Boring............

The National Basketball League sucks.  Plain and simple.  No offense to a fellow blogger, but it’s boring, selfish basketball.  ESPN is cluttered with NBA trade news, “the decision” and salary news .  Rewind twenty years and that’s when basketball was at it’s finest.  With the likes of Jordan , Johnson, Ewing, and Bird it was fun to watch.  There was real offense, real defense, and it was about the game. 

I was bored on All-Star weekend and ESPN Classic had the 1992 All-Star game playing.  I actually sat and watched half the game.  I don’t remember the last time I sat and watched a professional basketball game.  The game was fun to watch.  Even though it was an All-Star game, there was offense and even defense.  It had all the flair of an All-Star game but it had pick-and-rolls that ended in alley-oops, give-and-goes with a Jordan reverse lay-up. 

Compare this to the most recent All-Star game.  Their offense was LeBron against the West and Kobe against the East.  There weren’t enough basketballs to go around that night.  Kobe Bryant finished the game with 37 points and was basically a black hole.  He wasn’t gonna give the ball up. 

This is basically the story of every NBA game.  It’s one-on-one, go to the hole even when there are three guys standing wide open waiting for a chance to prove he’s worth playing in the NBA, or pull up bombs from 30 feet.  I was no Kobe, but I woulda sat my ass on the bench if I pulled up for three off the first pass.  I was also taught that in a basketball offense, you needed to move without the basketball-set screens, cut to the basket, get some one else open.  I’m no NBA coach, but I think this philosophy would still apply in the league, but apparently not.  Whenever Kobe, LeBron, or Carmelo have the ball, the other four players are frozen.  They could just as well find an empty seat , spend $30 on a couple beers and hotdogs and enjoy the show. 

 Another thing the NBA is lacking is defense.  There is none.  I see better defense watching sweaty old men trying to re-live their glory days.  They at least have a little bit of shame when someone blows by them for a lay-up. 

Back in the good ol’ days even the stars played defense.  In the last ten years, the only “star” players to win the Defensive Player of the Year were Kevin Garnett and Dwight Howard.  If you go farther back, Jordan won one, David Robinson won one, and even Payton.  LeBron doesn’t have any, Kobe-none, Wade-zero.  Even the stars realized that they have other players on their team.  Jordan knew that Pippen was a deadly weapon and that Steve Kerr could bury three’s from anywhere on the court.  While Jordan averaged 30 points per game, he also averaged 5.3 assists.  Larry Bird averaged 24 points and 6.3 assists.  Carmelo Anthony averages 24 points and 3 assists a game. 

The NBA blows.  It’s boring and hard to watch even in the playoffs.  The greats cared about winning not how much they money they made.  They let their championships do the talking, not their endorsements.  It was fun to watch.  They cared, they hustled, and they made the extra pass.  It was when basketball was at it’s greatest.

Better Safe Than Not Sorry Enough

As much as possible, I try to avoid any pastime that risks my entire skeletal frame at once. I don’t “cruise” often, and when I do it’s in a ’93 Caravan that, despite having the aerodynamics of a tortoise, also has its impenetrable, if dented, shell. No, not an exciting drive; just A to B.

I’m of the opinion that there’s ways to live a not-boring life that wouldn’t have my heart over-pumping like a 16 oz. can of Monster would. Or like dirt moguls taken at 50 mph on an off-balance MotoX bike would.

And I’m a little queasy when it comes to the always adrenaline-spiked X-Games culture and its definition of a success story. 

Recent pin-up Cam Sinclair for instance. At the 2010 X-Games, Sinclair re-attempted the double back flip, a trick that he couldn’t pull 8 months earlier—the crash left him in a coma for 7 days. When he landed it in his more recent go ‘round, his was blazoned the greatest comeback in action sports history. As if demise were flirt-worthy, something to be fucked with. 

But maybe I'm just being dull; these guys have sold themselves to a hobby that pretty regularly leaves a person with half the bones in his or her body broken, and I’m sure they’ve done it with some sense of acknowledgement.

At the event, Sinclair wore Rockstar in a customarily busy, electric red and gold design. Like a vibrant cloth variation of the tattoo on his right arm, and equally inseparable in his public image. Search him on Google Images: he’ll be wearing a flat-billed ball cap with a big yellow star.

So not only is he (like so many of them) an icon for the “Are out of your mind?” He’s also branded. And, colorful, he’s branded to a product that’s been a notorious recent news item for its link with “heart palpitations, high blood pressure and even cardiac arrest and death,” especially in young people.

The X-Games’ “bulls-eye” demographic is 12 to 17 year olds. To make them a similar brand of self-threatening jitterbugs, apparently.

Of course, while Sinclair was successful at this year’s Big Air—an event aired commercial-free on ESPN because of a Monster sponsorship—not everybody was:

He’s dead. That’s what I thought when I saw this live last summer. ESPN kept replaying Paris Rosen’s four-story fall because he didn’t move for five, ten, fifteen minutes. Go to a commercial, go to a commercial, I kept thinking. But our favorite caffeine-boosting drink made sure to replay the crash as the medics tended to an unconscious Rosen. The commentators who usually voice over with spunky energy reacted with aghast hush. Rosen was eventually carried off on a gurney. The crowd applauded.

            Paris Rosen suffered several injuries: a dislocated hip, a bruised lung, torn cartilage holding his ribs together, and a break in one of his lower vertebrae. With a set like that, it seems inappropriate to say that he got off lucky.

            His heart is still slowly pumping away. I’m glad for him, though he might think that fact a little boring.

Jordan Langer

Nice Guys Don't Always Finish Last

Lou Gehrig

Lou Gehrig is a baseball legend. He was the Yankee first baseman from 1923 until 1939. He was forced to retire at a relatively young age due to ALS, a neurodegenerative disease, which would slowly eat away at his motor skills, along with other things. Once he was diagnosed there was no chance that he would ever be able to play baseball again. He was beyond incredible at the plate with a bat in his hands. He set records. Some of which, to this day, have not been broken.

He was the first athlete to have his number retired; Yankee jersey number 4 was retired in 1939 in conjunction with Gehrig's retirement from baseball. This precedent has continued in most sports since that time. He was inducted to the Baseball Hall of Fame, by a unanimous vote, in 1939 when he retired. There is a usual two-year waiting period after a player retires before they are put in the Baseball Hall of Fame, but because of Gehrig's disease it was waived and he was inducted immediately.

On July 4th, 1939, which had been declared "Lou Gehrig Appreciation Day" in his honor, Lou gave his farewell speech to upwards of 62,000 fans in Yankee Stadium. Fighting back tears and strong emotion he gave a heart-felt speak in which he claimed he felt like "the luckiest man on the face of this earth." He finishes his speech by saying, "So I close in saying that I may have had a bad break, but I have an awful lot to live for." He was a humble man that was filled with talent and a passion for the game. He did not let his "bad break" sour his incredible career or positive outlook on life. He was thankful for all of his experiences, his fans, and all the other people around him, especially his wife, and he will always be remembered as an amazing baseball player and even more of an amazing man.




Jackie Robinson

 Jackie Robinson is a baseball legend. He is undoubtedly one of the most important and influential names, not just in sports, but in America. He was the first to break the color barrier that had been segregating baseball since 1889. At this time (1947) baseball was the dominating sport in America, so for the norm of segregation to be challenged it was a huge opportunity to start integrating all sports as well as other facets of life.

He was an incredible player. He stole bases like a mad-man, he was an amazing infielder, he had an outstanding bat. He, like Gehrig, set records and did really awesome things on a baseball field. But more than that, Jackie did incredible things off the field. He fought to make life better for people, not just African-Americans, but everyone. He was a businessman that was involved with many aspects of society even after his retirement from baseball. He was on the board of directors for the NAACP for ten years and served in many campaigns while working with that organization.

He was extremely talented when it came to baseball and he was able to use his talents to impact history. He was a man that continued to make an impact even after the days of wearing a jersey were finished. He will always be remembered as the man that changed American sports for the better, and he deserves this recognition for both his passion and skill as a player and also for his passion and drive as a man.



Armando Galarraga

I am going to argue that Armando Galarraga is (or hopefully will be) a baseball legend. A perfect game in baseball is no easy thing to come by. There have not been many throughout history to pull off what is able to be labeled as perfection in this sport. On June 2nd, 2010, Armando Galarraga, pitcher for the Detroit Tigers, was one out away from perfection. The Galarraga and his defense behind him had sent Cleveland Indians back to the pine 26 times; perfection comes after the 27th. Galarraga was at this pivotal moment in the game...in his career. 2 outs bottom of the ninth...and then the ball is hit to the right side but the second baseman is able to cut it off and Galarraga himself runs over to first base to cover the throw...he catches the ball before the guys foot hits the bag, but the runner is called safe and there goes the perfect game...gone.

Instant replays proved that Jim Joyce, the umpire, had made the wrong call, but nothing changed. Galarraga and his teammates fought so hard for perfection and it was all shattered by a blown call. But, we all know this story, and we know that the real story does not lie within the missed call. It lies within the reaction of Galarraga, the player who was stripped of receiving the label "Perfect."

So often the sports world is covered in the grime of the scandals that athletes always seem to entangle themselves in. It gets tiring reading about sex scandal, after sex scandal, after sex scandal, with the occasional animal cruelty case thrown into the mix. To say the least, it can leave a bad taste in the mouths of fans that look up to these athletes. And that is why I love the story of Armando Galarraga. He had every right to be pissed and completely lash out at an umpire that ruined his game, but instead he takes pity on the man and recognizes that everyone makes mistakes. His response to this unfortunate situation is one of the most beautiful things I have seen in sports in awhile. He will be remembered, at least by me, as the man that deserved a perfect game, but when he did not get it acted with more class and sportsmanship than anyone would have ever expected, or even remembered to be possible.


Baseball is America's sport. It is beautiful and I love it. These three men are just a few players who truly exhibit what it means to be a man and a role model. They have class and did things that were against the norm and unexpected. They love the game and they play, or played, to the best of their abilities and remained men of strong character even when life threw them some serious curveballs.

Sad ending to a great career

Athletes dream of long, illustrious careers, and hope that when it’s time to call it quits, they can do so on a high note. Unfortunately, this is not the case for Ronaldo Luis Nazario de Lima, known simply as Ronaldo, one of the greatest players in soccer history.

Ronaldo announced earlier this month that he is retiring from football due to nagging injuries and complications with hypothyroidism, a condition that makes it difficult for him to keep in shape. This announcement comes only a few days after his Corinthians team was eliminated in the Copa Libertadores, Latin America’s biggest tournament. With all of the great things Ronaldo has done throughout his career, he’ll be remembered by Corinthians fans because he failed to lead his team to victory in one competition. Sad, really.

Ronaldo was a member of four World Cup teams for his native Brazil. His teams won in 1994 and 2002, and was their star player during their march to the final in 1998 before seizures prevented him from playing in the championship match. Although his team was eliminated in the quarterfinals in 2006, he scored his 15^th goal in World Cup play, a record that remains unbroken to this day. Ronaldo scored 67 goals in International play for Brazil, and over 400 goals in his 18-year career.

His former Inter Milan teammate, Youri Djorkaeff, speaks for many when he was quoted as saying, “Ronaldo is the best player I ever played with.” He was an idol among fans and other players alike, with incredible footwork and an accurate finishing touch that allowed him to net those 400 plus goals, and establish himself as one of the best.

He was one of the greats, but he could have been even better had it not been for injuries that plagued him throughout his playing career. He suffered three major knee injuries, each one threatening to retire him early, but each time he fought back. He was unlucky, and fans are left to wonder what could have been for Ronaldo, whose nickname was “The Phenomenon.”

His numbers on the pitch are astounding, but unfortunately Ronald was not without scandal off it. In 2008, Ronaldo was caught-up in a sex scandal after picking up prostitutes than turned out to be men, who then tried to exhort money from him. I was saddened when I learned about this. Here is Ronaldo, three-time FIFA Player of the Year, one of my favorites to watch, getting caught up in such a horrible incident.

Despite these off-pitch troubles, Ronaldo remains one of the best to ever play the game. Not to be confused with Cristiano Ronaldo, the pretty young thing from Portugal, Ronaldo looks more like the Brazilian Steve-O. His 18-year career saw him play for clubs like Inter Milan and Real Madrid, but his time on the Brazilian national team is what made him a household name.

Ronaldo had a long, illustrious career. If only it could have ended on a high note, not a forced retirement.

If you’ve never witnessed Ronaldo in action, here’s a video showing each of his 15 World Cup goals. Enjoy.

The De-Evolution of Female Swimwear

For those of you that have not been watching this season of the reality show “The Bachelor” (shame, shame), you missed out on seeing the photo shoots of three outrageously sexy, scantily clad women in tight red bikinis.

            The women rolled in the sand, splashed themselves and let the water trace over their curves, and were easily persuaded to remove their tops.

            Instead of featuring these provocative photos in a fashion or celebrity gossip magazine, the shots were done for this year’s issue of Sports Illustrated’s swimsuit edition.

Swim-suits: check. Sand: check. Water:…ummmm

            Funny, I didn’t see any of the women doing any actual swimming in those suits. Then again, I suppose it would be difficult to do serious swimming while holding seashells in place over your chest. The butterfly would be more difficult if you had to focus not only on your kick, but also on making sure that nothing pops out.

             Imagine a Sports Illustrated cover featuring a woman in a racing suit. The suit would smush anything that might drag in tightly, cover thighs, and allow the woman to reach her full, athletic potential.  Yet, it would be the cause of several (hundred? thousand?) nasty letters to the editor from men who look forward to their yearly dose of porn in a sport’s wrapper.

            Why have women let their swimwear de-evolve in order to please men?

            Way back when, women were arrested for wearing far less insufficiently- covering swimwear. Annette Kellerman, the first women to attempt to swim the English Channel, was arrested in 1909 for indecency while wearing a one-piece fitted swimsuit. She wore this suit not to seduce the men on the beach, but in an attempt to swim unhindered by the flabs of extra fabric found in the typical woman’s swimsuit of her day. Annette went on to become not only a fashion icon, but an inspiration to women who admired her guts.

Oh, Annette! You skanky devil, you!

            Way back when, women took off their tops, not just to show Brad Womack that they were fun, open- minded, or willing to go to extreme lengths to please him. They took off their tops at soccer games. They burnt their bras in protests for Women’s rights. They did these things to show their equality with the “superior gender.”

Brandi Chastain: the girl looked up to for taking it off

            Why have we let the respect and gender-equality our foremothers fought for slip so easily through our fingers? Why have modern women come to the point in which they would rather wear an ineffective two-piece that makes them more self-conscious than just put on a modest suit that will actually allow them to swim more effectively?

Chantal O’Brien struggled with personal insecurities about her body during her photo shoot.

One of the biggest controversies on the male side of the world of swimsuits is over Michael Phelp’s World and Olympic records and whether or not he should replace the records of his predecessor who did not have his advantage of specially designed swimwear.

Fair or not, Michael is looking HAWT.

Imagine if the biggest controversy surrounding female swimsuits was over whether or not they made the gals too darn fast.

Maybe the shrinking of the female swimsuits is a sign that girls are free from being repressed into unwillingly covering up their beautiful, God-made bodies. Maybe. More than likely, it’s a sad sign that women are being more and more influenced by men to be eye-candy, and to wear less and less.

The Hall of Fame(Ish)

The Basketball Hall of Fame is fucking worthless.

Let's play a little game I like to call "Identify This Hall of Famer!" Ready? See if you recognize these names. Hortencia Marcari? Drazen Dalipagic? George Yardley? How about Joe Fulks? No? None of them? Me neither. Know why? NONE OF THEM ARE FAMOUS. And yet they all currently reside in the players section of the Basketball Hall of Fame, in Springfield Massachusetts. 

Take a look at how brainless that last paragraph was. Hortencia Marcari was a renowned Brazilian women's basketball player (no, she never played professionally in the states, but hey buddy, she was a LEGEND in Brazilian women's ball, you watch yourself.) Drazen Dalipagic was, I'm quoting here from his Hall of Fame info page, "one of the most decorated players in Yugoslavian history." From the same page, "Dalipagic...didn't start playing basketball until the age of 19." (Hey, do you live at home with your parents at the age of 19? Are you going nowhere with your life? Move to Yugoslavia, and you too can be a member of the Basketball Hall of Fame!) George Yardley was described, creatively enough, as a "scoring machine" by teammates, so if nothing else, he pioneered one of the most over-used basketball terms in history. Go George! But according to his numbers, he was nothing of the sort. He averaged roughly 19 points per game. Never fear, Elton Brand! Your career averages might still be enough to enshrine you! Yardley's teams never won a championship, not even in the watered down leagues of the 1950s, when there were only 11 teams even competing. Joe Fulks, I've never heard of. I know nothing about him. I have no idea what he looks like. As a matter of fact, neither does the Hall of Fame. Don't believe me? Go look at his page. His face appears to be drawn on, which means he could have been the ugliest bastard in human history, but he will be forever enshrined as a baby faced individual, staring upwards in a gaze of wonder. None of these players were famous. All of them are in the Hall of Fame.

All of which brings me to my point: if you are going to enshrine Drazen Dalipagic, WHY WOULD YOU NOT ENSHRINE REGGIE MILLER? 

Reggie Miller was eligible this year for induction. And the voters, in their infinite wisdom, didn't even include him on the ballot.

This is wrong on so many levels. For starters, he played in the fucking NBA. You know, the group of the most accomplished basketball players in the world. But i digress. His resume included 15 playoff berths and an 18 year career with the same team, as the alpha dog best player. He was, at the time, an unprecedented 3 point shooter, and a crunch time killer, the kind of player you dreaded playing against in a tight game. His legendary playoff battles with the New York Knicks were so full of drama and great story lines that ESPN made a documentary called "Winning Time: Reggie Miller vs the New York Knicks" (top that, George Yardley!). ESPN's Indiana Pacer-related blog is named Eight Points, Nine Seconds after one of Miller's most dazzling playoff performances, when Reggie absolutely detonated on the Knicks, scoring (you guessed it) 8 points in 9 seconds to win. He also had a famous performance in which he and legendary Knicks fan Spike Lee had an on-court verbal battle, yelling at each other throughout the game, finally culminating in Reggie draining a back breaking three pointer, staring straight at Lee, and putting his hands to his throat in the universal sign for "choke".

Miller was famous. He was talented. And he was incredibly memorable. New York City, widely considered the greatest basketball city in the country, will forever hate him. Indiana, widely considered the greatest basketball state in the country, will forever revere him. And any rational basketball fan would agree that Miller deserves a spot in Springfield more than the names I mentioned before, unless you are either a Brazilian woman or a lazy Yugoslavian teenager. I'd include fans of the NBA back in 1950's, but if you were around back then, I think you would have been too offended by the first sentence in this post to make it all the way to end.

Gym Rules 380 (This ain't your 101)

1.      Get to know the staff

That lady scanning your card as you walk in, that high-schooler loading towels onto their shelves, the guy upstairs wiping down equipment- get to know these people. Talk to them, ask questions about their lives, tell them about yourself. Not once, but each time you see them. Soon enough, they’ll start remembering your name, letting you in even if you forgot your card at home, encouraging you to finish that last rep, and providing you with a menagerie of other perks.

2.      No flirting

Nothing is less sexy than trying to work-out while trying to be seductive and failing at both.

3.      iPods can be your best friend

Unless you have a work-out partner, invest in an iPod. If you can’t afford an iPod, buy headphones and tuck the loose end discretely into your pants so people think you have an iPod. When you enter the gym with headphones in, people know you’re not there to chit-chat. That lady on the treadmill next to you who wants to tell you about how she got all bent out of shape by birthing three wonderful children, ages- silenced by the headphones. That creepy guy flexing his biceps and whistling in your direction, or the pack of preteen girls giggling and pointing your way- silenced by the headphones. Even if your battery dies, or you’re not really plugged in to anything and you can hear everything going on around you, nobody has to know.

4.      A quick guide to stains

Dirt, Mud, or Grass Stains: Okay in moderation, but try not to brag about how much fitness you get outside the gym. Too much will make people question your honesty and your balance

Paint Stains: a nice way to say “Hey, I’m an artist, fuck no, I can’t lift that! But at least I’m trying to broaden my horizons, unlike you homophobic narcissistic assholes!”

Sweat Stains: complicated. Sweat after you’ve been working hard is good, unless it has encovered your entire shirt. Multiple and repeated sweat- discolorations that make your white shirt go yellow, not so good.

5.      Show some modesty

You know that guy that cuts people off as he passes them on the track, subtly, but in a way that clearly marks him as a dick? Don’t be that guy.

6.      Watch what you eat

So you just finished a great work out and now want to reward yourself by eating a king-sized Kit-Kat. That’s good- goals and rewards are great. But wait until you leave. Vending machines can be tempting, but nothing can make people distrust you more. People seek consistency in other people. They don’t want to see that healthy guy that just spent an hour on the treadmill in front of them drinking all his calories back through that can of Pepsi. And even if you are the type that can eat as much of anything they want, don’t brag about it. Many people at the gym are not. Wait until you leave, stop at Coldstone, and then pig out.

7.      Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah

We get it. You have a cell phone. I have one, too, and so does my mom and so does my grandpa. But you have people to talk to you on your cell phone! Wow! I mean, OMG. Yet, no one is impressed. And they definitely don’t want to listen to you gabbon all afternoon. Leave your phone in your bag until you are out of the gym. Unless your last name begins with an O and ends with a bama, you can let people wait an hour to hear that beautiful voice of yours.

8.      The Unwritten Pool Rule

Never Never Never refer to the lifeguard as the “towel girl.”

9.      It’s not a Will Ferrel movie

As much as you want to laugh at that puny little high schooler struggling to bench the bar, or the overweight woman trying hard to make it to that tenth minute on the elliptical, remember these are real people. They have feelings. Contrary to what you might think, they are not there for your entertainment. So smile at them. An encouraging smile, not a giggle- hiding grin, you jerk.

10.  Stick to what you know

The gym is not the place to try new things all alone. If you’ve never used a machine, spare yourself the shame. If you have never used an exercise ball, dear Lord, please ask for directions! You became friends with the staff for a reason- now is the time to ask for an orientation to that new boflex, or tips for using an exercise ball. Nothing looks sadder than trying to figure these things out on your own.

Wrestling a Girl?

Headlines this week on ESPN included “Rather than face girl, wrestler defaults”.  Joel Northrup defaulted his match at the Iowa wrestling championships after being matched with Cassy Herkelman, a female from Cedar Falls.  He claims to have defaulted for religious reasons giving a statement that explained that he believed that because of his faith, he should not engage women in this manner. 

Northrup was entitled to his own beliefs and it’s hard to criticize him for personal beliefs, but it’s also too bad that he was put in this position in the biggest stage of high school wrestling.  He came into the state championships with a 35-4 record but after defaulting his match with Herkelman, lost another match and was eliminated from the tournament.

Much debate about this decision has made national news and each is entitled to his opinion, but one question I would like to raise is: Should Herkelman been allowed to participate in wrestling in the first place?

There are two different angles to take in this question:  a male participating in the sport and the female who wants to participate.  Put yourself in the male’s shoes.  From day one, little boys are taught not to physically harm girls.  It goes against everything guys have learned to put a girl in a headlock or twist her arm to the point of dislocation.  If a boy has to wrestle a girl, he is in a no win situation.  If he wins, he could be seen as the bully who beat up on a girl, but if he loses, his friends would have a hayday making fun of him.  One other thing to consider:  since wrestling is a violent sport, injuries happen often.  How would a guy feel if the girl he was wrestling got hurt?  I know I wouldn’t want to be the guy to blow a girl’s knee out. 

The other way to look at is through the girl’s eyes.  She wants to participate in the sport.  She knows what wrestling means, including but not limited to having your knee bent in ways it’s not meant to bend or having your arm pulled so far behind your back your shoulder explodes.  She knows all the possibilities and yet chooses to wrestle. 

I feel that if a girl wants to participate, let her.  If she wants to put herself through the practices and the matches even if it means having guys as her opponents then more power to her.  Most likely, this girl can hold her own on the mat and understands the sport of wrestling.  I just know I wouldn’t want to be the one to have to wrestle her.  I would be in the predicament I mentioned earlier.  Unlike Northrup, I would be too competitive to default.  I also know I wouldn’t want to get beat.  I don’t think I could handle the verbal abuse that would come my way if I got beat, and I think it would motivate me more to not lose.  It would be a tough decision, and could get a little awkward on the mat, but I think if it came down to it, a state title would be worth it.

Preventing a "Bad Day"

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wMVOWlY6yBk

Everybody knows how it feels to have a bad day. There can be a series of events on those days when nothing seems to go your way or maybe there was just one really bad moment that ruined your whole day. Whatever the case may be, it is something that every person in one way or another can relate to. The people in this video probably had bad days after either a serious dose of embarrassment or in other cases physical pain.

There is something inside all of that at first does not want to laugh at the expense of others but we almost always eventually end up laughing anyway. Embarrassment fades and injuries can heal but a good laugh can brighten your day and maybe even prevent a “Bad Day.”

This video includes not only athletes, but also fans, bystanders, and even reporters or anchors doing something funny set to the song “Bad Day” by Daniel Powter. It is entertaining when we are reminded that not even professional athletes are perfect on the field all the time. It shows their human side, which fans can often forget because athletes are so easily idolized. That has shifted slightly recently now that fans can be involved in almost all aspects of a sports icon’s life, even the worst parts. But, nevertheless, we still enjoy seeing these bloopers and getting a good laugh out of a big mess up.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o3Kbc-LSGvI

Again, everybody has bad days, but this video shows a different type of bad day. In most cases these people were frustrated and angry, for whatever reason, and decided to take their anger out on water coolers, each other, and even fans. Maybe if these people had laughed a little more that day their anger would not have escalated so quickly. It is definitely more entertaining to watch accidental embarrassment as opposed to purposeful and uncontrolled anger, but there is still something delightful to this video as well. Maybe it is the fact that these people too are embarrassing themselves, but they are doing so in a way that they could have had control over, if they had chosen to do so at least. They are making fools of themselves by giving in to their heightened emotions that sports, so often, do such a good job of bringing out in people.

I would argue that I would rather be on a video entitled “Bad Day” that depicted people having embarrassing accidents as opposed to a video entitled “Top 10 Angry Moments in Sports.” It is easy to laugh at yourself, even after an extremely embarrassing moment, but it can be hard to escape the fact that you have a very short temper and are prone to physical violence just because things aren’t going your way. So, next time you feel like you are having a bad day remember that the best medicine may be to find a way to make yourself laugh. Find a funny sports video or crack some jokes with a friend, but try not to throw any punches because that will just make everyone’s day even worse.  

Remembering the Ways We Remember

Deion made this year’s class of Hall of Fame inductees. It’s a good thing. High steppin’ Prime Time gave us plenty to look at—his versatile athleticism, his bravado—and I’m sure it’ll be cool for him to re-relish a career he’s now six years removed from. For me, the so-called selection is yawnable; it won’t help me remember him long-term.

That’s a task I leave to ESPN Classic on would-be dull, off-season Sunday afternoons when they broadcast Greatest Moments from the NFL Films’ catalogue. He’s sure to be rendered among the others in saturated near-Technicolor; in slow-mo where, upon impact, the quiver of their bones is shown in its unsound order; to fully orchestrated scores that America’s more aware of than Aaron Copland; in a scene narrated by God and/or John Facenda. Deion’s dances may not be “The Catch” or “The Immaculate Reception” or Joe Namath in Super Bowl II, but they’re treated with the same gold standard vision.

So it’s kind of ironic to me that the voters inducted Ed Sabol this past month, whose done more to help us remember NFL legends than the Hall of Fame ever will. The 94-year old founder of NFL Films never played the game professionally, but he wanted to show its raw allure: the bloody knuckles and missing teeth, the foul-mouthed coaches (which he miked), the way that the spinning pigskin fell into the taped fingers of wide outs falling, sprawled, to the sloppy grass.

A WWII veteran, he sold topcoats before 1962, when he bought the rights to film the NFL championship game for $4,000. The only credentials on his resume: he had filmed his son playing football in the backyard. He went on to win 91 Emmys for his work in NFL Films.

And helped me understand Barry Sander’s juking hips. Sabol presented those hips (which eluded words) in high definition. He showed the way they moved— impromptu, artsy. He made me remember Barry Sanders the way that Barry Sanders was, and made me want to be like him.

Ok, so Sabol’s induction makes for a watershed moment in the Hall of Fame: remembering people that helped us remember. I love it. I hope that they induct others in the same vein. For instance, Chris Berman—because of him, we’ve all had “could---go---all---the---way…” bouncing in our heads like sheep at sleeptime.

My first choice, though, would be the developing team of Tecmo Super Bowl. The Nintendo cartridge did, for me, things that NFL Films could not do.

Rendered in featureless 8-bit, these were characters into which I can project myself, my own features. I could be more than like a player for the Detroit Lions; I could, as my fingers swiveled about the D-Pad like Sanders' hips, project myself into this blurry image of Barry Sanders, or essentially be him. I could be the coach and win a Super Bowl with an offensive repertoire of only eight plays.

It's this being that helps us to remember what was. For instance, anybody who's "been" Tecmo Bo Jackson knows that he was the fastest running back to ever live--who could, in one play, run out an entire quarter before scoring.

For these reasons, I don't find it strange that Tecmo Bowl still has a huge cult following, and that some fans have even re-written the game's code to have updated rosters and franchises. Or maybe they just want to see Chad not-Ochocinco do the same windmill-clap end zone celebration as every other character. Same with dancin' Deion Sanders.

At any rate, it seems appropriate to start giving tribute to the kind of presentations that help us to remember, and even to love, the game. Why now? Because our most recent Super Bowl might have been among my most memorable if Fox hadn't broadcast, and if the Black Eyed Peas hadn't performed at halftime. In a lot of ways, I wish I would have waited for Sabol's version.

Jordan Langer

There's a difference between "title" and "entitled"

This was the first sentence in a report released by the Associated Press on January 13^th of this year: “Former NFL star Lawrence Taylor pleaded guilty Thursday to sexual misconduct and patronizing a prostitute, misdemeanor charges that carry no jail time but require him to register as a sex offender.” What that sentence doesn’t say is that the prostitute was only 16-years-old.

Taylor was one of the hardest-hitting linebackers in the NFL. He played 13 seasons, all for the New York Giants, won three Defensive Player of the Year awards, an MVP award, and was first team All-Pro his first nine seasons. He was inducted into the Hall of Fame in 1999. On the field, he appeared to have it together. Off the field, not so much; he was jailed three different times for drug-related charges post retirement.

And then 2010 happened. Taylor was originally facing charges of third-degree rape, but somehow his lawyer was able to get a plea deal that knocked him down from a felony to a misdemeanor. His response? “She told me she was 19.”

LT, you’re 52, she’s 16. Not only is that illegal in so many ways, it’s downright disgusting. Where’s your pride?

Details came to the surface in the past few weeks from Deadspin writer A.J. Daulerio of a short-lived fling between Mark Sanchez, quarterback of the New York Jets, and a girl he met in a club on New Year’s Eve. The girl was 17, and while that technically isn’t illegal in the state of New York, it’s pretty sketchy.

The story goes that the 24-year-old Sanchez approached the girl in a club, and shortly after the girl gave him her phone number. She told Sanchez she was only 17, but that the legal age of consent in New York is 16, so it was ok. They texted a few times, he gave her tickets to a game, and they met up for dinner later that week. Afterward, the girl claims they went back to Sanchez’s place and hooked up.

Technically, nothing illegal went down. But really Mark Sanchez? You’re 24, good-looking, and the freaking quarterback for the New York Jets. What part of you thinks hooking up with a 17-year-old is ok?

These are just two examples of high-profile athletes doing dumb things: Brett Favre, Tiger Woods, OJ Simpson, Michael Vick, Kobe Bryant, Albert Haynesworth, the list could go on forever…

Woods hit the nail on the head when, during his first official statement to the media following the revelation of his affairs, he said, “I thought I could get away with whatever I wanted to. I felt that I had worked hard my entire life and deserved to enjoy all the temptations around me. I felt I was entitled.”

And there it is, the sense of entitlement. The sports world puts huge responsibility on the well-sculpted shoulders of its biggest stars. We expect them to perform day in and day out, to bring home championships, to be well respected and well-behaved members of society. When they screw up, it’s a big deal to us. They let us down, and we lose the respect we had for them. Why athletes continue to make big mistakes is beyond me. I know we’re all human, we all make mistakes, but most of us don’t have the eye of  major media outlets tracking our every movement. The fact that a couple athletes here and there do something stupid causes me to be pretty skeptical of all athletes, and that’s not fair to the ones doing it the right way.

So here’s my simple proposal: Don’t do dumb things. You’d think it wouldn’t be so difficult to stay away from underage girls, or in Simpson’s case, not allegedly murder people. Since the creation of the Internet, fans can follow their favorite superstars around the clock. Yes, athletes, we’re watching you. Try not screwing up for a change. Let me respect you again.

An Open Letter

Dear Mr Dwight Howard

My opinion probably doesn't mean much to you. I am, after all, just a young man with a computer. You are a young man with impossibly built shoulders. You signed a contract in 2007 worth $80 million. I've earned about $13,000 frying chicken and slicing meat in a deli. You bench press 315 pounds for reps. I'm proud of my 20 pound arm raises. I tower over my coworkers, at 6'3. You tower over considerably taller coworkers at 7'0. An entire city is currently relying on you to lead their basketball team. I'm mostly relied upon by my dog, who needs me to let her out to take a dump in the yard after eating breakfast. 

But I feel like I could advise you on this. You see, I can't imagine you have a whole lot of time in your busy schedule to take a look at the teams you will be considering in your upcoming free agency. I mean, look at you. Most of your free time appears to either be spent in the weight room, or in places of less reputable muscle-building nature. But I'm in denial about the possibility of steroid use in basketball, so let's move past that. When you aren't pumping your body full of muscle, you are making shoe ads for Adidas, reminding us that Fast Don't Lie. How can someone like you be expected to watch other teams perform throughout the year?

Which is why I'm here for you, with a warning. See, I don't have a life. I watch more basketball than is probably healthy for me. I think about it too much, too. I analyze, I write, I read, I nerd out. You are the subject, I am the student. And in my studies, I've learned that one of your possible destinations is the Los Angeles Lakers.  

I can understand the attraction. Look at the big man who ruled Orlando before you. Shaq bolted from Orlando to LA to play with Kobe and ended up with these. Plus, it's Hollywood. Right now, in Orlando, your most famous fan is a disgraced golfer who ruined his wife's thanksgiving right before she ruined his SUV with a golf club. In Hollywood, your most famous fans would be...well, let's see...Jack Nicholson and Denzel Washington? No biggie. 

But let me tell you, Dwight. I've watched the Lakers. I've watched you. And I have to say...I think the Lakers are a baaaad fit for you.

A starting lineup featuring you, Kobe Bryant, and Pau Gasol sounds amazing on paper. And two years ago, this is roughly what the relationship between Pau Gasol and Kobe Bryant looked like. Aww. They look so happy together. This absolutely looks like the kind of place you would want to be. But now? This is more of what we are seeing in Laker-land. Multiple times this year, Gasol has questioned Kobe's decision making, saying publicly that he needs more touches, and Kobe needs to stop taking so many long jumpshots. Kobe has responded...well...by taking more long jumpshots. Come playoff time, this team very well might turn it around. As a matter of fact, I think they will. But is it worth being miserable for 82 games in the regular season to play the second or third banana on a contending team? You are better than that, Dwight. 

Watch a Laker game sometime. Count how many times you actually see Gasol crack a smile. It's extremely rare (although if you are lucky, you might get a sweet shot of his armpits). And Dwight, smiling is what you do! That's one of the things that makes you so refreshing as a basketball player, you seem incredibly self aware. You KNOW you are built like freaking Zeus. You KNOW your girlfriend is so hot, she could be the reason the ice caps are melting (all the more reason to stay out of LA...keep her away from Kobe!). You KNOW you are set for life on the salary you will make this year alone. You KNOW if you keep this up, you are likely headed for the Hall of Fame. You have it good...so you smile! It's wonderful. And Kobe will beat that out of you with a crowbar. 

Here's another thing about LA: their point guard situation is a little bit desperate. Derek Fisher was a mediocre point guard in his prime. Dwight, the man is 35 years old. He is no spring chicken in NBA years. You need a team with a flashy young point guard, someone who can run the floor with you and toss you alleyoops for 48 minutes, while the crowd exults. You need someone willing to be the second banana, the Ringo to your McCartney, the Tubbs to your Crockett, the Gore to your Clinton. You need someone who wants to shine in your show, while still realizing it's your show. 

You need Chris Paul.

Yes. You need to go where Chris Paul goes. You will both be free agents at the same time. You are both friendly, and have been for years. You are both young and hyperathletic. Chris has the best court sense of any player in the league, with the possible exception of Rajon Rondo. But you and Paul present the best chance of deep playoff runs in addition to boosting your own legacy. It's a good fit for him too...he needs a big post player to rack up his assist totals to a level he deserves, which he isn't getting in New Orleans. Add any halfway decent perimeter player, and believe me, they will be flocking to play with Chris Paul, and just like that you have a contender. Boom. It's a perfect match. It just works.

There is one other place that might work well for you. Boston.

Again, Rajon Rondo. A flashy young point guard, much flashier than Chris Paul, actually. A team whose main focus is on defense. A team who keeps defeating yours in the regular season AND the playoffs. Hey, if you can't beat them, join them, right? Believe me, the first time you blocked a shot into the second row, as you tend to do too often, a teammate will be in your face about it. And you won't do it again. You will be blocking shots and keeping them in bounds. You will become the most destructive defensive force in the NBA since Bill Russell, who was just awarded the Medal of Freedom by President Obama, and who won 11 championships in his 13 NBA years.

Not a bad set of footprints to follow in, if you ask me.

Of course, there is one possibility I haven't mentioned. Chris Paul might go to Los Angeles as well. If he does, it would make a frightening amount of sense for you to head West. And I'll be sitting here in my room, with my computer and my dog, doing my damndest to divorce this sport.

Maybe I should send a letter to Chris as well.

Yours sincerely,

Tom Westerholm 

Like it? You can read more of my basketball thoughts at gymratrants.blogspot.com.