it? Did this overwhelming lack of evidence not deter you? Well what the hell were you thinking? Fire Tomase. And now and forever the Herald is dead to me”
Wouldn’t it be ironic if the only person to lose their job out of all of this was John Tomase?
ESPN Finally Gets A Hold Of Someone From The Boston Herald [Awful Announcing]
Sorry, Pats [Boston Herald]
Continue Reading May 13th, 2008
Being a sports reporter is, at times, an absolutely horrible job. Sure you get to watch games, travel and interact with athletes, but there is a horrendous downside. (Which is pretty much everything else.) And this is never more disturbingly clear than when a reporter has their first (or 50th) awful experience with a half-naked, exhausted athlete. Sometimes they’ll be openly dismissive, sometimes they’ll yell, and sometimes, well, they’ll fart in your face. Most of these stories never end up in the newspaper the next day. So now, Deadspin proudly presents “The Dark Side of the Locker Room” where current and former sports writers can share some of their most distressing interactions. If you’ve got your own story to share, please send it along to ajd@deadspin.com.
Today’s submission comes courtesy of Mike Fisher, who writes about the Mavericks, the Cowboys, the Dallas sports scene and whatever he damn-well pleases at DallasBasketball.com.
—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—
Charles Haley spent a decade trying to kill me, in spirit and ultimately in body, which is more than I can say for all these other “Dark Side'’ sportswriting pussies’ encounters. I first encountered Haley in 1988, when I was new on the San Francisco 49ers beat. First day: I saw him grab his manhood with his fist, shake his Dark Sith in the direction of a hapless young female reporter (her crime? Femaleness, and maybe haplessness) and scream/bellow, like Brando up the stairs, that the “fuckin’ bitch was staring at my cock! Get that bitch outta here! She’s a fuckin’ perv! She wants my fuckin’ cock!'’
Ensuing Chapters of Charles: I saw the first-hand evidence of the All-Pro pass-rusher using his Lil’ Haley to water the hand-crafted wood floors in the office belonging to team president Carmen Policy. (A versatile body part, that thingee.) I learned that Charles attempted to strangle coach George Seifert during a film session. I learned that one of the great Ronnie Lott’s official jobs was to keep Charles tamed. And I learned something that still disturbs me: On my final 49ers experience with Haley at the Pro Bowl in Honolulu, when I was on a team bus one seat ahead of his, eavesdropping as he plotted to arrange from the 49ers’ front seven to be a “Soul Patrol.'’ Meaning, he wanted to orchestrate the departure of his white teammates. (Joking, you say? OK. But will you at least trade me bus seats next time?)
In 1990, I moved to Dallas to cover the Cowboys. Haley would be nothing but a nightmarish memory, somebody else’s problem, a guy I was pretty sure skipped taking his medicine. (For two full years!) I would be free to empathize … from a distance.
And then, in ‘92, Charles Haley came to Dallas.I was the first and only reporter to greet him at his locker.
We were one-on-one. The tension built. No media members wanted any part of it. Charles got revved up, opening by braying something about what an asshole I was in San Francisco (he was/is right. … but how’d he know?), and he was hooting something about how Aikman couldn’t carry Montana’s jockstrap and I was writing it all down.
And Haley barks, “Hey, motherfucker, I didn’t say you could write this down, motherfucker! DO YOU HEAR ME, MOTHERFUCKER?'’
The verbal barrage continued. I kept writing. A notepad full of “motherfuckers.'’
I did not opt to reason with a man who would, a few weeks later, find a huge bushel of bananas in his locker, a jokey gift from defensive-line mates who admired his … um … Neanderthalic approach to life. I absorbed the MFs, and somehow located, deep in my fashionable cargo pants, the resolve to say:
“Charles, you keep talking. Please. Say anything you want to me. Call me anything you want. And you know what? I’m going to write down every word. And if my editors allow it, this interview, word-for-word, is going to be in the gah-damn newspaper tomorrow morning. Go.'’
He kept motherfuckering me. I kept writing. Now, I was nervous … but it wasn’t that hard to take notes: How hard is it to simply scribble “MF'’ over and over?
It is a credit to my employer at the time, the Fort Worth Star-Telegram, that the piece really did run. As a straight news story, with no embellishment and no judgment. Just my questions and his answers, jagged but pure, all serving as Charles Haley’s introduction to his new community. Welcome to Dallas, motherfucker.
Why did I go through with it? Three reasons:
1) The result was a revealing story that offered great insight into the star the Cowboys had just acquired.
2) Hey, I promised him!
3) Critics of the media often come at us because we “buy ink by the barrel,'’ and all that shit. But actually, in any battle between “the jocks vs. the media,'’ the geeks with pencils don’t usually win. So when truth is on our side — plus, you mentioned my mom, you prick! — we can’t be blamed for swinging that truth like it’s a medieval flail.
Chucky & Me spent the rest of his playing career in an unholy truce. Meaning, I think I went seven years without every even venturing near another Cowboy D-linemen. But then, around 2000 or so, I inadvertently encountered Charles Haley … and it was a near-death experience.
I was at a local saloon called Humperdink’s on a “date'’ (probable sportswriter translation: She Was A Prostitute) when Charles and I exchanged icy glances from across the room.
And toward me he charged.
What was in my mind? “Soul Patrol'’ … “bananas.'’ … “no meds.'’ … “bananas.'’ … “motherfucker.'’ … “bananas.'’ … I knew that people had died in a puddle of their own urine, but reflecting on Carmen Policy’s floor, I pondered whether I would be a victim of a first: “Death-by-drowning-in-somebody-else’s urine.'’ …
And toward me he charged. …
What was in his mind (besides dementia)? In a literal flash — bright lights and beer pitchers and prostitute screams and a mushroom cloud of four huge bodies swooping over my booth — I and the entire saloon found out what a Grinch is capable of when he has a heart two sizes too small and the benefit of NFL weight-training.
The menacing Haley, fueled by liquor and anger at being pestered for 10 years by some pencil-wielding motherfucker, had lunged toward me, up and into my booth, only to be intercepted by his evening escorts, Leon Lett, Erik Williams and Michael Irvin.
Lett (6-7, 280) and Williams (6-5, 330) are two of the largest athletes in Dallas Cowboys history. Irvin is the franchise’s all-time sweetest talker. Good for me. Leon and Erik wrestled Charles away, while Michael, I assume, sang him a lullaby while plucking a thorn from his paw.
I lived.
This is the art form at which I’ve bumbled around for 28 years and which has afforded me the ability to put no children through college. Newspapers, books, radio, TV and now the internet. I’m a hack-of-all-trades. Writing can be blogging and blogging can be writing and the only big difference is locker-room access. Which has its less-than-omnipotent value.
Is it an “absolutely horrible job'’? Nah. Is it one big Axe commercial that makes horned-up vixens take off their wet blouses when in the alluring midst of me ’cause they mistake me for a drunken NFL quarterback? Nah.
But when I’m old(er) and gray(er), one of the skillion tales I’ll be able to tell the kids that I’m “The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance.'’ Or at least I’ll inform them that I persuaded the apologetic saloon manager to put my charges on Haley’s tab.
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