The Surest Path to the Super Bowl Starts at a D-III School
John Carroll University has about 3,700 students. The university competes in the Ohio Athletic Conference, and it currently has 7 former football players getting ready for Super Bowl LI. They won’t be playing, but the little Jesuit school in University Heights, OH has become a N.F.L. pipeline for coordinators, coaches, and general managers.
“New England has seven full-time football staffers who played football for the Blue Streaks and graduated: offensive coordinator Josh McDaniels (Class of ’99); director of player personnel Nick Caserio (‘99); assistant quarterbacks coach Jerry Schuplinski (‘99); director of pro personnel Dave Ziegler (‘00); coaching assistant Nick Caley (‘06); pro scout Frank Ross (‘10); and scouting assistant D.J. Debick (‘12).”
The path was created long before the Patriots. Don Shula graduated from John Carroll. Former N.F.L. executive Bill Polian’s two sons went J.C.U. went there, too, and it sounds like they found their tribe while playing for the Blue Streak (what a terrible team name): straight-laced football geeks who knew their playing days would end when their college eligibility ran out.
As it goes in so many fields, a recommendation gets an interview, but the person gets the job, and he/she busts ass to rise the ranks. They then hire people they trust. And so it goes.
Nepotism doesn’t get a potential hire very far in this scenario. As McDaniels puts it, “[the Carroll connection will] get you a conversation. But if you cannot deliver value to our organization, we’re going to have no use for you. Being from John Carroll distinguishes you from a pile of strangers. But don’t think that just because you know somebody here, that we’re going to take you on because we went to the same school.”
An interesting read during the week before a the Super Bowl that’s usually filled with the fluffiest of fluff. – PAL
I’m struggling, folks. I realize for the last eight years I had my guy in the White House. It was much easier to defend your guy when he’s in charge than it is to acknowledge folks have a very different set of beliefs when their guy’s in charge. The dangerous/foolish admission is I have a really hard time believing the majority of Americans are down with some of the recent moves from the Trump White House.
Look, this isn’t a political blog, and I have no interest in making it one. But I’m struggling. I don’t want to be alarmist, but Trump’s first couple weeks have me legitimately alarmed:
The travel order
Trump’s insertion of Steve Bannon – a political advisor with a downright scary, nationalist track record – on the principles committee of the National Security Council
Trump’s “go nuclear” (bypass supermajority) order in the event the dems halt Supreme Court nominee Neil Gorsuch after republicans filibustered Obama’s nominee for a year.
And the ever-present fear: Mike Pence is next in line.
Here’s the deal: Donald Trump won the election, and I live in a hyper-progressive bubble. I am not the majority. I really, really want to ground myself in that truth – honest to god I do – but I just don’t respect Trump. Not at all. Perhaps this is how many felt when liberals have sat behind the desk in the Oval Office.
What the hell does this have to do with sports? Not a lot, but a little. Once example is Football-obsessed Tom Brady. Touchdown Tommy is a Trump supporter, and initially showed his support by way of staging a “Make America Great Again” hat in his locker way back in September of 2015. He’s dodged every question about it since with his “I’m just here to win football games” response.
I shouldn’t care. Goddamn, I shouldn’t care about a bimbo quarterback’s political views. Hell, maybe he’s simply friends with Trump and put the hat up there when the notion of him winning the election seemed so far-fetched. It’s absurd!
Yet, I really care that Brady answer some basic questions. I care because of the travel order that predominantly targets a religion, which is historically un-American. I care because we have in Bannon a political advisor with a main seat in matters of war, and I care because Supreme Court seats have a much longer impact than presidencies. And if you’re going to put the hat up there, then grow a pair and answer some questions.
1-2-3 Favorite Barry Petchesky puts it this way:
Let’s be clear: Under ordinary circumstances, athletes’ politics are their own, and they shouldn’t be expected to have to explain them more than anyone else. But that goes two ways. These are extraordinary circumstances—unprecedented, history-altering circumstances—and the country feels like it’s coming apart. Right now, it’s not enough for the Trump supporter around the corner to explain his support with a shrug, and it’s not okay for a famous one to grin and smirk because Durr, Donald’s my friend.
Own it, Touchdown Tommy. If you’re going to put the hat right in the camera frame of your locker, then give us some rationale.
No one cares about your TB12 brand (or whatever the crap it is), or your Stetson endorsement, your Uggs endorsement, or whatever the hell else you lend your name to these days. Don’t hide behind the Super Bowl, or your wife’s mandate you stop talking politics. Whether you know it or not, pretty boy, you made a political statement with the hat, then you shriveled when actually asked about it.
Go Falcons (but, really, I’m picking the Falcons). – PAL
TOB: I’m feelin’ it, Phil! Frankly I had a hard time writing about sports this week. My mind is consumed by what the hell is happening in our country, and the world. The scariest, to me, is the fact President Bannon seems hellbent on going to war with China. Which, swell. It’s not hyperbole to say that’s a potential world-ender. But all of it’s bad. Take some solace in the fact you’re not in the minority: not only did Trump lose the popular vote, which would have him lose the election in a “democracy”, but his approval rating is around 42% (which is still insanely high).
Anyways, Brady is a bimbo and Petchesky’s story is really good. Read it. I laugh every time I think of the line, “it’s not okay for a famous one to grin and smirk because Durr, Donald’s my friend.”
When Will College Athletes Wake Up?
This story was making the rounds on Twitter early in the week, and I was excited to read an “illustrated guide to a recruiting visit at Nick Saban’s house.”
ESPN generally sucks these days, and that includes its sportswriting. So I should not have been surprised this story was so disappointing. I thought it would be an inside look at the side of recruiting we normally don’t get to see. Instead…this might as well have been a paid advertisement for Alabama. This thing is short, maybe 800 words, and all I learned is Saban has a big house, nice cars, and lives by a lake. Which…yeah, obviously. What a waste of two minutes. But my beef with this story is more than that. Something about it sat very poorly with me. I understand 18-year old kids are 18-year old kids, and they can be impressionable. But these kids are impressed by Saban’s big house and his fancy cars. If they did some critical thinking, they might wonder why Nick Saban lives in this insane house, and has fast cars “designed” by his son, while they get a fourth-rate education and no pay. Think, fellas. Expect more. Demand more. -TOB
Lane Kiffin, everybody. Feel the energy. And an excellent parody here by SI’s Andy Staples.
The bosses saw the Lane Kiffin video and told me that what works for a season ticket sales drive will work for a subscription drive. pic.twitter.com/mMSIKvPKiX
“That dude is a bad mother. You talk about a loan shark. I borrowed a nickel from him last week. He said if I didn’t give him a dime by Friday, he’d break my arm.”
One of the advantages of being snowed in this weekend was that I had nothing to do but watch the NFC and AFC Championships in Tahoe while eating smoked tri-tip. Outside of the college national championship game between Clemson and Alabama, I don’t think I watched a full football game on TV this year. I’ll admit it: I was eager to hunker down, and while the games were duds, I was impressed with a couple of dudes I’ve never heard of before. Chris Hogan of the Patriots exposed the Steelers, and Mohamed Sanu was part of the Falcons receiving core that flat out overmatched the Packers secondary. So when I was scrolling headlines, Sanu’s name stood out. The story his name is connected to is unbelievable at first glance, but the logical next step of fandom once you think about it for a moment.
Did you know there is a stock market for athletes? This is real. As the NY Times’ Ken Belson explains:
“Sanu is one of a handful of N.F.L. players who were paid a hefty upfront fee by a company called Fantex Holdings in return for a share of his future earnings.
“The company formed a trading exchange several years ago on which investors could buy and sell shares of a tracking stock tied to an athlete’s financial performance and which rises or falls based on the athlete’s perceived value. The idea was to create a chance for investors and fans to cash in on a player’s rising fortunes, whether it be a new contract, a sponsorship deal or other sources of income related to his football career.”
First there were sports cards. Then came fantasy sports. Daily fantasy (gambling fantasy). And now this: Player investment for regular folks. The concept makes perfect sense for the level of players linked to Fantex.
Arian Foster was the first, and he was paid handsomely for it: $10M for 20% of all future earnings related to his football career (player salary, sponsorship, or “other sources of income related to hit football career”). It’s worth noting the company pulled Foster’s “IPO” after he tore his Achilles in 2015. Foster struck a deal with Fantex in 2013. He retired midway through the 2016 season. Back of the napkin math tells me he took the upfront $10M, knowing that he’d come out ahead unless he made more than $50M due to football.
Here are other players who’ve struck a deal with Fantex, their upfront payments, and the percentage of earnings they cut to Fantext*:
Alshon Jeffery (WR, Chicago) – $7.9M (13%)
Vernon Davis (TE, Washington) – $4M (10%)
EJ Manuel (QB, Buffalo) – $4.9M (10%)
Ryan Shazier (LB, Pittsburgh) – $3.1M (10%)
Does it make sense for Tom Brady, Aaron Rogers, or Julio Jones? Not likely. One would think they’ve made enough money already to negate the kind of insurance policy Fantex offers players. But remember – most N.F.L. contracts are not guaranteed. The idea makes a lot of sense for players with uncertain futures (pretty much all players in the N.F.L), and I get it from Fantex’s perspective, too. While I understand the logic from a fan/investor perspective, who the hell wants to bet on the outcome of a professional athlete’s career? Oh wait – people will bet on anything.
I’m not a gambler, but it isn’t the rush connected to betting on sports in the immediacy of it? You make a bet, you watch the game. You win or you lose, and in some ridiculous way, you feel like you partook in the sporting event. Also, doesn’t this feel like a setup ripe for insider trading? What incentive did Arian Foster have to be forthright with Fantex when he signs that deal? I guess Fantex would be worth a nickel if it didn’t factor in that possibility as well.
I don’t know – this idea of trading in human commodities feels gross. – PAL
TOB: Phil, you precious little snowflake, you’re looking at it wrong. In a way it’s a paid up-front insurance policy. You get a big chunk of cash, and it may end up costing you more in the longterm, but that’s the gamble you make. Makes sense to me. Foster made out like a bandit. He was paid $10M by Fantex in 2013. From 2013-2016, he made less than $20M, 0f which they got $4M. Although it does sound to me like Fantex might also get a cut of earnings outside of football, such as endorsements.
By the way, who would have been your best ground floor player? Mine would have been Aaron Rodgers, who I knew was going to be great the first time I saw him throw a pass in a college game, and who I still thought would be great even when he was backing up Brett Favre for the first three years of his career. I also would have liked to buy low on Marshawn Lynch when he left Buffalo. I still believed, damnit.
The Two Buck Chuck of Golf Balls
This might be one of the stupidest and most amusing stories I’ve read since we started this blog: Costco started selling golf balls under its Kirkland brand for $29/2 dozen, about half the cost of many name brands. Costco, as it turns out, got them from the same Korean manufacturer who creates golf balls for TaylorMade. As with Two Buck Chuck and Trader Joes, the manufacturer had a surplus and sold them cheap to Costco.
Word got out, thanks to the internet, that these Kirkland golf balls were actually really good, and they began to sell like hotcakes. They sold out quickly, and thus created a secondary market for these Kirkland golf balls, where they are selling on eBay for twice their retail price which *bangs head on the wall* is the SAME PRICE YOU CAN GET THE TAYLORMADE GOLF BALLS FOR. I felt like I was taking crazy pills reading the golfers in this article, talking about the lengths they go and the prices they pay to get these Kirkland golf balls…while the exact same ball is available for the same price at your local Dick’s Sporting Goods. Somebody pinch me. This is too stupid. I must be dreaming. -TOB
The Williams sisters, Venus and Serena, will face off in the Australian Open finals this weekend. It is the first finals appearance in a major for Venus since 2009. Serena has the chance to break her tie with Steffi Graf by winning her 23rd major, which would be the most in the Open era. It’s pretty cool, but I was struck by the story of the woman Serena beat in the semifinals – Croatian Mirjana Lucic-Baroni. Mirjana is 34, still younger than both Serena and Venus, and ranked only 79th in the world. Mirjana’s appearance in the semifinals is her first in a major since Wimbledon in 1999, when she beat Monica Seles in the quarters only to lose to Steffi Graf in the next round. 1999 feels like a lifetime ago to me, and must feel like more to her. She was 17 then, and big things were expected of her. She dropped off the tour for years after publicly accusing her father of mental and physical abuse as he groomed her for tennis stardom. She then ran into financial problems, and dropped off the tour again in the mid-2000s, not returning until 2010. Knowing that backstory certainly gives some context to her on-court interview after making the semifinals:
I saw this before she lost to Serena in the semifinals. I am a big fan of Serena, but it was hard not to root for Mirjana. What a great story. -TOB
Rock Raines in the Hall of Fame, or Why We Care About Sports
Tim “Rock” Raines was a guy who I juuuuuust missed. He had a short peak, from 1983-1987, in part because of his struggles with cocaine. He did have one last great year in 1992 with the White Sox, and I do remember that. But I’m not sure I thought of him as a Hall of Famer. However, Jonah Keri is one of my favorite writers, and over the last two years, Jonah has undertaken a public campaign to get Rock inducted into the Hall of Fame, and I quickly bought in to Raines as a Hall of Famer. This year was his last chance, and he got in with 86% of the vote (75% is the requirement for election). He was hovering around 50% before Keri began his campaign, which is impressive and speaks to how respected Jonah is in the baseball writing community. Jonah’s campaign was mainly centered around raising awareness/reminding people of Raines’ greatness, and of what Raines meant to Jonah. Raines is to Jonah as Puckett is to Phil. Here, the day Raines’ election to the Hall of Fame was announced, Jonah explains what Raines, and Jonah’s beloved and defunct Expos, meant to him. More broadly, Jonah uses his love of Raines and the Expos to explain why we love sports.
Why should we care about any of this? Why are we driving ourselves nuts over a museum in a tiny little village in upstate New York? Why give a damn about a baseball player who retired a decade and a half ago, whose best years came with a team that ceased to exist at nearly the same time? Why care about sports at all, when there are so many seemingly far more important questions to ponder in the universe?
You can conjure a bunch of reasons for why we do care.
For one, we love to argue. We debate, rank, and scrutinize everything from breakfast cereals to pop singers to presidents. Switch to sports and we get electrifying plays, reams of numbers, and clear, binary results. Either your guy won, or he lost.
We also welcome the distraction that sports bring. Life can be damn hard. We get sick. We have our hearts broken. We watch dear friends and family members die. Sports have a way of lifting us up, away from personal tragedies or even the mundane frustrations that get us all down.
For me, sports are a proxy for the people I love, and loved.
…
But those old memories never fade. More than the Expos or even Raines himself, being a fan was about sitting beside my Papas, watching those first games when I wasn’t yet old enough to fully understand what I was seeing.
That’s why, when Hall of Fame President Jeff Idelson called Raines’ name today, I, a 42-year-old man of relatively sane mind, jumped around and yelled like a damn lunatic. It’s why I thumbed through so many old albums, and cried like a damn baby whenever I thought about those very first baseball games.
PAL: Didn’t see the turn at the end coming. Keri is great – passionate, fresh perspective in baseball writing in a time when it was needed – but his writing and podcasts are hit and miss with me. This article was a hit, and, I’ll be damned if I didn’t get a little choked up there at the end of this article.
Marketing Unicorns in the New N.B.A.
He dunks this…
Perhaps more than any other American sport – basketball’s popularity is driven by its individual players, and our proximity to them is mattering less and less.
I know who GiannisAntetokounmpo is, even if I can hardly pronounce his name. I know because any of his highlights are immediately delivered to my phone, and I know because I don’t think I’ve seen anything like him. He’s a 7-foot point guard for the Milwaukee Bucks, and he’s what many people consider a unicorn – a “singular talent without antecedent.” Here’s the proof:
This is a really interesting story about a collection of young NBA unicorns, and how to market them when the old equation no longer works (big market, relatable, no lumbering big men):
‘And while the franchises and shoe companies that make up the N.B.A. economy haven’t completely caught up with the online buzz generated by the league’s most dedicated fans, they have begun to prepare for what feels like inevitable change. Antetokounmpo and fellow young “unicorns” like Kristaps Porzingis of the Knicks and Joel Embiid of the Sixers…will go a long way toward determining whether the pro-basketball industrial complex can make as much money appealing to liberated fans as to their hidebound, local-market counterparts.’
No American-based athletes are more recognizable than NBA players. No helmet. No hat. Small playing surface. 10 competitors on the court at a time. With this in mind, it makes sense that “shoe-company nation-states” invest a hell of a lot more in NBA players than MLB, NFL, NHL, or Nascar.
TOB and I went to the Warriors – Thunder game this past Wednesday. As we were walking in, we realized we were about to see 5 of the best 20 players in the NBA in one regular season game: Steph Curry, Kevin Durant, Russell Westbrook, Draymond Green, and Klay Thompson. I don’t think I’ve ever been to a sporting event featuring that many of the game’s best. Who of those players would you define as a unicorn? I’d say Durant, Curry, and Westbrook. Needless to say, it was incredibly fun to watch. – PAL
As we swear in a new president, I found this article about the impact basketball has had on Barack Obama the day before his inauguration. Although a bit long-winded, it puts together a very clear pattern of how basketball has helped shaped Obama at many phases of his life. Obama’s passion for the game in rooted in what he calls an “improvisation within a discipline that I find very powerful.”
A few weeks ago at work, we went around the room and talked about what we learned in the past year. For me it was clear: All of the lessons I learned in youth sports absolutely apply to my daily life today, and I’ve finally re-embraced them. I scoffed them off for 15 years, but they still remain the best guidelines on how to go about my job. The qualities that makes a good teammate or leader at 12 are the exact same qualities that make a good co-worker or manager.
Here are a few of my favorite bits from this story. If you need a little escapism today, this is a good article to jump into over lunch.
Obama on early lessons from the court: “A handful of black men, mostly gym rats and has-beens, would teach me an attitude that didn’t just have to do with the sport. That respect came from what you did and not who your daddy was. That you could talk stuff to rattle an opponent, but that you should shut the hell up if you couldn’t back it up. That you didn’t let anyone sneak up behind you to see emotions—like hurt or fear—you didn’t want them to see.”
Obama on being a benchwarmer on his high school team: It’s about “being part of something and finishing it up. And I learned a lot about discipline, about handling disappointments, about being more team-oriented and realizing that not everything is about you.”
Brother-in-law Craig Robinson (former Oregon St. coach) on pickup basketball and Obama: “There’s an ethical undertone in pickup that people miss. The game has to be played fairly or it breaks down. You practice an honor code, making your own calls and giving them up. If Barack travels, he’ll give it up, not sneak it by you. You play with hundreds of guys who’d never do that. It all gets back to how you can tell a guy’s character on the court.”
Pickup became Obama’s game after high school, and he used it at every phase of his life.
“After graduation he took a job on Chicago’s South Side, where he brought together white priests, black pastors and civic leaders to solve common problems. It was frustrating work marked by intermittent victories. For example, he used basketball as a means to get through to an on-the-edge adolescent who was scaling back his expectations for life.
“Several years later, at Harvard Law, Obama joined a group of law students who played against inmates at a nearby prison, where the cons lining the court made sure their visitors knew how many packs of cigarettes rode on the outcome.”
“Before matters between Barack and Michelle could advance too far, she had a test to administer. Having grown up listening to her father and her brother, a two-time Ivy League Player of the Year at Princeton, insist that a man’s character gets laid bare on the court, she hatched a plan. Craig Robinson rounded up a quorum of friends of varied abilities…Obama found that sweet spot between not shooting every time and not always passing to Craig.”
While the now grey Obama is more likely to play golf than a rough pickup game, I hope he sets aside plenty of time to at least kick a little ass at the local gym. – PAL
TOB: Maaaaaaaaan, am I gonna miss that guy. I’ve never made a bucket list, but playing pickup with Obama would be on it. I heard he’s headed to Palm Springs this weekend…just sayin. Also, the title of that SI story is amazing.
Video of the Week:
PAL Song of the Week: Tom Waits – “Frank’s Song”
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All kidding aside, we all know about your credentials, and your breadth of experience. For example, on a recent episode of Celebrity Apprentice, at the steakhouse, the men’s cooking team did not impress the judges from Omaha Steaks. And there was a lot of blame to go around, but you, Mr. Trump, recognized that the real problem was a lack of leadership. And so ultimately, you didn’t blame Lil Jon or Meatloaf, you fired Gary Busey.
These are the kinds of decisions that would keep me up at night. Well handled, sir! Well handled.
Zac Easter loved football. His family still does. His dad was once a football coach at a small college, later coached his three boys in high school, and instilled his love for football in his sons. As a father, how then does Myles Easter, Sr. deal with the fact football, the sport he loves and introduced his children to, ended up killing his son, Zac? It’s a question I kept asking myself as I read this tragic yet masterful story. Sadly, he drinks. It’s hard to blame him, though.
Zac was your stereotypical wildman linebacker. As his brother said, “He was there to do some damage.” He was aggressive, and tough. He hit hard, and loved it. He started to get concussions, but did his best to hide the symptoms from coaches and medical personnel in order to stay on the field. In the end, Zac developed CTE, and he knew it years before he died and doctors were able to confirm it. He never played football beyond high school, but by the time he was in college he experienced depression, extreme mood swings, and crippling short-term memory loss. He often had trouble with remembering why he entered a room.
In the end, Zac Easter decided to take his own life. He couldn’t deal with the pain any longer. It’s a story we’ve read before, but the fact Zac documented his descent in a diary, and the way he did so, makes this story so compelling. It also makes this story so hard to read.
The writer, Reid Forgrave, weaves the diary and text messages to and from Zac’s girlfriend, into the story, creating a feeling that you are reading Zac’s downfall in real-time. It’s certainly enough to erase any lingering question in my mind whether I’d let my sons play football. After reading this, how could I?
PAL: The last few years have been full of CTE stories, but this story is remarkable because the tragic figure, Zac Easter, is boy when the problems begin and a very young man when they end. He’s not a retired N.F.L. player. What’s more, there’s very little distance between the reader and Easter. His journal and texts don’t let us step back from the merciless process of losing one’s self. In writing this story, Forgrave’s greatest achievement is staying out of the story whenever possible, moving us along from Zac Easter’s journal and texts.
There are passages in this story where the tension and stakes are so high that you feel like you’re running alongside the people in Zac’s life. It’s difficult to read, but it’s too powerful to put down.
Bracing for Blame
I hardly even noticed it anymore until I read this story. Every lineman in football seems to wear knee braces. Some are the result of past injury, but as this story highlights, many college teams mandate…wait for it…”prophylactic bracing”. Call me a 12 year-old; I don’t care. That’s hilarious.
Here’s the thing: Multiple studies have shown that braces might not prevent knee injury. In 2008 “a systematic review of all studies on whether knee braces prevent injury…concluded that the issue was not so clear-cut. The methodology of the [previous] studies was flawed in many cases, the review found, and several studies even indicated that wearing braces might increase — not decrease — the risk of knee injury.”
Brian Pietrosimone, an exercise science expert who’s done a bunch of research on prophylactic bracing (hehehe), says “In some ways, it has become like taping ankles. Just about everyone wraps tape on players’ ankles prophylactically, and there is, in reality, very little evidence to support doing that.”
So why do colleges mandate something that isn’t certain to work, especially when many players loathe wearing the braces? My hunch: C.Y.A. Cover your ass. Who cares if it works, it works in that it shows coaches and team medical staffs did the best they could. The problem is that they aren’t doing the best they can. They aren’t listening to their players, and they aren’t paying attention to research that’s taken place in the last 20 years.
There’s hope for those Big Uglies that are good enough to play on Sundays after college. The CBA makes it more difficult for “blanket equipment mandates”. – PAL
This week, Chargers owner Dean Spanos announced he is officially moving the team to Los Angeles, beginning next season, ending the team’s 50-year stay in San Diego. Yes, that logo up there is real. After it was lambasted on Twitter, the team claimed it is just a placeholder.
Spanos had until this week to determine whether he’d exercise the option to move to L.A. He did so, and it cost him about a billion dollars – he must pay the other owners a $650M relocation fee, and he turned down a reported offer of $350 million from the NFL toward construction of a new stadium. San Diego voters declined to build him a $1.8 billion stadium in November’s election.
The team does not move under the best of circumstances – having seen the Rams play in front of thousands of empty seats at the L.A. Coliseum this season, the Chargers will play two years at the 27,000-seat StubHub Center, home of the MLS’ L.A. Galaxy. No, that was not a typo. The stadium holds 27,000 seats. After two years, the Chargers will share the $2.6 billion Los Angeles Stadium and Entertainment District at Hollywood Park (or LASEDHP, for short)…except the Chargers will merely be a tenant.
Sports Illustrated’s Jack Dickey uses this context to survey the current state of NFL ownership and makes this excellent point:
“An observer from outside the sports world could reasonably conclude that the NFL is in actuality a trade group for land barons, and that the game of football is a front. Most owners seem to aspire to little more than keeping up with the Joneses—Jerry and Stephen, in this case. Each new stadium and each renovation pushes existing stadiums toward supposed obsolescence….”
Spanos moved because he felt the team was worth more as a tenant in L.A. than it was in San Diego. Owners don’t care about fans. Or even ticket sales, which is a short-term salve. They care about the resale value of the team. Good for San Diego voters in recognizing that fact, and telling Spanos if he wanted to walk, then he should walk. If all cities would make the same decision, the charade NFL owners are playing would be up. -TOB
PAL: It’s morbidly fascinating that we are financing new football cathedrals while C.T.E. seems to becoming an all too common story. Who will fill the stadiums in 20 years? I don’t know, but rest assured the current owners will be out of the game with another couple billion (what does that even do for a person?) long before the downfall.
And – yes – good for the people of San Diego. I’d rather build a sandcastle on the beach than build an stadium for an owner.
Pudge > Bench
I was a huge Pudge fan, and he gave me one of the most impressive moments in sports fandom. I was at a Twins game while he was still young with the Rangers. Either we had good seats behind home, or the Dome was so empty that I roamed over there. He threw down to second in between innings – really let one go. I swear to you the ball was never more than 3 or 4 feet off the ground. At the end of the throw – hand to god – the baseball rose right at the end. I swear, runners we’re scared to get hit by the ball:
Maybe the rise-ball is an optical illusion, but Pudge’s throwing runners out was the most impressive thing I’ve seen live at a baseball game aside from Bonds turning on a pitch and sending it into McCovey Cove from super close seats. Pudge is the best defensive catcher (13 Gold Gloves), an excellent hitter (2,800 hits, 311 HR, 572 2B), and he inspired me to wear a fake pair of Oakleys under my mask in youth league (terrible or bold – I still don’t know).
While my dad might have a case for his favorite, Johnny Bench (Dad – give me a call and I’ll show you how to leave a comment), Pudge is the best I’ve ever seen behind the dish, and I can’t imagine anyone better. – PAL
TOB: Let me throw a name out there. Gerald Dempsey Posey. Don’t scoff. Like Pudge, he has an MVP. Unlike Pudge, he has a batting title. He plays in a pitcher’s park, not that bandbox in Arlington. He has caught three World Series titles. And through his first 7 seasons in the majors, his WAR of 33.5 is well above Pudge’s 24.8 through his first 7 seasons. Yes, Pudge had a better arm (Pudge’s 46% career caught stealing percentage is quite a bit better than Buster’s 33%). But Buster is also the best pitch-framer in the game, and puts his pitchers first. As this article details, Pudge put his own caught stealing stats above what was best for his pitchers, and his pitchers often groused about it both his framing abilities and his pitch calling, as he sacrificed both in order to put himself in the best position to throw out a runner. You can have Pudge. I’ll take Buster.
Video of the Week
This is why you should teach your kids to throw a football.
PAL Song of the Week:Booker T. Jones – “Everything Is Everything”
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These are the funniest stories from 2016. Scroll down to find our favorite media from 2016. Some real gems here, folks.
FUNNIEST Stories of 2016:
Vin Scully Takedown
Vin Scully is GREAT. He started broadcasting Dodgers games in 1950. In Brooklyn. He was the broadcaster for the World Series at the age of 25. People of Los Angeles have spent their entire lives with him. As babies, as teenagers, as college dopes driving home for summer. On the way back from the hospital with their first kid, driving away from funerals of parents. Setting out on a roadtrip to the to meet their first grandchild. There has been one constant in a Dodger’s fan’s life: Vin Scully. He has been in the homes and cars of L.A. for 67 years. That’s not a career, that’s a lifetime, and not just his.
Even that – even all of that – does not excuse what I’m about to show you:
00:14 – That mime hug. What a sweet, sincere, grandpa move. Oh, Mr. Scully. Picture of grace and humility. This is too perfect. The Dodger clinch the division on a walk-off home run. Sending out Scully in style.
01:00 – Scully thanking the fans: “Believe me when I tell you I’ve needed you far more than you’ve needed me.” Again, grace and humility. Class act beyond reproach.
01:18 – “Anyway, I wanted to try to express my appreciation to all the players, God bless them, and to all you folks here in the ballpark. It’s a very, very modest thing. I sang this for my wife…” Huh, Vin Scully is going to go out singing a song. That’s pretty cool!
01:40 – “You know the song. ‘The Wind Beneath My Wings’.” WHAT? Oh no, Mr. Scully.
01:53 – “I know it’s modest. I know it’s an amatuer. Do you mind listening?” He’s really going to sing Bette Midler. Don’t do it, man. Don’t sing for 50,000 fans. Not that song. Do ‘Take Me Out To The Ballgame’ or something like that. Come on!
02:01 – Look at all those young bucks down on the field for the Dodgers. They absolutely want to pay their respects. They understand how big of a deal Scully is. They also know there’s about 1,000 beers and champagne just waiting for them. They’re itching to RAGE CAGE. Just waiting for gramps to say his piece.
02:06 – Pre-recorded instrumentation kicks in. So…Scully is going to sing along with Bette Midler, or is this a karaoke situation?
02:20 – Whaaaa? So he wasn’t kidding when he asked the fans if they minded listening…to a recording of Scully singing this song as a much younger man. Seriously, this recording is no doubt from the 80s at the very latest. Also, I cannot believe what is transpiring.
02:24 – Hey, here are fans giving the ol Sign of the Horns while listening to a pre-recorded tape of Vin Scully singing ‘Wind Beneath My Wings’:
02:45 – Just a warm embrace between manager and player, while a pre-recorded tape of Vin Scully singing ‘Wind Beneath My Wings’ by Bette Midler plays after they clinched the division. No big deal. WHAT IS GOING ON?!?
02:57 – Scully is tearing up with his arm around his wife, and I feel like an absolute asshole. 67 years of work. The man can do whatever he wants.
03:25 – This guy, giving a misty-eyed salute to Vin Scully while a pre-recorded Vin Scully sings ‘Wind Beneath My Wings’ in Dodger Stadium…after the team just won the division. Is this dude attempting to hold his left hand over his heart? God, the Dodgers really are the worst.
05:09 – This song is still going on! A stadium is going to listen to a pre-recorded Vin Scully sing the entire song. Players getting restless. It’s time to rage, dammit. I ask again, WHAT IN THE HELL IS GOING ON?
05:41 – The song is wrapping up. Everyone applauds on a perfect, sunny afternoon in Los Angeles. Of course they are applauding Scully, but 10% of every fan is applauding that the collective awkwardness is over.
05:57 – Scully wave and wipes a tear. I am an asshole.
05:59 – The song is not over, but the champagne party has erupted on the field. This image is taking place while a pre-recorded Vin Scully singing ‘Wind Beneath My Wings’ by Bette Midler fades out in a stadium of 50,000 fans.
Wow. Just…wow. – PAL
TOB: Vin Scully is great, and by all accounts is a great person, as this story by ESPN’s Jayson Stark shows. And he’s an old, old man who gets to do whatever the hell he wants…but this was just sooooo awkward. My favorite part was the players on the field, who just wanted to party, man, waiting out this 5-minute song and then going bonkers before the track ends. I love that Vin isn’t really singing along.
It’s Back: Hockey Hair 2016.
Yessssssss. You know it, you love it. Enjoy the 2016 edition of the Minnesota State High School All-Hockey Hair Team. Though it’s a video, it deserves its own post. -TOB
Black Man Discovers Hockey; Mad That White People Have Been Hiding It
This is one of the funnier articles I’ve read in a while. Thank you to loyal reader Ryan West for alerting me to it. Twitter user @soloucity aka Tony X. was attempting to watch the St. Louis Cardinals game the other night. But when he tuned in to Fox Sports Midwest, he found the St. Louis Blues, in a Game 7 against the Chicago Blackhawks. Tony X is black, and had apparently never seen hockey before. But he loooooooved it, and live tweeted his experience:
Yo deadass this the first time I've ever watched hockey and this shit has been LIT for these first 45 seconds
PAL: Good find, TOB. His reaction to the goalie being pulled is my favorite. And – hey – anything’s better than watching the Cardinals.
Jed York: Poor Little Rich Boy
I loathe Jed York, so I love this story. Tim Kawakami is a longtime writer for the San Jose Mercury-News. A few years back, before Jed ripped the 49ers from San Francisco and moved them to strip-mall-haven Santa Clara, Kawakami tweeted that, if the 49ers finished Levi’s Stadium in time to open the 2014 football season there, he would buy Jed York lunch. It was likely a throw-away joke. Writers say stuff like that often. But the 49ers did open 2014 at Levi’s, and Jed cashed in the bet, even though it wasn’t really a bet because Jed did not have anything on the line to Kawakami. And where does Jed have Kawakami take him for a meal? Chipotle? Subway? Quizno’s? Some other perfectly Santa Clara lunch spot? No. Oh, no. Not Jed. In fact, he doesn’t make it lunch at all. They go to friggin French Laundry in Yountville, at $700 per person. Is Jed magnanimous? Nope. In fact, he sticks Kawakami, a sportswriter, with the bill. And he also makes Kawakami pay for Jed’s wife, for a total bill of $2,100. Kawakami told the story this week on a podcast and said:
“If I thought Jed was sticking it to me, I’d almost be okay with it. I don’t even think he knew. I don’t think he knew what $2,100 means to a sportswriter who didn’t inherit a billion-dollar team.”
My first thought was, “Well, there must be another side to this story. Surely, there must.” But then Jed York released the following statement:
“The bet took place two years ago and Tim has never shared his concerns about the dinner with me,” York said. “I am happy to speak with Tim one-on-one so we can all move forward.”
Nope. ifThis rich a-hole just decided to make Kawakami pay $2,100 because that is what rich a-holes do. Note that Kawakami also made the bet to Matt Barrows, another writer who covers the 49ers. Barrows was also present at that dinner. Barrows paid for himself. Jed, you are the worst. -TOB
LAX-iest Bros of All the LAX Bros Attend University of Albany
Chaunce. Couger. Blaze. These are not what the cool kids are calling weed these days; rather, these are some of the names on the University of Albany Lacrosse team. Barstool Sports caught this one flush by simply posting the roster of the team, their bios, and adding just a touch of commentary. For a solid laugh, please go check out the entire roster. Here are some of my favorites, followed by the Barstool commentary:
Feel like I’m really missing out by not having a dude named Cougar in my immediate friend group. I’m friends with guys named “Scott” and “Mike” and it’s just all super white and super boring. If we brought Cougar into the mix, I’m sure that would spice things up a bit.
Looks like if Spicoli and some frat star at Georgia or some shit like that had a love child. “Intending to major in business” is sneaky hilarious. Just a great euphemism to say that he doesn’t go to class ever, just chills in his room, smokes weed until lax practice, rinse, repeat.
In comes younger brother Sean who has a bit of a cleaner look to him but you can tell that there’s some bad boy just itching to come out. He’s only a freshman so we’ll check back in a few years to check in on his progress by senior year.
Big shoutout to Meagan Hutcheon, a proud University of Albany alumna, who brought this gem to my attention. – PAL
TOB: Look, you can’t hate a kid for having a dumb name (you hate their parents instead). But you can hate a kid for having those stupid haircuts. In unrelated news, did you see I made the newspaper this week? I’m famous:
That’s how you get back on the horse, Day Day
Draymond Green made some news last weekend, if you didn’t hear. Let’s just say he took a page out of the Anthony Weiner playbook. One might think, after a big mistake like that, a public personality like Draymond Green might take a break from social media. Nope! And I’m glad he didn’t, because he gifted the public his review for some of the USA Basketball team players hair. As the kids say, he kept it 100:
Now THIS is what social media is for, Draymond. Good work. – PAL
TOB: I’m still on Team Draymond. There are things he could do to make me leave Team Draymond, certainly, but they are up there at the Baylor/Penn State/Greg Hardy/O.J. levels
No, Seriously: You’re a Weirdo, Jim Nantz. Cut it Out.
You just gotta watch this video. Jim Nantz talks about how every year after the college basketball title game he removes his tie and presents it to a senior on the winning team.
He looks so creepy and sounds so self-important while saying it. And, by the way, he didn’t even end the title game with a dumb pun this year! I was super mad at you for not giving me the ammo I needed to make fun of you. And then you gave me this. Bellisima!
On May 4, 2014 TOB and I started 1-2-3 Sports! for a few simple reasons:
We found ourselves sending a bunch of emails, texts, and chats with links to stories we’d read throughout the week. Many of you were probably on those chains, too.
There’s a surplus of outlets for sports news, highlights, and stories, all of which are one tweet away. We didn’t need more sports stories; rather, we thought a bit of curation would be helpful.
Perspective oftentimes helps. By posting once a week rather than multiple times a day, we could sift through a bunch of stories throughout the week, find some gems that are worth your time, and provide you with some explanation and banter.
We love doing this, and we hope you enjoy it. Quite frankly, the vast majority of our readers are close friends and family, and it’s really cool to hear you enjoy the blog. If you do love it, please add one small New Years resolution to your list: Share 1-2-3 Sports! with your friends and family! We’d really appreciate it.
Thank you for reading, and now please enjoy our favorite post of the year! And be on the lookout for the funniest stories, videos, and media from 2016 tomorrow.
Cheers,
Phil and Tommy
The Tragedy of Jennifer Frey
Jennifer Frey was, by all accounts, a prodigious sportswriter. Multiple people in the newspaper industry went as far as to characterize her as a genius.
Jennifer Frey was also an addict. On March 26, 2016 Frey died of multiple organ failure. She was 47.
You likely haven’t heard of her. I hadn’t until Thursday. But to many involved in college and professional sports in the 90s, Frey was known as the most talented of writers and a joyful force of nature. She was the rising star.
You might be asking yourself why Dave McKenna’s exceptionally written profile/remembrance was posted on October 27 when she died back in March. I think you’ll find your answer if you read this story (I urge you to do so). McKenna retracks Frey’s career – from her first high school internship at the Olean Times, to the New York Times (at age 24), to the Washington Post in its heyday of sportswriting (Kornheiser, Wilbon, John Feinstein), and ultimately to her unremarkable last byline. He speaks with several writers, editors, and friends from every chapter of her life.
The story is heartbreaking because McKenna takes his time capturing just how incandescent Frey was before alcoholism pinned her down. And while she was the ‘life of the party’, she was also revered as a gracious friend and co-worker, as someone crisscrossing the globe not only for the next great story but also for a spontaneous trip when she learned her friend had been to every state but Alaska. Yes, she was passionate about her job, but McKenna finds the real point that matters: Frey was passionate about life!
This snapshot, which serves as a sort of bookend to the story, captured her success, ambition, and appreciation (remember, Frey’s 24 at the time, working for The New York Times):
Mike Wise says Frey, new as she was to New York, acted like she owned the city. He recalls sitting with Frey in her apartment in Brooklyn Heights after she’d thrown a party, and just being really happy. “We’re looking out the window at the Statue of Liberty, just this amazing view,” says Wise. “And Jennifer said, ‘It’s a pretty good life isn’t it?’ It was.”
Frey’s downfall is terrible – in all the ways you would expect, and in some ways that you might not. The star fades. She mistreats people she loved. The people who loved her run out of stamina. They reconnect when hope is gone but she’s still there. The blame and anger so insignificant in the wake of a sorrow that trails the rarest of people whose greatness was enthusiastic.
TOB: Phil did a really nice job capturing what made this story so great. As with Phil, I had never heard of Jennifer Frey, but damn if it doesn’t now feel like I did. Great writing by McKenna. And if you think you might need help, ask, before it’s too late.
The House That Thacker Built
This story is one of those that I read and think, “This is why we carve hours out of every week to put this blog together for a relatively small amount of readers.” It has it all. Augusta National Golf Course, which hosts the Masters, is rich as hell. There used to be a neighborhood across the street. But Augusta National bought the entire neighborhood, for over $40 million, all told. And bulldozed them all for a god damn parking lot. Every single house! Except for one – the house owned by Herman and Elizabeth Thacker.
The Thackers built the house nearly 60 years ago. They raised their kids there. Their children, and their grandchildren, and now their great-grandchildren come back for the holidays. They recently celebrated their 60th anniversary there. And ya know what? They like the house, seven-figure payout by the rich pricks at August, be damned. “We really don’t want to go,” Elizabeth Thacker said. And so they haven’t. “Money ain’t everything,” Herman Thacker said, sitting on his deck, surrounded by people returning to their parked cars after a Masters practice round, sipping on some bourbon (ok, I imagined the bourbon). And in the middle of this stupid parking lot, the Thackers remain. Bless you, Herman and Elizabeth Thacker. -TOB
PAL (1/6/17): I love this story for the obvious reason – money will get rich people most everything, but not everything – but it’s more nuanced than that, too. For instance, the family is well aware that Augusta will wait them out and eventually own the house, because “the men in green jackets will always be here, and they will always have the money.” Truth.
This couple of 60 years who, as TOB mentions, have been surrounded by people returning to their parking lot during the tournament likely sat on their porch and watched the lyrics to a Joni Mitchell’s ‘Big Yellow Taxi’ play out before them. They paved paradise and put up a parking lot.
It is worth noting the Thackers did sell another lot they owned in the neighborhood.
One last fun tidbit: The Thackers’ grandson is on the PGA Tour trying to qualify for the Masters one day. I hope it happens, so we can post the follow-up to this story.
The Best There Ever Was?
I like this story because it reminds me of the story Phil shared here a while back about the only kid to ever strike Joe Mauer out during high school. Ayrton Senna is known as one of the greatest F-1 drivers of all-time. A well-regarded documentary about his life was made, Senna, which you can watch on Netflix. Senna died on the track in 1994. Before he was winning F-1 championships, though, he was a teenage go-kart racer. He was very good – but he was not the best. The best was a British guy named Terry Fullerton. A few years older than Senna, Fullerton beat everybody. He never lost to Senna. This fact drove young Senna so mad that he once walked by Fullerton and shoved him into a pool. Senna would move on to bigger and better things. But he never forgot Terry Fullerton. Just before Senna died, he said that Fullerton was the best driver Senna ever raced against:
So why have most race fans never heard of Terry Fullerton? Because Fullerton, now 63, never advanced beyond go-karts. He chose this path because when Terry was 11-years old, his older brother died in a motorbike race. Fullerton did not want to put his parents through that again, having to bury their remaining child. So he continued to race go-karts. He even now coaches go-karts, and barely scratches out a living. When asked if he regrets it, he says he sometimes does – but when Fullerton saw the Senna documentary, and heard Senna say that Fullerton was the best driver Senna ever faced, Fullerton realized he made the right decision. After all, Senna is dead, and Fullerton is enjoying his life. -TOB
PAL (1/6/17): Fullerton is simultaneously relatable and extraordinary. You’ve never heard of him, and yet he dominated racing legends. A lot of times trying to measure the gap between “athletic” greatness (sorry, I have to use the quotes for racing) and ourselves is like trying to gauge walking distance in Vegas. You know the difference is very great, and yet I bet we still underestimate it. Stories like this make it even harder to gauge, and that’s fun.
To be the best in the world – at anything, really – is so fascinating, and this story about Terry Fullerton nails that sentiment.
The Man Who Shook Up The World
As we all know, Muhammad Ali passed away last Friday, at age 74. Phil and I happened to be hanging out, watching Eddie Murphy’s “Raw” on Netflix, when I glanced at my phone and read the sad news. We immediately turned on ESPN and watched the retrospectives pour in. ESPN continued the coverage late into the night. Jeremy Schaap, who knew Muhammad Ali better than most because of Ali’s relationship with Jeremy’s dad, the great Dick Schaap, lead the way with some great anecdotes. We laughed at the clips of Ali’s best trash talk:
And his in-ring exploits (this is at the end of his career, in 1977, and he dodges 21 punches in 10 seconds!!)
We also shook our heads at how early he was obviously showing signs of Parkinson’s, and wondered aloud why he was permitted to fight as long as he did. I considered suggesting a special edition 1-2-3 Sports edition on Saturday morning, but we decided against it: one of our guiding philosophies for this blog is not to bring sports news, but to bring you the best sportswriting we find, and to throw our own take in for good measure. This approach also allows some perspective. Over the last week, I read a lot of words written about Muhammad Ali – almost all of them interesting. Like this old article by Roger Ebert, about watching Rocky II with Ali back in 1979, with some very funny anecdotes, observations, and insights from the Greatest. I also really enjoyed this retrospective. It touches on what made Ali great in the ring, and so beloved out of it; but it addresses his shortcomings, both in the ring and out, as well.
And that’s an important part of the Muhammad Ali story. The man was not a saint, and that’s ok. He can still be loved, even if he wasn’t perfect, and even if he was not really the greatest heavyweight boxer, let alone in any weight class, of all-time. Ali was so beloved because of who he was and what he did: he was generous and kind and made our world a much better place. Ali was funny. He was a great fighter. He was a man of principle. But he could be kind of a jerk, too. Truth be told, I’ve always been a Joe Frazier guy. Joe was tough and he was great, and he was the underdog. I was born 7 years after their last fight, but I watched plenty about it as a kid, and I could not escape the thought that Muhammad Ali was a jerk to his former friend Joe. But the world is not that black and white, either. And so I thoroughly enjoyed this old Sports Illustrated article, written about Ali and Frazier and their final fight – The Thrilla in Manila, their respective mornings after that fight, and the respect that two vicious enemies earned from each other.
“In his suite the next morning he talked quietly. “I heard somethin’ once,” (Ali) said. “When somebody asked a marathon runner what goes through his mind in the last mile or two, he said that you ask yourself why am I doin’ this. You get so tired. It takes so much out of you mentally. It changes you. It makes you go a little insane. I was thinkin’ that at the end. Why am I doin’ this? What am I doin’ here in against this beast of a man? It’s so painful. I must be crazy. I always bring out the best in the men I fight, but Joe Frazier, I’ll tell the world right now, brings out the best in me. I’m gonna tell ya, that’s one helluva man, and God bless him.”
I hope you read the whole thing. It is poetic and enlightening, and artfully demonstrates the reason I do enjoy boxing, as brutal and corrupt as it may be.
PAL: Like TOB said, you just gotta read this story. My favorite bit of writing:
“Once, so long ago, he (Ali) had been a splendidly plumed bird who wrote on the wind a singular kind of poetry of the body, but now he was down to earth, brought down by the changing shape of his body, by a sense of his own vulnerability, and by the years of excess. Dancing was for a ballroom; the ugly hunt was on. Head up and unprotected, Frazier stayed in the mouth of the cannon, and the big gun roared again and again.”
A Story That Actually Made Me Feel Bad For Tiger Woods
Long ago, on this very blog, I declared that Tiger Woods no longer deserved the nickname Tiger, and I encouraged our many readers to begin referring to him by his given name: Eldrick. But I’m using Tiger here because Wright Thompson wrote such a great piece on Tiger that I actually feel bad for him.
The nuts and bolts are simple: Tiger Woods was very close to his dad, Earl. Earl was Tiger’s only real friend – both as a kid and as an adult. He was the only person Tiger could really open up to. And then, in 2006, Earl died. To fill the void, Tiger sought comfort by emulating his father, a former Navy SEAL. Tiger began diving deep into advanced military training. It began to consume him. It destroyed his body. And now Tiger, at 40 years old, can barely walk. His golf career is essentially over, and has been for years.
But…this article is somehow so much more than that. It’s incredibly well researched. It is insightful, at times poetic. It’s not perfect – more than a couple times I rolled my eyes when it was a little too poetic. But it strikes deep at the universal relationship between a father and a son. And it paints the picture of Tiger Woods, deeply introverted and wildly awkward, as an incredibly talented golfer who never wanted the immense fame he achieved. Or, at least, had severe buyer’s remorse when he got it. Some of the best passages, shockingly, are direct quotes from Tiger’s friend Michael Jordan, who seems to be reaching out to his troubled friend through this story. MJ sees himself in Tiger, making the connection between Jordan’s retirement to play baseball following his father’s death, and Tiger’s military fascination following his. “It could be his way of playing baseball. Soothing his father’s interest.”
Michael sees the end for Tiger, even if Tiger doesn’t quite see it himself. “I don’t know if he’s happy about that or sad about that. I think he’s tired. I think he really wishes he could retire, but he doesn’t know how to do it yet, and I don’t think he wants to leave it where it is right now. If he could win a major and walk away, he would, I think.” Jordan goes on to say that, like many of us, Tiger looks back at the events of his life since a major turning point and wishes he could go back in time and do it over again. Do it differently. For Tiger, that turning point was his father’s death. He’d be a better husband, for one. But, of course, he cannot. And so MJ hopes his friend, who has named his boats Privacy and Solitude, finds true companionship. Happiness. Tiger continues to be, by all accounts, a loving and caring father to his two children. And that is why I feel bad for Tiger Woods. He has made mistakes, but he is human. He’s a son who misses his father. He’s a father who loves his children. And he’s a man who wants to be happy. -TOB
PAL: We have two depressing stories about sports legends this week: Woods’ focuses on his search for something real in the wake of his father’s death, and Kobe Bryant’s story outlines his decades-long deconstruction of reality in his pursuit of greatness. Both of these dudes are beginning a part of their lives for which they are woefully unprepared. Tiger seems at least to want to find out how to exist in the now; whereas Kobe seems like he just wants to apply his single-minded approach to building a new fantasy world for himself and only himself.
Life Goals.
Shortly after starting this blog, Phil and I decided one of our goals would be to get a press pass to a Giants game. So far, it has not happened – in small part because we have not tried. It was, then, with much self-interest that I read this story of a guy, back in the early-aughts, who fabricated an entire newspaper for the purpose of getting press passes to Atlanta Braves games. This story is the first time Phil Braun told his story, and it’s pretty great. After his photographer buddy sneaks him into a game with an old press pass, Phil decides he really enjoyed himself and wonders how he can get a press pass. He makes up a fake newspaper (“The Duluth Neighbor”) and inquires with the Braves. As it turned out, all he had to do was fax in a request, on the “paper’s” letterhead, signed by his “editor”. It was so easy it’s almost stupid, and Phil got his press pass.
Phil spent many games that season watching from the dugout, or the photographer’s well, snacking on free food in the press box, etc. Taking photos like this, of Chipper Jones going yard.
What a goddamn dream. Then, 9/11 happened and Phil assumed security would be tightened and he’d no longer be allowed to get a press pass so easily. Technically it wasn’t so easy – Phil had to e-mail a headshot. Come on! What the hell. Phil, let’s get some press passes! We’ll start small – San Jose Sabercats or something. By 2018, we’ll be in the clubhouse as the champagne starts flowing another Giants’ even-year World Series title. Amen. -TOB
PAL (1/6/17): So…you’re telling me another Phil used essentially the same technique that I used to fudge a bad report card in high school, only he used it to watch MLB baseball games from the dugout? Man, was I thinking too small or what? Forget the Sabercats, TOB; let’s shoot for the moon and see if we can nab a press pass to a Giants game.
Video of the Year:
Songs of the Year: For the hardcore loyalists who scroll towards the bottom of our weekly posts. You’ll see we post a “Song of the Week”. These are not necessarily new songs (rarely are they, in fact), but just what hit me in the right way that particular day. TOB’s jumping on the tune train today. First, let’s turn to JOB to set the mood:
Here are our favorite Songs of the Week from 2016:
TOB: Every Friday I am excited to hear Phil’s new song of the week pick. There are some classics on there that I have loved for years, but the following are songs (or versions, in the case of “Galway Girl”) that I had not heard before Phil introduced them to me here. As you can see above, the whole family enjoys Phil’s playlist regularly. My top five:
Crooked Fingers – “Went To The City”
Mason Jennings – “The Field”
Steve Earle – “Galway Girl”
Oh Pep! – “Doctor Doctor”
Billy Bragg & Wilco – “California Stars” (lyrics by Woody Guthrie)
PAL:
Alabama Shakes – “Over My Head”
Smokey Robinson & The Miracles – “The Tracks of My Tears”
The O’Jays – “Emotionally Yours” (Bob Dylan)
Willie Nelson – “Buddy”
Girls – “Vomit”
Complete 1-2-3 Sports! Playlist:
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Special “Best of 2016” post is just one more day away!
Just What IS In the Waters of Lake Minnetonka Lately?
A few weeks ago we chronicled the craziness with the Minnesota football team. An alleged gang rape had led the school to suspend ten players, with many recommended for expulsion. In response, the entire team announced it was boycotting the Holiday Bowl against Washington State. In response, the school released the full report of the alleged gang rape. It was…unpleasant. Perhaps as a result, perhaps not, the players ended the boycott shortly thereafter. They went to San Diego, shut down the potent Washington State offense, and won the Holiday Bowl.
Earlier this week, Minnesota fired head coach Tracy Claeys. His crime? Tweeting support of the players’ boycott. Former coach Jerry Kill, who retired two seasons ago for health reasons and was furious (Claeys was Kill’s former assistant). Kill vowed to never again set foot on campus. Hoo boy. What a mess!
AND THEN this morning it has been confirmed Minnesota had hired Western Michigan coach PJ Fleck, a young, successful coach who just led lowly Western Michigan to a 13-1 season, ending in its only loss, a tight game against Big-10 power Wisconsin. He was easily the hottest name on the market. And Minnesota just got him. What a rollercoaster.
And the cherry to that sundae? The video of the w went viral this week, outtakes from a commercial suit for White Bear Mitsubishi involving the Gopher mascot, Goldy, and a Bear who just could not stay up on the ice. Poor bear. I think he broke his face on that last one. What a wild week for “The U”! *snicker* – TOB
My god. I want to read everything in that magazine.
The Best Thing I Read All Year
I hate to jump the gun on our annual Best of edition, but this New York Times article on Warriors coach Steve Kerr is fantastic. I really think it might win the Pulitzer. We have covered Kerr here before, and mentioned his father’s assassination during his freshman year at Arizona. John Branch weaves a masterful story about how Kerr’s upbringing, heavily tied to the Middle East, culminating with his father’s assassination, has shaped the man he is now. Kerr opens up about his father’s death in a way I’d not seen, and Branch supplements with information from his mother and siblings.
For the first time I know of, Kerr opens up about his father’s death, including the harrowing story of the summer before his freshman year at Arizona, when he went to visit his father in Beirut, and nearly failed to get out.
“There was some question about whether flights would be going out because of everything that was happening,” Kerr said. “We were in the terminal, and all of a sudden there was a blast. It wasn’t in the terminal but on the runways. The whole place just froze. Everybody just froze. People started gathering, saying, ‘We’ve got to get the hell out of here.’ My mom grabbed me, and I remember running out of the terminal and through the parking lot. It was really scary. I remember thinking, ‘This is real.’”
Kerr’s dad eventually hired a driver to take him over the mountains and into the relative safety of Jordan. Months later, Kerr’s father was killed. Four years later, Arizona State students despicably taunted Kerr with chants of “P.L.O., P.L.O.,” “Your father’s history,” and “Why don’t you join the Marines and go back to Beirut?” Kerr was understandably devastated:
“When I heard it, I just dropped the ball and started shaking,” Kerr said at the time. “I sat down for a minute. I’ll admit they got to me. I had tears in my eyes. For one thing, it brought back memories of my dad. But, for another thing, it was just sad that people would do something like that.”
Kerr loved his father, and his parenting methods have colored Kerr’s coaching style:
“When I was 8, 9, 10 years old, I had a horrible temper,” Kerr said. “I couldn’t control it. Everything I did, if I missed a shot, if I made an out, I got so angry. It was embarrassing. It really was. Baseball was the worst. If I was pitching and I walked somebody, I would throw my glove on the ground. I was such a brat. He and my mom would be in the stands watching, and he never really said anything until we got home. He had the sense that I needed to learn on my own, and anything he would say would mean more after I calmed down.”
His father, Kerr said, was what every Little League parent should be. The talks would come later, casual and nonchalant, conversations instead of lectures.
“He was an observer,” he said. “And he let me learn and experience. I try to give our guys a lot of space and speak at the right time. Looking back on it, I think my dad was a huge influence on me, on my coaching.”
Kerr has been outspoken in recent months about politics and America’s place in the world. This rather surprises Kerr’s mother, who says, “I would say Steve’s intellectual interests really blossomed in the last 10 years. But I don’t think of Steve being like Malcolm.” But Branch notes the striking influence of Kerr’s father in his recent evolution:
In many ways, he has grown into an echo of his father.
“The truly civilized man is marked by empathy,” Malcolm Kerr wrote in a foreword to a collection of essays called “The Arab-Israeli Confrontation of June 1967: An Arab Perspective.” “By his recognition that the thought and understanding of men of other cultures may differ sharply from his own, that what seems natural to him may appear grotesque to others.”
In a rare and sometimes emotional interview this fall, Kerr spoke about the death of his father and his family’s deep roots in Lebanon and the Middle East. Some of the words sounded familiar.
“Put yourself in someone else’s shoes and look at it from a bigger perspective,” he said. “We live in this complex world of gray areas. Life is so much easier if it could be black and white, good and evil.”
Steve Kerr may not be as intellectually profound as his father was, but I hope there is a time Steve gives up basketball and follows in his father’s footsteps. Our country could use leaders like Steve right now. -TOB
Lane Kiffin: Idiot Savant or Embodiment of the Peter Principle?
Lane Kiffin seems to be a hell of an offensive coordinator. He co-coordinated those great USC offenses in the mid-2000s, and over the last three years Alabama’s offense has been a juggernaut. But if you look a little deeper, it all starts to crumble. Those USC offenses were absolutely loaded with talent, and even then it’s unclear if Kiffin or Sarkisian deserved the credit (or Norm Chow before them). More interestingly, is the perception he’s turned Alabama’s offense into a real threat. In his three seasons in Tuscaloosa, the Tide have averaged 15th in the country in offensive efficiency. That’s very good. But in the three years before that? Alabama averaged 6th in the country in offensive efficiency.
From the first moment I saw Kiffin’s press conference introducing him as the head coach at Tennessee, I thought something was off about the guy.
I could never quite put my finger on it. He seems both sincere and insincere at the same time, somehow. He looks horribly rehearsed and extremely nervous. He seems unsure of himself and what he’s just gotten himself into. Kiffin’s career since that day has been tumultuous. But after bailing on Tennessee after one year, failing miserably at USC, and kinda-sorta doing well at Alabama, Kiffin has been hired as the head coach at Florida Atlantic University.
Sports Illustrated’s Pete Thamel tags along with Kiffin as he searches for his new home in Boca Raton. And, finally, I think I have pinpointed Kiffin’s issue. Like Tom Brady, Lane Kiffin is an airhead. A complete and total dope. For example:
He pauses for a minute. He’s been trying to be boring, reimagined and remastered. He thinks out loud. “Should I tell my joke?”
He can’t help himself, a classic Kiffin trait, and proceeds: “I used to say there’s a constantly daily battle between who can take more of my money between Layla and Obama.”
He continues with a bit of fuzzy math: “I figured it out. I really don’t make any money. I pay around 52% in taxes. Layla gets 34.5% in the divorce, and [agent Jimmy Sexton] gets 3%. I make [about] 9% and I’m living in Tuscaloosa.”
What is it about Kiffin that makes people hire him? He seems so obviously stupid. I would never want to hire someone like that. I’ve always thought his private self must be very different than his public persona. I don’t think Nick Saban, probably the greatest college football coach of all-time, would hire Kiffin as offensive coordinator, and then retain him, unless he saw great value in doing so. So is Kiffin an idiot savant? Will he turn FAU into a nationally relevant program? Or is he the embodiment of the Peter Principle, with a healthy dose of nepotism thrown in, destined to fail miserably? I guess we’ll find out. -TOB
Jim Harbaugh is such a weird dude, but I enjoy it immensely. At a press conference this week in advance of the Orange Bowl today, Harbaugh was asked about oranges. It’s one of those dumb questions non-sports reporters like to ask in advance of big games these days. But Harbaugh turned it funny:
I’ve been coming here every summer of my adult life, and every summer there she is oiling and lotioning, lotioning and oiling… smiling. I can’t take this no more!
I think he really bleached his goatee for this, too.
#TeamCuz
Have a week, DeMarcus Cousins! Earlier this month, Sacramento Bee columnist Andy Furillo wrote a column about a lawsuit filed against Cousins and teammate Matt Barnes, over an alleged incident at a night club in November. In the column, Furillo wrote about Cousins’ brother (there’s a joke about Kentucky, where Cousins went to school, in there somewhere, but I digress) was tased inside of a night club. Furillo follows in the footsteps of the Sac Bee’s Aileen Voisin, easily the worst, most trollish columnist I’ve ever read. The Furillo column set off this incredible series of events:
The next time Cousins saw Furillo in the locker room, he berated him and stood over him.
That incident was caught on video, and the Sacramento Bee took the liberty of creating the following video (it won’t embed, but you should watch) of other incidents from over the years they describe as Cousins “bullying” Sacramento media, along with a letter from the Bee’s executive editor about Cousins. The Bee, clearly, was declaring war.
Cousins was fined $50,000 and then issued an apology, mentioning a number of people and organizations – but not Furillo or the Bee.
On Tuesday, Cousins torched the Portland Trailblazers for 55 points. With the score tied and 35 seconds left in the game, Cousins scored go-ahead bucket and was fouled. Cousins reacted by stomping over to the Blazers bench. At that point his mouthpiece came flying out and landed at the feet of the Blazers players. Whether he spit it out or it came out because he was yelling things that would make even the hippest grandmother blush, is unclear. See for yourself:
The referee saw the result, believed Cousins threw his mouthpiece, and gave him a technical foul. It was Cousins’ second of the game, and he was thus ejected. Cousins went to the locker room, saying later he was looking for something to destroy. In the meantime, the referees conferred, determining Cousins did not throw the mouthpiece (an automatic technical), and thus rescinded the technical foul. The announcement was made, the crowd went nuts, Cousins came storming back onto the court, hit the free throw for his 55th point and the 3-point lead, and the Kings won. Incredible!
Moments later, in his post-game on-court interview, Cousins went in on what he believes is unfair treatment from referees (a little odd considering the unprecedented step of un-ejecting an ejected player, but generally speaking I’m with him) and moreso on Blazers’ whiny punk Meyers Leonard. Here’s the interview:
Meyers has been pumping himself as a defensive stopper, and Cousins was understandably emotional about the un-ejection and dropping a double-nickle on Leonards’ head. After the game, Meyers whined about Cousins’ behavior, not realizing this is sports and we want to be entertained. Meyers obviously had some overprotective parents. He looks like he’s going to cry.
Meyers Leonard: Cousins deserved to be out of the game; "His antics are over the top." pic.twitter.com/4qEJQZPuJO
Finally, on Wednesday, Cousins greeted the media with a hearty, “Hey, friends! I missed you guys.”
Let’s quickly dispense of the Meyers Leonard thing. He’s a whiner, upset Cousins dunked all over his head all night, and needs his mommy and daddy to come support him. Go pound sand, Meyers.
The Sac Bee issue is a bit thornier, and causes me to jump through some hoops to support Cousins. Admittedly, the way he yelled at Furillo was bad. But I get why he’s angry – Cousins’ brother is not a public figure (despite the Bee’s weak insistence that he is) and his past incident is not relevant to Cousins’ recent night club incident. Cousins is not his brother’s keeper; the sins of the father, etc. Worse, was the smarmy, patronizing way Furillo wrote that column – ending it by encouraging Cousins to find better places to hang out. The Bee’s response, in putting together a package of 5-6 times Cousins has been rude was out of line, especially because those events are given no context. It’s also hard to know what the goal was – to get local public opinion to turn on DMC? That’s not gonna work when he’s dropping 55 the next night. Trying to get the team to trade Cousins? The team is well aware of all those incidents, and many more, I’m sure. Trying to embarrass Cousins? I guess if you want to make the lives of your writers even more difficult, I’m sure that has been accomplished. It also distracts from some of the great things Cousins does in the community.
In the end, I think both sides have some fault, but I’m siding with the guy whose anger was justified, if expressed poorly. As I said at the top I am #TeamCuz.
Phil Ivey Just Got Boned
It is difficult to win a case on appeal. But at least from the facts in this article, a federal judge in New Jersey is about to get overturned. Professional poker player Phil Ivey (no relation to 123’s Phil) was ordered this week to repay an Atlantic City casino for breach of contract. What did he do? Phil noticed a certain brand of playing card (purple Gemaco Borgata) has an inconsistency that gives away high-value cards. Phil and his buddy contacted the Borgata Casino and asked them to set up a high stakes Baccarat game, using a single deck of the purple Gemaco cards, and an automatic shuffler. The casino obliged, and Phil took them down for about $10 million. DAAAANG.
The Court, according to this article, found Ivey had breached his contract with the casino by violating the New Jersey Casino Control Act, which prohibits players from marking cards.
This is INSANE. Ivey didn’t mark anything. He just noticed an inconsistency with the cards, asked the casino to use those cards, and when they agreed he took advantage. Perhaps there is more to this case, legally speaking, than the article suggests. But on its face, this is some bull. -TOB
Annoying But True: Curt Schilling Belongs in the HOF
Deadspin’s Tim Marchman tackles a tough subject – the Hall of Fame candidacy of Curt Schilling. By the numbers, Schilling is a sure-fire Hall of Famer. One of my tests of a Hall of Famer is when his team is in town do I say to myself, “I’d like to go see him play, so I can say I did so.” In the prime of his career, still with the Diamondbacks, Schilling was pitching a rehab start against the AAA-Sacramento River Cats. A whole group of of us went to watch…and found out when we got there he had pitched the night before. The point remains – Curt Schilling was a great pitcher. But Curt Schilling is also a racist pig. Marchman does a great job listing the awful things Schilling has said and done – claiming to be a fiscal conservative while accepting and flushing million of taxpayer dollars down the toilet in a failed video game venture, bizarrely defending his right to ogle pre-teen friends of his children, and sharing a hoard of racist and idiotic memes on Facebook among them.
Most recently, Schilling approvingly shared a picture with a man wearing a shirt encouraging people to lynch the media. It was abhorrent. In response, a number of baseball writers, who vote on the Hall of Fame, have invoked the so-called “character clause” of the hall of fame ballot instructions and publicly vowed to never vote for Schilling – including some who had voted for him in past years. Marchman makes an excellent argument that despite Schilling being a disgusting buffoon, that has nothing to do with whether he should be in the pro baseball Hall of Fame:
“Your typical clubhouse is filled with funny, thoughtful people who are excellent at doing extremely specialized and impressive things with baseballs; it’s also filled with rednecks, spoiled rich kids, self-obsessed assholes, degenerates, drunks, and Bible-thumpers who have opinions that very few people who read the New York Times could agree to disagree on. John Smoltz—as a pitcher essentially a lesser Curt Schilling and, incidentally, rightly regarded as an uncommonly insightful and intelligent analyst, good enough to call the World Series—was elected to the Hall on the first ballot two years ago. He also compared gay marriage to bestiality not long ago. Baseball is tolerant of its contradictions, and in all better for it.
Curt Schilling has repeatedly crossed every line he can cross; it’s perfectly fair that he works for Breitbart and not ESPN; he richly deserves the scorn he generally enjoys; and if there were any player whose opinions were so bad that they should be read back onto his playing career, it would probably be him.
For writers to do so, though—to mark a line that says that playing excellence is only worthy of recognition when the player spends his retirement meeting the arbitrary and arbitrarily-enforced standards of sportswriters—is essentially to say that baseball itself is about something other than baseball.”
This isn’t even PED use; while I believe steroid users should be in the Hall of Fame, I can also acknowledge steroid use affected the field of play. We are talking about an idiot being an idiot. He wouldn’t be the first idiot in the Hall of Fame, and he won’t be the last. I cringe at the thought of his induction speech. But, god damnit, he should get one. -TOB
Talk about a headline that writes itself, eh? Here’s a story that falls into the unsung hero category. Few products reach a level of success in which the product is referred to by one brand. Kleenex, Q-tips, Jell-O. The Jugs machine fits into that category as well.
Jugs are pitching machines and football throwing machines, and they’ve exponentially increased the number of reps players – hitters in baseball and receivers in football – can take. Many baseball players will likely tell you they prefer live pitching to a machine, but football receivers swear by the Jugs. Every NFL and College team has them, many high school teams have them, and the trend is expanding: More than 100 of the light blue (paint color patented, too) have been shipped to Australia for Aussie Rules Football.
Because we can’t embed the video, make sure to check out this link to see some of the NFL’s best make insane catches using the Jugs: http://www.espn.com/video/clip?id=18303318
Why is this one machine so indispensable? Ravens receiver Mike Wallace sums it up with the following: “You might go through a whole practice and get two to three passes. And to me that’s not enough to get better that day. But if you’re catching 100 before practice and 100 after practice, you’ve caught 203 balls that day instead of catching three.”
Where did the idea come from? A parent trying to help his little leaguer out, of course.
John Paulson played semi-pro baseball in the 1920s, and when his son Butch was coming up in Little League, he designed a machine in 1971 that would throw consistent pitches. The Jugs Curveball Pitching Machine was the company’s first product, with the name derived from an old-time baseball expression about a “jug-handle curve,” which the original machine could be adjusted to throw. In 1974, John started working on a football-throwing machine, eventually securing a patent. Soon after, he started showing it to NFL teams.
This is a fun, light read on the invention and impact of a practice tool. – PAL
Be careful when you’re shopping for presents this weekend, folks. Might get sketchy out there.
See My Loafers? Golden Gophers.
This story came out of nowhere today, but it’s fascinating. The Minnesota Golden Gophers football team was pretty darn good this year. They went 8-4, and were a few plays away from playing for the Big Ten title. Their season earned them a trip to the Holiday Bowl in San Diego, which sounds mighty nice during the dead of a Minnesota winter (or so I imagine). But trouble has been quietly brewing in the Twin Cities, and it boiled over today.
Back in September, a woman accused a number of Gopher football players of gang rape. Many of the players were suspended, but ultimately prosecutors declined to press charges, and there’s mention in the story of a video that reportedly shows the woman “lucid…and fully conscious”. Despite no charges being filed, the woman asked for and received a restraining order against six of the players, and the order required them to stay away from Minnesota’s football stadium – as a result, those six players missed a number of home games, but did play away games.
Further, a number of the players were suspended pending the criminal investigation. Following the criminal investigation, the players were allowed to play, but this week the university’s office for Equal Opportunity and Affirmative Action concluded its own investigation and recommended penalties for ten players – ranging from probation to a one-year school suspension to expulsion. My guess, based on the grant of the restraining order and these severe punishments is there was some harassment after the woman went to the police.
As a result, the school decided to suspend all ten players from the Holiday Bowl, set to take place, in eleven days, on December 27. In response, the players threw down the gauntlet. The entire team is boycotting all football activities until the suspended players are reinstated, including the game. As far as I know, no college football team has boycotted any game, let alone a bowl game, ever.
Consider the money at stake. The two teams and its fans have bought flights and hotels, and purchased game tickets. Each team is supposed to receive around $3 million. Commercial slots during the game have been sold. I could go on and on. This is kind of an amazing story, and I for one, will be getting my popcorn ready.
I have advocated in this space in the past for college football players to boycott games until they are paid. This was not exactly what I had in mind, especially if the players did harass the woman, as I suspect. Still, I am very interested to see how it plays out, and perhaps it will inspire players across the country to utilize a boycott for other reasons. For example, the fact their coaches get paid millions (Oregon reportedly just hired away Colorado’s DEFENSIVE COORDINATOR FOR 1.5 MILLION DOLLARS), while they scrap to pay the full cost of attending school.
On a side note, if Minnesota doesn’t play, I believe Cal is first or second in line to be placed in a bowl game and…wait, we already played Washington State and they handed us our ass. Hard pass. -TOB
PAL: Definitely an interesting development, and – unlike the following college football “scandal” story, this one is very serious at its core. TOB – can you expand a bit on how you’re connecting boycotting a game over payment for athletes and boycotting a game until due process is followed? I assume you’re speaking to utilizing a boycott as a way to protest unfair treatment of any kind, but I’m interested in hearing a bit more from your perspective, and it seems like your write-up ends on the paying college football players.
TOB: Right. I’m saying college football players don’t seem to understand the power they have if they act en masse, until now. They are the workers upon which a billion dollar machine is built. If they stop working, that billion dollar machine comes to a screeching halt. In this instance, a woman may or may not have been raped – the fact charges were not pressed is not a determination the players were innocent, it is determination there is not enough evidence to prosecute. They may well be innocent; they may well be guilty. We just don’t know. However, as I said, the fact a judge granted a restraining order and the school has recommended punishment up to and including expulsion suggests to me they are at least guilty of something – and based on history, my guess is the players harassed the woman following her report to the police.
PAL: I sincerely, sincerely hope that these players know with 100% certainty all of the fact and undersatnd what they are doing in boycotting under these circumstances. This is obviously a very serious matter, and one that has lifelong impact for all involved – the accuser, the players, the athletic director, the coach (who tweeted out that he’s “Never been more proud of our kids”). At best, those showing public support of the players are standing up for young men who took part in a consensual gang bang and then possibly harassed the accuser after she filed charges.
Bieber > Cake Eater
Justin Bieber is from Canada. Justin Bieber plays in a L.A. men’s league. Justin Bieber wears the jersey of L.A. Kings captain Dustin Brown during his men’s league game. Oofta.
Based on the 5 seconds of actual in-game action on this video, I can tell you this men’s league is not very good. I can also tell you there are some real cake eaters out there on the ice (some of which might be “Belieber” cake eaters…we just don’t know). You know how I feel about cake eaters, Belieber cake eaters or otherwise.
A closer examination:
It’s hard to see from the image, but the “backchecker” that ends up snapping Bieber’s stick brings his stick over his head and comes down in a chopping motion:
After considering the evidence, the environment, Bieber is right to be pissed off here. The defender could’ve just as easily tipped away the pass, but he wanted to be the tough guy. While the defender has a decent bar story for the rest of his life, it’s still a cake eater move, man. And while Bieber is a cake eater, too, he’s not the biggest cake eater on the ice for this pathetic men’s league game. – PAL
TOB: Whoa whoa whoa WHOA. Justin Bieber, at his core, is the ULTIMATE cake-eater. If they re-cast the Mighty Ducks, Justin Bieber would be on the Hawks, and he’d be cackling after he jabbed his stick at your b-hole. You can’t out cake-eat that guy. You get on the ice with the ultimate cake-eater, you take your shot! I applaud this guy.
Craig Sager: Dead at 65
Craig Sager fought cancer with everything he had. On Thursday he died at the age of 65. Here is a portion of a write-up we did and a link to Barry Petchesky’s beautifully written piece on Sager in what would become his final months. Sager was an inspiration, and Petchesky captures Sager’s courage, that is to say his humor, persistence, and optimism. Petchesky doesn’t shy away from the truth either, and writes without sentimentality about the absolute gut punch it is to see someone fight so hard long after the battle was decided. – PAL
Originally posted on September 2, 2016:
Be More Like Craig Sager
You’ve likely been brought up to speed that veteran NBA sideline reporter Craig Sager (yes, the one who wears the wacky suits) has been in a hellacious cancer battle since 2014. This week he underwent a rare third bone marrow transplant. Add to that countless rounds of chemo, and, well, it the odds are not in his favor. In his words, “I like to bet on horses, I like to bet on dogs. I’ve bet on a lot of things with a lot higher odds than this.”
But, damn, this guy continues to battle, round after round. He’s trying everything, and he’s sums up why in a way that’s downright inspiring. “Man, life is too beautiful, too wonderful, there’s just too many things.”
There’s another reason why I shared this story. Barry Petchesky has become one of my favorite sports writers since we started this blog. Two of our three stories this week – one TOB highlighted above and this one – are his work. He writes with a direct honesty. Never sentimental, but not afraid to write about emotion. Here’s a perfect example from the Sager piece:
“This is all very sad, because: Craig Sager is probably going to die. You’re not supposed to say or write things like that, because no one likes to be made to think about it. I hate that line of thought, because it’d be better for everyone if we could discuss cancer and illness and dying from a mature and candid perspective. It’s not something to dance around. It’s serious shit, and we should say what we mean.
“The way to talk about this stuff without being disingenuous is to remember why it makes you sad: to recall how much you’ve enjoyed Sager’s work over the years, to see the impact he’s had on those who know him by seeing the love he’s getting from family, friends, colleagues, and the general public, and to see if you can’t take some inspiration from Sager’s own stated motivation for seeing his treatment through…”
Make a habit out of reading Barry Petchesky’s work, and think good thoughts for Sager and his family. – PAL
TOB: Craig Sager was great. I really enjoyed the tribute TNT did last night:
How to Handle ‘Scandal’
Tommy Elrod played football at Wake Forest, then coached there for 11 years. When the new head coach took over, Elrod was not asked back as a coach (in many cases a new head coach = an entirely new coaching staff). Elrod was then hired as a radio analyst for the team.
Apparently Elrod wasn’t so stoked about being removed from the coaching staff, and it appears he “provided or attempted to provide confidential and proprietary game preparations to opponents on multiple occasions, starting in 2014.”
The disgruntled worker angle is interesting, but – aside from an as of yet unreported gambling angle here – what’s more interesting to me is watching the teams who received the info try to explain themselves. As of Thursday night, Louisville and Virginia Tech have admitted to receiving information from Elrod. After digging through Elrod’s email and texts, West Point was also contacted. All three schools have or had members of their respective coaching staffs that were on the coaching staff at Wake Forest with Elrod.
The smart way to respond: West Point AD Boo Coorigan
“We were contacted by Wake Forest. We’re looking into it.”
Gather info and plot next steps while the story plays out a bit more in the press.
However, of the schools named in this story (so far), West Point seems to have the most to lose here – not in terms of wins and losses, but in terms of the Honor Code so central to the culture. “A cadet will not lie, cheat, steal, or tolerate those who do.”
The fact that West Point was contacted seems to indicate that Wake Forest has some information leading them to believe that Elrod provided game plan information (rather than attempted to provide), in which case there might be an Army football coach not getting much sleep tonight.
The right way to respond: Virginia Tech AD Whit Babcock
“We hold ourselves to a higher standard at Virginia Tech. We are disappointed and embarrassed that this type of information was distributed to, and apparently received by one of our former assistant coaches. The distribution of this type of information among peers or rivals is wrong and not in the vein of sportsmanship and integrity that we demand and expect, and for this I personally apologize to the coaches, student-athletes, administration, alumni, students and fans of Wake Forest University.
“I am also aware of former head coach Frank Beamer’s and current defensive coordinator Bud Foster’s public remarks yesterday as to having no knowledge of the situation and I believe both of them whole heartedly,” Babcock said in his statement. “It should also be noted that there is no known connection of any kind to our current coaching staff, who were hired in late 2015.”
In other words: Some jagweed former assistant received the information, and we have no idea what became of it. Besides, that coaching staff is gone anyway, so let’s move on.
The wrong way to respond: Louisville Head Coach Bobby Petrino and AD Tom Jurich
Step 1: Deny knowledge (Bobby Petrino)
“I have no knowledge of the situation. We take a lot of pride in the way we operate our program. As I’ve stated already this season, my coaching philosophy has always been to play the game with sportsmanship.”
Step 2: Deny it happened (Bobby Petrino)
“I can tell you that we didn’t. I like our team, and I’m down here (in Houston) preparing for this game, so I don’t really understand what they’re talking about. I heard about it right before we got on the plane to leave (for Houston on Nov. 16). But I can assure you that we prepare each week the way that you’re supposed to prepare, and I like the fact that our team knows how to do that.”
Step 3: Acknowledge it happened, but that it didn’t matter (via AD Jurich)
“Our offensive coordinator Lonnie Galloway and Tommy Elrod have known each other since 2007,’’ Jurich posted. “Lonnie received a call from Elrod during the week of the Wake Forest game, and some information was shared with him that week.
“Among the communication were a few plays that were sent and then shared with our defensive staff. None of the special plays were run during the course of the game. Our defense regularly prepares for similar formations every week in their normal game plan.
“Any other information that may have been discussed was nothing that our staff had not already seen while studying Wake Forest in their preparations for the game and the material was not given any further attention. I’m disappointed that this issue has brought undue attention to our football staff as we prepare for our upcoming bowl game.’’
By the way, I heard columnist Dan Wetzel (I think it was Wetzel) on the Dan Patrick Show on Thursday describe this story perfectly. I’m paraphrasing here, but he said this is the most entertaining kind of scandal. It’s not violent, and it doesn’t involve players behaving poorly, but it has teeth because it deals with the level playing field. – PAL
1-2-3 SPORTS! 