Archive for November 13th, 2007
Continue Reading November 13th, 2007
Seriously, now … what the heck is going on with the Knicks and Stephon Marbury? One would think, after a team gives a job to the woman you humped in the back of your truck, you’d have a little gratitude. No loyalty in this world, we tell you.
Apparently, Marbury has bolted the team after a disagreement with Isiah Thomas. The New York Daily News reported this morning that the Knicks were considering cutting ties with Marbury all together, which can’t be good, considering he’s still owed $42 million. But he has apparently taken matters into his own hands.
We are two weeks into the season, and the Knicks are coming apart. This is disappointing: We had 11 days in the pool.
Marbury AWOL From Knicks [New York Times]
Continue Reading November 13th, 2007
Michael Showalter is one of the minds behind The State and Stella and the writer and star of the films Wet Hot American Summer and The Baxter. We’re a fan. He also, apparently, is a sports fan. To promote his new album Sandwiches And Cats, he’s doing a pseudo tour of the various lousy blogs like ours, and we’re fortunate enough to have him pop by here. Enjoy.
Bill Belichick has turned being “a surly dick” into an art-form. I remember years ago when he bailed on Parcells to go coach the Patriots, and it was a big deal here. The NY papers were calling him a “surly dick” then, but I wasn’t paying attention because he hadn’t turned the Pats into the Death Star yet.
Pre-Belichick, the Pats, to me, were that team that Steve Grogan played for. Steve Grogan could scramble. That’s all there was to say about New England pre-Belichick. “Yeah, Grogan can scramble.” Now they’ve won a bunch of Super Bowls and are threatening to go undefeated for only the second time in league history, and Belichick is a legend.
He’s a legend for a variety of reasons:
1) He’s a surly dick. I think I said that already.
2) He’s turned New England into the Death Star. I said that too.
3) He wears a Flashdance sweatshirt.
4) He cheated and acted like a dick about it.
5) He blew off Tony Dungy.
6) He blew off Eric Mangini for doing the same thing to him that he did to Parcells, only he did it worse.
Now in fairness to Belichick, I’d probably blow off Mangini too. Mangini’s that kid in high school who made friends by giving them Jolly Ranchers. But Tony Dungy?! Only the surliest dick in the world would blow off Tony Dungy. Tony Dungy is a God-fearing Christian. Maybe Belichick is the Devil and is afraid that Dungy’s “good” will triumph over his “evil” if they talk for too long after the game.
I had to rewind the post-game handshake ten times to see, if in fact, Belichick really did blow Dungy off as badly as it looked. And he did! Dungy was ready to talk x’s and o’s with him for a bit, but Belichick was having none of it. How do you a beat a God-fearing man in his own house and then not talk to him afterwards?
There’s an answer to that question. It’s because Mangini caught Belichick cheating, and now Belichick has decided that the world is his enemy. Yeah, that makes perfect sense. Eric Mangini caught you cheating, and now you won’t talk to Tony Dungy after beating him on his home field even though he wants to talk x’s and o’s for a bit. You’ll just blow him off on national television like he’s some cub reporter for a public access TV channel.
If I was Dungy I’d have taken a swing at him and been like, “You surly dick! You think just because you rock a Flashdance sweatshirt means you don’t pay me the courtesy of a quick post-game rap session, especially considering your team actually won the game!?” If I was Dungy I’d have kicked him in the balls and been like, “I’m sorry. I accidentally kicked you in the nuts when you not accidentally blew me
off on national television.” The problem is that it wouldn’t hurt Belichick if you kicked him in the balls because he’s not an actual person. He’s a force-of-nature, like Pale Rider or The Dog Whisperer.
Forces of nature don’t have testicles.
(P.S., I have a new comedy record out today called, “Sandwiches & Cats.” You can get it anywhere that sells records.
Continue Reading November 13th, 2007
ESPN has a newish section called NBA Local, which compiles news stories from papers and blogs and all kinds of other secondary sources. Some blogs make the cut; we are saddened, deeply, that we did not. One blog that did make the cut: Our old pals at Can’t Stop The Bleeding.
This led to the noble notion and glorious incident of having CSTB’s headline A Warning To The Rest Of The Association : Run Up The Score On Milwaukee, Get Punched In The Cock splashed right there on ESPN’s NBA Local page. Frankly, we’ve always felt the word “Cock” was sorely lacking from ESPN’s NBA coverage, particularly when Tim Legler is talking. We thank CSTB for its blog roll service and thoroughly endorse the site for a position at Page 2, but if only they can keep saying “cock.”
A Warning To The Rest Of The Association : Run Up The Score On Milwaukee, Get Punched In The Cock [Can’t Stop The Bleeding]
Apparently ESPN Doesn’t Hate The Blogosphere [Hardwood Paroxsym]
Continue Reading November 13th, 2007
We don’t have the slightest idea what the heck David Wright was doing wearing his ninja hat on SNY last night … but heavens, man, that kid’s gone plum crazy.
UPDATE: Turns out, this was in honor of cancer patients. Yes. Ahem. Well then. We’re dicks.)
Continue Reading November 13th, 2007
Every two weeks, the gents at Free Darko will be taking a look at the deranged ecosystem that is the National Basketball Association in their own indelible fashion. Here’s this week’s entry, from Bethlehem Shoals.
By most yardsticks, I am kind of a fuck-up. I’m almost 30 and have only had one full-time job; I got fired after six months for taking long lunches and refusing to obey direct orders. I have a Master’s, but wasn’t disciplined enough to bother with a PhD. And while I’ve more or less supported myself through writing, you probably won’t see my byline in the Times anytime soon. Yet despite my unimpressive resume and shoddy life-choices, it’s been a while I’ve thought of myself as “immature.”
According to the dictionary, biological maturity strikes between the ages of 14 and 16. American society holds that we come of age around 21, while my esteemed ethnic tradition says I’ve been an adult since 13. So while I don’t doubt that people change with age, at some point they lose the right to plead–or be chastised with–the immortal spirit of learning, growing, caring and sharing. That’s when “immaturity” reaches its deadline and becomes “flawed.”
This fall, a certain kind of reporter shuddered when Amare Stoudemire and Stephen Jackson were named captains of the Suns and Warriors, respectively. On the surface, both men’s capo status sizzled with irony: These were players with a history of questionable behavior and shaky attitude. If you Google “Amare Stoudemire + immature,” you’ll be faced with 2,070 results. Do the same for “Stephen Jackson + immature,” and you’ll get 2,400. In Jack McCallum’s awesome “Seven Seconds or Less,” Amare comes across as either a well-meaning slacker and a naive egomaniac. Jackson’s antics truly need no introduction: He was the real firestarter in the Auburn Hills brawl, unabashedly reps his gang roots, and is not above firing shots over another man’s moving vehicle.
However, there’s an important distinction here. While Stoudemire’s about to turn 25, Jackson’s my age. His reign of terror began when he was almost 27 and continues to this day. One can rightfully be called “immature,” while the other is just a dude with problems, who won’t likely be free of them unless he freaks out and turns to the Deity. This honor could very well help along Amare’s personal development. With Jackson, the Warriors are selling their soul to the devil, and I mean that in the best possible sense.
Exhibit A: Amare has shown signs of getting older and wiser–if the ability to mature isn’t a sign of immaturity, I don’t know what is. Since his comeback, Stoudemire has put in some serious work on his game, becoming a smarter, more responsible player. He’s dealt well with going from unquestioned number one option to part of a more balanced attack. And off the court, Stoudemire enrolled in classes at Arizona State to start working toward a college degree. All this with both his mother and half-brother–pretty much the only family Amare had left–embroiled in serious legal trouble.
Stoudemire might not be completely well-adjusted or virtuous, but he’s shown a capacity to change for the better. Ironically, that’s why it makes sense to call him “immature.” Jackson, on the other hand, spent his first few years of pro basketball toiling away in the CBA and overseas. And while it’s often forgotten now, Crazy Eyes was once a member of the Spurs in good standing; he was a model teammate who deserves a lot of credit for their 2003 ring. Then, the darkness set in. Perhaps emboldened by some measure of NBA security, in Indiana the Stephen Jackson of myth and symbol became known to us all.
I happen to find Jackson fascinating, especially as he fits into the Golden State cosmology. But I’m not about to make apologies for him: At best, he’s regressed emotionally and psychologically since leaving the Spurs, which is a really odd thing to say about an adult. The rhetoric of “immaturity” is unintentionally optimistic, but it’s also condescending and possibly racist; let’s just agree that Jackson is complex disaster of a human being and stop wondering if he’ll come around.
Jackson is a special case, in that he’s got a distinguished record of causing bedlam off the court. I don’t know the real Stephen Jackson, but I’ve got a pretty good sense for how his (ahem) professional and personal lives fit together. There’s nothing more galling, though, than hearing a player labeled “immature” for reasons that pertain solely to in-game conduct. Here, “immature” isn’t just a misnomer, it’s being thrown around with insufficient evidence.
The classic example of this is Rasheed Wallace, whose sole sin is his desire to vent, often and always. Sheed’s never been a cancer or chemistry-wrecker–in fact, if anything he could stand to be more selfish–and he’s widely respected in the locker room and around the league. On top of that, Wallace is a low-key family man who, unfathomably, seems to enjoy smoking pot. But try telling that to John Hollinger, who last month said of him “Youth is fleeting, but immaturity can last a lifetime.”
When I think of all the shit Sheed gets, I think about the thousands of upstanding family men who occasionally lose control in their weekend game. Sports are pretty much guaranteed to make people emotional and heated; you could argue that one’s true, sordid self comes out in athletic competition, but if that’s the case, it’s still under wraps most of the time. That’s like saying that Freud wanted us to run around screwing our parents.
Freud’s grandson Lucien once told me the following: “I paint people not because of what they are like, not exactly in spite of what they are like, but how they happen to be.” The truly immature–whether in sports, or down here on the ground with us–are products of how they happen to be. However, the Stephen Jacksons of this planet need to be seen, embraced, or rejected for who they are. You don’t tell sharks to grow up, or ask Sir Elton to just get over it. Maybe there’s less of a belittling zip to this, but it’s more in line with how we consumers actually relate to these folks. And then, just maybe, we’ll also learn the difference between a bad guy and one who plays one on the court in spite of himself.
Continue Reading November 13th, 2007
For years — OK, a couple of days — Slate writer Robert Weintraub has been tinkering with a concept called The SSW, short for “The Sean Salisbury Wisdom,” which tracks the consensus of the football punditocracy to ensure those triumphant declarations from Friday aren’t flushed down the memory hole on Monday. Here’s this week’s SSW.
PREVIOUS SSW
They lost to the Pats, but Indy was better than the Greatest Team Ever for 50+ minutes, so they’re still in good shape.
NEW SSW
Fugly loss feels like either a Pyrrhic victory, or a moral loss, or some combination that means nothing in the standings and everything to 24/7 NFL talk shows.
BUT WAIT, THERE’S LESS
Remember last year, after the Pats lost to Denver and everyone read ill omens into Brady’s bad body language? Thought not. He and his team turned out OK, as will Manning and the Colts. Will need Freeney and OL healthy by AFC title game is all (although it would behoove Indy to finish ahead of Pitt and not play divisional round at Ketchup Field).
PREVIOUS SSW
Eli finally living up to #1 draft status, and by outplaying Romo, will get fans to stop lumping him in with A-Rod as “guys who just can’t make it New York.”
NEW SSW
Eli just can’t make it in New York. As my stepfather said in his thick Brooklyn accent at the final gun–”Bawbby, we need a new quarterback.”
BUT WAIT, THERE’S LESS
Eli not responsible for the two killer holding penalties, or the tragicomic attempt to cover T.O., or the fact that his best receiver and fave target was less than 50%. But he probably can’t make it New York.
PREVIOUS SSW
All those Saints ads featuring Reggie, Drew and happy New Orleanians scrubbed free of toxic mold for the day can be watched unironically once more–the ship is buoyant again.
NEW SSW
If Steven Jax, T-Holt, and Bulger stay upright and ambulatory, the Rams can still finish ahead of the Saints.
BUT WAIT, THERE’S LESS
The Rams blitzed an amazing 16 of 18 plays to start the game, en route to a 34-7 lead. Brees is a precision passer, but seems to struggle in hot route situations. Forget the Cover Two shell when playing Nawlins, and bring everyone you got.
PREVIOUS SSW
Vince still searching for elixir that will improve his accuracy, but he’s Bart Starr compared with Quinn Gray.
NEW SSW
Forget the InVinceable One–Fat Albert Haynesworth is the key cog to the Titans.
BUT WAIT, THERE’S LESS
VY has rushed for over fifty yards twice this season, Sunday and against Indy. Tennessee lost both of them. Lesson–stop at 49 yards, even if it requires a screeching 90-degree turn and sprint out of bounds.
PREVIOUS SSW
Dawg Pound finally has a reason to slobber and pee excitedly on the rug, but 34-7 smack on the nose with a rolled up newspaper by masters in black and gold on Opening Day still fresh in everyone’s minds.
NEW SSW
Brownies are a year away, but loaded in all three phases with ballers. All they need is a coach with a clue–and better red flag technique.
BUT WAIT, THERE’S LESS
Joshua Cribbs and Antwan Peek were both fantastic, but while Cribbs is good, let’s not forget that this so-called “golden age of returners” is more a function of weak cover units than anything else. Heavy turnover and injury potential prevents cover units from building any sort of cohesion, and Cribbs, Hester, et al, take advantage. It’s damn exciting though, so who cares?
PREVIOUS SSW
Seattle mediocrity chalked up to Hasselbeck family tension after revelation Hawks QB is much more than “Uncle Matt” to Elizabeth and new bambino.
NEW SSW
New Seattle MLS franchise likely to score more often than Niners.
BUT WAIT, THERE’S LESS
Game predictably unwatchable, but seeing Kornheiser freeze his Tonys off during PTI live from blustery Qwest Field comedy gold.
Continue Reading November 13th, 2007
Orioles Professional Hitter Aubrey Huff wouldn’t seem like the type of guy who would let himself cut loose and act crazy on the radio, but hey, take a bat out of a man’s hands, and he’s liable to do some crazy things.
Huff was a guest on the Bubba The Love Sponge show — seriously, we don’t care how much money you make, we can’t imagine showing up at our class reunion and telling everyone we grew up how we now should be called “Bubba The Love Sponge” — and he started having a little fun.
Bubba: “Now Aubrey, do you jack off a lot on the road, like when you’re not with your wife.”
Huff: “It’s all I do. It’s all I do. You guys have no idea how much downtime there is in baseball. You wake up from a hangover about 1 o’clock.”
Producer shouts: “In the afternoon?”
Huff: “Oh, yeah! Lemme tell you this. When you are hung over, how horny are you? I’m horny, when I’m hungover, I’m horny. So I’m just gonna beat off. And that’s all I do.”
Huff goes on to call Baltimore “horseshit”. Ordinarily, we would enjoy and encourage such candid talk from athletes, who, by definition, are trained not to say anything interested. But there’s something about having your only moment of being a recognizable, normal human being happening as a guest on the Bubba, The Love Sponge Show. We dunno: It hurts credibility, we think.
Aubrey Huff Uncensored [WNST]
Just Horsing Around, Huff Says [Baltimore Sun]
Continue Reading November 13th, 2007
It seems kind of crazy, in retrospect, that anyone could have thought the 49ers were going to make some sort of leap this year. (Some idiots even picked them to win the division.) The biggest disappointment is that Mike Nolan is now looking so damned sharp for no good reason. What happened to these guys?
Niners fans are having a difficult time keeping their minds straight, and why not? They made the Seahawks, who have been stumbling all over themselves all season, look dominant even though they’re probably gonna lose to a team with only one win next week. We really thought the 49ers were close to turning it around; now we wonder if anyone has any idea what the heck is going on over there.
The Buzzsaw has had two crushing Monday Night Football losses in a row, including one to these 49ers. All told, we’d rather lose that way than the way San Francisco lost, pathetically, with no one really paying attention or any mind.
Seahawks 24 - 49ers 0: What The Hell Am I Supposed To Say???? [Niners Nation]
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