Friday, September 29, 2006
Thanks to the uber-nerdy and generally awesome bunch of folks over at BoingBoing, I discovered an odd batch of old Mickey Mouse comic strips showing Mickey repeatedly failing to kill himself (which are much more readable there). I was desperately seeking a way to rope this into sports when T.O. completely didn't try to kill himself. It is fascinating study, and I can't help thinking that the inside of a certain receiver's head looks a lot like this. We can only hope that any future attempts are stymied by vaguely anthropomorphic, gas-stealing rodents. Or the water is too cold to drown in that day.
There's lots more over at Barnacle Press--check them out.
Thursday, September 28, 2006
But what we have here is a Homer, as defined by the Simpsons, where in an incompetent act actually ends up helping. We're using the word "helping" loosely, in that it helps us coin another neologism.
One of the sets of names for the scary, scary Euro 2008 mascot twins (marking, by the way, the first time the Euro Cup has gone with multiple characters for their mascot) has pulled a Homer, in our minds.
We present our newest addition to the I Dislike Your Favorite Team dictionary:
Flitz and Bitz--Sports related, public relations Bullshit. Easily recognized public relations bullshit. Alternatively, A thin coat of veneer of truth upon a heavily wormwooded, old, dangerously unstable piece of bullshit.
As in: "This story T.O.'s agent is concocting? Good God, is that ever a bunch of Flitz and Bitz."
"As a fantasy owner of Mike Bell, I'm getting awfully tired of the Shanahan Flitz and Bitz."
The Hoff performs to a pulsating throng in Berlin
You know, there's a lot wrong with the U.S., and America is rightly ridiculed and vilified around the world for our slow-witted buffoonery. But having said that, Big Blue's recent post brings to mind the fact that the cultures of pretty much every other country in the world (save perhaps England) are so shockingly lame, dorky, and annoying that I find it difficult to accept anyone else as a rightful heir to American cultural hegemony, regardless of our hypocritical human right violations or imperial ambitions. Stop dorking up the world everybody else!!! and maybe we'll let you have a say in stuff again... just maybe.
Romo is the Lex Luthor of the LOD. I was just assuming that he was being withheld for honorific purposes. The man's pretty much openly racist, spit on opponents, sold drugs to teammates, was an OG in the Balco case, collapsed a teammates face in a roid rage, recently berated a youth football player he was coaching, and was generally considered the dirtiest player in the game.
PS There's no coincidence that the rejuvenation of the Raiders at the turn of the millennium had everything to do to the fact that the Raiders' prodigal son had finally come home. God I miss him.
More from Wikipedia:
Romanowski has been involved in numerous altercations with both teammates and opponents. In 1989, while with the 49ers, he brawled with offensive tackle Harris Barton after Barton had taken exception to a hit Romanowski had made on wide receiver Jerry Rice during a practice session. In 1995, while with the Eagles, he was ejected from a game — and subsequently fined $4,500 — for kicking Arizona Cardinals running back Larry Centers in the head. Three more incidents occurred during the 1997 season while he played for the Broncos: In the first, he was fined $20,000 after his hit on then-Carolina Panthers quarterback Kerry Collins in a preseason game resulted in Collins sustaining a broken jaw; in the second, Romanowski spat in the face of 49ers wide receiver J.J. Stokes in a regular-season game played in December on a Monday night; and in the third — in the AFC Championship game — Romanowski almost precipitated a full-scale brawl after he taunted Pittsburgh Steelers quarterback Kordell Stewart following an interception Stewart had thrown in the third quarter of the game, won by Denver. Two years later, while still with the Broncos, he was fined a total of $42,500 for three illegal hits plus a punch thrown at Kansas City Chiefs tight end Tony Gonzalez, and was also fined an undisclosed amount for throwing a football at Bryan Cox of the New York Jets, the ball hitting him in the crotch area.
Organisers of the 2008 European football championship unveiled two spiky-haired twins as the tournament's official mascots but said the pair were yet to be named.
The pair, whose haircuts are intended to resemble the mountains of host nations Austria and Switzerland, will be christened next month following a naming competition among supporters.
Fans in the two countries can choose from the names "Zagi and Zigi", "Flitz and Bitz" or "Trix and Flix".
However, one newspaper has already pointed out that "Zigi" is a slang word in the Swiss German dialect for "cigarette".
"Trix" is also more commonly used as a girl's name in Switzerland (an abbreviation for Beatrice or Beatrix), prompting one journalist to ask about the gender of the mascots.
"They are both boys – I assume," was the hesitant reply of Austrian football association president Friedrich Stickler.
There's a lot of wrong going on here. Are they wearing masks, or is their hair covering their face, like one of those brave wolfboys who show up on Maury Povich? And why little boys as a mascot? Its demeaning, dammit. This is the second best soccer tournament in the World, and the best we're going to see for the next 4 years--why infantilize with this fucked up mascotting?
(that's right--mascotting. It might be a word. You don't know that it isn't).
Second of all, let's face it--it's a bit on the creepy side, too. I don't know what the fascination is with little boys over there in Europe, but this looks to a bit like Bart Simpson, filtered through the eyes of meth-addled pedophile --"I see that little boy from the TV, but he's a devil now. I know he's a devil because he's got fire for hair! He's here to tempt me! Go away, Devil!"
You know, though-- perhaps I'm being too harsh. It's just a drawing of the mascots. I should wait until I see the actual physical costume.
I'm so very frightened. That's IT, Austria & Switzerland--no more mascot designing for you. Just put down the mascot designing tools and walk away from the mascot designing table. Go sit in the corner. Go make some clocks and chocolate and shit. Stick with what you know.
"Thanks" to Sanford for directing me to this fucking nightmare.
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
Well, we have our finalists! There is some genuine pure evil here, and then some that are just kind of stupid, but I want to give to our readership (hi mom!) the option to review every nominee. Therefore, I've included links to every single nominee written up, no matter how wrong-headed I personally think it is. Much as Democrats decide that the best way to fight pro-torture Legislation is to sit on their hands and hope for the best, I'm sitting on my hands, and hoping for the best. Obviously, I'm not literally sitting on my hands--what would I use to type? (best not to think about that question too long)
(for those of you wondering what the fuck we're on about here, please read our Mission Statement re: Legion of Doom, Sports Figures)
Without further introduction, I present to you our (and your) nominees for the Legion of Doom. Thanks again to the commenters--I think we may have completely forgotten about Rae Carruth, for example, without your help. Did we leave someone out? Let us know, and we'll try to include them before we do our final vote.
Legion of Doom Nominees (in order of nomination):
Jimmy "the Greek" Snyder
Mark Downs, Jr.
O.J. Simpson (What? He was found not guilty!)
Humberto Munoz Castro
Bad Sports Guys From Movies
Baylor/Dave Bliss/Carlton Dotson
1986 Atlanta Hawks
THE Maurice Clarett
Form of: The Trunk of a Car!
Rae Carruth entered the NFL after being an All-American receiver at the University of Colorado. His rookie year, he was one of the most productive rookie receivers in the league. His second year was hampered by injury, but in most fantasy footballer's eye, he was an up and comer in the league.
I'll let Wikipedia tell the rest:
On November 16, 1999, near Carruth's home in Charlotte, North
Carolina, Cherica Adams, a woman Carruth had been dating, was shot four
times in a drive-by shooting. Surviving the shooting for a time, Adams called 911 and described Carruth's behavior: he had stopped his vehicle in front of hers as another vehicle drove alongside Adams' and its passenger shot her. Carruth then drove from the scene.
Adams was eight months pregnant with Carruth's child. Soon after her admission to the hospital, Adams fell into a coma. Doctors saved her son, Chancellor, in an emergency Caesarean section, but Cherica Adams died a month later on December 14. Born prematurely and in distress, Chancellor has cerebral palsy.
Carruth turned himself in and posted $3 million bond. However, after Adams died, Carruth became a fugitive. He was eventually captured after having been found hiding in the trunk of a car outside of a motel in Johnson City, Tennessee.
At trial Rae Carruth was defended by David Rudolf and was found guilty of conspiracy to commit murder, shooting into an occupied vehicle, and using an instrument to destroy an unborn child. He was sentenced to 18 to 24 years in prison. Carruth was found not guilty of first-degree murder and was spared the death penalty. Carruth is now serving a sentence of at least 18 years and 11 months at Nash Correctional Institution near Raleigh, North Carolina.
Form of: A Car, or "They Don't Give Nobel Prizes for Attempted Physics"
Michael Pittman didn't kill his pregnant wife, or his unborn child. He did attempt to kill his wife, and his born child, though. I guess the difference between murder and attempted murder is that one gets mentioned in Wikipedia, and the other doesn't. Odd, that.
Pittman joined the NFL in 1998 after graduating from Fresno State. In the intervening years, he's been a solid, unflashy running back that occasionally puts up big numbers (by occasionally, I mean once every couple of years). He's has been the definition of an inconsistent player.
What is consistent, however, is his getting arrested for domestic violence in some form or another.
Seriously, though, go now, and Google Michael Pittman Arrests. You'll note that not too many of them involve insurance fraud. He and Melissa seem to have their issues over the years, but nothing beat the spectacular ridiculousness of the time Pittman used his Hummer as a battering ram to breach entry into the minivan holding his wife, his child, and the babysitter. Pittman later claimed he hadn't done anything, that his wife had hit his car. The police were suspicious, Gruden and the Bucs less so. I do believe that Michael Pittman is still in the league, and served no serious jail time, for again, driving a civilian version of a Military vehicle into a fucking minivan containing his own child, over and over again.
News reports indicate that Minneapolis-St Paul has won the right to host the 2008 Republican Presidential Convention. This is certainly welcome news in that it will provide the area with an economic flavour injection that is sorely needed. I'm just a bit surprised that the Republicans have not chosen to ride the Tidal Wave of national pride and jubilation that has followed the triumphant re-opening of the Freedom Dome last Monday Night. Who among us expected the 'effected region' to bounce back so quickly from the devastating effects of black families looting to the soaring heights of the Irish Mega Band U2 jamming with California's Greenday. This commentator cannot think of a more fitting tribute to the unique culture of New Orleans nor its quaint 'minority' sounds. As Tony Kornheiser, Joe Theissman, and Mike Tirico so patiently explained to a confused and somewhat bored nation, Fema needed to pump untold millions of dollars into the renovation of the Dome in order to get the stink out, and to boost the economy of the entire 'effected region'. Without the return of big-time sports like the Final Four, Super Bowl, and Tulane Football only the most naive amongst us could image a rebirth of this once great city. As Chris Berman might've opined (quoting John Fogerty or someone).... "Oh when the Saints, go over there... oh when the Saints go over there..." You all know it.
But I digress.
The real point is that the economic stimulus package known as the GOP national convention would clearly do the the great city of New Orleans a world of good. And realizing this, I'm sure that these preliminary news reports are unfounded. No doubt the Dems and Republicans will both find it within their collective hearts to hold their conventions in the city that has given us so many great memories. I mean who could forget the 1986 Cotton Bowl, or Chris Webbers infamous timeout. We laughed, and laughed. Anyway, fear not Cajuns (you don't mind if I call you Cajuns do you? Good), have no doubt that the partisan backbiting and race baiting that is the American Democratic Experiment will be heading to the "Big Easy" in 2008 (much like those Saints I mentioned earlier), and the titty flashing and puking will flow like wine.
I generally believe that it is best to allow the Woody Page's and Skip Bayless' of the world to comment on such weighty matters of life and death. However I believe that the tragic lessons of the past 24 hours remind us of what is truly important in life. Namely, that one should always take the lessons of our Christian mega-churches and meekly bow to authority, regardless of its form. What did T.O. expect the media to do after his brazen attempts to test the Large Tuna's unquestioned (up until that point at least) authority and leadership by refusing to risk injury and participate in meaningless exhibition games and team practices? Maybe if he had displayed the love for the game of football of one Brett Farve, he too would have been allowed to skip most organized team functions and bully fellow teammates into reporting to camp, and jeopardizing their future earning potential in a demonstrably brutal and short lived sport which is generally responsible for the shortened life spans of athletes willing to quietly sacrifice for team and corporate master. No doubt the media was right to hound the man, his coach, and his teammates daily about his transparently fake injury. Its not like Steve Smith or Hines Ward nursed similar ailments throughout the exhibition season without participating in team drills. Which brings me to the ultimate, heartening lesson to be gleaned from T.O.'s cry for help. It is marvelous testament to the evolution of the American culture, that we have largely defeated racism as a destructive force in our society (I believe it was the fourth very special MLK episode of the Cosby show in 1987 that did it, though some scholars disagree). Because of this, no one should be crying about racial bias or inequities in the system. Its just that T.O. wouldn't stop talking about himself, and promoting his own self interest. If he just learned to be an entertainer who didn't talk too much (except maybe to do the chicken dance with the Direct TV installation guy on the occasional advertising spot), America could learn to love him. Just look at that those pearly whites, and chiseled physique that are just made for Madison Avenue. Who knows, one day he might come down with Parkinson's Disease like Muhammad Ali, and take his place in pantheon of beloved American sporting icons who can't piss us off anymore because they can't talk.
Stay Strong T.O. (but not too strong, if you know what I mean)
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
This team is young, but on the shoulders of funny names like Michael Blythe and Carson Gorecki, it stands a damn good chance of making a lot of noise in the MIAC.
Monday, September 25, 2006
Maurice Clarett's story is exceptionally brutal because it had all the elements of a classic underdog-from-the-ghetto makes good, like Rocky or Emmanuelle in Paris. This is how it starts: every morning at 6:30, his working-poor single mom drove him from their Youngstown, Ohio ghetto 40 minutes through farm country to attend Harding High School. Every night she picked him up after work. Clarett was unstoppable at Harding -- he rushed for 2,194 yards and 38 TDs as a senior and was named the All-USA National High School Player of the Year by USA Today. He graduated early (?) and joined OSU in Columbus.
In 2002 he was the best freshman footballer in the USA and led the Ohio State Buckeyes to The National Championship. He put up Heisman-worthy numbers (1,237 rush yds, 18 TDs); the Buckeyes enjoyed a 14-0 record and a trip to the 2002 national championship game wherein Our Hero scored the winning touchdown. Clarett was the first freshman to be the leading rusher on a national championship team since Ahman Green of the University of Nebraska in 1995.
If the screenwriter had only stopped there, with Lebron James on the speed dial and all the shaved buckeyes in Ohio quivering open for him...
Act Two: OSU suspended Clarett for the 2003 year following a series of poorly-laid bunts by the talented, troubled, toot-loving tailback. Clarett had borrowed a car from a local dealership (strike 1), reported that over $10,000 of his clothing, CDs, cash and stereo equipment (strike 2) was stolen – a lie, for which he was charged by the local police department (strike 3).
Clarett dropped out of OSU and lived the gangsta life in LA, theoretically getting in shape for the 2004 NFL Draft Combine. It was so obvious to everyone that Clarett was going to be an enormous superstar that he easily traded on his potential earning power. All he had to do was hire enough lawyers to get him into the NFL, where he would surely be the number one pick in the draft.
Scouts were eager to overlook his schoolboy excesses. They gushed: "Explosive in his start, showing a sudden burst through the holes … Changes gears instantly and has above-average hip swerve and body control … Flashes a good short burst to the hole, stays low in his pads and drives hard with his legs to move the pile … Gets in and out of the holes quickly and shows good lateral agility to cut back … Has a fluid running motion and shows the leg drive and power to rock defenders back when he breaks into the second level" (NFL.com)
The screenwriter pours another cup of coffee, stares at the dried genetic material on his ceiling. What next?
Clarett's suit against the NFL (always a move to engender love from NFL ownership) to become eligible for the 2004 draft died on the white marble steps of the U.S. Supreme Court, who refused to grant a writ of certiorari and hear his case (for those barely legal scholars in my audience).
After another year in LA living as The Man, Clarett arrived at the 2005 Combine full of wisdom: “It's a humbling thing being humble." Unfortunately, he was also full of lasagna. He ran a center-worthy 4.72 40 and was dubbed “Slow-Mo” by the national media, always ready to pile on someone in the midst of a humiliating personal and professional collapse. Go, Vigilant Watchdog of Democracy, go!
Nevertheless, the Denver Broncos, the most RB-friendly franchise in the NFL, gave Clarett a second (?) chance by drafting him in the third round. Clarett seized this opportunity by arriving at training camp out of shape, twenty pounds overweight and full of piss and vinegar. It used to be just vinegar. He was also caught drinking in the weight room. Nevertheless, the Broncos gave him a four-year incentive-laden contract. A month later they released him. He did not play a single game.
One million dollars in debt for his legal attack on the NFL and his Arena Football career on hold, Clarett used his OSU education (General Studies major) to rob two people with a .45 caliber handgun. Clarett reportedly made off with only a cell phone. While out on bail, Clarett was driving in the neighborhood of one of the witnesses in the early morning hours of August 9, 2006. Clarett was chased by police after he made an illegal U-turn. He led the police on a high speed chase until encountering a police-mounted spike strip.
Police said they were forced to gag Clarett's mouth after he spit at the officers and called them "nigger haters" during the arrest. Inside the SUV, officers discovered a hatchet, a loaded AK-47, a Hi-Point Pistol and two other loaded handguns in his vehicle along with an open bottle of Grey Goose vodka.
The officers had to use Mace to subdue Clarett after attempts to subdue him with a Taser proved ineffective because he was wearing kevlar body armor. On September 18, he filed a guilty plea to the charges. He will be sentenced to seven and a half years in prison.
And when he gets out? He owes quite a bit of money to the Israeli mafia. Remember all that fun-in-the-sun, waiting to cash in? Hai Waknine, convicted felon and member of Israeli mob, provided Clarett with cash, cars, bodyguards, blow, women and beachfront lodging in Malibu with the understanding that he would be reimbursed and receive 60 percent of Clarett's rookie contract.
Sure, those were good times. Clarett even took part in Waknine's elaborate Sabbath dinners. On one Friday in 2004, Clarett met with officials from the East-West Shrine game. He told them he would only play in the all-star game if he could see who else was playing. When an official said he couldn't discuss the roster, Clarett stood up and said, "I've got to go, it's Shabbos."
David Kenner, Clarett's former agent, is the former lawyer for Death Row Records and its founder, Marion "Suge" Knight, represented Waknine in Federal Court. Kenner makes lawyers look ethical in comparison. But that's another column.
Since scoring the overtime game-winning touchdown in the National Championship game, Maurice Clarett hasn’t played a single down of football. When he gets out of jail, he'll probably be killed by debt collectors.
That has to be somewhat disappointing.
He should have listened to more old school rap:
Don't believe the hype. Especially when it's about you.
Do you recognize his mugshot for second degree murder? No, well he is none other than.......
That's right, Don King. King also promoted one of the final fights of Ali's career against Larry Holmes. It was revealed after the fight that Ali had been examined at the Mayo Clinic, and the results were shocking. He had admitted to tingling in his hands and slurring of his speech. The exam revealed he actually had a hole in the membrane of his brain. However, Don King knowingly withheld this report, and allowed Ali to be pummeled in order to guarantee a King payday. This guy is evil and looks like a supervillian - he must have a important seat in the Sports Legion of Doom.
Saturday, September 23, 2006
Now that's fucking Golfing, Baby!
Quoth Tom Lehman:
“Just because you’re competitive, that doesn’t mean you’re not a Christian. Christians can compete with anyone at any time,” Lehman said. “Meek doesn’t mean weak.”
Meek: 2 : deficient in spirit and courage
3 : not violent or strong
So, aside from the times meek does in fact mean weak, it doesn't mean weak, I guess.
"[Lehman] even had Nelson, an accomplished woodworker at the age of 94, craft a small wooden keepsake for each player and coach with a Bible verse, Psalm 18:29, “With your help I can advance against a troop, with my God I can scale a wall,” perfect for a team facing long golfing odds."
Psalms? PSALMS? That's bloody Jew talk! Where's the New Testament help for Godly Christian Golfers?
All of this reminds me of a joke:
Moses and Jesus are playing golf. They are on a par 5 hole, with a large water hazard that demands that players either lay-up, or risk hitting water to get to an Eagle Chance. Moses lays up. Jesus steps up, and hits a deep drive, right into the middle of the pond. Moses sighs, parts the water, picks up Jesus' ball, and brings it back to him. Jesus, still has his driver in hand, and proceeds to hit another drive right into the pond. Moses parts the water again, returns the ball to Jesus, and says, "I'm not parting the water again, Jesus. Lay up."
Jesus refuses to listen to reason, and hits the ball again, right into the pond. Seeing that Moses was serious about not helping him with his ball anymore, Jesus walks on the surface of the pond, looking for his ball.
Moses turns to his caddy, and whispers, "Motherfucker thinks he's Jack Nicklaus."
Which is my way of saying, Jesus if he exists, if he ever existed (doubtful) doesn't give two shits about the fucking Ryder Cup. Positing this epic battle that happens all the time as a test of religious conviction is just fucking stupid.
thanks bpsports! You are truly awesome, and loved in the site of the Almighty, especially when he's got money on the USA!
Friday, September 22, 2006
In the midst of Carlos Silva hugging the Panda tonight, we wanted to remind ourselves that despite losing badly to fucking Baltimore, the Twins have had a miracle comeback this year.
And the local free Old Media Weekly stepped up to the plate (baseball metaphor!) and delivered a great week of Twins related handjobbery, which is totally deserved. That's their picture of Corn Fed Superstar, Jon Cena lookalike Justin Morneau to your right.
City Pages brings some serious Twins funk to the masses this week. I highly recommend the following:
Steve Perry interviews Twins GM Terry Ryan, who on any given year is either a genius or a douchebag. He's a genius this year, of course.
Chuck Terhark recounts the Top 10 Moments of the Season
Britt Robson, who is my favorite sportswriter in the Twin Cities, surpassing even Tom Powers, sits down with Scouting Bad Ass Mike Radcliff. Great stuff all around.
Faith in Christ the ultimate rush for Falcons' fullback
An easy guy to root against.
It is truly heartwarming to see the rejuvenated Super Dome standing as a monument to the American can-do spirit of cooperation and perseverance. It is hard to imagine another economically advanced society coming together to refurbish an athletic facility so quickly in order to cater to the needs of both millionaire athletes and multi-billionaire owners, and to entertain the indigent and unemployed. The effected region is truly on its way back to its rightful rank of 49th and 50th among the United States in most meaningful measures of human development.
One suggestion though, this commentator believes this symbol of the American ethos should be renamed the Freedom Dome in order to do justice to the noble legacy of this great society, and to remember those minorities who used this authentically multi-purpose facility as a make-shift morgue.
The mascot of the University of North Dakota is the Fighting Sioux. In the late nineties, there was a push throughout the NCAA to change team mascots with racist nicknames/logos. Engelstad embroiled himself in the fight over the Fighting Sioux logo when, during the height of the controversy, he pledged to build a $100 million arena on the UND campus for the hockey program. Midway through construction, it appeared that the university was going to make a name change. Engelstad threatened to withdraw his funding of the then half-finished arena if the sports teams were renamed. The logo was then placed in thousands of instances in the arena, making the prospect of removal a costly measure. Later, Engelstad placed the stadium under private (rather than University) management and stipulated that the Fighting Sioux motif be kept indefinitely. An Engelstad family trust continues to own the arena and rents it to the University. It is rumored that if a name change is pushed through, the trust will have the building razed.
Pretty sneaky sis! But really, what’s an obstructionist, racist, asshole if he doesn’t have a Hitler fetish? In what is becoming a common theme amongst old white nominees, Ralph may take the cake. His Hitlerphilia was discovered in a secret shrine in his casino. According to our good friends at Wikipedia:
His collection of Nazi memorabilia in the casino included a painting of himself dressed in Nazi uniform (captioned "to Adolf from Ralphie"), a painting of Hitler with the reverse caption, and the cars of Nazi leaders. On April 20th in 1986 and 1988, he hosted birthday parties for Adolf Hitler at his casino in Las Vegas which featured bartenders in T-shirts reading "Adolf Hitler — European tour 1939-45". Because of this, in 1989, the Nevada Gaming Commission fined Engelstad $1.5 million for "actions that damaged the reputation and image of Nevada's gaming industry."
Are you kidding me? This man was fined $1.5 million dollars for damaging the reputation and image of Nevada's gaming industry. From what I gleaned watching the movie Casino - that's not an easy image to tarnish. Still, the UND board of trustees took his donation and voted 8-0 to keep the racist nickname. A decision it turns out that may bite them in the ass. As of February 1, 2006, the NCAA will no longer allow any school to participate in any tournament if it uses nicknames or mascots that they consider abusive or hostile on team uniforms.
NoDak may have to take the image off the uniforms but "The Ralph" and it's giant bronze statue of Engelstad will ensure that a financially dependent school will keep vestiges of the racist logo around long after the issue should have gone away. Thanks, Ralph.
Thursday, September 21, 2006
Blogger Review of Nomination: Big Blue
Lawrence Phillips is still one of the greatest College Running Backs of all time. His sophomore year (age 19?) he was playing in a backfield at Nebraska with the 3rd string, walk on quarterback, and still tallied over 1700 yards. Nebraska won the National Championship that year, with Phillips beating a Miami defense that included Warren Sapp and Ray Lewis. He was a God of College Football. He was on his way to riches, glory, and more ass than a porta-potty in Central Park.
His Junior Year, his other tendencies started to announce themselves. He found an ex-girlfriend in the room/arms of a transfer student, and pulled her out of his room forcibly, and then proceeded to drag her down a set of stairs, BY HER HAIR. For this violent act, he was suspended, but not kicked off the team, nor did he serve any jail time.
By the end of 1996, he was the again the franchise running back (despite Ahman Green waiting in the wings) and in the Fiesta Bowl, ran in two touchdowns and caught another. He was on his way to the NFL again, his one "bad decision" behind him.
He was drafted in the first round, and his NFL career was one of failed opportunities, and second chances. He was undoubtedly a bust for the Rams who drafted him. But more importantly, he pled no contest to assaulting a woman in a night club. The NFL could forgive that, but his crappy stats they could not. Phillips was shipped around, at one point even playing for the Barcelona Dragons. One his second second chance, he ended up with the San Francisco 49'ers, where he missed a block on Aeneas Williams, who then effectively ended Steve Young's career.
He moved to the CFL, where he was cut twice, despite his talent, because of insubordination.
By the time most NFL running backs are entering their prime, Phillips was considered a waste to any franchise that signed him, and a danger to any woman who dared to flirt with him.
But what makes Phillips a nomiee for the Legion of Doom isn't his "escapades" during his playing career, but his continued violence after he was banished from the pitch.
I'll quote Wikipedia here, and just try to follow along with how many felony counts Phillips was wanted for when he was finally arrested:
Phillips went to trial last week over his driving through the guys he argued with. His lawyer is claming that it was an accident and not malicious. Seriously.
On August 21, 2005, Phillips was arrested for assault after allegedly driving a car into three teenagers, following a dispute with the teens during a pick-up football game in Los Angeles, California. At the time of the arrest, Phillips was wanted by San Diego in connection with two alleged domestic abuse incidents involving a former girlfriend, who claimed that Phillips choked her to the point of unconsciousness during one of the incidents. In addition, Los Angeles police were seeking Phillips in connection with yet another, separate domestic abuse allegation that occurred previously in Los Angeles.
Phillips is a guy who should have been in jail back when he was 20 years old. Only now, aged 31, and demonstrably no use to even a CFL franchise will he get punished for his many, many violent acts.
How many Sixth Picks overall in a draft, any draft end up in jail with felony warrants from 3 or 4 different localities? Phillips is special. He's a Legion of Doomer, in my mind.
Blogger Review of Nomination: badcock
Marge Schott might have been remembered as the first woman to buy a professional sports team, had her legacy not been as stained as her cigarette-brown fingers.
Was her humiliation just the product of the politically-correct liberal media?
She was sued (unsuccessfully) in 1991 by an employee who opposed her policy of not hiring blacks for front-office positions. That started the Drive To Dishonor which only concluded with her death in 2004.
She was accused of referring to outfielders Eric Davis and Dave Parker, who helped win the World Series for her, as "her million-dollar niggers."
And: "I would never hire another nigger. I'd rather have a trained monkey working for me than a nigger."
She had a Nazi fetish, with memorabilia at home and numerous quoted comments about how Hitler got a bad rap: "Everything you read, when he came in, he was good." She was referring to African-Americans when she said that "Hitler had the right idea about what to do with them," but it was also a tasteful dig at the Jews.
She didn't care much for the Asians, either. Sports Illustrated quoted her speaking in a "cartoonish Japanese accent" while describing her meeting with the Prime Minister of Japan. She also told the magazine she didn't like seeing Asian-American children "come here, honey, and stay so long and then outdo our kids. That's not right." (emphasis mine) Later she would argue that the word "Japs" isn't offensive.
An umpire died on Opening Day in Cincinnati. Furiously impatient in the owner's box, Schott fumed, "First it snows, now this. I feel cheated. This isn't supposed to happen to us, not in Cincinnati." Days later, she sent flowers to the wrong umpire crew's dressing room - flowers she had received that day from someone else.
Reds manager Davey Johnson married his girlfriend after saying Schott threatened to fire him if he didn’t marry.
Schott banned players from wearing earrings because “only fruits wear earrings."
She was indicted for falsifying information to meet quotas for her car dealership by using her own employees as part of the fraudulent scheme.
On September 10, 1998, Schott ordered St. Louis player and HGH Spokesmodel Mark McGwire, who is allergic to dogs, to pet her Saint Bernard Schottzie for good luck.
Finally, Schott was the target of legitimate criticism for allegedly allowing her dogs to defecate upon the baseball field itself.
Readers and writers, of I Dislike Your Favorite Team, I would like to propose a neologism.
Hugging The Panda--Any time someone does something they think will be cute and/or fun, and turns out to be comically, horrifically disastrous. Bonus points for stupidity.
Remember when the Vikings drafted Demetrius Underwood, and he went AWOL from training camp and then stabbed himself in the fucking neck? Man, did they ever hug the panda.
Blogger Review of Nomination: Garwood B. Jones
Okay, okay... they can't all be Lex Luthor. But I haven't seen any ladies nominated so far and there were two ladies in the legion. While there may have been a time that her leopard print leotards and figure skating grace may have garnered her comparisons to Cheetah, her recent career as a professional boxer (see photo) suggest that she may be the Giganta of this group.
Her crimes? Many.
1. A month before the 1994 XVII Olympic Winter Games were celebrated in 1994 in Lillehammer, Norway, Tonya Harding's ex-husband, Jeff Gillooly hired Shane Stant to club fellow female figure skater Nancy Kerrigan in the knee. This forced us to feel sympathy for the horse-faced Kerrigan who went on to win the silver medal and host one of the worst ever episodes of SNL (that's saying something).
2. Approaching a camera with a handful of quivering Gillooly. If you haven't seen the video, I have the stills in an old issue of Penthouse somewhere. Ish.
3. In 2000 she assaulted her boyfriend with a hubcap. (Okay, that one is pretty cool.)
4. And this is the absolutely most important one on the list. At her website, there is a fantasy fan-fiction page where people can submit stories about Tonya Harding. There's also a picture of her circa 1999 peeking around a tree. Seriously, here's an exerpt:
“Where’s your fucking car‚ I yelled‚ pulling at her blouse which ripped in my hand‚ exposing a couple bouncing breasts. She wore no bra. I recognized those tits from a video I had seen. Tonya Harding for Christ sakes! Honest. Hard to believe but under the circumstances, why would I lie?
“Over here”‚ Tonya said‚ grabbing my hand and guiding me to her truck which was parked nearby. She squeezed my hand, suddenly excited. Hmm. What the hell?
We jumped in, Tonya driving and together we tore through town, passed Carl's Gas Station, then down a long country road with tons of money, Tonya's tits bouncing‚ and the sound of a siren wailing somewhere in the distance. We took a corner hard and a hubcap spun loose, disappeared off into a ditch on my right. I’d had a lot of breaks in my life, none good. And now I had resorted to bank robbery. What a life. Maybe not perfect but then again‚ Tonya had joined me, good or bad. Perhaps my luck would change...
Did you write that one muumuuman?
Wednesday, September 20, 2006
And they got what they had coming, with the Macalester Fightin' Scotsmen dropping the hated, hated, hated (wow, really hated) Luther Norseman 2-0 on late goals from Mike Blythe and Jake Rocke.
The Mac Women kicked around the Luther Norseladies for 120 minutes, outshooting them 28-2, and garnering 19 corner kicks to Luther's 2. I can only assume that Annie Borton and Grace King were slightly off their games, otherwise, all evidence points to this being an absolute fucking rout. You got lucky, "Women" of Luther!
The Assassin of Snelling Avenue will not be denied long! Nor will the Linch Pin!
Update: Apologies to Garwood and everyone else who was left not knowing for certain what the final score was. 0-0 is your final.
I almost feel bad for their next opponent, the rather hapless St. Mary's. Enjoy your fiery deathtrap, ladies!
Blogger Review of Nomination: Big Blue
This is a twisted story*, and one that doesn't really seem to have ever gotten all the questions resolved. This is James Elroy type material, full of cheats and shady characters, killers, who may or may not be insane patsies, maybe a panty-sniffer or two. We'll try to tie this shit together, so we can come up with a somewhat cohesive picture of how evil happened.
We'll pick up the Dave Bliss saga at Southern Methodist University, where he was the head basketball coach in 1988, when the NCAA ruled that Bliss had overseen violations, including cash payments to at least one player (legendarily overpaid NBA'er Jon Koncak) in the thousands of dollars over a two year period. However, SMU had already been punished strongly already for football violations, and the NCAA decided not to add any further penalties to the Athletic Department. Bliss left SMU shortly thereafter, to coach at New Mexico for several years. Thus far, nothing particularly evil, or even odd about his behavior thus far.
Bliss ends up at Baylor (located in Waco, where "Nothing Can Possibli Go Wrong") in 1999. Things stay pretty quiet until 2003, when Everything Goes Batshit Crazy.
In June of that year, teammates Carlton Dotson and Patrick Dennehy start telling people that they have been threatened by other people, including teammates. They buy guns, and start practicing their shooting skills for their own protection. Dotson apparently shoots Dennehy during one of these sessions, buries his body in a gravel pit, and drives to Virginia Beach (in Dennehy's car), where he ditches the ride and makes his way home to Maryland. That's pretty bad, yeah?
Cops get Dotson, who eventually pleads guilty out of nowhere, despite there being quite a few psychiatrists who think he isn't all there--he may be hearing voices, experiencing hallucinations and the like. He'll be in jail until at least 2032.
So what does this have to do with Dave Bliss? Ah, here's where its gets ugly (that's right--HERE is where it gets ugly)
Shortly after Dennehy's body is discovered in late July, the press starts investigating Baylor's basketball program. (all it takes is one kid shot in the head by another kid to get the press to get suspicious!) They uncover disturbing allegations, that range from typical cheating college coach behavior to outlandish (we hope). We will try to get these allegations in chronological order, but frankly we may get a bit confused, as there are so many:
Rampant Drug Use--Dotson's wife and another player's mom says the coaching staff knew that the players were showing up to practices stoned and drunk, and ignored it, because they didn't want to have to bench or suspend players. Violations that should have been reported to the NCAA weren't. Baylor administration concurs with the allegation. This probably isn't as rare as we might like to think.
Recruiting Violations--Coaches are present for a "pick-up" game with a recruit, in obvious violation of NCAA regs. We suspect this sort of thing happens all the time.
The Big One--Investigations turn to how the deceased Dennehy had even been on the team the previous year without a scholarship. Suspicions rose that Bliss was up to his old tricks, helping players play for school. Bliss is secretly taped coaching his players to lie to investigators, telling his team to lie and tell authorities that Dennehy had raised his tuition by selling drugs. The kid's body had been found the WEEK Bliss makes the demand of his players. Despite damning evidence, Bliss is never charged, not even with Obstruction of Justice. It later turns out that Bliss paid the kid's tuition, to the tune of $40,000.
Where Are They Now?
Dotson is in jail. And will be, for quite a while longer.
Bliss landed in the CBA, right before it imploded. This quote from an ESPN article tells you everything you need to know about Dave Bliss (emphasis mine):
Bliss, 61, and athletic director Tom Stanton resigned from Baylor in August 2003, two months after the death of player Patrick Dennehy. Former teammate Carlton Dotson pleaded guilty in June to killing Dennehy and was sentenced to 35 years in prison.
Baylor found that Bliss improperly paid up to $40,000 in tuition for Dennehy and another player, and that the coaching staff had not reported players' failed drug tests. Bliss also asked players and an assistant coach to lie to investigators by saying Dennehy paid his tuition by dealing drugs.
"I take full responsibility for what happened," Bliss said. "You can only ask for forgiveness. I made a selfish decision to give those players scholarships."
Yeah, that's the bad decision to be highlighted. Giving them scholarships--the part about teaching them to lie to the authorities, take drugs with impunity, and libel dead friends--no apologies needed! There's a special hell in store for Dave Bliss, and he certainly belongs in the Legion of Doom.
*Thanks to a shockingly well-sourced Wikipedia.org article!
We, The Institution of I Dislike Your Favorite Team just sent one to Will at Deadspin to make sure he knows that we don't care for the St. Louis Cardinals.
Talking Monkeys are fun. Sure, it is a marketing trick for careerbuilder.com to build an email database. But that is easily outbalanced by a talking monkey that will say anything you want it to.
Enjoy! And Play Nice.
Greed is a comfy theme in the world of sport, but typically in reference to lazy, shameful and non-team-playing athletes. Owners, for their part, are so busy trying to put a competitive product on the field that they would drive themselves to the poorhouse in search of a championship in one of the major sports (or in Bon Jovi's case, arena football).
But it wasn't always so. Before philathropists like Mark Cuban, Daniel Snyder and the old lady in the tracksuit (thanks, Badcock, some lines are worth repeating) took over, it seems that owners sought to maximize profits, and often at the expense of player salaries! To fully understand the next nomine's pure evil, you must first listen to an exciting tale of legislation, anti-competitive business maneuvers and an outdated contract mechanism known as the reserve clause. Buckle up.
In reference to promoting the federal antitrust laws, Senator John Sherman stated "if we will not endure a king as a political power we should not endure a king over the production, transportation, and sale of any of the necessaries of life." Really never intended to protect consumers but rather to prevent control over the marketplace, the Sherman Antitrust Act passed back in 1890 and remains the driving ethos behind antitrust policy.
In 1922, the U.S. Supreme Court decided that the Sherman Antitrust Act would apply to baseball in the landmark case Federal Baseball Club v. National League, asserting that baseball did not affect interstate commerce and was therefore not regulable by the federal government. Since the intent of the Sherman Act was to foster competition, a large side effect of the exemption was to limit competition and enshrine Major League Baseball as the undisputed king of the sport of kings (which I believe is actually horseracing).
Another unintended side effect of the Sherman Act exemption was to quash free agency in baseball until 1975. You see, until 1975 all baseball contracts had a reserve clause that allowed teams to extend a signed contract by one year, effectively making players beholden to the team they intially signed with until death, or player suckiness, did they part. In conjunction, the Sherman Act exemption allowed Major League Baseball to engage in egregious anti-competitive maneuvers and prevented other baseball leagues from flourishing, keeping those who desired a career in baseball competing for spots in the Major League Baseball league.
If by some miracle you're still reading, you don't need me to explain how a lack of free agency served to depress player's wages while fattening the take of those who represent the real reason we watch sports (the owners, obviously).
So then, Bowie Kuhn. Well, he was the a-hole who made the last great stand against free agency. He was the guy who cut Curt Flood's career short and fought for a system so despicably one-sided that Curt Flood was comparing the reserve clause to slavery (in 1969, no less) and calling the Philadelphia fans racists (Flood unsuccessfully challenged the reserve clause when he fought his trade from St. Louis to Philadelphia, citing the racism of Philly fans as a reason for denying the trade).
Kuhn's attorney during Flood v. Kuhn alleged that Bowie acted the way he did "for the good of the game," birthing the continual hoax that owners of major sports teams are perpetually taken advantage of by greedy players while owners' sole motivation is akin to a young lad's first trip to the ol' ball park with dad. Oh, it is so sweet to see the new owner of a major league team score along in the program for the very first time: "mark it down as E1, son."
Bowie's evil legacy will forever be the last guy who fought for the ulimate symbol of owners' greed.
Oh yeah, he was also the prick who argued against the inclusion of Negro League baseball players into the Hall of Fame, and then tried to get their plaques placed in a separate wing of the Hall.
In no particular order, here are my top 5 sports movie villains of all time:
- Rachel Phelps (Margaret Whitton) as that tramp who bought the Indians and tried to make them lose in Major League. Boo! That's just about the lowest form of sports villain there is. Just because I jerked off to that cardboard cutout of her doesn't mean she wasn't evil.
- Phillip Elias (Larry Miller) in Necessary Roughness. The bitter Dean of Texas State and their Fighting Armadillos shows up on this list for the same reasons as Rachel Phelps though I don't believe I ever jerked off to his blurry, paused image.
- Lance Burkhardt (ably played by professional surfer Laird Hamilton) in North Shore. Rude, arrogant, and partial to scantily clad 12-year old girls at his lavish parties? C'mon! Rick Kane, fresh off learning how to duck dive would have won the big surf competition but for Burkhardt pulling his chain. (Thanks, for noticing Turtle)
- Teddy KGB (John Malkovich) in Rounders. If it's not really a sport then why is it on ESPN 6 hours a day? He's a cheater and he'll splee-ash the peeyot if he vants to spleeash the peeyot. His Russian-ness provides an extra point on the evil scale and gets him on this list.
- John Kreese - Cobra Kai Sensei (Martin Kove) in Karate Kid. I still get the willies when I hear Kreese coldly tell Johnny to "sweep the leg." Brrrrrr.
As a big Nat X fan, I think five is a perfect number for this list but I'd be happy to read more. I think Big Ern McCracken from Kingpin is too cool but maybe that guy that eats pieces of shit for breakfast from Happy Gilmore?
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
It was in Montreal where American swimmer Shirley Babashoff earned herself the nickname "Surly Shirley" for charging that the East Germans were taking steroids. After evidently commenting to an East German coach about the deep husky voices of the Germans, Herr Coachenfuhrer responded: "We have come to swim, not to sing."
He's a commie, a nazi, and he forced pre-adolescent females to take male hormones for the good of the homeland. He destroyed the lives of many young girls (including Heidi Kreiger, a track and field athlete so traumatised by the drug regimen that she became Andreas Kreiger in 1997) and he also may have had an affect on my own budding sexuality (check out the sexy bulge and the mustache on Inga - ooh lah lah). For both his truly heinous crimes, not to mention my troubling engorged clitoris fetish, let us say: Manfred Ewald Uber Alles!
Sunday, September 17, 2006
and thighs and knees. There are probably people out there who think those uni’s are real sweet, and quite possibly it is cutting edge and will soon find its way to many college and pro teams, but I think they are ghastly. I wonder what comic book reading, urban youth aping, suburban nerd-turned designer conceived of that look? I say give it up Ducks, especially now that you are in the national spotlight, because you look like a team made from a loading dock, or a steel staircase or wharehouse floor.
Humberto Muñoz Castro is the man who shot the Colombian soccer player Andres Escobar 12 times outside a suburban Medellin nightclub a mere 10 days after Escobar had scored an own goal against the U.S. in the 1994 World Cup. Escobar’s girlfriend testified that the shooter yelled “Gol!” with every shot. The Colombians had dominated South American qualifying leading into the 1994 Cup and were looking to make a real impact in the tournament, but after losing to the Americans they were ultimately eliminated after the first round. It was never made public if the killing was related to the own goal, but my Momma didn't raise no morons. Humberto Muñoz was released from prison earlier this year after serving 11 years of an original 43 year sentence.
To me any man who is fan enough to kill a member of his favorite team, is maniacal enough for the Legion of Doom.
Truly a villian of almost comic book proportions, the man known to his followers as "Arkan" is probably practically unknown to most people who read this blog. But he was one bad, bad dude.
His real name was Željko Ražnatović, which is a super pain in the ass to type, so we'll call him Arkan for now on. He is the possibly the best example of a both a really bad fan, and a really bad team owner/GM.
Arkan grew up in Serbian Yugoslavia, where he was a petty criminal who never stayed in prison long, due to his connections first to Yugoslavian dictator Tito, and Tito's various secret police henchmen.
When war loomed in what was soon to be the former Yugoslavia, Arkan was on the front lines, using his connections with the segment of rabid, ultra-nationalist fanbase of Red Star Belgrade to recruit his paramilitary squad, The Tigers. Arkan would be accused of War Crimes for the actions of his Tigers during the conflicts that raged in Yugoslavia.
He somehow, again, managed to avoid any jail time, and in 1996 took the reins of a rather obscure soccer club named Obilic. Obilic enjoyed a marvelous, near miraculous run to national club champion.
However, as Wikipedia puts it, there was some questions surrounding that run:
"According to a book by Franklin Foer, "How Football Explains the World", Arkan threatened players on opposing teams if they scored against Obilić. This threat was underlined by the thousands of veterans from his army that filled their home ground, chanting threats, and on occasion would point pistols at opposition
players during matches. One player told the British football magazine FourFourTwo that he was locked in a garage when his team played Obilić."
Say what you will about Art Modell, there have never been guns in the stadiums where his teams played. Or at least, not enough to be notcied by opposition players.
Saturday, September 16, 2006
"I was shocked. I was just so amazed," said Kayla Aire after birthing a 6 pound, 4 oz baby boy. Aire, a barely-legal spinner with zero bodyfat, had no idea she was in a family way.
The 18 year old's mother, who already has two grandchildren, was reportedly excited she was about to have a third.
Kayla Aire's boyfriend of two years, Felipe Sisneros, had no idea his girlfriend was pregnant.
"After he realized it was true, he got really happy," Kayla Aire said.
The 28-year-old Connor, who won a silver medal for Wheelchair Tennis in 2000, was one of Canada’s top medal hopes in Athens and was to be one of three athletes to carry the Canadian flag in the Opening Ceremony.
Admittance for Earle Connor is contingent on the Legion of Doom being ADA-compliant
She apparently was angered/inspired by that description, and decided to score a Hat Trick of her own (you've got competition, Annie Borton) against those Cornholios of St. Thomas.
Macalester 5, St. Thomas 1
(Note: We are pretending that the Macalester Soccer Teams read this blog, and motivate themselves based on the descriptions we print here. There is no evidence that this is true).
Friday, September 15, 2006
Apparently, a Team of Super Villians in the Sports World is what it took to garner some interest. And now we are overwhelmed; we have the vapors. We're a bit a-tingle.
There have been so many great nominations. How could we have forgotten Rae Carruth, caught in the trunk of a car? Lawrence Phillips? For fucks sake! We begin to think we may have to break it down a bit, just like the Comic books would have. Maybe we need a Golden Era Legion, and a Silver Era Legion. Because it seems clear that Ty Cobb deserves his own special circle of hell.
In any case, we have lots of info to parse, and we thank you kindly people for that. Truly awesome work from you all.
Quick note on that: Blowing up a franchise isn't a reason to be in the Legion of Doom. Maybe I Dislike Your Favorite Team. Maybe Kobe blowing up the Lakers is a point in his favor, in my mind. And maybe I enjoyed the fact that Lindros was never worth the headache he gave the team that signed him. As a Cap fan, I can tell you that I loved that he did that. We're not looking for guys who hurt your team. We're looking for guys who hurt humanity. And we've got so many to go through now!
Thanks again, commenters. Awesome work.
While you wait, can we interest you in some of our greatest hits?
There was our Buddy Cop Index, where we rated NFL backfields on the strength of their ability to star in a Buddy Cop Movie.
There was that time we called Ronaldhino Tiger Wood's Ugly Lesbian Cousin
How about facts about the Round of 16 Countries from the World Cup? Learn something, jerks.
Downs offered to pay an eight-year-old $25 to bean a player to prevent him from playing. The beaning occurred during batting practice. The player was on his own team. The player was autistic.
The pitcher, Keith Reese Jr., testified that, on Downs's instructions, he purposely threw a ball that hit Harry Bowers (the autistic kid on his own team) IN THE GROIN. While the autistic kid was on the ground, the pitcher hurled another ball that hit the prostate child in the ear.
Uday, son of Saddam Hussein, father and self appointed media czar/assassin (not media assassin, just plain killed people for shits and giggles), controlled the Iraq Olympic Committee and Iraq Soccer Federation. From The Iraq Foundation:
"Uday heads Iraq's football federation and national Olympic committee, and owns its leading sports paper, al-Baath. But his passion for sport is accompanied by brutality and corruption.
"My back was a mess of blood and I could not sleep for days except on my stomach in a tiny cell," said Saad [Saad defected to Europe]. "Since I was a boy kicking a ball around Baghdad's streets, football has been my life. But the beatings ruined the game for me. One day I decided I no longer wanted to be a part of it and found the courage to leave."
Saad is the second Iraqi footballer to leave in less than two years. His testimony confirms that of Sharar Haydar Mohamad al-Hadithi, a 32-year-old team-mate. After fleeing in 1999, Sharar described being hit on the soles of his feet, dragged on his bare back through gravel, then forced into a tank of sewage so the wounds would be infected."
I like this part too:
"Uday once loaned Saad to Qatar for two weeks. Of his $10,000 fee he received only $2,000. The rest was taken by Uday. "We sometimes earned big salaries and presents but he always took a share," Saad said."
80% to the tax man, hey don't complain Saad - if Uday was a pimp you'd get 0% for your services. But the soccer team wasn't the only team to feel Uday's scorn:
"There were also reports that after a loss Uday forced the volleyball team, which was made up of taller athletes, to remain in a room he had constructed with a five-foot-high ceiling. He built the room so small that not all of them could sit at the same time. The only way they could fit was by having half of them standing and leaning over while the other half were sitting with their knees in their chests. He considered this a motivational technique. There was always a psychological element to the kind of torture Uday employed. You are supposed to play like tall players, so feel what it is like to be small."
So I nominate Uday for the Legion of Doom, for more SI has an article on-line about the lovable Uday Hussein.
One day while walking in Detroit, he stepped in freshly poured asphalt and was yelled at by Fred Collins, a construction worker who happened to be black. Cobb responded by slapping Collins, knocking him to the ground, and continuing on his way. He was charged with assault and battery and found guilty, but received a suspended sentence. Collins then filed a civil suit, which Cobb settled out of court for $75.
An unfortunate incident in Cleveland's Hotel Euclid forced Cobb to go through Canada to avoid arrest during the 1909 World Series in Pittsburgh. Late one Friday night, Cobb got in an argument with the elevator operator and slapped him. The night manager, a black man named George Stansfield, came to aid the elevator operator and ended up in a shouting match with Cobb. Stansfield then hit Cobb with his nightstick, and the two rolled on the floor. Cobb drew his knife and slashed Stansfield, while Stansfield drew his pistol and hit Cobb again with the nightstick. Stansfield filed both criminal and civil suits against Cobb, but later dropped the criminal suit. But the case was still pending during the World Series, with an arrest warrant out for Cobb. Police waited for the Tiger train through Ohio en route to Pittsburgh for the World Series to arrest him, but Cobb was going through Canada. The civil suit was settled for $100 and court costs.
A fan whom Cobb recognized as a regular heckler was sitting behind the Tigers' dugout verbally abusing Cobb. He and Cobb traded insults for a while, but Cobb wanted to avoid trouble, so he stayed in center field carriage park area during the second inning. In the third, he went by the New York dugout to look for the owner to ask to have the fan removed. When he got back to the Tigers' bench, he yelled something to the fan about his sister. The fan, Claude Lueker, responded to Cobb by calling him a "half-nigger." Sam Crawford asked Cobb if he would take that from the fan, at which point Cobb charged twelve rows into the stands and began to beat the fan vigorously.
A few examples of a life time of hate seems to be enough to qualify Cobb for induction into the Legion of Doom, maybe even to ascend him to the throne of Lex Luthor.
The CBS analyst was fired after 12 years of service for his comments about the physical differences between African-American and Caucasian athletes. He told a Washington D.C. television reporter that a black athlete, “…is bred to be the better athlete because, this goes all the way to the Civil War when ... the slave owner would breed his big woman so that he would have a big black kid."
I say he is a perfect fit as an elder statesman/supervillan for the Legion of Doom.
Is Snyder a Greek name? You know, the mental differences between Greek analysts and Caucasian analysts…
Thursday, September 14, 2006
We can point to jocks behaving poorly, almost day in and day out. But what about L.T. using coke as a performance enhancer? What about Marge Fucking Schott? Bob Huggins not graduating a single player? Bad behavior is part and parcel of being 20 years old and having a shitload of cash. It is also being totally part of coaching those young men. Bad people do bad things. But who is the worst? Who's the Lex Luthor of Sports? Who is just the Black Manta of Sports? Who is the Solomon Grundy of Sports? Who makes up the worst 13 or so worst people in sports history?
Sure, we'll let the Good Guys at Deadspin have their really (truly) fucking awesome Hall of Fame. Let's have us a Legion of Doom, who live in the Hall of Doom, and all that good shit. I'm throwing the gauntlet down. Worst people ever in sports. Racists, cheapskates, murderers, whatever. Let's figure it out. Fellow contributors, you should post your nominees under: "Legion of Doom Nominee: xxx". Commenters, put your nominees in this spot, and your reasons why he or she should be in the Legion of Doom, and the good folks here at I Dislike Your Favorite Team will research your pick. Eventually, we'll get to a final 13 people who were the worst people ever involved in professional or collegiate sports. Let's make this happen, people!
UPDATE: Holy fucking shit. You people rock. News here: Update on the Legion!
"Let's see, stabbed once from behind, outside his home, in his kicking leg, without any theft....Hmmmm..... Must be OSAMA!"
I guess Mitchy doesn't like competition, salad, or freedom from assault charges.
I hereby nominate Mr. Mitch Cozad for the Ed Carpenter Award.
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
We neglected, for instance, to note that she is Twice an All-American.
We certainly neglected it took her all of opening day weekend to score her first hat-trick of the year.
We predicted on these pages an absolute thumping of St. Cate's. However, we did not predict that Ms. Borton would notch her second hat trick of the season! Which is exactly what she did, in leading the Fighting, Fighting Scots to their 5-0 victory over those Quiet Librarians of St. Catherine's.
We failed to mention that Annie Borton, for her Labor Day Heroics, was named to the D3Kicks team of the week. (Prior to last night's heroics).
So, we say, Annie Borton deserves a nickname. A nickname that comes from the Media. We are pushing hard for a Google Bomb of sorts. We suggest including the phrase The Assassin of Snelling Avenue, and linking to Annie's home page. Let the country know, that there is a killer wandering the pitch at Macalester!
He's been wonderfully documented in lego, by Bat-Girl, which we absolutely loved.
Many, many bloggers have commented on the Pat Neshek's blog, and I visited for the first time, to see his entry, dated on 9/11/06. Was it a rumination on the 5th year anniversary of the attacks on American Soil That Changed America Forever(tm)? Nope. Was it an intense look into what's it like to be an incredibly important reliever on a team chasing the Division championship and looking to hold onto the Wild Card slot? Nope.
It was all about the baseball cards he bought that day! Fucking awesome! It is like you took the 10 year old me, and then put me in the body of rocket sidearmer. One could theorize that a few years ago, Pat Neshek was 10 years old, and was on an abandoned boardwalk, happened upon a Gypsy Machine, and wished to be Big. He's a major leaguer, in the middle of a pennant race, and he's talking baseball cards! Fucking awesome, again.
So, way behind the curve, we say unto you, read Pat Neshek's blog.
And yet, we left some folks off. We'll get them on as they loudly announce themselves, and complain via the [email protected] email.
If you complain, and we figure out you never commented, or linked to us, we will hunt you down, and t.p. your house. Fair warning, jerks.