Come With Me if You Want to Live

I'm in New Orleans right now, having spent a decent part of the night in a bar, sampling the local brew, to catch the NFC game. With about four minutes left, and a four point game, someone asked "how's it going to end?" I looked up and said "Romo gets picked off in the endzone, then sportswriters start questioning his ability to win a playoff game." I was right about the first part, and I think Peyton put an end to the bullshit about not being able to win a big game, but I hate the Cowboys, so...first the fumble, now this? One more one and done and Jerry's looking at new QB possibilities.

You Know All Those People Who Think They're Witty by Making a Big Deal about Calling it the "Big Game" because of Copyright Infringement?

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The Future of Sports

I hate the way that kids are scouted from middle school and hyped as the next best thing and eventually burn out because despite the fact that every one of their home games was on ESPN since they hit puberty, there can only be so many Kobe Bryants. But I love amazing clips as much as the next guy, and they're even better coming from kids.

BASEBALL

I remember years of playing little league, standing in the outfield day dreaming. I would think about making great catches, the kind that end movies--bottom of the ninth (or sixth, since this was little league), two outs, up by one with a man in scoring position. Ball's hit deep...to the track...to the wall...I jump, hit the wall, and come down with it. But the thing is, this rarely happens in real life, especially not in little league. Except when it does. Then it looks something like this. Skip ahead to the :34 mark.



BASKETBALL

I don't care that this kid is standing three feet away. At 22 I can't shoot like that. If it all works out, he should be turning pro just about the time I'm named GM of the Sixers. Easily my first draft pick.



FOOTBALL

This has been my favorite clip for a while, but I can't find the original version of it to embed, so you have to view it here. He's the second coming of Ronnie Lott.

HOCKEY

Charlie Conway can triple deke to his heart's content, he ain't got shit on this kid.

We Need the Pats

I know this is an unpopular opinion, especially around these parts, but I’ve gotta come out and say it: we need the Patriots. Sports needs bad guys. No one, the city of Chicago included, cared when the White Sox won the World Series after 88 years. They even had their own bullshit curse to overcome. But the Red Sox, well, they beat the Yankees. Now every poser and preppy asshole this side of the Mississippi wears a Red Sox hat. Half of them couldn’t tell you who they beat that year (or that they won again since), just that they beat the Yankees. And that’s the way sports is. In 1980 a scrappy group of American college kids won the gold medal in hockey with a stirring come from behind victory…over Finland. Miracles only happen against the bad guys, like the Soviets.

What if Danielsan had to fight that Asian kid in the finals, and not Cobra Kai? No one cares about Paul Crewe leading his team in some inter-prison league. I grew up rooting for the Eagles and whoever was playing the Cowboys. Sports needs bad guys, and Belichick is all too happy to fill the role. There’s an episode of West Wing where they get a poll saying that a large percentage of Americans think the President is arrogant, and they think it’s great, because if people already think he’s arrogant, now he can be. Everyone’s had a game of Madden where you just wanna punch one in at the end, but don’t do it because no one will let you live it down. Well if everyone already thinks Belichick is an asshole, he can do whatever he wants. Plus I don’t think we’ll see Big Bill in 30 years opening Champaign and toasting his own memory in between shooting Weight Watchers commercials.

More importantly, this is the greatest football team I’ve ever seen in my life. As in, tell my grandkids about watching them. As a fan of the game, nothing makes me happier than watching Randy Moss’ resurgent career. The plays he makes reminds me why I love football. This team is stupid good and we’ll remember them as long as we remember football. We’re in the presence of greatness we’ll probably never see again (now that I’ve said it, watch the G-Men take them out next week).

The Last Act of a Desperate Man

As the NFL season winds down and the playoff picture clears up, most teams are really playing for just one thing: the right to get their asses handed to them by the Patriots in as late of a round as possible. Rather than deny their greatness, I’ll do what most sane, helpless people would: create a completely symbolic, meaningless way to get back at them through the Interwebs. Obviously, the potential for humorous, life-threatening injury will be involved.

Threats have been made and bounties have been declared, but to this point, nobody has stepped to the table and done something stupid and illegal to win the hearts of most rightful-thinking Americans by taking a major member of the Patriots out. What we need is a fantasy team of unscrupulous bastards to complete the task.

With the Dolphins set to face the Patriots this weekend, I figure we might as well suit these hooligans up on the other side of the ball now. It’s not like the Dolphins, even with the hiring of Other Tuna, have anything to play for – the #1 pick is locked up and they’ve secured bitter mediocrity instead of utter and historic futility.

So I’m getting in touch with my inner Hedy Hedley Lamarr and assembling every vicious criminal and gunslinger in the West. I’ve got rustlers, cut throats, murderers, bounty hunters, desperados, mugs, pugs, thugs, nitwits, halfwits, dimwits, vipers, snipers, con men, Indian agents, Mexican bandits, muggers, buggerers, bushwhackers, hornswogglers, horse thieves, bull dykes, train robbers, bank robbers, ass-kickers, shit-kickers and Methodists. Here we go:

Paul Crewe – Football to the groin! Football to the groin! If it only took two shots to knock out the mighty Ray Nitschke, imagine what he could do to that tampon Brady. Played quarterback before he was felled by a point-shaving scandal; however, his prison experience likely enabled him to pick up some new skills.

Omar Little – Just the thought of him strolling casually up to the backfield, sawed-off shotgun in tow, whistling “Farmer in the Dell” would cause anyone to shit their pants. Besides, a man got to have a code, and play-action passes on 4th down up 40 late aren’t part of that.

Brendan Frye – Did an absolute number on Brad Bramish’s leg; the dude is an ACL injury waiting to happen. This is useful work experience, since if you don’t put Brad Bramish in the game, then Brad Bramish can’t do what needs to be done.

Anton Chigurh – The ultimate badass? Sounds just about right for this little goon squad. More insidiously, he could off the referee before the game with his cattle gun, leading to the most jaw-droppingly awesome coin toss of all time. “Mr. Brady, this is the most important coin toss of your life. Call it, friendo.”

Terry Tate, Office Linebacker – You get the impression he’s a little tired of using those mad skills on idiots who don’t understand basic tenets of workplace etiquette. Easily the hungriest member of the roster.

Red Grant – Yeah, he ultimately got his ass kicked, but it took Sean Connery in the prime of his James Bond career to do so. Do you see anyone capable of that on the Pats roster? Me neither. Would also complement Chigurh by being the world’s most terrifying timekeeper, and could antagonize Belichick by calling him “old man” repeatedly.

Ashley “Ash” Williams – No army of darkness would be complete without him. Come on, he has a chain saw for a hand! A chain saw!

And for good measure, we could add in Bart Scott to properly dispose of any flags that might be thrown at this very necessary roughness. Any suggestions, complete with the voodoo that they do so well, are encouraged in the comments.

A Brief Moment of Sincerity: on Kevin Everett and Why I'm a Sports Fan

During the playoffs this October, a couple buddies and I decided to head to the bar around the block to enjoy the game and have a couple beers in a communal setting. En route, we ran into one of our neighbors, who happened to be heading to the same place. Naturally, I asked him if he was going to watch the game as well. “No,” he responded, “I don’t pay much attention to commercial sports.” Overlooking the subtle dig he was throwing our way, being decked out in caps and jerseys flaunting our affiliations, I begrudgingly conceded he had a point.

It would be stupid of me to deny the creeping, unsettling influence of corporate dollars in all of our favorite games. While the influence of marketing money has provided for great changes in the availability and accessibility of games and highlights, it also causes many of the negative consequences that give professional sports a bad name, drive away fans, and cause my neighbor to look down on me and my friends for investing ourselves so deeply in the fortunes of our teams.

The last month or so has seen far too many examples of the negative side of sports rearing its ugly head. The murder of Sean Taylor, targeted for burglary simply because of the comfortable home his athletic prowess enabled him to purchase. December means the annual controversy over the BCS, which only seems to satisfy the greedy, well-remunerated conference chairmen and bowl commissioners. And last but certainly foremost, the release of the Mitchell Report on steroids, which only seems to confirm our worst suspicions about some of America’s most revered athletes.

I talked to Jordan for a little bit after our final the day the Mitchell Report was released. We gossiped about the names and the impact of these revelations on certain teams. On one of the darkest days in baseball history, most fans (including us) were discussing steroids like high school girls gossiping over who gave who a VD. There’s a sickening apathy behind our attitudes toward the nadir of sports.

But when I returned home, I found a pleasant surprise waiting
for me in my mailbox. A nice little reminder of why I put up with all the bullshit that sports throws at me. On the cover of SI, Bills tight end Kevin Everett stands, holding a football, proudly, defiantly, walking. Just walking.

You don’t have to follow sports so closely to understand the significance of the story, and I won’t rehash the details. I bet it even makes my curmudgeonly neighbor smile a little bit. But when you’ve been sifting through all the negativity, all the bullshit, and all the greed that big money seems to bring to pro sports, seeing Kevin Everett triumph over the possibility that he might never walk again means much more. That light is so much brighter after the darkness.

And it’s moments like these, where the little guy exceeds all our expectations, that keep me paying so much attention to commercial sports. Not every moment has to be tainted by the evil scepter of money. They’re there if you look hard enough. It’s the possibility of another Kevin Everett doing the unthinkable that keeps me going as a fan. It’s his grace and desire that makes me spew vitriol and make dirty jokes as a defense mechanism against the notion that most other athletes, especially the ones in the news, aren’t cut from the same cloth. Bless you, Kevin Everett. Your small steps in your fiancee’s arms mean so much more to the world of sports and to this embattled fan than you realize.

Livin' in the Future

ESPN has this promotion going to pick the greatest all time sports highlights. They're starting out with 100 clips which will get narrowed down to one winner. Now, there's nothing I like more than wasting time watching sports clips online, so I was pretty excited when I first saw this. The only problem? At this stage, at least, the "highlights" consist of a picture and a one sentence description. Well, most of them do. It looks like they couldn't even find a picture for some of them. Don't worry, though, when they make it to the Show, I'm sure the Schwam will have a whole list of '70s pop culture references for us. Still, ya gotta be impressed by the fifteen minutes some intern spent on Google Images. We're livin' in the future baby.