Pissing Off Euros

As part of our mandate (his name is Steve) to irritate myopians all over the sports world, FTT notes the coming arrival of one of the worst sports events of the year: the Tour de France.

For sheer uselessness, it's very hard to top the Tour. Let's take them all in order...

> Pompous. Check. You can't beat any sport in which Euros tells you that you are too stupid to appreciate it. Why, yes, Pierre -- guys pedaling *is* riveting. If only I were more cultured.

> Unpopular. Here's a rule of thumb. If your sports is on Versus, no one gives a crap. (We're waiting for the outraged comments from NHL fans, but that would involve the NHL still having fans.)

> Tedious. In spades. And this comes from a guy who rides trains for 15 hours a week, and watches film with subtitles.

> Scandalous. Is there a cyclist that isn't a confirmed needle ass, or someone who hasn't spent their life screaming to the skies that they aren't a needle ass? Bud Selig thinks that cycling has an image problem.

> Anonymous. If you can name a cyclist that is actually racing in this roid circus, you're either on someone's payroll or have absolutely no life. Actually, scratch that -- you're probably both.

> Not really a sport. The link gives you a longer post about this from earlier in the year, but the short of it is this: if what you are doing is commuting, it is not a freaking sport. (That takes out NASCAR, walking, ski jumping and a great many other Olympic non-sports. We're not wrong about this.)

Barry Bonds Ruined Everything

Dear Five Tool Fool,

It has come to our attention that your organization has failed to create the required amount of copy on the subject of Barry Bonds.

Please rectify immediately, as per the terms of your contract with Gawker Media, ESPN, and our secret corporate overlords, Google.

Failure to do will result, of course, in a garnishment of your wages.

Sincerely,

Will Leith
Secretary General of the Glorious International Kollektiv of Sports Bloggers

P.S. Stop emailing me, or I will release the commenter monkeys.



Dear Will Et Al,

I’m so sorry. Really, I am. It’s just that I’m starting a new job, and you know how I’ve been having issues with the drywall, and shouldn’t last night’s hand job to LeBron count towards my required quota of Extremely Obvious Topics?

No. Crap. Um, OK, here goes...

There are, of course, dozens of hypocrisies in the case of Barry Bonds – and I’d argue that the hypocrisies are what define him now, more than the numbers, more than the means, more than the circus. But the biggest and most central hypocrisy is this…

Team achievements matter more than individual ones.

That is no longer true, if it ever really was. And that, more than anything, is what helps to explain the seismic differences between Bonds Haters, Bonds Neutralists, and Bonds Fans. (The latter probably only exist in San Francisco now, but when the media pounds a black guy long enough, he develops a fan base among minorities. Barry is as black as OJ. But that’s a whole ‘nother column...)

A story you used to hear a lot was how people would feel bad for the long-suffering – oh, how they suffered – superstar on a bad team. Your team would be pounding the stuffing out of, say, the Atlanta Braves. Dale Murphy would hit a home run to cut the lead to five. The color analyst would go on about how everyone feels bad that a quality guy like Murph is on a team like this, losing 100+ games a year, but trying so hard… and you know, he’d trade those MVP awards and all those home runs to just be on a winner, you just know he would.



Which was probably bullshit, in that Murph probably enjoyed being paid. Sure, the losing was a drag, but that’s why they call it work, right?

Now, has anyhow ever made the Feel Bad For This God Among Flawed Men speech about Bonds, outside of the Bay Area?

For the majority of the latter days of his career in Atlanta and Milwaukee, Hank Aaron’s teams were like the team of Murphy. And yet, because he had The Record, his place in baseball history, his legacy, was more than secure. No one would remember the months of playing out the string, alongside teammates and behind pitching staffs who no one remembers. Quick, name the NL West division champion in 1974, the year Aaron broke the record. (Answer: LA, who lost to Oakland in the World Series. But I had to look it up.)

Bonds will be like that. No one, outside of Giants fans, will remember that on The Day Barry Broke The Record, Matt Morris and Kevin Correia (I’m just throwing out names of mediocrities here – feel free to substitute with any SF pitcher) gave up three homers in a 7-4 loss. Or that the team that he set the record on won 78 games. Or that despite all of his big numbers, he had only one positive playoff year. (OK, maybe the haters will remember that last one, but they will talk more about how his head was the size of a watermelon.)

Baseball media don’t talk about the best players who haven’t won a World Series… because who wins the World Series doesn’t really matter that much, unless it is your team that did it. (You do, of course, hear this kind of thing in football all the time about quarterbacks, or in the NBA about big scorers.)

Little wonder, then, especially in an era where fantasy sports eliminates the idea of the star player putting up numbers in an attention-free vacuum, that we gravitate to the One over the Team.

Little wonder, then, that people who still care more about teams – or, for that matter, winners and losers – are paying little to no attention to the Bonds Chase. It’s not just that he’s on the West Coast, folks.

(Sure, some tune out on the moral objection of Bonds being remarkably unpleasant and a cheat. But it’s not like baseball hasn’t had a million of those over the years. Bonds is just more talented than most, and had access to better chemicals. Ty Cobb would have injected infant bone marrow into his eyeballs in the on-deck circle if he thought it would have helped. Pete Rose, too. Willie Mays played until he was a shell of his former self – you think he wouldn’t have cut a corner to be better at the end? Again, this is a different column.)

Whether or not the rise of individual over team is a good thing is up to the individual fans. The natural instinct is to point at this and say how it’s the clearest reason why the whole world is going to Hell In A Handbasket. If you’re not inclined to think that way about changes in the world, you shrug and go back to checking you fantasy league roster.

For myself, I am mostly ambivalent about Bonds and the rise of the Individual over the Team – which is part of why there hasn’t been much on FTT about him. The people that he infuriates most are sportswriters, who are paid to be infuriated, and as a group, about as pleasant to deal with as Barry himself.

His Giants teams are on a treadmill to nowhere, and yet he makes them watchable, even if it’s in a Tyson-esque way. If he were to suffer a career-ending injury tomorrow, their season would be about as entertaining as that of the Kansas City Royals. I was in the Bay Area during 2005, when Bonds wasn’t playing due to injury. The team and its fans were like smack junkies going cold turkey. Determining whether Pedro Feliz is ever going to turn the corner – not quite as interesting as whether or not the all-time record is going to be set. So long as you’re not getting a playoff race, why not live in the sideshow?

As for Hell in a Handbasket... I have never enjoyed watching sports more than now, despite the lack of a championship for any of my favorite teams. I can’t imagine going back to a time when the only things I cared about were the plights of my favorite teams.

The toothpaste is out of the tube. We’re all league-wide fans now, and we’re all witnesses to history.

For our team, and for every other.

Brett Favre Party Tips

Are you ready to step up your partying game to first-ballot Hall of Fame status? Then take a few tips from Packers legend and beacon of pure light and goodness, Brett Favre.

In an FTT exclusive, Brett took a few minutes away from his busy day of Not Retiring Or Asking For A Trade to give us his tips for rocking the house.

FTT: Brett, thanks for taking the time today. Is that a Broncos jersey you are wearing?

BF: What, this? Oh, it's just a gift from Coach Shanahan, or as I like to call him, Mikey Mike. He and I go way back. It’s such a shame they haven’t had a serious QB since Elway. I feel bad for them.

Can I get you anything? I just got these fine-cut crystal flutes from the good people over at Niner headquarters. See how the logo is cut into the stem, and how it reflects the light? That's class.

FTT: Neat. Um, sure, I guess I'll have some water.

BF: Here's some artisan water from the Buffalo Bills. The team has it bottled from a pristine lake in upstate New York, just below the Canadian border. It's the little things that tell you a team is committed to winning.

FTT: Very refreshing, and thank you. Now, on to serious party business. A big entrance sets the tone for the whole event, doesn't it?

BF: I have to disagree with you there. What you want to do is slip in quietly, unnoticed, and badly dressed, or maybe with a set of dorky glasses. Next, make a bunch of innocent but relatively crippling social mistakes. You know, like hit on someone's wife because you didn't know she was married, or break something by accident. That way, people start to form an opinion about you as A Gunslinger. That's absolutely critical. It will give you leeway to really branch out later.

FTT: Interesting. So what you are saying is that you've got to have time to find your partying stride. I like your collection of NFL bobbleheads, by the way.

BF: Aren't they awesome? I had those privately commissioned, and I've got me in all 32 teams. I love the way I look wearing the Cowboys’ stars.

Anyway, as I was saying, you've got to build your way up. Now, about an hour into the party, you want to start playing your power cards. If there's music, now is a good time to show your moves. I've spent years in training for all kinds of dance - ballroom, tap, ballet, falling down for Michael Strahan - to give me the edge.

This is also a great time to peel off those bad clothes and dork glasses, especially if you've been working on your abs. At this point, if you've played your cards right, that wife you hit on earlier is starting to chew her lip and daydream.

FTT: I had no idea this was so complicated. Hey, a quick side question -- why does your big screen TV have a "Compliments of the Miami Dolphins" sash on it?

BF: That? Oh, no reason. You meet so many great people in football -- Wayne Huizenga's such a kidder. Anyway, when it's time to take a break from the dancing, I like to "forget" that I brought really good wine for the party hosts, and it's in the car.

Now, here's the thing about the wine -- it's got to be excellent. You can't go too big on the wine. I realize it's a big commitment, but this is your party reputation you are talking about.

Also, it really helps if it's spiked with ecstasy.

FTT (spit-take): Isn't that illegal? Jeez, I'm sorry about that.

BF: No worries -- I'll just wipe it up with one of my fine chamois drop cloths that Coach Gruden -- Johnny, I call him -- from the Tampa Bay Buccaneers is always sending me. He knows that ol' Brett is partial to the high thread count.

FTT: Isn't ecstasy illegal, not to mention something of a criminal act to give to people without their knowledge?

BF: Not when you're a Gunslinger, baby! Besides, you've set the stage now to really do some damage. Dance for all you're worth. Get the girls all hot and bothered, then whisper in their ear that the guys that aren't dancing are really into them -- and that you want to see what they'd do with you on the guy over there first.

See if you can get a couple of them grinding each other, too -- no reason to be jealous, sweet child. There's plenty Gunslinger to go around.

In no time, you'll be leading the hottest party ever, with people swearing that you are the best party animal that has ever been. It helps a lot if you have other people saying this, so don't be afraid to pay a few people to do that. Just make sure they seem really, really sincere, and tell them to keep saying that. For years.

FTT: I think I'm going to be sick.

BF: Let me know if you are. I’ve got some bags from the Oakland Raiders that will help.

Now, a little while later, things will start to wind down. Some people will crash from the ecstasy, others will get tired, et cetera. Here's the critical thing -- do not, under any circumstances, leave.

FTT: But... but what if you have the two girls all ready to, you know, go somewhere more private?

BF: Lead them on by *talking* about leaving, but just don't leave. You've got to stay committed to the party. I think of this as a little side game to play -- see how long you can stretch it out. I once did this for an entire week on a skiing vacation. Remember, you're the party legend, the one that everyone else is looking to for drama in their lives. You've got records to set. A reputation to uphold. Personal honor.

Besides, as the hour gets later, that's when you can really start breaking stuff. Remember that "accidental" breakage earlier? Go nuts with that. I like to start there, then build up to the urination, vomiting, and arson.

FTT: Did you say arson?

BF: Sure. Remember, you're going for legend status here. You can't be afraid to throw deep.

Speaking of which, you know who can’t throw deep? Matt Leinart of the Arizona Cardinals. I think the Cardinals could really be dangerous if they had a QB who could get the ball down the field.

FTT: But if someone invited you into their home for a party, and paid for your drinks and food, does that really mean they deserve to have their house burned down?

BF: Look, when you're a Gunslinger, you've got sling some guns.

I'm not saying this plan is right for everyone, but Brett Favre only knows one way to party.

And if you're committed to true party greatness, you know what I'm talking about.

FTT (wiping away tears): That was beautiful.

BF (also crying): I know. I know.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to take this call from the Kansas City Chiefs. I have no idea what it is about. Don’t these people realize that I’m going to retire as a Green Bay Packer, and that it's going to happen this Sunday?

FTT: Wait! Holy crap! Are you retiring? What a scoop this would be for the blog, Brett. We’d have the story first. Are you really retiring?

BF: I’m sorry, but this interview is over. Happy partying!