Yes, the wrestler isn't happy with bronze (he felt he was wrongly disqualified by the judges). Of course, the real word for bronze is "Second Best Loser", and on a greater point, why doesn't this happen more often, really? (H/t, World of Isaac)
Actual true story -- Nate Robinson, the undersized back-up non-point guard for the Isiah Thomas Knicks, and the worst slam dunk champion in this or any other era, had his jersey retired.
In a summer league. The mind boggles.
I'm trying to figure out an equivalent moment to this in any other sport, and, well, failing. Anyone want to work out a Preseason Football Hall of Fame? The Hasselbeck Wing needs to happen. A Spring Training Ring of Honor? The Temp Employee Of The Off-Season Awards at Tim Horton's for the NHL?
(Yes, Canadian Reader, I know all about your shameful morning secret. I also know that you are a Bacon Donut away from being as obese as my fellow Americans. Feel free to respond with polite outrage with incorrect vowel usages in the comments.)
But getting back to Nate the Late... I can't think of a better single person to denote the Isiah Era. He's flashy, physically gifted, has no clue how to play, doesn't help you unless his shot is falling and a car wreck defensively. Oh, and he makes his teammates worse, since his 1 on the World forays make any big man think twice about running or covering for his man when he blows by him on defense.
But thanks to his extraordinary focus on piling up numbers in minutes (games, and as this fire alarm accented moment of honor shows, leagues) that don't matter, Nate's a fan favorite among the truly clueless. Thanks to the worst contract in professional sports (Stephon Marbury, the poster child for talent that doesn't win games), he's also a more intriguing option than the "starter." (I put that in quotes, because after last year's experience, I can't imagine any NBA team wants to give the Starchild the keys to the car ever again.)
And, most importantly, no one will ever wear the number four in that summer league ever again. That's Knick-tastic!
Tonight in Seattle, Richie Sexson charged the mound to attack Rangers pitcher Kason Gabbard on a ball that was over the middle of the plate and two feet away from being a called strike. He was anticipating contact following a couple of plunked hitters, including some obvious headhunting by King Felix Hernandez on Rangers second baseman Ian Kinsler.
Normally, I could care about baseball brawls; they are just sound and fury and more posturing than a WWE event. But Sexson's performance tonight really took it to another level. He'd have been only slightly more obvious about it if he had gone before the pitch, or called for time from the ump before he went.
Oh, and it was also a nice touch to bring his helmet -- i.e., a weapon -- with him to the mound, because Sexson is such an itty bitty guy at 6-foot-8, 240 pounds. It's just one more way in which Sexson does not, in any way, resemble a baseball player.
Of course, maybe the thought was that if it worked for the Cubs last year, maybe it's worth trying here. Unfortunately for the Ms, they have people like Sexson in the lineup, along with the phenomenally useless Jose Vidro, the previously scorned Raul Ibanez, and less, much less...
Update -- here's the video. High comedy from the Rangers analysts, too.
Your list is here, and all kidding aside, it seems like a decent enough gamble to me... but I'm not sure I'd be bringing in another world-class head case when Owens and Johnson are still on the roster. Too many of these chuckleheads, you're just asking for a circus. (And as an Eagles fan, I am so rooting for circus...)
This would be Tracy McGrady, who has never won a playoff series in his whole danged NBA career, in last night's game against the Jazz.
Utah came into the series as a terrible, terrible road team, and despite being the 4 seed, had a worse record, so they didn't get home court.
Do I really need to tell you that the Jazz punked the Rockets again on their home court, and are now up 2-0 in the best of seven?
No, I didn't. T-Mac did it for me. By existing, before the playoffs even began.(And yes, he had 23, 13 and 9 in the loss, and when your second best teammate was 35-year-old Bobby Jackson and you're actually starting the withered spirit of Dikembe Mutumbo... well, I'm just kicking myself for not picking Utah in a sweep.)
And to think, Raptors Fan was bent when this guy took Orlando's money and ran, soon to be followed by the similarly heartless Vinsanity Carter. Two steps back, three steps forward, Dino Fan...
Your link to my annual April worry-fest is here, and the fact that I own two of the three closers named is completely coincidental, really...
(Oh, and big ups to The Truth for having his Jayhawks come through last night. So long as Roy Williams, Hakim Warrick, Carmelo Anthony and Gerry McNamara aren't involved, Rock Chalk is money in the finals!)
Yay! The Kansas City Chiefs have managed to make their original case, Scary Hippie Or Rasta Hair Should Be Stopped, to the greater NFL. By doing so, an organization that has been one of the greater wastes of time in recent NFL history has managed to waste everyone else's time, too. I like it when things like that work out.
Now, you may ask yourself, Self, why care about the possible hair restrictions on a bunch of violent millionaires who act as trained puppets for our amusement? It's not as if there's a Constitutional right to looking like Sideshow Bob on a football field.
Well, it's just this. Petty incursions on personal freedoms should not be tolerated, even if they make older demographics more comfortable. And if you're offended by the idea that your team's running back or wideout might get pulled down by the locks, preventing a big gain... well, one suspects that your team should have more of a margin for error. And you should stop identifying so much with The Man.
After all, we've got lots in common. We're both in our late 30s, both enjoy getting down with gangsta rap, both remember with fondness the early 90s NBA. But unlike Rider, I'm not living in Skid Row, jacking cars for real... and with a prior record of, gulp, kidnapping.
Let's face it, it's been all downhill for him since that shot.
As the recent speculation has shown, I may need a new NBA go-to guy to help fill the bloghole. Here's my top prospects.
1) Pat Riley. From stabbing his coach in the back for a championship run to failing to ignore the de rigue Shaq Smack as he's leaving town, the man with the hairstyle from the mid '50s and '80s is slowly but surely rising in the ranks of Embarrassing Old Men.
With his Heat now dogged by the "injury bug" that always envelopes terrible teams and organizations (perfected by the pre-Nellie Warriors, and practiced by half of the Eastern Conference last year in the hopes to get Durant or Oden), and the clock ticking down on when Dwayne Wade will engineer one of those Unhappy Star Trades, Riles really needs to hang it up before anyone does the math and realizes that he's, well, doing a terrible job.
No one seems to be paying any attention to the breathtaking mail-in job that the Heat players are doing this year (tonight's half-time score: 50-30), but honestly... they are so bad, they don't even have a player you can own in roto leagues right now. I can't remember ever saying that about a team before.
2) Larry Bird. The hick who can't GM worth a lick is only the third worst star player / GM in the league, since Isiah and McHale both remain employed, but those teams haven't managed to shoot up the neighborhood the way that Bird's men have. Bird gets special bonus points for not only franchising the perpetual disappointment that is Jermaine O'Neal, but also keeping him forever, making sure that his millstone doesn't have any real trade value, either. And if the Pacers somehow stagger into the 8th spot in the East for a 3-and-flush effort against the Celtics... well, really, are the Pacers better off, given who is at the helm, with some balls in the lottery hopper?
3) Mark Cuban. But the prize will, in all likelihood, go to the man who has done nothing for the past 2+ years but damage to his reputation. From the perpetual puling in the Finals to the refs giving ever call to Wade (he probably had a point, but he made it so badly, no one cared), to the courtside crying against the Warriors last year, to this year's hair-pulling fight with sports bloggers... well, let's just say that I'm beginning to think that Mavs' fans might be pining for the return of Ross Perot, really.
And maybe, just maybe, they'll lose tonight to the Warriors and find themselves out of the playoffs. Gosh, could we still have a playoff season in the NBA without being able to root against the utterly unlikable Mavs?
Seriously, Cubes, what good does it do you to engage in baiting the blogosphere with your locker room ban, and equating the entire output of all of the writers as one monolithic product o' gossip? Once again, sloppy generalizations from someone who should know better (see Costas, Bob) come into play.
Sure, some of us are just going for cheap laughs. Others are going to geek it up with Moneyball-esque stat work. Still more are going to be little more than talk radio (which, I'm noting, you don't seem to be willing to bait so openly, maybe because you've got just enough sense to fight only when you've got numbers).
Most of us don't need (or, in my case, want) locker room access to do what we do. Nor do we need to be baited by a dot-com billionaire, Ayn Rand-lover, egomaniac celebrity dancer and remarkably insufferable human being. Why don't you just go back to starting a new football league, not buying a baseball team, or following around Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson for media coverage?
In any event, Cubes, I'm sure you'll give me and mine plenty more to write about. Just not so much about, you know, basketball.
Is there anything sadder, really, then the guy who hangs out with the college or high school team that he used to play on, years after it's all over... most likely because he used to get poon back there, and the Real World hasn't been as kind. 
The answer, of course, is Hell and No, which leaves us with the sad spectacle of Adam "Manson" Morrison, no longer wanted by the Charlotte Bobcats, no longer useful to Gonzaga, and looking like he's in need of a shave, shower and minimum wage job to get him off the methadone. Seriously, he should have been drinking Natty Light and rocking a midlife paunch.
And unlike you and me, he's also worth (tens of) millions of dollars, and should really have people around him to let him know that, well, staying home and watching the game on TV is really the cooler thing to do. (In case you were ever wondering about the benefits of a posse, this is it.)
At least there, when your team loses, no one is wondering what the hell happened to you...
Here's the link, and if you'll allow me a moment of seriousness... independent of the possible +1.000 OPS that he'd give you for 110 to 120 games (and that, of course, assumes that he gets through the year without doing time in the federal pokey for perjury), I'm not sure where he's a good fit, well, anywhere. At this point in his career, you can only play him at DH. When he's on the bases, he makes Frank Thomas look swift. He's a train wreck for the media just about every day, and can't stand the press just enough to be dangerous. And he's really only coming back for one last meaningless milestone, this one 3,000 hits (he's 65 away).
So, collusion or no, high OPS or not, who on Earth would take him? Which team's fan base is puling for him to be signed? Honestly, as an A's fan, I'd rather see 400 at bats of Jack Cust. At least that way, when the team loses, I won't feel like they've sold their souls while doing it.
There are two, two, two posts over at the Carnival today -- one a fairly longish piece that's an A's season preview, and the other a naked plea / taunt list about how I can dork you under the table in running a fantasy league. Plus, hey presto, a Gary Gygax reference!
More speculation that Rasputin Thomas may have authored his last groaner for your New York Knickerbockers. But whenever I read stuff like this, I can't help but feel like it's a newspaper obit file for some old celebrity -- it's just on file at any time, with minimal name changes necessary to make the story over-fresh and ready to roll.
Seriously, what could you say in regards to Thomas getting the perp walk that you couldn't have said, oh, three to four years -- or even three to four jobs -- ago? He's the George Bush (the Younger, naturally) of major sports executives. His career path and public trajectory makes Ralph Nader's look sexy? He's only managed to cling to power through an accumulation of dead bodies in his crawl space? Give me something new here, people.
(Oh, and Knick Fan who is prone to some sad Charlie Brown with the football level of hope with the departure of Zeke? You felt the same way when he got you Zach Randolph, didn't you? And also this -- Randolph hasn't even gone crazy in Manhattan yet. In many ways, the year you have gotten from him has been the *best* case scenario. And your owner is still the guy who has put up with Thomas all these years. Now, put your head back in the oven and continue moaning.)
On the off chance that Thomas is no longer with us, I'd like to extend my personal moment of thanks for all the good times he's given me in the past decade. Zeke, we've never been close -- as a diehard Sixers fan who also, you know, didn't want basketball to turn into complete goonery, I hated you as a player, too. But I can't deny that whenever I was feeling tapped for blogging content, you were always there for me. Whether it was pointless hard fouls that ruined the Denver franchise, sex scandals that shocked the imagination of anyone with any sense of public relations, press conferences that made Baghdad Bob give you the slow clap or personnel moves that started with charity and ended with insanity... you were always there for me. I don't know how I'm going to fill this blog without you man.
(Dammit, I told myself I wasn't going to cry.)
Godspeed, Zeke. And I hope I'm writing this obituary next year, and the year after that...
Your link is here, and please post, in the comments, what you'll miss the most about the NFL Network. (You know, under the theory that anyone actually gets this thing.)
H/t Deadspin for finding the You Been Blinded story... Vin and Tonic is having his restaurant foreclosed, which is also going to put his parents on the hook for 400 large.
Now, I don't much care what happens to Baker, and I'm sure that his folks have had more than a few opportunities to squirrel away some cash over the years. According to his page on Baseball Reference, his lifetime salary data gets you to over $112 million; if you someone go broke on that, including five straight years of going from $10.1 to $13.5 million (and yes, Isiah Thomas *did* bring him to New York!)... well, far be it from me to shed a tear for him.
But that's exactly the point to make here. The true Vinsanity has now been to six different teams, and the Celtics and Rockets have even brought him back more than once. He hasn't made an All-Star Game since he was 26; that was a decade ago. He hasn't broken ten points a game since 2003-04 with the Celtics.
He's been a pretty terrible player for a long time now, and yet, he still keeps getting work. I have no idea how, and you probably don't either, other than maybe being really impressed by his agent.
If I were running an NBA team, Vin Baker would be the last guy I'd want on my roster, and that's even with the idea that the only wat you bring him in at all is if your previous half dozen big men have hit the shelf. It's an even money bet as to who the strike hit worse -- him or Shawn Kemp.
Oh, and then there's this. He seems to like not only being drunk, but driving that way as well. Is the appeal of having Eddie Griffin II on your roster really worth it?
Sad news out of Denver today, where the Broncos have decided to cut ties with Gangsta Punter Todd Sauerbrun, the one-time steroid ringleader and Devin Hester Enabler. (And yes, I know what you are thinking -- why on earth didn't they do this after The Hester Game? Probably because he was cycling in some nasty 'roid rage, or maybe because they didn't want to risk not having a veteran idiot presence in a playoff run.)
Here's a fun fact: Sauerbrun was making $1.3 million a year with the Broncos, and probably has the numbers to get another gig somewhere. Besides, let's face it, if you were ever going to have a terrible teammate on an NFL team, he might as well be a kicker. It's not like they are part of the team in the first place, and if they stink, it's easier to toss him out the door if you know he's a dirtbag.
Anyway, if you are in the Denver area tonight, keep your eyes out for a mad guy with a propensity for kicking. Better safe than sorry, really.
In describing the latest attraction in the all-day circus that is the New York Knicks, Isiah Thomas had this to say about his starting point guard taking his $15 sneakers and going home, rather than stick around to get torched by Steve Nash and the Suns:
"Whatever matters we have in-house we'll try to keep in-house."Now, I don't know if Starbury got permission to go, and won't get into the perks of a job where you get paid tens of millions of dollars and get to leave whenever you like.
Your list is here, and I'm freely going to admit this... I'm disgusted with myself for giving that bunch of losers even more pub. But #2 is a point that not enough people make, really. (NOIS, where are you on this?)
10. The Falcons. Starting with the money they might not get back and moving to the Matt Schaub in Houston problem, this is going to hurt for a while. It might be quicker than many anticipate, due to the fast turn of the league and the fact that getting out from under Vick's unique skills may be a help... but there's going to be tens of thousands of empty seats and no chance at the playoffs. The Harrington Era will not be long.
9. The NFL. Not enough to actually cut into the rampaging popularity of the league -- let's face it, there's pro football and then there is everything else in the American sports market right now -- but this isn't good. Atlanta's going to go back to being a weak franchise, and that's a large television market.
8. The Lakers. With Vick going off the table in the next 24 to 48 hours, attention will go back to the biggest wildcard on the table, which is the multi-divorcing Kobe Bryant.
7. PETA. Vick was a gold-plated gift from the PR gods for this organization, who had to see a spike in donations and media coverage from this sad little circus. Several more weeks and the chance to generate a truly large rally would have, secretly, suited them just fine.
6. Nike. Not that football is the biggest shoewear mover, or that Vick can't be replaced, and quickly, with a fresh face. But make no mistake: this has Harmed The Brand, and if you're in marketing, you know that you just don't do that. They cost too much to build and can disappear in days.
5. The federal government. Possibly the only entity that got off light in the whole sordid mess, the airtight prosecutorial effort was able to get every defendant to roll over and plead. For every person you hear that says that government can't do anything right... have them volunteer for a grand jury indictment.
4. ESPN. The World Wide Lemur gets to move away from actual journalism and back to another two weeks of timewaste. But it was good for them while it lasted.
3. Racial card players. Had Vick fought the charges, he would have fit right into the whole undercurrent of black/white suspicions. But now that he's copped a plea, most will walk away from him with speed. Al Sharpton is wiping away tears.
2. Pundits. From Bill O'Reilly to Deion Sanders, Vick has been the wind beneath many a gasbag wing. They are going to miss him.
1. Bloggers. He gave us so much, really. Photoshops by the score. Dramatically wrong YouTube clips. Cheap heat columns to play Devil's Advocate. And now, finally, this list.
Brady Quinn signs with the Browns.
Now, all that is left is to determine whether his holdout will have irreparably damaged his NFL career, crippled his team, or merely ensured that he'll be a bust. The future is wide open!
