A Perfectly Cromulent Blog

Rocket man

I'm one of those annoying guys who doesn't watch a lot of basketball but is all too happy to jump on a bandwagon during the post-season (for all the shit I get for being a Houston-based Cardinals fan, you should take what you can get), so I must say the Rockets' run in the playoffs has been a lot of fun. Tonight's Game 6 victory over the Lakers was equally gratifying,

At some point, ESPN went to the "Wired" segment where we listen to the coaches in the huddle, and at one point in the 3rd quarter, Phil Jackson told everybody not "to look disgusted." I like to think he was speaking directly to Pau Gasol, who is merely the least photogenic of the crybaby L.A. players.

So...Game 7 in Los Angeles on Sunday. The conspiracy theorist in me says the VitaminWater-ABC entertainment industrial complex won't allow a Rockets win, but we'll see. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to friend Aaron Brooks on Facebook.

"Chris Jericho is a piece of shit"

I promise, this is my last WrestleMania post. And it's mainly for those of you who aren't on Facebook and haven't already seen these pics. So...you're welcome.

I got to Reliant Stadium a little after 2 on the Big Day. After checking in, we were ushered to some sort of holding area, where I sat between a German magazine crew and a Mexican TV station. I felt like the Zimmerman telegram. I also learned with a quickness how not to make friends with the WWE staff:

WWE Guy #1: "I'm sorry sir, you can't sit in the press section yet."
Pete: "Oh, no?"
WWE Guy #1: "No sir, they're rehearsing."
Pete: "...You mean it isn't real?"

I got there in time for the Mickey Rourke press conference, which was leading up to the least surprising "surprise" WrestleMania appearance of all time. Flanked by Ricky Steamboat and Ric Flair, he let his feelings about Chris Jericho be known. I wanted to ask him a question, but they reserved actual query time for credible journalists like the guy from Sky News and...ABC 13's Laura Whitley.

He probably wouldn't have found the Kim Basinger stuff funny anyway.

[more fun and photos after the jump]

It took about ten minutes of sitting in the press box to realize I wanted to be anywhere but the press box. The Sputnik's-eye view was nice, and the bratwurst-heavy buffet line a plus, but the idea of spending the next five hours sitting at a desk and watching Jumbotrons from behind double-paned Plexiglas was distinctly unappealing, so I decided to go downstairs.

The elevator guy had other ideas, telling me I needed to be accompanied by someone with an all access pass if I was going to carry a camera around, since I didn't have a "Photo" badge. I was fully prepared to comply, by which I mean I was going to stuff my camera in my backpack and head down the stairs, when one of the WWE guys showed up with several TV crews in tow.

Elevator Guy: He doesn't have a photo badge, so you need to take him to the box.
WWE Guy #2: [to me] We didn't give you a photo badge?
Pete: Nope.
WWE Guy #2: Okay, follow us.

Note that nowhere did I say I was supposed to get a badge, so I don't think you can actually call it lying. At any rate, soon I was safely ensconced with the rest of the press photography corps, separated from the squared circle by a mere 100 feet or so. Eager to look professional, I dug out my camera, oblivious to the stares of my "fellow" photogs who were no doubt snickering at my lack of a Zeiss 180mm lens.

Here was where I met Daniel Kramer, Houston Press photographer extraordinaire, who regaled me with stories of being escorted back to the pen by WWE security when he had the temerity to go use the bathroom. Disenchanted with the idea of spending the rest of the night taking ineffective pictures with an inadequate camera, I decided to make my escape.

Funny thing about most entertainment venues, they tend to see a "Media" badge and let you go where you please. Hence the semi-decent shots of the Undertaker-Shawn Michaels and Triple H-Randy Orton bouts I was able to get. Here's a sampling:

I have about ten shots of this stupid star. It just seemed to get bigger as the night wore on, but maybe that was the acid.

The Diva Battle Royale was won by a cross-dresser (look closely at the "lady" in the center), which was only slightly less obnoxious than the Kid Rock set that preceded it.

I don't even know what "jorts" are. And I refuse to Google it.

Woooooo!

I didn't get a shot of it, but Flair's entrance was as classic as Omar Sharif's in Lawrence of Arabia.

Mickey is displeased, both by losing the Best Actor Oscar and by Jericho's disrespect.

The Mexican soccer team has really let itself go.

This is one of the finer examples of "verbing" a noun I've come across. I think this guy taught 7th grade math at College Station Junior High.

A rare photo of the dreaded "Rear Admiral" in action.

His ass is even more spectacular up close.

I still can't get over the fact that there are TVs built right into the fucking ring. That guy in red could easily have stood up and peered over the barricade to see in real life what he was staring at so intently onscreen.

L.O.L.

This guy might have been the most ludicrously dressed person in attendance, including the wrestlers themselves.

Whether your loyalties reside with Cena or the Big Show, you have to admit that the latter has a lot of guts.

With 12 Rounds doing so poorly at the box office, Cena must strut so that we do not see him weep.

Randy Orton is one oily dude.

Triple H is one oily...wait a minute.

"Look into the nipples of the Dragon and despair!" Sorry...watched Excalibur last night.

"He literally tore his head off."

Since 1980, I've occasionally allowed my gruff exterior to be cracked like a crab claw by the Olympics. Once you get beyond the political whoremongering of the IOC, the bloated "up close and personal" crapola about every U.S. athlete, and Gary Hall, Jr., there are always some cool moments to look back upon: Mary Lou Retton (*sigh*), Joan Benoit, Carl Lewis, Greg Louganis, Michael Johnson, Derek Redmond, Ali. And that's just the Summer Games.

2008, of course, is the Season of the Phelps. Personally, I know my Olympic experience would be greatly lessened without constant interviews with the guy's family and frankly disturbing close-up footage of his feet. I mean, he's only won a measly three gold medals so far. Though I must admit, watching the Americans beat the French in the 400m freestyle relay was one of those embarrassing "jump up and cheer" moments, after which you look around to make sure the neighbors didn't see you through the window. But fuck, they started it.

Personally, I'm waiting for the Dana Dara Torres events, as she's the only female swimmer I can ogle without feeling like a creepy old man.

Last night, I was hoping we might get a similar moment of jingoistic gloating with men's gymnastics. Alas, it was not to be, even as watching Jonathan Horton and Alexander Artemev, I allowed myself the fleeting possibility they might be able to topple the Chinese. Yeah. I grant that the Chinese were the better team last night, but having the Games every four years serves another purpose: it allows me to forget how annoying sports that rely on judges for their outcome really are.

And these announcers...does anyone else watch the Games on Telemundo just so they won't understand what's being said?

In other news, only two weeks until football season.

Call me when they get to gunpowder

As The Wife said about an hour into last night's opening ceremonies, "Can we just surrender now and get it over with?"

It's amazing what a dictatorship with no compunction about displacing its own citizenry and pouring $40 billion in profits gained from exploitation and mercenary trade practices can accomplish, and the kickoff to the XXIX Olympiad was a fine example of the kind of spectacle autocracies are capable of.

A 500 foot LED screen in the floor...a scrim running the circumference of the stadium with movies playing on it...a cast of - literally - tens of thousands (and apparently every non-aborted female) to act out China's history (yet curiously no references to Mao)...you can't deny it was impressive. Mind-numbing, really. The stadium even has a fan whose sole purpose is to blow the flags with appropriate...majesticness.

Other random thoughts...

+ "And Bob, the children are smiling because they were told their parents would be executed if they didn't."
+ I like how the Marshall Islands uniform looks like my usual work clothes.
+ "Chinese Taipei." Nice.
+ Good shot of Mr. and Mrs. President checking their watches.
+ Man, some of those Jamaicans/Romanians/Bulgarians are pretty hot.
+ Yao Ming should've put that kid on his shoulders.
+ Jacques Rogge is one dynamic speaker.
+ Are people still serious about trying to get Houston to host this? You could fill the Sea of Japan with all the sweat being excreted in the "Bird's Nest." And it's only 85 degrees there.
+ Yeah, they're never going to top that lighting ceremony unless a squadron of naked women actually set a guy on fire and catapult him into the cauldron.

Somewhere in London, the members of the 2012 planning committee are soiling their collective knickers. Congrats China, you ceremony really appealed to the German in me.

"Enough of this running shit."

I am Jack's Pete's impending arthritis...

Broke my ankle in February of 1989. It was a truly impressive 50 foot plummet that caused my talus bone to "shatter" - as the orthopedist put it - into three pieces. The screws in the tibia are from where the surgeon had to reattach the end after sawing it off to get to the sweet, sweet ankle bones.

I was told at the time that I'd probably walk with a limp, but I'm pretty sure the doctor was just trying to scare the shit out of me. I didn't PT 'til I died, as Sgt. Hartman might recommend, but I busted my ass to the point where I was walking pretty normally within 6 months.

And, because I'm an idiot, I started running. It was slow going at first, but eventually I was making it up to 3 and 4 miles at a pop. Thing was, right around the four mile mark, my ankle would just lock up. The range of flexion, only about 45 degrees max on a good day, completely disappeared, and I'd end up limping back to my apartment. The same thing happened when I tried picking it up again about ten years ago.

Rather than accept this as a rather blunt reminder that I'm not exactly built for speed and content myself with cycling and the elliptical machine, I started running again a month or so ago. I made 3.5 miles yesterday, which is the farthest I've gone since the late 20th century, so naturally I'm worried about the dreaded ankle lock. I've been doing some different flexibility exercises and my trainer (okay, the trainer at my gym) has suggested a few things, so we'll see.

I don't really have an ultimate goal. I'd like to get up to doing 10Ks, but I doubt my joints (the non-mechanically reinforced ones) would appreciate much more than that. Mostly I just want to be able to easily outdistance the guys I go camping with should any bears/mountain lions/swamp folk ambush us in the woods.

Deutschbags

I don't know, man. Every time I tell myself I'm going to sit down and watch a football soccer game I enjoy it for about ten minutes, and then I can't get past what whiny little bitches they all are.

Case in point, ABC's playing the MLS match between Los Angeles and D.C. this morning before the Euro Cup final (sort of like the battle of the bands winner opening for the Rolling Stones). First off, after listening to the announcing crew talk for 20 minutes about the Galaxy's David Beckham and MLS goals leader Landon Donovan, I decided I was going to root fiercely for D.C. United. I have nothing against Donovan, except for his utter collapse in the last World Cup and his worsening habit of taking out his anger over advancing male pattern baldness on opposing players. It hasn't helped, D.C. was up 4-1 when I changed channels to...

The Euro 2008 final is on today. In news that should be no surprise to anyone who's heard me correct someone describing my surname as Dutch, I'll be pulling for Michael Ballack, Bastian Schweinsteiger (what a name) and Germany to pull it out.

UPDATE: Aaaand Spain's up 1-0 at the half. Loverly.

UPDATE 2: I'm junking any more pro-Spain comments.

Just kidding. Yeah, I was really taken with ESP's speed and accuracy throughout the match. I hate using the expression "they wanted it more," but they played with a lot more fire (and flopped with a lot more enthusiasm). Patrick's right, the best team won.

Beating a...

While we were at the "beach" last week (a perfectly serviceable sandy oceanfront surface, Angelo's snotty protestations aside), we discussed watching the Kentucky Derby. Circumstances - meaning She Who Shall Not Be Named's ongoing fascination with getting pummeled by surf - kept us away from the TV, which turns out to have been just as well:

Big Brown was pulling away from the field, accelerating with every powerful stride toward the finish line in the Kentucky Derby. The crowd of 157,770 was on its feet and cheering as the big, unbeaten, muscular bay crossed the line first, 4 3/4 lengths ahead of the filly Eight Belles.

Trainer Rick Dutrow Jr. was still celebrating, along with thousands of happy bettors, as Big Brown and the 19 other horses in Saturday's race galloped out around the first turn at Churchill Downs.

It took a few minutes to sink in, but anyone watching those horses soon realized that one of them had fallen to the track.

"It's the filly," someone whispered. She went down about a quarter mile past the finish line.

In just a few minutes, the joy of the Derby and the promise of a new Triple Crown season were upended when Eight Belles was euthanized by injection on the track.

She had broken both front ankles and could not be saved.
[...]
Dr. Larry Bramlage, the Derby's on-call veterinarian, said the filly's injuries were too severe to even attempt to move her off the track.

"She didn't have a front leg to stand on to be splinted and hauled off in the ambulance, so she was euthanized," Bramlage said.

Trainer Larry Jones paid tribute to his fallen filly saying, "She ran the race of her life."

Apparently so.

I'm not going to get all bunged up about another (the fourth high profile racing death in the last two years) dead horse, seeing as how I: 1) eat meat; 2) take my kid to the zoo, and 3) just last week went fishing with The Father in Law. But remind me again how horse racing is different from the Iditarod or greyhound racing or any other borderline civilized animal sport? Is it the veneer of respectability afforded by millionaire owners? The venerable tradition of races like the Derby? Thoroughbreds are prettier than greyhounds? The relatively low mortality rate?

Horse always tastes a little gamy?

Ah well. This will cease to be a story once the Preakness rolls around.

All good things...

22 in a row is still pretty damn good, but not good enough to overcome the Celtics:

The Rockets lost to Celtics tonight at Toyota Center and were unable to extend their club record 22-win streak to 23 games.

That's some fine coverage. Then again, the game just ended five minutes ago.

I'm not much of a basketball fan, but it was hard not to get caught up in the Rockets' run, especially when they kept it up even after Yao went down 12 games in (and because football's over and baseball hasn't started yet).

And it would've been nice to see more than 50% of the crowd sticking around for the end of the game. Fine, they were down 20 with two minutes to go; stick it out and give the players a hand. They still have the second longest win streak in NBA history.

But if I was a gambling man (uh, pay no attention to those half dozen Final Four brackets I've filled out), I probably would've bet on the Celtics tonight. More interesting - and more ominous for the West - is Boston's performance on this road trip. They beat San Antonio last night, took the starch out of Houston's shirts tonight, and take on the Mavericks Thursday. That's potential bad news for the West's prospects in the post-season (and a consarned embarrassment to Texas pride).

One win away from a perfect NFL season, two World Series titles in three years, the best record in the NBA...when the hell did Boston get so good at everything?

All I need is a Miracle

ESPN has a contest up (on its wholly annoying web page) for the Greatest Highlight of all time. The bracket is down to two: Boise State''s Statue of Liberty play that beat Oklahoma in the 2007 Fiesta Bowl, versus Mike Eruzione's go-ahead goal in the 1980 Miracle on Ice.

Yeah. Long-time...hell, occasional readers of APCB know how I feel about the U.S.A.'s victory over the Soviets. Even taking that out of consideration, equating the Broncos beating a team that's gone 1-4 in BCS bowl games since their national championship with a bunch of college kids defeating arguably the greatest hockey powerhouse the world has ever known, well, that's just plain nutty.

Eruzione's goal may never be beaten. And if it is, it'd have to be an event that's never happened before, with the likelihood of a repeat so astronomically improbable as to be laughable.

You know, like Texas A&M winning a national championship.

The Miracle on Ice recently marked its 28th anniversary. Anybody going to be similarly commemorating Boise State's win in 2035?

"Excuse me...sporty nuts?"

Over at Sports Illustrated, where they still manage to cover sports pretty well in spite of the bad taste assault leveled each month by ESPN: The Magazine, their writers are talking about the best games they've ever seen.

A full list can be found here. I myself have three:

1. The Miracle on Ice - Clichéd, I know, and already discussed here, but I honestly can't think of anything that compares.

2. The 2006 Rose Bowl - Watched this at my old UT roommate Basshole's place. I'm usually the most pessimistic son of a bitch when it comes to my teams succeeding (e.g. last year's World Series), but even when USC was up 12 points with six minutes left, I never doubted Texas was going to win. To this day, it's the greatest football game I've ever seen.

UPDATE: Basshole kindly forwards a pic. I have no idea at what point it was taken, but from some of the expressions it might be when UT stopped the Trojans on 4th and 2. I'm the guy wearing excessive amounts of burnt orange, while the dude staring at me because I just shrieked like Fay Wray is Carlos, another high school friend:

3. 1987 Texas Lutheran High School Basketball Championship - I don't remember the names of the schools, all I know is Vince, one of my fellows from the 8th floor of Jester Dormitory, had a younger brother on one of the teams and invited me to come along. They played the championship at Concordia Lutheran College in Austin, and Vince's brother's team was down 25 point with five minutes left, and they won the game. Afterwards, everyone went to an Italian restaurant to celebrate, and Vince's dad bought our 18-year old asses pitchers of beer. All told, a pretty good day.

Anybody else?

Ballyhoo it like Beckham

Get used to this pose, Galaxy fans:

The amount of coverage given to Beckham joining the L.A. Galaxy is pretty hilarious. Admittedly, I'm glad we're hearing about someone who's actually accomplished something - 58-time English national team captain; only English player to score in three World Cups; played on the 1998-99 ManU team that won the treble (Premier League, F.A. Cup, Champions League) - other than the usual rotation of Hilton/Lohan/Spears.

And he's a better role model than Michael Vick.

But he's also 32 years old. He's not part of the "new direction" of England's team and though Real Madrid finally won a title in the final year of his contract, he didn't play much. He was responsible for a 137% increase in merchandising profits, however, and that's going to be his biggest contribution in L.A. I don't know that anyone is expecting the Galaxy to win the MLS Cup based solely on Beckham's signing, but the owners are already enjoying a healthy boost in jerseys. More importantly, it's another advance on the ongoing battle to increase soccer's popularity in the U.S.

Much of the Beckham coverage to this point has trumpeted how he's finally going to make soccer a marquee sport - something earlier imports Pele and Franz Beckenbauer were unable to do in the '70s. And yet, as this on-target BBC story puts it, it may not be necessary. More to the point, I don't think it addresses the right symptom.

Soccer is already the most popular sport in America...for kids. This was almost the case back in the '70s when I played. And even then, we were told how soccer would be the biggest sport in the U.S. RealSoonNow. And with the visibility brought by hosting the World Cup in '94 and airing all the MLS games, to say nothing of the enthusiasm brought by transplants from south of the border, the sport's popularity has never been higher.

But coverage of Beckham's arrival ignores the gap between youth league enthusiasm and professional paycheck, and it'll always lag behind the Big 3 until the following issues are addressed:

+ Football, basketball, and baseball remain the major scholarship sports in college
+ The best American players go overseas, and foreign players in their prime don't want to come here
+ The U.S. team sucks in the World Cup
+ American networks can't solve soccer's lack of breaks. This last World Cup allowed advertisers to sponsor chunks of games, but it's still going to be unattractive compared to other sports, which go out of their way to stretch 60 minutes of playing time to three and a half hours
+ Drop the Beckham Cam - soccer, like hockey, is a sport where you need to see the whole field to watch plays develop

I like soccer well enough (though not enough to call it football, which I realize puts me in the global minority). I'll watch a decent Premier League or World Cup match, even if the players' incessant flopping makes even the most exciting games nigh unwatchable (makes it a lot like basketball, come to think of it), and I think it'd be great if America enjoyed the same global dominance as it does in baseball basketball uh...beach volleyball, but we're not there yet.

And while I'm enjoying the saturation bombing-style coverage of the Beckham Invasion (which will likely drop off now that they've lost their first game with him), I'd remind him that Houston's own Dynamo are still the reigning MLS Cup champions.

Advantage: Roenick

And...repeat.

Phoenix Coyotes center Jeremy Roenick announced his retirement earlier this week. This, in itself, is mildly interesting from a sports perspective and more so if you follow hockey. The...outspoken center will retire with 495 career goals, which puts him third all-time for American-born hockey players (Roenick was born in Boston) behind Mike Modano and Joey Mullen. He never won a championship, however.

More importantly, as the Sports Hernia point out, Roenick was easily the best offensive player in Sega's classic NHL '94 videogame:

Upon hearing the news of Jeremy Roenick announcing his retirement, we couldn't help but look back to the key moment of his career, the moment that truly put the center of the Chicago Blackhawks on the map. Yes, we're talking about NHL '94 on Sega Genesis.

Roenick was a beast in every sense of the word, nearly impossible to take down, dished out murderous body checks and flashed a one-timer that went through torsos; all this with a relatively modest rating of 87 out of 100. He quickly became one of the most feared names in homes across the nation, quite possibly only taking a back seat to the immortal Tecmo Bowl Bo Jackson.

To appropriately honor this man, er video game man, take some time today to abruptly check a random co-worker into a wall.

I shared an apartment with three guys, and we played NHL '93 and NHL '94 like we were getting paid overtime for it, losing entire weekends to marathon Sega sessions. And The Wife will confirm that I was late to more than a couple of dates because a game went into overtime. We played entire seasons, letting the other match-ups be decided automatically while sitting down to actually play those games involving our chosen teams. Through sheer coincidence, I ended up with the Blackhawks. You see, when we first acquired the game, we took teams that shared a city with our favorite football teams, so - being a Bears fan - I took Chicago. Lewis was a Raiders guy, but since there are no hockey teams in the Bay Area, he went with the L.A. Kings (and Gretzky, coincidentally enough). I don't even remember who Bo ended up with though I want to say it was Hartford, for reasons known only to him.

And while Roenick was indeed nigh unstoppable, a lot of people seem to forget that Ed Belfour, the Blackhawks' goalie, was a freaking 98 out of 100 (on '93 at least). And Dominik Hasek backed him up.With that kind of awesome power, we had to limit periods to five minutes just so Chicago wouldn't outscore the Whale 22-0 every time.

Roenick can retire secure in the knowledge he might be, next to The Great One himself, the modern player most recognizable to non-hockey fans. Now isn't that better than a Stanley Cup?

"I skate, you skate...we skate."

Occasional commenter "Jax" is a law school compadre of The Wife's, and a member of the Houston Harpies women's hockey team. It was my past involvement as a sometime tackling dummy scrimmage partner of the Harpies that led her to ask me about how she get involved several years back, and it's because of this that I feel certain she subjected me to the torture I experienced yesterday.

Backing up a bit...she sends me an e-mail Friday morning saying that a bunch of players dropped out of the Harpies' scheduled scrimmage on Saturday and would I be interested in participating? Jax is well aware that it's been, oh, at least four years since I was on the ice. And before that, I wasn't exactly known for my mad skillz. I played defense, mostly because I could be relied upon to sacrifice my body in comical ways to stop a goal. And because I couldn't shoot to save my life.

She also mentioned we'd be playing at the Toyota Center, and not in front of an actual audience. That pretty much sealed the deal for me, as I've never been in the Toyota Center and have no interest in embarrassing myself in front of strangers, unless it's in written form.

So I said "sure."

The first order of business was assembling my scattered gear, which had been unceremoniously deposited in the garage when we first moved in to our current house. A good chunk of my equipment was donated by another infrequent commenter, MacinFla, (who actually won't be in Fla much longer, but I digress). It was all intact, if a litle dusty/covered in dead spiders. Guess I need to fumigate.

Got to the Toyota Center around 1:25 where, after a bag search (the female guard balked at examining my cup too closely) I was escorted to the lower level. They crammed about 15 guys into a 10'x10' room (actually the officials' locker room) to get ready. The dudes were pretty friendly, until Tom (Jax's SO) declared a contest to see who could knock me over the most times. Ah, the good-natured camaraderie of beer league sports enthusiasts.

Hockey players wear a crapload of...crap, I guess. You've got your knee/shin guards, socks (running ankle to upper thigh), an honest-to-Gordie garter belt to keep the socks on, hockey pants (mine are at least one size to big, which is always comforting when you haven't worn them in a very long time), skates (CCM Tacks 352s here), elbow pads, jersey, and gloves. Chest pads are optional, and I don't wear them. They're too damn hot (practice sessions are rarely air-conditioned, and even on the ice it can get pretty sweltering), for one thing. Besides, my chest is plenty big already, and I'm not generally in the company of players capable of hitting a slap shot with the potential to stop my heart.

Finally, there's the helmet. I've included a couple pictures of mine, simply because it's impossible to use mere words to describe its awesomeness.

Tom asked if who I had to kill to get such a vintage model with the plexiglas visor (everybody is into that wire mesh these days). I said, "A Swede, but it wasn't that tough."

See, 'cause Jofa's a Swedish company, and...never mind.

I like the dichotomy offered by Ginger Spice + the Misfits. And I think it (Ginger Spice) creeps out some of the younger females.

The sticker also effectively carbon dates my last significant hockey activity to 1998.

Stepping onto the ice that first time was one of those character defining moments where you realize your constant and abject humiliation is at hand, and yet you continue anyway. I managed a few feet without falling, then a few more feet, remembered to keep my knees bent - this is important - then made a few circuits sans incident. Cool. I wasn't going to make anyone forget Sidney Crosby, but It was a start.

The game itself was fine. I'm not the most graceful skater, or the fastest, or necessarily able to pass the puck accurately, but I am still willing to swan dive in the way of a shot. There were three 15-minute periods, and I felt myself getting a bit more relaxed as time passed. The feet stopped hurting, I got my second wind, and by the end of regulation I felt pretty good. I mean, normal workouts don't take the place of competitive sports, but my regular cardio sessions at the gym helped a lot. I'd definitely be willing to do this ag...

The announcer cuts in, "Attention, since we've still got 45 minutes of ice time, we're adding 40 minutes to the game clock and we're just going to play it out."

Mother pusbucket.

I didn't have to skip a shift, but...woof. Few things will make you feel old like trying to chase down some punkass right wing half your age on a fast break. And few things will make you feel young like hooking your stick around the little bastard's ankle and yanking him onto his face. We didn't have time for a zamboni break, so the ice got pretty sloppy towards the end. We did have full use of the Toyota Center's sound effects and music, though whoever was in charge seemed to have a fondness for late 70s-early 80s TV shows, and nothing says "hockey" like MC Hammer and Hanson.

Even so, I'd be happy to do this again. I'll just need to wait until I'm able to walk at more than an arthritic crawl.

"The winner will be showered with praise, the loser will be taunted and booed until my throat is sore!"

Lucky for Homer he wasn't a fan of college sports:

One day after claiming the ignominious title as the nation's No. 1 party school, UT launched an unrelated campaign urging sports fans to play nice.

The concept of the "Texas Fans Make Us Proud" initiative is to make that statement a fact and not just a plea, said Jim Boon, executive director of Texas Exes, the alumni group leading the charge.

Be prepared to see the slogan for fans of the 2005 national football champions on hotel banners, T-shirts, buttons, game cups and flashed across the giant video screens at games.

"Be aware that your actions have an impact on children," advises the
campaign. "Foul language and demeaning comments toward the opposing team are unacceptable."

Hey Jim, you might want to remind "the children" that Vince Young is gone. UT will be lucky to finish #4 behind Ohio State, Notre Dame, and LSU. We may not have another chance in our lifetimes to heckle opposing teams with our own teeth and without the aid of Geritol Plus, so kindly shut the hell up and allow us our well-earned digs at our opponents.

Just ask University of Oklahoma alum Kevin Niyah about the plastered Longhorn fan with the cigar hanging out of his mouth at a memorable OU-Texas match in Dallas.

As the crowd watched the game outdoors on a big-screen TV and UT neared victory, the fan set a paddle on fire and began swinging it wildly, said Niyah, president of the OU Club in Austin.

Sparks singed the face of a female OU fan, and police officers pulled out handcuffs after the man uttered a slur under his breath instead of an apology, Niyah said.

First of all, I certainly don't condone setting things on fire in the stands (unless it's the fuse on a bomb to be hurled at Matt Leinart), but a Sooner trying to claim the high ground with regard to behavior at the Red River Shoot-Out is like an LSU fan complaining about pre-game Jack Daniels consumption. I've been to enough Texas-OU games to see fans from both sides who'd be right at home in the bleachers at an Oakland Raiders game.

Perhaps someone simply called Niyah's name and he assumed they were jeering.

"It seems that over the last 20 years or so society has made it fashionable or even acceptable to behave poorly," said Boon, who doesn't want fans to lose their passion for the game.

"We do want them to be respectful of the officials. We want them to be welcoming to visiting teams. We'd like them to watch their language," he said. "If they drink, we'd like them to know their limit."

20 years ago would seem to coincide with when Mr. Boon (BBA 1969) reached middle age, so all this makes a lot more sense.

Finally, our comrades to the east have to chime in as well:

Former Democratic State Comptroller and Aggie John Sharp confesses he's left games early to avoid thousands of victorious UT fans chanting "poor Ag-gies" over and over.

Perhaps UT's fate will change, and the school can take a play from the Aggie playbook, he said.

"At Texas A&M, we have a tradition," he said. "Although we are often outscored, we never lose."

Sounds like loser talk to me, John. Do us all a favor: eschew your sweet 50-yard line seats for a spot in the horseshoe next Thanksgiving and then talk about that famous tradition of Aggie class.

That, and you might try...I don't know...beating us one of these years.

"Materazzi must've called the guy a cocksucker"

Or worse, for Zinedine Zidane to freaking headbutt him in the chest:

A rather inauspicious way to end a career, to put it mildly.

UPDATE: And Italy wins on PKs. Bravo, Zizou.

"That's life in the fast-paced, slam-bang, live-on-the-razor's egde, laugh in the face of death world of junior league soccer."

I'd like to congratulate the U.S. soccer team on another auspicious showing in the World Cup. While their early exit probably didn't come as a surprise to anyone other than ESPN's announcers, it was great to get reminded again of what a great player Landon Donovan is. Pity he never actually, you know, scored. Must've been fretting about his hairline.

I'm also glad David Beckham finally scored a goal, because - to me - nothing puts you in a celebratory mood better than watching his loving wife Posh jumping up and down in the stands, barely jostling the two ossified cantaloupe halves attached to her cured, skeletal frame. Stirring.

Would it be too expensive to fly Brazil's fans in for every game?

The central figure of this year's World Cup has got to be Russian referee Valentin Ivanov. Sunday night's match between Portugal and Holland saw four red cards, a tournament record, and 16 yellows. There have already been 23 send-offs, which is a new record, and the quarterfinals haven't even started. The again, the Dutch really can't blame the ref, considering they had 20 freaking shots on goal.

You read it here first, Ghana will beat Brazil today.

Then again, I also picked Italy to the beat the USA. Which reminds me, that was a horrible way for the Italy-Australian match to end. And since I've been lurking on enough soccer message boards to pick up some of the lingo, I can can now confirm that the Italians are, in fact, "diving cunts."

The Argentinians, too. Unfortunately, they're probably going to win, meaning we'll all be right there when Maradona has his next heart attack.

Sports Genius

I hate Vegas.

Actually, that's not really true. If you do Vegas right, it's pretty fun. For myself, I can't stay more than two days. Any longer and the atmosphere of hilarity and desperation I initially enjoy so much gives way to fatigue. Fatigue with stale air and weak drink, fatigue with glandular freaks clad in "Hottie" t-shirts, and fatigue with the "New Year's Eve sensation." You know what I mean, the feeling you should be having a good time even if you'd rather just take a nap.

I'm also not much of a gambler. Oh, I understand the games, and can actually hold my own in poker, blackjack, and craps. But I'm a coward: if I start losing, I pack it in. I'm also stingy, meaning I'm not usually willing to cough up the initial outlay to get a decent head of steam going.

I also like betting on sports, and when I'm in Vegas, I usually check out a sports book or two. I like playing the parlays, and yesterday, I thought I'd hit upon a great one with today's World Cup matches. I stood to win about $100 provided Portugal, the Czech Republic, and Italy all won. Pretty safe bets, right?

Yeah. Unless Ghana beats the Czechs 2-0 and the US ties Italy. That tends to throw a wrench in your plans, and shit like that is why, this weekend, I hate Vegas.

Oh, and I put $5 on Texas A&M to win the BCS for The Wife. Her payoff if they succeed? A cool $350.

At the Copa, Copa Mundial

Lotta sports type things happening in the coming weeks. You've got the Stanley Cup finals, but I have next to no interest in either Edmonton or Hartford Carolina. I enjoyed playing the Whalers in Sega NHL '93, but that's not quite enough to hold my attention. Then you have the NBA championship, which pits Dallas against Miami. As a Houstonian, I am morally obligated to not pull for Dallas, aside from that, I've never been that big of a basketball fan.

Which leaves that other big event everyone's talking about: the World Cup. I follow soccer about as much as the average American, which means I occasionally sit through SportsCenter when it tells me how much it matters to the rest of the world.

But I'm certainy not one who generally derides soccer for the hell of it. The game can be exciting to watch, the players are truly athletic (especially those Eastern Europeans, who have no problem hauling ass up and down the field after smoking a few cigs on the sidelines), and 5.5 billion people can't all be wrong. Sure, the guys on the field flop worse than Bill Laimbeer, but it's all part of the spectacle.

And anything that stands to cost the global economy several billion in lost GDP is pretty amusing from a cultural standpoint.

But who to cheer for? Obviously in the first round I'll be pulling for the U.S., but realistically, I'm going to need a backup team. My options include:

Brazil - The easy choice, as they're the odds-on favorite. However, I'm not really comfortable rooting for soccer's equivalent of the New York Yankees, especially when I have no genetic Latin predisposition to do so.

Though they do some of the most, er, colorful fans.

England - Becks! Rooney (cleared to play)! They should advance easily out of Group B, and they also happen to be the only team I actually have an article of clothing for (a jersey purchased for me by dear old Dad some time in the '90s). Okay, so it's not much of a reason.

I speak English...

Germany - I always end up pulling for these guys once the smoke clears and there are only four teams left. Not that they've been very accomodating in recent years. Nonetheless, I can avoid offending my Teutonic ancestors by cheering for Ballack and company against Costa Rica today.

Iran - You laugh, but anything that keeps their nuclear technicians away from work is a good thing in the long run.

France - I worked with a French guy back when France won the soccer and rugby World Cups in the same year. His insufferable smugness would've been enough to keep me from considering cheering for them, except nobody else in the office gave a shit. And one would be unwise to underestimate Thierry Henry or Zidane.

Italy - I still haven't forgiven them for Roberto Benigni.

Mexico - A Mexico Cup win would result in parts of my neighborhood looking like Rio during Carnivale, which would be a nice change from yuppies walking their whippets up and down my street.

Any of my domestic readers care about any of this?

"Heavenly Father, grant us courage to play our best, grant us wisdom to learn from our failures as well as our success, and grant the opposing QB an ACL tear before halftime. Amen."

I can't decide if the website for Christian Throwback Jerseys is a joke or not. I mean, we live in a world where you can buy statuary of Jesus lateraling a football to a child (and that other kid tackling Jesus is totally going to hell), so nothing would surprise me at this point. The site also bills itself as a "a proud sponsor of Jesus Christ," which would seem to indicate Christ has their logo on his stock car, and we all know how much the son of god loves him some NASCAR.

In short, it isn't that I have a hard time believing someone would make "inspirational" sports togs, but rather that the same someone would be so ignorant of American trademark law. I'll let you be the judge:

That explains the jump shot against Utah.

He'll need the help if he's ever going to win a Super Bowl.

No Leviticus, strangely enough, and I bet Ministry fans would like a "Psalm 69" equivalent.

Folks, if you're really that gonzo about purchasing Biblical-themed sports apparel, you're already covered. There's actually a real guy, who plays right wing for the NY Islanders, who should be your primary stop for Scripture-friendly gear.

Of course, I was always partial to his Buffalo Sabres jersey:

via Metafilter

Bode Miller SuckWatch - Day 14

Here's your post-Torino synopsis of the Bodester's Olympic achievements:

Men's Downhill - 5th

Men's Combined - DQ

Men's Super G - DNF

Men's Giant Slalmo - 6th

Men's Slalom - DNF

No elaboration is necessary, aside from Miller himself:

"I just did it my way. I'm not a martyr, and I'm not a do-gooder. I just want to go out and rock. And man, I rocked here," Miller said in an exclusive interview with The Associated Press soon after he skidded off the slalom course in his fifth and final race, completing an 0-for-the-Olympics.

Miller came to the Italian Alps cresting on a wave of expectations and was considered a medal threat in every Alpine event. But he failed to finish three of them and his best showing was fifth in the downhill - part of a games with few highlights for the U.S. Ski Team.

"The expectations were other people's," Miller said. "I'm comfortable with what I've accomplished, including at the Olympics. I came in here to race as hard as I could. That was my obligation to myself.

Later, in the same interview, this is what the guy who once wanted to be remembered as an example of how to be an athletic nonconformist had to say:

Me, it's been an awesome two weeks," Miller said. "I got to party and socialize at an Olympic level."

This should provode ample consolation when Nike drops his contract like a flaming turd.

He compared his Olympic experience to fellow American Daron Rahlves, who was a favorite in the downhill and a contender in the super-G but didn't come close to the podium.

"Look at what happened to Rahlves. He was holed up in his RV, he's probably the fittest guy out here and he made a point of talking about how important the Olympics were to him," Miller said. "And then look - a little bad luck and he's got nothing to show for the whole thing.

I keep waiting for Rahlves' interview, where he bitches about the unfair expectations heaped upon him by the likes of Sports Illustrated and Time magazine, yet he's been strangely silent.

I was also fond of this statement:

“The same people who recognize I came out with no medals should recognize I could have won three."

Bra-vo, Mr. Miller. Luckily, we have the likes of Apolo Ohno, Chad Hedrick, Shani Davis, Joey Cheek, Shaun White, Seth Westcott, Hannah Teter, Julia Mancuso, and Ted Ligety to recognize.

If nothing else, maybe the major weeklies won't be so eager to anoint a new Olympic savior when 2010 rolls around.

Bode Miller SuckWatch - Day 8

Surprise, surprise, surprise:

[Kjetil Andre] Aamodt, who was unable to defend his combined title earlier this week after hurting his knee in the downhill, covered the sun-drenched course in 1 minute, 30.65 seconds, just 0.13 in front of heavy favorite Hermann Maier of Austria, the World Cup super-G leader. Switzerland's Ambrosi Hoffmann took the bronze, 0.33 back.
[...]
[Bode] Miller, who last year became the first American in 22 years to win the World Cup overall title, was already 0.46 back at the second interval when he failed to take a turn properly and veered off his line straight into a gate. He remained upright on his right ski with the other flailing wildly at odd angles behind him, striking the ground and threatening to knock him off balance, but he managed to get his second ski back on the ground and braked.
[...]
After failing to complete the super-G, he avoided reporters waiting for him in the finish area.

Get that man a drink.

For those keeping score at home, here's the tally so far:

Men's Downhill - 5th place

Men's Combined - DQ

Men's Super G - DNF

Apparently the Sports Illustrated cover curse has officially shifted from football to skiing. That, or spending every night getting loaded in Torino isn't the best competitive strategy.

Bode Miller SuckWatch - Day 5

How's everybody's favorite SI and Rolling Stone cover boy doing at the 2006 Winter Games so far?

Men's Downhill - 5th place

Men's Combined - Disqualified

Mudge's prediction that Miller fails to medal in all five of his events is looking pretty prescient. Stay tuned.

Should've had a few drinks

Maybe now Sports Illustrated can start putting someone else on the cover:

In the downhill, Americans Bode Miller and Daron Rahlves finished fifth and 10th, respectively.

"I was super-aggressive," Miller told the Olympic News Service. "Made some little, small mistakes, but that's normal when you're pushing that hard. I was really fired up, and I wanted to execute the race. I did execute, but I just didn't have the speed needed."

So...you didn't execute.

Every year, NBC (or whoever is saddled with the quadrennial ratings black hole at the time) tries to latch on to a couple of Americans to build their coverage around. This year, they picked Bode "Bono" Miller and Michelle Kwan. Alpine World Cup champion Miller responded by finishing 5th in the downhill, while Kwan - who arguably shouldn't have made the trip in the first place - has dropped out due to a groin injury.

Miller has four more events in which to try for a medal, which means we can expect at least three more magazine covers in the next week. Huzzah.

"This match will determine once and for all which nation is the greatest on earth: Mexico or Portugal!"

Chuck wants to know what we should name the new MLS team we're getting here in Houston. "Earthquakes" won't cut it, for obvious reasons and so we face a naming conundrum. I think I speak for everyone in this great city that - "Texans" notwitstanding - we pride ourselves on the great care and concern we put into such momentous decisions. Not just for our city's self esteem, but also for the viability of the franchise's future merchandising.

As I said in another forum way back when the city was all excited about getting an NFL team, we tend to be a little hemmed in by convention when it comes to these kinds of things. Sure, it'd be easy to pick another bozo generic scary animal name (what do you mean "Raptor is taken? How about "Allosaurus?" Or "Sumatran Rat Monkey?") or tired Texas stereotype, but true vision requires that we step "outside the box," to coin a phrase, and look for something truly unique.

However, current MLS teams seem more enamored of names that are more conceptual - like "Revolution" - or nebulous - like, uh, "Galaxy." These, like soccer itself, are pretty boring, but I feel certain we can come to some sort of agreements on a moniker that distracts most of the viewing public from the sport's soporific effects. At first, I thought of these:

The Hurricanes
The Humidity

Catchy, and either of these would also capitalize on the crowd pleasing tactic of alliteration in association with the home city's name. Unfortunately, neither really captures Houston's unique je ne sais quois. Maybe these would be a little more fitting:

The Fire Ants
The Black Tide
Se Habla Ingles
The Gridlock
Real Swamptown
The Overturned 18-Wheelers
The Potholes
The Flying Roaches
The Groundwater Contaminators
The Morbidly Obese

The sky really is the limit in a city as multifaceted as ours.

Sports flash

Don't worry about being swept in the World Series Astros fans, you'll get over it. Trust me.

Now, can we all get back to bitching about how lousy the Texans are?

In other news, my high school alma mater is 7-1 and 5-0 in District play. Go Tigers.

"Yes. Men like sports. Men watch the action movie, they eat of the beef, and they enjoy to look at the bosoms."

I don't want to brag, but after bravely picking the Patriots to win last night, I am once again perfect (at 1-0) in my NFL pick 'em leaggue. I fully expect this to hold up for another day or so.

The Cardinals' magic number is 10, and they're essentially a lock to win the NL Central. This in spite of losing the season series to the Cubs. No offense Cubs fans, but if the best thing you can say about your season (in which you will finish roughly 20 games back and may not even break .500) is "at least you beat St. Louis" (as I've seen on a couple message boards), I'd point out that Tampa Bay (59-82 overall) also has a winning record against the Yankees this season.

Meanwhile, the Astros are certainly making a race of it in the wild card. I'll continue to pull for them, in the hopes St. Louis will face a relatively quick Division series against the Padres, while Houston and Atlanta can beat each other into easily dominated jelly.

Moving on the football...boy howdy. Biggest regular season game of the year tomorrow night between Ohio State and my Longhorns, and OSU is a 1-point favorite. Young looks like he has command of the offense, and OSU's D is a beast. There's really no way to gauge how this will go, since both teams played creampuffs in their first games. If Texas wins, there will finally be some legitimate talk about a national championship. If not, I suppose we can always try beating Oklahoma for a change.

That'd be something.

Turning to other sports, I plan on taking Jeremy Roenick's advice with regard to the NHL:

"I say personally, to everybody who called us 'spoiled,' you guys are just jealous...we have tried so, so hard to get this game back on the ice," Roenick said.

Hell yes I'm jealous. Your maximum individual salary "dropped" to about $7 million, while the minimum went up to $450,000. I'm incredibly freaking jealous.

Thieving owners, crybaby players...the only pro sport I follow anymore is baseball (out of genetic imperative, I think), and yes, I realize this makes me a hypocrite.

Well, and football, but mostly because I stand to profit personally.

Feh on the NHL. Give me the AHL (Go Aeros) and the Weremonkeys.

"You know, there are a lot of other sports that don't require physical contact."

In the wake of a very hectic couple of days, let me just express my gratitude to the following teams for making sure that my weekend, at least, was extremely enjoyable:

1. The Oklahoma Sooners - for giving this Texas Longhorn hope for the first time in four years.

2. The Texas A&M Aggies - for losing, period.

3. The Houston Astros - for giving up 2 of 3 to the NL Central champion Cards and making Chris Carpenter the odds-on favorite for the Cy Young.

It doesn't mean much in the grand scheme of things, but I'll take what I can get.

Tour de Lance 2005

When I started infrequently following Lance Armstrong's Tour de France career back in 2003, I didn't think I'd still have reason to use the same cutesy title for my posts two years later, but Armstrong stubbornly insists on shooting for his historic 7th Tour win in a row.

He's off to a good start, seizing the lead in today's time trial:

Lance Armstrong's Discovery Channel squad won the team time trial at the Tour de France today, handing the six-time champion the yellow jersey as overall race leader.

The 33-year-old Texan led his squad to victory for the third straight year in the time trial, clocking 1 hour, 10 minutes, 39 seconds for the 41.85-mile trek from Tours to Blois. Team CSC was second.

Heh. "Team Discovery Channel."

Grill or be grilled

A good friend of mine (with access to such things) recently found himself with some 16" schedule 40 pipe (previously used for steam, in case anyone was worried), a welder, and some free time. Having apparently grown sick of my coming over to his house to eat his BBQ, he decided to put a grill together for me:

It's four feet long, with twin stacks coming out (you can't see the near one due to my shoddy camera skills). I'm assured it can cook four or five largish briskets, eight racks of ribs, or about 800 chickens. The fire box, visible beneath, is 22" x 22".

Obviously, it still needs to be buffed down, seasoned, and painted. We should have the frame set up by this weekend, and if all goes well I'll be roasting flesh by Memorial Day.

Now it just needs a name.

Don't gimme back my bullets

Anyone know how to safely dispose of bullets? Aside from firing them into the air for Chinese New Year, I mean.

I have a couple boxes of .223 rifle cartridges that aren't going to get used, and I don't want them sitting around the house (I don't own a .223 anyway). Everything I've looked up so far says to contact the police, so unless someone suggests something more efficient than hitting them with a rock or making a cool belt, I guess that's what I'll do.

The ultimate major/game misconduct penalty

That's one bitter deceased hockey fan (via CollegeHumor.com):

BENNITZ, Archibald (Archie) Wednesday, January 19, 2005, at the age of 84. Predeceased by his wife Vicky, Archie was the beloved father of son David and daughter-in-law Wendy and a wonderful grandfather to Joshua, Michael, and Adam. He leaves behind his brother Doug in B.C. and many nephews and nieces. Archie was born in Amherst, Nova Scotia and served overseas with the 422nd squadron RCAF in WWII. A long-time resident of Niagara Falls, Archie was an avid fan of watching hockey. He asked that Mr. Bettman and Goodenow know that they are "skunks" for denying him the pleasure of watching the NHL on TV this year. he also asked that Mr. Bettman steps aside and gives Wayne Gretzky the job that rightfully belongs to him.

I can always appreciate anger that outlives our normal human lifespan. It's kind of like The Grudge, only with the ghost saying "aboot" a lot.

And on the heels of this, we learn that next Tuesday is very likely the drop-dead date for ending this year's season (kind of a foregone conclusion at this point). The alternative? A 30-game season. Sounds exciting.

My money's on a complete loss of the season, with possible serious ramifications for the future of the league itself. Bottom line: the owners absolutely insist on a salary cap, and the players absolutely refuse.

If a new collective bargaining agreement cannot be worked out, the NHL would become the first North American professional sport to lose an entire season because of a labor dispute.

I've about reached the end of my patience with professional sports in general. Every one of these NHL bastards can kiss my ass, for starters, but my tolerance for all overpaid egomaniacs and their greedy masters is essentially nil at this point. One of the reasons I didn't comment on the Super Bowl was because I just...didn't care. One group of Cro-mags pummeling the other for 10 second bursts in between 5 minute commercial breaks has lost a bit of its appeal (and I don't need to watch the game to collect my money from taking the Eagles and the points). As for baseball - and my interest in last year's World Series notwithstanding - I'm slowly confronting the ugly truth that there's little joy to be found in watching 'roided out zillionaires hit a ball with a stick and then make battlefield metaphors about it. The leagues themselves don't help, with their inability to effectively manage their businesses while hyping every contest up like it was as important as the Battle of El Alamein. Following sports might be a hard habit to break, but I have faith in my willpower (I did quit smoking the rock, after all).

Not counting fantasy sports, of course. My addiction to gaming is somewhat more severe.

More than anything, I guess I don't want to walk the earth like Archie Bennitz after I die, haunting the commissioners of the major sports leagues like an undead Johnny Gasparini.

55-19?

Man, I haven't seen a beating like that since the first ten minutes of Irreversible.

They must really miss hockey in Detroit

Didn't see the now infamous Pacers-Pistons game (the Throw Down in Motown, The Motor City Melee, The Dust-Up in Detroit...did I miss any?), though I must've borne witness to a half dozen Sportscenter replays this morning. Pretty ugly stuff. Ron Artest's charge into the crowd ranks with the all-time brawls.

The closest I've ever come to fan-on-player violence (or vice versa) was yelling at Darren Daulton for seven innings while attending a Phillies game at the Vet in 1996. Obnoxious? Yeah, but I never rushed the field, or said anything so out of bounds it would cause the player in question to hunt me down and drive my head into the seats.

In my opinion, that is. Comments about a guy's hair shouldn't be that big a deal.

I have a hard time feeling sympathy for people who lob bottles at the opposing team's players for the sole purpose of inciting a reactiion. Which is why I could sort of understand Artest and Jackson storming into the good seats to kick some ass.

Sure, it would've been nice if the Indiana players showed a little restraint, since nothing good ever comes out of players going into the stands. However, fans coming onto the field of play - like that Pistons supporter who got clocked by Jermaine O'Neal - deserve everything they get. That guys' just lucky it wasn't an NHL game. Ask Tie Domi what he thinks about fans who get within arm's reach.

So Artest, Jackson, O'Neal, and Wallace are all suspended indefinitely. Now I hope they use that groovy camera technology (and make no mistake, they've got film on everyone involved) to bring charges against the fans involved.

Coach Fran Death Watch

Texas A&M lost to Baylor for the first time since 1985? Not even oft-vilified coach R.C. Slocum ever let that happen.

Okay, the "death watch" thing is a bit much. But Baylor? Guess the Bears were chafing a bit about that 57-point loss in College Station last year.

UPDATE: Reports are trickling in about the extent of damage caused by the celebrations in Waco last night. Apparently most of the students were up until almost 10:30 PM, and several books at Jesse H. Jones Library were not returned to their proper shelves.

Animals.

Give 'til it hurts, then two for roughing

Won't you take the time to help one of these poor unfortunates (via MacinFla)?

Since September 11, 2001, Americans and Canadians have come together as
never before in our generation. We have banded together to overcome
tremendous adversity. We have weathered direct attacks on our own soil, wars overseas, corporate/government scandal, layoffs, unemployment, stock price plunges, droughts, fires, mad cow, SARS, high gasoline prices, and a myriad of economic and physical disasters both great and small.

Your Name: _______________________
Credit Card Number: __________________
[ ] MasterCard [ ] Visa [ ] American Express [ ] Other
Signature: _______________________
Alternate card (when primary card exceeds its limit): __________________
[ ] MasterCard [ ] Visa [ ] American Express [ ] Other
Signature: _______________________

Dig deep, eh?

"Throw me the hockey ball."

Heard about that NHL lockout? No? You're not the only ones:

Teams began canceling regular-season games this week, after the league granted permission to release arena dates on a 30-day rolling basis. But in terms of actual effect felt so far, only a week's worth of training camp sessions and a handful of meaningless exhibition games are all that have formally gone by the boards. ... Of course meaningless is something owners and players should soon be well-acquainted with as this dispute starts to eat into real games.

A league that was barely on the American radar screen in the first place has all but completely fallen off only a week into the lockout.

"Barely on the radar" is being mighty generous to markets like Houston, which has a decent AHL team, but otherwise couldn't care less about hockey. Before you know it, AHL (and ECHL) teams are going to be the only option for actual fans Real Soon Now.

Across North America, hockey writers are being reassigned to NFL games, Yankee and Red Sox pennant runs and college football games. Some are being asked to use up vacation time accrued during a long playoff run. Many major newspapers, even those in so-called traditional hockey markets, have allocated only a few lines of wire copy to the lockout and the sport in general. What will the coverage look like in February? March?

In February, they'll still be talking about the Super Bowl and the halftime show which, if present trends continue, will feature the Smurfs and Pat Boone as Gargamel. In March, the NCAA tourney will occupy the lion's share of the sports media's attention (along with spring training). With the exception of big hockey markets like Canada, the Northeast, and Upper Midwest, no one's going to care.

And if the Red Sox win the World Series, the Northeast will still be recovering from region-wide rioting and the ritual despoiling of Babe Ruth's grave.

The few hockey stories that will be told will come from American Hockey League rinks, NCAA campuses and the major junior leagues. There are compelling stories to be sure, stories that deserve to be told. That they have little or nothing to do with the NHL makes them somehow more intriguing.

Some NHL teams are planning to have their AHL teams play games in their buildings -- although in the case of the Chicago Blackhawks it won't be difficult for the few fans left to identify the players, given that last year's NHL squad is essentially the same team that will occupy the Norfolk dressing room this season.

It also doesn't hurt that the Blackhawks haven't been an NHL team in years. Of course, the 'Hawks appear to be one of the only teams whose web page lacks a statement regarding the lockout. Here's looking at you, Bill Wirtz.

Meanwhile, the regular season supposedly starts next week. The owners demand a salary cap, which the players refuse to consider. Players do have one other option, but one that doesn't appear to be very viable at this time:

On the ice, the Original Stars Hockey League, an upstart, four-on-four barn-storming league composed of locked-out players, was rumored to have shut down operations after a handful of exhibition games, which were hammered in the media for small crowds and sloppy play. But an announcement on league letterhead turned out to be a hoax. Instead, commissioner Grant Ledyard said Thursday that Dallas Stars Marty Turco and Brenden Morrow would join the six-team league when it starts its regular schedule on Oct. 7 in Halifax, Nova Scotia.

Then there's the curious notion of players who will not stand for a salary cap that would still see them paid an average of $1.3 million per season playing for a portion of the gate from a crowd of 3,000 in towns like Barrie and Sarnia.

Shit, 3,000 is still a good crowd to teams like Chicago and Carolina.

It'd be nice to have a clear point in time to which we could point and say, "If only," but both sides in this debacle have been screwing up pretty conistently since the last lockout in 1994. Players have been demanding higher and higher salaries and the owners have been paying them (player costs take up 75% of revenues), while the NHL continued to expand into markets that weren't exactly clamoring for a hockey franchise in the first place. At the same time, the league was unable to come up with a plan to effectively market their existing teams, resulting in the worst Stanley Cup TV ratings of all time. How supportive do you think fans in new markets like Nashville are going to be after several mediocre seasons followed by a year (or two) long suspension of play? I hope they didn't take their names off the waiting list for Titans season tickets.

I'm an intermittent major league hockey fan, meaning I watch a couple games a year, time (and screeching infants) permitting. I've always (since I started following the game in the early '80s) rooted for the Red Wings, and I enjoy trading barbs with my friends who support Colorado. I've only been to one NHL game (Rangers vs. Capitals), however, and that because a friend had an extra ticket he didn't charge me for. The NHL priced me out long ago, which is why it's just as well the Aeros are such a good deal. Sure, the hockey's not that great, but the crowds here are fun, and the team sure as hell seems to care about the fans more.

I won't miss the NHL - not while football season is in full swing and the Cards are in the playoffs (and having beaten L.A. 8-3 today to take Game 1 of their series) - and I'm afraid most other sports fans won't as well.

Sports bar observations

Not observations about the bar itself, mind you, but...oh the hell with it. Roll the tape.

ESPN cut away from the Red Sox - Yankees game (nice 9th, Rivera) to show Barry Bonds' 700th dinger. As was the case when he broke the single season HR record, I was struck with the marked lack of enthusiasm among Bonds' teammates. The guy just became only the 3rd player in history to reach 700, and I'm pretty sure the announcers were more excited than his fellow players, and I'm pretty sure Bonds could give a shit.

I'd hate to be the photographer behind home plate who was jawing with the guy behind him at the time (watch the endless replays, you can't miss it) and missed his chance to capture the moment. Hope his paper wasn't counting on that shot.

On another MLB-related note, you'll forgive me if I have little sympathy for those Oakland mooks who instigated the whole Frank Francisco chair-throwing incident. Fine, Francisco shouldn't have lost his cool, but don't hold a press conference to let everyone know you bought season tickets over the opposing team's bullpen so you could carry on the "American tradition" of heckling and expect anyone to sympathize with you.

I'm no stranger to drinking during a game, but I've always tried to adhere to the guideline that you never taunt someone with any comments stronger than what you'd say to their face. Which explains why I've saved my best stuff for Don Zimmer and Tony Gwynn.

Hockey's another matter, but trust me, you can't hear anything on the ice anyway.

Anyway, the Buenos are idiots. Francisco is a petulant thug, and neither the A's nor the Rangers are liable to make any noise in the postseason. So let's move on to the important stuff. Namely, my fantasy football team.

I am in some serious deep diddly. I drafted Charles Rogers, and he went down last Sunday for the season with a broken collarbone. Again. I also drafted Stephen Davis, who is out 2-5 weeks with a knee injury. Of my two keepers, only Peyton Manning did anything right, since Deuce McAllister had what could charitably be called a sub-par game. I still managed to eke out a win in what ended up being the lowest scoring game in our league (56-53), but it's going to take some creative roster alignment to do well this week.

Hell, I may end up starting Lamar Gordon.

Finally, are there any Aggies out there (you know who you are) who are a little cheesed off that Greg Hill, the guy who bailed on the team to turn pro after landing the program on NCAA probation, is a college football analyst for FoxSports Southwest? How about the fact that he picked Clemson over A&M this week?

I mean, Clemson's going to win, but still.

Fear my mad prognostication skillz

With the Patriots win last night, my team - Los Bastardos - is ranked first in the Public League of Yahoo! Sports Pro Football Pick'Em. Check it out:

Given that I am tied with roughly 300,000 other players, I feel it is prudent at this juncture to announce my retirement from the game. It feels great to go out on top. And I'd just like to thank Jesus, Coach Holocek, and Al Gore for inventing this awesome thing called the internet. Peace out.

Greek love

Good to see the hometown refs are out in full force at the Olympics this year:

Greek fans had something to cheer about, too. Dimosthenis Tampakos sent the Olympic Indoor Hall into a frenzy on the final event of the night, winning gold on still rings. Tampakos was the first of eight competitors, and the hometown fans -- including local games chief Gianna Angelopoulos-Daskalaki -- roared each time a score was posted and Tampakos maintained his hold on first place.

Jordan Jovtchev of Bulgaria won the silver, and Italy's Yuri Chechi took the bronze.

"It was the best moment for my life, and thank God for it," Tampakos said as music from the movie "Zorba the Greek" played in the background.

Zorba the Greek, eh? What singluarly American movie music are our athletes hearing when they win, I wonder? "He Ain't Heavy (He's My Brother)" from Rambo, by Frank Stallone? Or perhaps "Me So Horny" from Malibu's Most Wanted? Personally, my bosom would swell with pride to hear Vanilla Ice's "Ninja Rap" from Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles II: The Secret of the Ooze.

Sorry Greece, but your boy didn't deserve the gold. Both Jovtchev and Chechi had better routines, and both stuck their landings. To their credit, neither bitched about the result like women's gymnast Svetlana Khorkina, who placed second behind Carly Patterson in the all-around:

MOSCOW, Aug 22 (Reuters) -- Russia's Svetlana Khorkina, who was second to American Carly Patterson in the women's all-round gymnastics competition, has accused the judges of robbing her of the gold medal and said "everything was decided in advance."

"I'm just furious," Khorkina, who had been favourite for the coveted title, was quoted as saying in the daily Izvestia. "I knew well in advance, even before I stepped on the stage for my first event, that I was going to lose."

That's not a winner's attitude, Svetlana. I admit to being mystified by the scoring system used in gymnastics, but nothing I saw during the all-around made me think Patterson wasn't deserving.

The Russian was also favourite for the all-round title four years ago in Sydney, where her hopes were dashed after she crashed to her knees from the vault. It was later discovered the horse had been set five centimetres too short.

She said she was hoping Sydney's experience would cause the judges to be more sympathetic to her plight in Athens -- her third and last Olympics.

It's never a good idea to count on the Pity Gold. Then again, maybe the judges were just evening things out after that bullshit gold medal the Soviet basketball team won in 1972.

Khorkina confirmed that Athens were her last Olympics but she wants to remain in the sport.

"I'd like to work for the International Gymnastics Federation. These competitions have shown the sport needs a lot of changes," she said. "It should be judged primarily on grace, elegance and beauty rather than simply on mechanical tumbling."

Translation: "I want to amend the current system that favors short, muscular gymnasts in favor of emaciated divas like myself who draw unfavorable comparisons to a praying mantis when performing our floor exercises."

On Sunday the Russian will compete in her last event -- the uneven bars, where she is hoping to become the first gymnast in history to win three consecutive Olympic titles on the same apparatus.

Yeah, well, Khorkina was "robbed" again when she muffed the move that bears her, dropped off the bar, and ended up finishing with an 8.9.

A little murkier is the challenge being made by the South Koreans over the scoring in the men's all-around, where Paul Hamm took the gold by .049 over Yang tae-Young. While it does sound like the there was a screw up, it appears that the Koreans might have only themselves to blame now that the arbitration court isn't taking the case:

Harry Bjerke, an American judge who was on the panel but not one of the two who determined start values, said the South Koreans never came up to the table, or to the president of the technical committee, either of whom could have fixed the mistake.

"They waited until the medals had been given out -- until after the fact," Bjerke told The Associated Press. "It was a very unfortunate mistake and it happened at the worst possible time."

Acknowledging an error was made, FIG suspended the two judges who determined start values -- Benjamin Bango of Spain and Oscar Buitrago Reyes of Colombia -- along with the judge who oversaw the panel, George Beckstead of the United States. But the federation said the results will not be changed.

That's too bad for Yang, and it casts a bit of a pall over what's actually been a pretty interesting Olympics competition.

The good news is, we can stop keeping score of the number of times Elfie Schlegel uses the word "amplitude" (I counted seven tonight).

Ugly Americans

Now that the swimming and gymnastics sections of the Olympics are coming to an end, we can all look forward to greater focus on track and field and those flamboyant peacocks of the athletic world, track and field athletes.

Now, I'm not trying to paint all track stars as boorish louts. Just the American ones. Specifically, the sprinters. I probably first became aware of their unbridled egotism in 1984, when Carl Lewis first came to national attention. I wasn't a fan, but the guy won. Like the saying goes, it isn't bragging if you can back it up.

Things have gotten out of hand lately, however, and really reached a head in Sydney, when the American sprint relay team commenced to strip off their shirts, drape themselves in the flag, and generally act like idiots after their win. Perhaps they were just rejoicing that all had passed their steroid tests.

I haven't seen much of the track and field competition yet, but what I watched tonight made me realize I need to schedule my viewing a little more closely. The overall favorite in the 400 meters is a 20-year old from Baylor named Jeremy Wariner. The guy idolizes Michael Johnson (also from Baylor and one of the greatest 400m guys of all time) to the extent that he appears even to have copied his taste in jewelry. Nothing wrong with that, and one can probably even forgive the fact that Wariner, maybe the only white sprinter on the U.S. team, is one of those inexplicable Caucasians who seems to think he's black. The thing that's really annoying is that he insists on wearing his sunglasses at all times: even during a night preliminary, and also during his post-race interview. That's fine if you took a fork in the eye as a kid, like Jim McMahon. Otherwise, you just look like a prick.

Might be one of the reasons coverage of Wariner has been so sparse. If he's lucky, returning American sprinters Bernard Williams and Maurice Greene will help take some of the heat off him with some more antics.

Speaking of pricks (and getting back to swimming), please tell me we've heard the last of Gary Hall, Jr. The American gold medalist in the 50M freestyle was insufferable, both in his pre-meet interview and after his win, when he eschewed exiting on the side of the pool like everyone else and took a bow that the crowd wasn't really asking for. After his race, Hall was queried about why he wasn't asked to participate in (I think) the men's 4 X 100 freestyle. After listening to his answers, I feel pretty safe in saying it was because the other swimmers didn't want to swim with such an obvious jackass. And while I doubt many of the American swimmers are old enough to remember the S&L crisis of the 1980s, the fact that Hall is Charles Keating's grandson can't help his cause.

Up yours, Tim Daggett

My biggest gripe about the last couple days of Olympic coverage (guess I wasn't done with it after all) has been the commentary of former U.S. gymnast Tim Daggett. The scoring in gymnastics is inscrutable enough without having to listen to his switching between hypercriticism and gushing praise during the events, but tonight was especially bad. American Paul Hamm, a medal favorite, ate it on the his vault during the men's all-around competition, scoring a 9.1 something or other, and dropped to 12th place. Daggett was quick to declare him "finished," even though Hamm wasn't mathematically eliminated.

Then the Chinese gymnast, who took the lead after Hamm's spill, scored an 8.9 on the high bar, while the rest of the field made a series of errors that allowed Hamm to work his way back into the hunt. After a solid parallel bars routine, Hamm was 4th and needed a 9.66 on the high bar to win the bronze. He scored a 9.837 to come from behind and win the gold, a first for American men in the all-around. Daggett, of course, does a hasty and stammering 180 to give Hamm his props.

One of the only reasons to watch the Olympics (aside from Amanda Beard) is for these kind of moments: the "Miracle on Ice," Mary Lou Retton's perfect 10 on the vault, or Mark Spitz's seven gold medals. Daggett was a great gymnast in his own time (nailing a 10.0 of his own to secure the men's gold in 1984), but he must still be bitter about Mitch Gaylord getting the lead in American Anthem. Thankfully, the gymnastics competition is almost over, meaning Boxey's little friend* can go back to doing whatever it is he does in the offseason.

* Apologies for the lame Battlestar Galactica reference

"You're forgetting what the Olympics are all about: giving out medals of beautiful gold, so-so silver, and shameful bronze."

I think I'm essentially done with my Olympics viewing (not counting any future Amanda Beard events, that is). I should point out, howver, that this has nothing to do with my sitting through the U.S women's 2-0 soccer win over Brazil on Saturday, though I still couldn't tell you why I did it (I must've been morning nap sentry). The match was sparsely attended and intermittently interesting, which would appear to describe just about every event to this point.

Aside from that, track and field's a juiced-up joke, I'm not very hip on volleyball, basketball, or - uh - badminton, and watching gymnastics any more makes me feel like a creep.

And speaking as one who is not a fan of basketball, the U.S. men's loss to Puerto Rico was hilarious. Best comedy performance of the year. I may tune in a few more times to see if they can bring the laughs against Greece or Australia as well.

As for the opening ceremonies...between the creepy red centaur and the woman who was about to give birth to the thing in the trunk from Pulp Fiction, I found myself growing increasingly disturbed. This quickly gave way to a more general unease as the Parade of History began, though they did an admirable job blitzkrieging through 3000 years of Greek cultcha.

Of the many drawbacks to tape delay, allowing NBC to take half a dozen commercial breaks during the last 15 minutes leading up to the torch lighting was one of the more annoying. Biggest aggravation of the night, however, goes to Bob Costas and Katie Couric, who were able to put a muzzle on their inane jabbering for minutes at a time while a bunch of Greeks in tights were running in place but couldn't shut up for five consecutive seconds during Bjork's song. I was really quite interested in hearing it, believe it or not.

Ah well. Only a month untl football season.

Guess that torture worked

Here all of you were criticizing the brutality of the old regime in Iraq, and now look what that steady diet of cigarette burns and cattle prods has done for their soccer team:

PATRAS, Greece -- In its first Olympic competition since its country was shattered by war, Iraq upset star-studded Portugal 4-2 on Thursday in a gritty, come-from-behind victory as about 200 chanting fans cheered and jumped wildly. "This victory will be received with happiness by my people, who have suffered through much," said Iraqi coach Adnan Hamad, whose countrymen were already taking to the streets of back in Baghdad, lighting up the night sky with streaks of celebratory gunfire.

The stunning victory over a country whose senior team made it to final of the recent Euro 2004 tournament brought a rare moment of joy for residents of a country plagued by violence, chaos and constant power outages during the hot summer.

Uday kept telling everyone his specialized programme of super-negative reinforcement would take years to show results, and nobody listened to him. It's a shame, really, that he's not around to enjoy this moment.

More ratings gold

If it wasn't enough that security concerns are keeping a number of American athletes away, or that most of us will be able to find out contest results hours before they air on network television, now there's another reason many of us in the States may be tuning in to anything but the Olympics:

Icelandic singer Björk will open the Olympic Games in Athens tomorrow.

The eccentric star will perform before 70,000 spectators at the Greek capital's new Olympic Stadium and a worldwide TV audience of four billion at the four-hour opening ceremony.

The centre of the stadium will be turned into a lake for the event, which will also feature important symbols of Greek mythology, including a giant Trojan horse, a statue of the goddess Athena and a centaur shooting an arrow.

I vaguely remember when the Sugarcubes were the hip "college" band to listen to (I was in college at the time, which makes it all right), and so I gave Björk and company a listen. It wasn't really my bag - didn't like the music and her voice gives me facial tics - so I quickly retreated to my regular diet of Frank Zappa, TV show themes, and whatever Norwegian black metal band the guy across the hall was playing.

My tastes aside, many may wonder if Bjork is a big enough artist to open an event as majestic as the Olympics. I would point out to these people that similar concerns were expressed at the prospect of a certain Lionel Richie performing at the 1996 opening ceremonies in Atlanta, and who among us can forget his moving rendition of "All Night Long?"

Maybe this was the best Iceland could do for a representative at the Summer Games.

Tour de Lance 2004 - Finis

The last stage of the Tour de France is always so anticlimactic, but the ABC coverage of Lance Armstrong's 6th Tour win was nice for those of us who don't get the freaking Outdoor Life Network. I also liked the recap of the previous 5-time winners, and while I knew Eddy Merckx was knocked out of contention for a 6th Tour win by a drunken Frenchman, I didn't know the nature of the attack. I'm assuming a "liver punch" is similar in spirit to a "kidney punch," but I always thought it'd be kind of hard to actually hit the liver.

Must be one of those shaolin things. Or, considering the source, one of those savate things.

At any rate, you can all rest easy that I'm done talking about cycling for another year. Oh, and I flew my Texas flag today to commemorate the event. The flag was obtained - in honor of our noble Texas ancestors - by stealing it from a Mexican family who lived down the street from us in our old neighborhood.[1]

[1] Actually, it was stolen from an affluent white couple, which probably makes it okay.

Time to update those fantasy draft lists

Ex-Heisman Trophy winner, UT Longhorn/New Orleans Saint/Miami Dolphin Ricky Williams unexpectedly retired today at the age of 27 to, uh, travel:

MIAMI (AP) -- The first sign of a change in Ricky Williams came when he returned from vacation in Australia last winter with a shaved head, the distinctive dreadlocks gone.

Now he's gone, too. Williams has decided to retire at the peak of his career, stunning the Miami Dolphins and leaving an enormous void in their backfield less than a week before the start of training camp.

Williams, who rushed for 3,225 yards in two seasons with the Dolphins, phoned from Hawaii to inform coach Dave Wannstedt of his decision, then continued his travels by flying to Tokyo.

Williams had just started to shine at Miami, so his early retirement is a bit of a surprise, especially to the Dolphins, who are now stuck with Travis Minor as their sole RB.

With three years left on his contract that had a hefty signing bonus, he may end up owing his old team some money. As for his future plans:

Officials at Texas anticipate that Williams will return to Austin to earn his degree in education and pursue work with children.

Selfish bastard. Though that should probably read, "Officials at Texas hope hope hope Heisman winner Williams will return to Austin to distract Longhorn fans from Mack Brown's failure to contend for a national championship."

Tour de Lance 2004 - Stick a Fork In It

"Je suis roi du monde!"

First Armstrong wins yesterday's stage, the only rider to finish in under 40 minutes, then he wins Stage 17 to extend his lead over Ivan Basso to 4:09. At this rate, he could stop off during Stage 19 and have a beer with some spectators and still win.

Seven, anyone?

Tour de Lance 2004 - Update

All over but le shouting?

VILLARD-DE-LANS, France -- Lance Armstrong retook the overall lead in the Tour de France on Tuesday, outsprinting his top two challengers to win the first stage in the Alps and close in on a record sixth straight title.

Armstrong moved past Ivan Basso and 1997 Tour champion Jan Ullrich in the curves before the closing stretch to claim his second stage victory in the 2004 Tour and the 18th of his illustrious career. He also has won two team time trials.
...
[Thomas Vieckler] held on until Tuesday, having bravely and narrowly defended his advantage in the Pyrenees. Armstrong entered those mountains trailing by nine minutes and whittled that down to 22 seconds heading to the Alps.

I remember some sports types speculating that nine minutes might be too much to overcome, and I had doubts myself. That's what I get for thinking.

Ullrich is a non-factor at this point (off the lead by 6:54), and probably won't even have the dubious honor of coming in second for the 6th straight year. Around the third time it happened, you'd think the guy would've clued in to the benefits of year-round training. By the sound of it, that Basso kid has, but Armstrong isn't moving aside yet:

Five-time Tour runner-up Ullrich's bid to dethrone Armstrong was hurt in the Pyrenees, but Basso appeared to still have a shot after two weeks of punishing racing.

Neither Ullrich nor Basso, though, had the strength to stay with Armstrong at the end of Tuesday's 112-mile ride from Valreas to Villard-de-Lans, which included seven climbs, in heat topping 85 degrees.

He leads Basso by 1:25. Barring a crash or, I don't know...meteor collision or something, it looks like Armstrong's got it.

UPDATE: Thanks to Scott for pointing me at this great picture of an Armstrong supporter in France. In a Houston Texans jersey, no less.

Tour de Lance 2004

I realize cycling doesn't get a lot of press over here, but I'm a Lance Armstrong fan and I'll be pulling for the guy to win an unprecedented 6th Tour de France this year.

Armstrong is 32, and no one older than 31 has ever won (that being Miguel Indurain in 1995). Old foes - perennial runner-up Jan Ullrich - and former teammates - 2003 iron man Tyler Hamilton, who finished fourth after racing with a broken collarbone - lie in wait (although Spain's Iban Mayo wiped out yesterday and is an almost insurmountable 4 minutes behind), and the course itself has been modified to make it as anti-Armstrong as possible:

To ensure an exciting race to equal last year, Tour organizers have pushed all the action into the second half of the three-week Tour. The first major mountain stage doesn't come until Stage 12 and all the decisive stages are sandwiched into a nine-day window.

"The last week looks really tough, the toughest we have ever done," said Armstrong, who will be starting his 10th career Tour. "It will be much better to have a stronger second half than a strong first half."

In another twist, gone is one of the long flat time trials that Armstrong has used as a springboard to grab an early lead. That's been replaced with a climbing time trial up the steep switchbacks at Alpe d'Huez in Stage 16.
...
New rules also limit how much time teams can lose in the critical team time trial to 2 minutes, 30 seconds. Perhaps not coincidentally, it's a stage that Armstrong's U.S. Postal Service team won last year and took more than three minutes out of rivals Simoni and Mayo.

Then there are the omnipresent doping allegations. I hope they come to nothing, and that neither Armstrong nor his team are so stupid that they'd allow his accomplishments to be tainted by the use of performance enhancers. I'm still optimistic enough to hope for the best, but I'm also cynical enough to be prepared for bad news.

In the meantime, go Lance. Maybe you can inspire Sheryl Crow to write some better music while you're at it.

I mean, "Soak Up the Sun" is just awful.

UPDATE: And so it begins...

Armstrong takes yellow jersey as US Postal win team time trial

"We're predicting an end to crime in Old Detroit in 30 days"

But not right away. Countdown's at T minus 2 minutes for post-NBA Finals rioting.

UPDATE: How disappointing, most everyone seemed to behave themselves. Hopefully they'll regain their composure by the time the Red Wings win their next Stanley Cup.

Doesn't really roll off the tongue, does it?

Tampa Bay wins Stanley Cup.

Nope. Still can't accept it. What's next, Houston winning the World Series?

Ratings gold

Bittersweet as it is that the Calgary Flames made the Stanley Cup Finals - becoming the first Canadian team to do so in ten years - ABC has to be sweating bullets over Calgary's matchup against first-time finalists Tampa Bay. They'll be airing the Finals from Game 3 on, and probably wondering the whole time how they got stuck with two small market teams in the NHL championship...and a non-U.S. one to (a)boot.

How exactly do you market hockey in Florida? NASCAR's in full swing, after all, and it's offseason for all those Yankee tourists. I guess the Lightning could always do like the old movie theaters used to and advertise their air-conditioning.

Or just play the games at Hooters, where I understand many Floridians spend their free time.

Feeling a little horse

I may be the only one hoping that Smarty Jones doesn't win the Belmont Stakes. After his victory in yesterday's Preakness, I'm convinced wheelchair-bound, oxygen tank-toting owner Roy Chapman is going to drop dead of a heart attack if his horse wins the Triple Crown.

It'd be good TV, though.

Triumph in the face of adversity - NBA style

ESPN's Jason Whitlock puts all the hooplah around Kobe Bryant's performance in the NBA playoffs into perspective:

You'll hear all about it tonight on ABC as the Lakers and Spurs resume a series that's deadlocked at 2-2. You'll see the footage of Kobe Bryant in business attire, entering a not-guilty plea. You'll see him get into a chauffeured SUV, get whisked to an airport, enter another chauffeured vehicle and emerge at the Staples Center dressed as RamKo. All the while, several narrators and commentators will gush about RamKo's mental strength.

No one will comment about the absurdity and the stupidity of the situation.

Not once will you hear anyone speak this truth: "Man, it's a damn shame that Kobe Bryant is putting himself, his teammates, his fans and his family through all of this crap. Wow. As good as he played Tuesday, just think: If the idiot hadn't stepped out on his wife and slept with a teenage woman he didn't know, he might have been even better Tuesday night. Or maybe the Lakers would be winning this series and wouldn't find themselves in so much turmoil. But these are the dangers of a high-profile, married man sleeping with a teenager he's only known for 30 minutes. You might catch a case and wind up on national TV looking like Boo-Boo the Fool."

Someone on the local sports radio station remarked how tough it was that Kobe had to get up at 4:30 AM on game day to make it to Colorado. I guess I never stopped to consider how difficult it is to nap on a private jet.

The use of the "hero" appellation is something that's been touched on here before, and however you want to throw it around, it never applied to Bryant. If being accused of a crime makes one a hero, half the NBA would be lining up for citations.

That captures the sad reality of RamKo's existence. RamKo isn't Martin Luther King Jr. writing a letter from an Alabama jail. RamKo isn't a victim. His teammates are victims. His fans are victims. Hell, I feel like a victim myself, being forced to listen to and read the glowing accounts of RamKo's heroism.

RamKo is not Pat Tillman. There's nothing heroic about fighting rape allegations by day and playing basketball by night. Nothing.

Well, if he played for the Clippers, maybe.

I'm just sick of the way the media is manipulating this story for ratings and attention. Mark Cuban predicted this. He said the Kobe case would be good for NBA business. Cuban said it would be an amazing reality TV show. We ridiculed Cuban at the time. We said he was stupid and insensitive. But Cuban was right. RamKo is developing into the summer blockbuster for which NBA execs had been hoping.

Cuban, annoying as he can be, is no idiot. Still, he didn't have to be Mesmero the Mentalist to predict that the media would seize upon this like pit bulls on an unattended toddler.

Which is one of the many reasons I want the Spurs to win.

Bad TV Ponderings - C.S.I. Miami

Bad TV Ponderings is an infrequent look at low quality television. And by "infrequent," I mean "I may never do it again."

I guess Miami, FL is one of the few cities in America not undergoing budget problems. Specifically, shouldn't residents be up in arms over the crime scene investigators driving aroung in a frigging Hummer?

Similar questions arise from the investigators' improbably stylish wardrobes, though I imagine many otherwise inquiring minds would be distracted by Emily Procter's ample cleavage.

It's funny, I kind of like the original C.S.I. Sure, you have to ignore anything you know about police investigation procedures and accept crime scene types interrogating suspects (none of whom ever seem to require the presence of an attorney), but I've been a William L. Petersen fan since To Live and Die in L.A., and merely half of the detectives are model-pretty, unlike the Miami variant. The only somewhat normal looking characters on C.S.I. Miami are Rory Cochrane ("Slater-san!") and David Caruso (his Horatio Caine is - I'm convinced - some sort of alien revenant, sent to perform a task the human cops aren't aware of). The original show's medical examiner is a big, old guy with a pronounced limp, while C.S.I. Miami has Khandi Alexander, who's always careful not to get embalming fluid on her finely tailored designer togs. Petersen himself is a bit of a schlub these days, but he at least keeps his scenery chewing to a minimum. Caruso emotes like every line of dialogue is from an Ed Wood movie.

C.S.I. Miami, the fact that it's written for four-year olds notwithstanding ("The wind's kicking up." "Yes, it will erase any footprint or tire track evidence."), has convinced me I can never visit that city, for I'm certain the Anti-Ugly People Task Force would descend upon me within moments to escort me to the Dade County line.

And I don't have the right sunglasses for that weird yellow patina that seems to sit on everything, anyway.

One thing C.S.I. Miami does right is shark attack. I've seen two episodes now where some unfortunate gets narfed by a shark, and both times it was nicely horrific. Still, unless CBS plans on spinning off another series set in South Africa or Australia and call it C.S.I. Maneaters or C.S.I. Extreme Veterinarians, it's not going to help me.

Of course, with C.S.I. New York debuting later this year, my idea may not be that far-fetched.

Feels drafty in here

I checked out the first 20 or so picks in the NFL Draft today, but only because I had about 4 hours to kill. I'm glad the whole Eli Manning thing was resolved before Andrea Kremer's carotid ruptured from sputtering over all the "controversy."

At first, I wanted to see who Houston would take with #10. They selected Dunta Robinson, though I'm skeptical as to how effective a 5' 10" cornerback will be. The "experts" all seem to think he's almost as good as DeAngelo Hall, who went to Atlanta at #8. Of course, I had to wait to hear that because almost as soon as Robinson got done shaking hands, Roethlisberger went to the Steelers.

Good. Of the three QBs that went in the top 10, I like him best. I hope Manning likes that shitty Giants O-line he ended up with.

Then I stuck around to see who the Bears would take at #14. Oh, tempestuous Fate, you have saddled me with Tommie Harris. Now I have to cheer for a Sooner. It's almost as bad as when they drafted that UCLA asshole McNown.

Other random thoughts:

+ Screw you, Michael Irvin. UT fans are happy Roy Williams stayed on for his senior year. Although he may have reconsidered if he knew he'd end up at Detroit.

+ Where'd that half-naked Statue of Liberty lady come from after the Rivers trade? Boo, ESPN, for not profiling her.

+ Did it ever occur to the ESPN folks, while putting together their gushing tribute to Pat Tillman, that it was a tad inappropriate? After all, this is the guy who refused to do interviews after leaving the Cardinals to enlist because he didn't want to be regarded as any different from any other soldier. Did it ever cross their minds that practically elevating the guy to sainthood - especially in such a way as to promote their own draft coverage - might have pissed him off?

"Girls should stick to girls' sports, such as hot-oil wrestling, foxy boxing and such and such."

How to make the XFL look like the Premier League, in 10 easy steps:

LOS ANGELES, California (Hollywood Reporter) -- The company behind the Lingerie Bowl, in which near-naked women played full-contact football for a pay-per-view audience, is closing in on a deal with Fox Television Studios for a 10-episode reality TV show based on the concept.

The series will feature scrimmages and other behind-the-scenes activities of the female football players, while games played by teams of the Lingerie Football League, which was recently created and has been casting cheerleaders since Monday, will still be made available only via pay-per-view.

The LFL comes from Horizon Prods., the company behind the Lingerie Bowl, which coincided with the infamous Super Bowl halftime show that included Janet Jackson and has become known, somewhat ironically, for its sexuality.

Okay, confession time: I watched the Lingerie Bowl. We caught the Super Bowl at a friend's house with about 25 other people, and while the women checked out the official halftime show on one TV, we sad bastard males enjoyed the lingerie offering on another.

Of course, we were barely two minutes into the insightful postgame interviews ("Do you think you could run a post route better in a thong?") before the wives came rushing into the room, ordering us to change back to the Super Bowl and TiVo the infamous boob shot.

In order to spare you from checking it out for yourselves, let me just say that the Lingerie Bowl fulfilled my expectations as one of the biggest ripoffs ever (or would have, had we actually paid for it). The skill level was, as expected, something along the lines of playing smear the queer with your high school drill team. Calling the thing "Lingerie Bowl" was also a little misleading. Sure, the players were wearing panties and - I guess - bras (who could tell with a full set of shoulder pads?), but where were the teddies? The corsets? The baby dolls? If we want hot pants and little else, well, the NFL already has cheerleaders.

Predictably, Horizon president Mitch Mortaza has already thought this out:

Mortaza promises even more skin than last time.

"The uniforms are a lot sexier," he said. "The bottoms and tops are skimpier, and the shoulder pads are smaller."

The catastrophic failure of the XFL showed us all how receptive America is to bad football. I'm no expert on the market for hot women running into each other, dropping passes, and throwing five yards, but it seems to me the only way to guarantee an audience for this is to have them play naked. Honestly, with the options open to today's on-the-go deviant, who has time to waste on chicks whaling on each other if they're not even going to go topless? I can watch the Teri Hatcher-Charlize Theron catfight from 2 Days in the Valley if I want that.

Or we can all wait until Dynasty comes out on DVD.

"I dinna cry when me own father was hung for stealing a pig, but I'll cry now."

Twin losses, in rugby and soccer, to the Welsh have caused a crisis of confidence in Scotland (via Fark):

ANY Scot who had the misfortune to obtain tickets for the Millennium Stadium to watch the national rugby and football teams endure a double humping at the hands of the Welsh over the past few days was fated to leave Cardiff floundering in a Niagara of self-doubt. No disrespect to our neighbours, who battered Berti Vogts’ side by a record four-goal margin on Wednesday after their rugby XV won more handsomely than Saturday’s scoreline of 23-10 suggested, but getting a pasting from Wales is not quite in the same comfort league as losing 7 and 6 to Tiger Woods.

I especially like the use of the expression "double humping."

Some doings are just more acceptable than others - it was almost a privilege for a boxer to be thumped by Muhammad Ali, a club football team to be taken apart by Real Madrid or a rugby side to be pummelled by the All Blacks. Back-to-back batterings from Wales are more like losing 7 and 6 to Maurice Flitcroft.

I'll bet that would be doubly hilarious if I had any idea who Maurice Flitcroft was.

The article goes on to examine how changes in national mindset and the advancement of other nations' athletes have left Scotland in a precarious sporting position. The situation doesn't look to improve much when they play rugby world champions England on Saturday.

Even if Williams contents himself with a one-man, one-position philosophy against the world champions at Murrayfield tomorrow it will be hard for some of us to watch the game against England on TV without cowering behind the sofa.

To put it in an American perspective, think about what Red Sox fans go through every time they face New York in the playoffs.

"Ralph Wiggum lost his shin guard! Hack the bone! Hack the bone!"

As you may recall, most hockey fans were less than thrilled with Fox's decision a few years ago to use computer enhancement to animate the puck during certain NHL games. Even worse, the network gave the puck a tail, like a comet, whenever it was shot or passed. Those of us who follow hockey felt it was a pointless exercise, because if you have even a rudimentary knowledge of the game, you know where to look for the puck. Those who don't follow hockey were unavailable for comment, and they weren't watching the games anyway, so who cares?

However, I've finally come up with a suitable instance in which a TV network can use the infamous "glowing puck" for their hocket telecasts: old All-Star games.

First, let me say I appreciate ESPN Classic's decision to air past All-Star games this All-Star weekend (the 1988 offering was like an advertsement for the Mullet Channel). But I'd request, in the future, that any games originally aired in black and white either undergo some sort of enhancement or be abandoned altogether. I watched a chunk of the 1970 game today, and aside from not being able to tell Bobby Orr from Phil Esposito, I had no freaking idea where the puck was.

Oh, I know where it was supposed to be. And at times, I suspect I was even right, but the brightness of the ice on the broadcast made it impossible to follow. I'm not saying they need to give the puck the fuchsia penumbra Fox seemed so fond of, but maybe a little additional darkening would've helped.

Mostly I'm bitching because I haven't gotten to see Miracle yet.

"Hey, Flanders! You're the worst coach this team has ever had!"

The other night, while watching various area college football coaches discussing how their teams did on National Signing Day, something occurred to me:

Art Briles (University of Houston) and Ken Hatfield (Rice) were the only ones who looked like actual honest-to-gawd football coaches.

Mack Brown (Texas) is starting to look like someone's grandmother.

Dennis Franchione (Texas A&M) looks like a used car salesman. Or a pimp.

Bob Stoops (Oklahoma) is morphing into Nathan Lane.

Given the high ranking of each of thse three Big 12 schools' recruiting classes, this either says something about the conference itself, or about what resonates with high school football players these days. I'm not sure which.

"Whoa, get a load of those magumbos!"

Fine, fine, I got a few things wrong about the game yesterday:

+ It was JT, not J-Lo who was the secret halftime guest. And easy mistake to make, given my beginner level skill at reading pig entrails.
+ If you took my advice and bet on the Patriots with the points, I apologize. If it makes you feel any better, I tanked on that one too. Of course, I only bet a pizza.
+ It was LaToya Jackson performing at halftime with Justin Timberlake, not Janet. Which explains the quote-unquote nudity.

Seriously, is a tribe of monkeys handling the Jackson family's PR these days? And does MTV realize they'll never do another Super Bowl halftime again?

At the very least, it was more skin than we saw during the Lingerie Bowl.

Stupor Bowl

Apparently there's some football game or another being played here in Houston this Sunday.

I like football, though I tend to enjoy college games more than the NFL. I harbor no illusions about the frequency of spoiled brat 'roid-freaks in the NCAA versus the majors, I just happen to like watching the games better. Oh, and there's a marked lack of commercials for Coors Light - whose motto I officially suggest be changed to "The beer for guys who like boobs."

And yet...I didn't realize that being away for a week would shield me so effectively from the shitstorm of NFL Experience ads and insightful local news coverage of "what the stars will be wearing to Super Bowl XXXVIII." I'm tempted to pick up one of those new Bauer Vapor XX sticks just so I can practice wrist shots against my TV.

The NFL, the City of Houston, and CBS are nonetheless probably freaking out about the Panthers being in the big game. I might've looked beyond the hype for an Eagles-Pats game, or Eagles-Colts even, but the Panthers? Why not just resurrect some of the old USFL teams and put them in the playoffs? How about giving the Grey Cup a little love down here?

Turning off the TV helps, but only so much. Freeway DOT signs helpfully advertise the nearest NFL Experience exit, and every grocery store and gas station from here to Centerville is selling commemorative footballs and He Hate Me autographed jerseys. And all so we can watch through shuttered fingers as New England systematically annihilates Carolina. Here's a news bulletin for Panther fans: the Pats picked Peyton Manning off 4 times, and Jake Delhomme is no Peyton Manning.

On the plus side, once the IOC reads a week's worth of bitching about our traffic from the assorted out-of-town writers, we can probably kiss any shot at the Olympics goodbye.

Hook 'em Spurrier?

Carl Reese is expected to step down today as UT's defensive coordinator:

University of Texas defensive coordinator Carl Reese is expected to announce his resignation today amid speculation that more changes could be coming on Mack Brown's football coaching staff.

Several people close to the university's football program said Monday that Brown is under pressure to reassign offensive coordinator Greg Davis, who has worked with the Longhorns' head coach for nearly half of his career, including stops at Tulane and North Carolina.

And so it begins. 10 wins a season, even three seasons in a row, aren't enough when your arch-rival north of the Red River has competed for a national championship two of the last five years. Looking inept on national TV in a bowl loss to Washington State doesn't help matters, either.

I remember the '80s. Fred Akers' program went down the toilet (thanks in no small part to recruiting violations) following the 11-0 1983 season. David McWilliams was a disaster, even counting the fluke "Shock The Nation" 1990 season when the Horns went 10-2 (I woke up after a particularly brutal New Year's Eve about halfway through the second quarter of the Cotton Bowl, by then, Miami was already up by 20 points...I went back to bed). Compared to fifteen years ago, Texas fans are sitting pretty. We're also greedy, as it turns out.

Considering the high profile losses this season, some shaking up was inevitable. It doesn't sound like Coach Brown is very pleased, however:

Brown, who declined to comment on possible staff changes late Monday through Texas athletic department spokesman Bill Little, was in Orlando, Fla., attending the American Football Coaches Association's annual convention.

Brown, according to one official close to the team, initially had no plans to make staff changes after the season. He conducted a staff meeting Saturday morning in which he complimented the offensive coaches, the source said. All assistants were there except Duane Akina, who is in charge of defensive backs. He was in Nevada on vacation.

This is a no-win for Brown: if he sticks around, he'll be dogged by comments about how he's losing control of the team and has no loyalty to his staff. If he leaves, he's a crybaby and a choke artist who refused to admit he needed to make a change, whether he's motivated by principle or petulance.

Brown's worst season was 9-5. He's 59-18 overall, which would make talk of running him out seem ridiculous, but consider:

+ UT has lost four straight games to Oklahoma
+ They're 3-9 against top 10 teams
+ Brown has been reluctant, to put it mildly, to make coaching changes
+ Brown is perceived as lacking heart/spine/guts

That Steve Spurrier comment was a joke, by the way. Although speculation is hot an heavy that he may be available next year. I spent too many years loathing the man to actually want him to coach at UT. Other names thrown out there include Jimmy Johnson (dear sweet Jesus, no), and...Major Applewhite. Somebody tell me that one's a goof as well.

My prediction? If more changes are forced on Brown (and rumors are flying that offensive coordinatior Greg Davis is out, among others), I think he walks. If Reese is the only personnel change, Brown will stay. He'll get 9 or 10 wins aagin next season (I foresee losses to (again) OU and Texas Tech in Lubbock), and may even finish in the top 10. But that's it.

Longhorn fans need to finally come to grips with the fact that Mack Brown is not the second coming of Darrell Royal. Hell, he may not be the second coming of Dana Bible.

Cops and Roberson

Heard the news about sexual assault allegations against Kansas State quarterback Ell Roberson this morning on the radio:

PARADISE VALLEY, Ariz. (SI.com) -- Kansas State quarterback Ell Roberson was accused Thursday of sexually assaulting a woman at the team hotel, and his status for the Fiesta Bowl may not be determined until game time.

Kansas State sports information director Garry Bowman said coach Bill Snyder would meet with athletic director Tim Weiser and school president Jon Wefald on Thursday night to discuss the issue, but said a decision likely will not be made until late Friday.

Kevin has already written a good deal about this, pointing out the fact that ESPN is still not reporting the sexual assault angle. Couldn't be because the game is being televised on ABC, could it? In any event, I wholeheartedly agree with Kevin that Roberson should not be allowed to play in tonight's game. I am also steadfastly convinced he's going to play anyway.

The accusation doesn't enter into it - the police and the Maricopa County attorney will determine if criminal charges should be filed - but the fact remains that Roberson admitted he blew off the team's curfew. If Snyder fancies himself any kind of disciplinarian, he doesn't have much of a choice. Of course, anyone not raised like Princess Elspeth in Dragonslayer knows the star QB has about as much chance of getting suspended from an entire bowl game as I do of being named Pope. If Roberson gets benched for more than a quarter, I'll be very surprised.

Personal recollection time. Did you know yours truly was busted for a similar violation in college? I was caught in a female friend's dorm room after curfew our freshman year. Worse, her front door was closed, which was specifically forbidden even if members of the opposite sex were visiting during legal hours. The punishment for our illicit 2 AM tryst, which consisted of playing spades and drinking coffee? We were put on probation for a semester and forced to attend a week's worth of disciplinary seminars. Ell Roberson should be so lucky.

Holiday (Bowl). (Don't) Celebrate.

Difficult as it was last night to watch Washington State defeat the Longhorns 28-20 in the Holiday Bowl, even worse was the realization that Vincent Young's ineffectiveness and Chance Mock's (almost) last second heroics mean Mack Brown will most likely be platooning the two QBs again next season. A strategy which has been so effective for him in the past.

"This win is huge for our program, to beat the No. 5 team," first-year Washington State coach Bill Doba said.

You'd think that, but Texas eked out some lucky ass wins against Kansas State and Texas Tech. I wasn't sure they deserved their ranking before the game, and it turns out I was probably right.

Coach Mack's golden opportunity may have passed. The gild is off his recruiting lily after a number of big game chokes, and don't think a resurgent Tech's Mike Leach and Texas A&M's Dennis Franchione won't point this out to the state's blue chippers (never mind the regular poaching of our state's talent performed by OU and Nebraska). Bob Stoops is still the big dog in the Big 12, and the South looks like it'll only get tougher (with the exception of Baylor, of course).

I don't know that Mack Brown's job is in jeopardy. Yet (he'd have to lose to OU and A&M in the same season to really get that ball rolling). But don't think the rumblings haven't already started.

Wonder if Roy Williams is regretting his decision to return for his senior year?

Master and Servant

Frederick Douglass would be proud:

Sapp blasts NFL 'slave system'

Tampa Bay Buccaneers defensive tackle Warren Sapp, unhappy that the NFL office had warned him against a repeat of his Monday night skip through the Indianapolis Colts' pregame stretching line, blasted the league and Washington Redskins linebacker LaVar Arrington in an interview that aired Sunday on CBS' "The NFL Today."

"He got what he wanted," Sapp said of Arrington, who had threatened retaliation if the Bucs' outspoken nine-year veteran tried to do the same before Sunday's game against the Redskins. "He snitched and slave master come down. That's all that is. ... Stop a man from doing something that he's been doing for nine years?

"And so now there's a rule against me. Thanks. I knew (the league) was gonna do what they did because they've been notoriously against Sapp. Like I said before, it's a slave system. Make no mistake about it, slave master say you can't do it, don't do it. They'll make an example out of you."

I guess creating a rule that hot dogs like Sapp can't skip through the opposing team's drills anymore counts as an example...sort of. Or maybe I missed the part where Warren Sapp was thrown in the stocks and pelted with offal. If so, I'm definitely sorry about that.

If making over $5 million a year (as Sapp does) counts as slave wages, sign me up for some leg irons. Truthfully, this "controversy" comes at a good time for him, as it deflects attention from his increased weight and diminished defensive production (2 sacks in 13 games). Expect more baffling conspiracy theories from the man as his abilities decline in the coming years.

And even with all that, he's still not the most annoying player on the Bucs.

The Debacle

Lessons learned from yesterday's game: Chance Mock is not The Answer, Roy Williams is a big crybaby, and Oklahoma really is that good. OU quarterback Jason White also deserves a little Heismann consideration. Vincent Young certainly scrambles with the greatest of ease, yet needs to figure out how to elevate the ball...and tucking it in while you run isn't a bad idea either. In other news, Cedric Benson can no longer be considered a legitimate rushing threat.

Yesterday's "game" was embarrassing to watch, whether you were a Texas fan or not. Mack Brown has had the opportunity for three years now to prove his worth as a coach, and he hasn't delivered. Even worse, his days of having the best recruiting class in the nation are over. Stoops will have Texas high school players scrambling to sign up with him, while Arkansas can make a legitimate play for our state's talent as well. A&M's Franchione - win or lose this year - can also make a decent case for the decline of Brown's reputation. The 'Horns have crapped out in the big game once too often, and it's going to cost them.

As a Longhorn fan, it gives me no pleasure to say this. It isn't as if I'm looking forward to three more years of mediocrity. Texas may very well win out the rest of the year, but nothing's going to matter until Mack (or someone else) can figure out a way to beat OU, and all the lopsided victories over Rice and Tulane won't change that.

My Big Fat NFL Idiot

Wow. What a surprise.

Before [Donovan] McNabb led the Philadelphia Eagles to a 23-13 victory against the Buffalo Bills on Sunday, commentator Rush Limbaugh said on ESPN's Sunday NFL Countdown that the fifth-year quarterback is overrated. Limbaugh's comments sparked controversy for their racial overtones.

"I don't think he's been that good from the get-go," Limbaugh said. "I think what we've had here is a little social concern in the NFL. The media has been very desirous that a black quarterback do well. There is a little hope invested in McNabb and he got a lot of credit for the performance of this team that he didn't deserve. The defense carried this team."

Two words, moron: Steve McNair (Titans QB in Super Bowl XXXIV). Two more words: Warren Moon (49,325 career passing yards - 3rd overall, and 291 TDs - 5th overall). Oh what the hell, three more words: Doug fucking Williams (Super Bowl XXII MVP). Falcons' QB Michael Vick, before he got injured, was arguably the best player in the league. McNabb might have gotten to a slow start this season, but Philadelphia's defense didn't score the points that beat Tampa Bay and the Giants last year.

Oh, and it's "media have been very desirous." Shmuck.

Philadelphia Inquirer columnist Phil Sheridan gets to the heart of the matter better than I ever could:

Conservative sleight-of-hand artists like Limbaugh love to use the label "the media" (alternately "the liberal media") as a kind of blanket insult. Well, guess what, Rush? You've got a nationally syndicated radio show. You have your own Web site. You had a national TV show. Now you're on ESPN every Sunday morning.

You.

Are.

The.

Media.

Was that slow enough for you to grasp? You are the media. You're a part of them, anyway. Just like this paper and the others that have covered McNabb since he came to the Eagles in 1999. Just like the radio stations that thrive on Eagles coverage and just like ESPN, which has set the bar for overpromoting athletes so high that no other outlet will ever come close to hitting it.

Right on. But what does Rush himself have to say about all this?

An ESPN spokesman said Tuesday that Limbaugh doesn't do interviews. The spokesman didn't think the comments were racially biased.

Aha.

Of course Limbaugh doesn't do interviews, he's only capable of holding conversations with people who agree with him (and proudly refer to themselves as "Dittoheads," as if being unable to form an opinion for yourself is something to crow about). Anytime he's been confronted with his distortions and lies, he's responded with obfuscation and arguments about how he was "misunderstood."

"ESPN hired Limbaugh for his passion and his ability to express opinion and spark debate as a football fan," [spokesman Dave] Nagle said. "In just one month, he has certainly delivered."

Yeah, because that philosophy worked so well with Dennis Miller. Does ESPN/ABC have a team of monkeys that masterminds the hiring of these blowhards? Actually, that's being a tad disingenuous. ESPN knew exactly what they were doing by hiring Limbaugh. It'll be interesting to see them spin this while also reporting on the lack of black NFL coaches and managers.

McNabb, for his part, isn't responding in kind:

"He said what he said. ... I'm sure he's not the only one that feels that way but it's somewhat shocking to actually hear that on national TV," the Philadelphia Eagles' quarterback said of Limbaugh at a news conference Wednesday. "An apology would do no good because he obviously thought about it before he said it."

He said Wednesday that Limbaugh's comments about his race were out of bounds and added that someone on the show should have taken him on. Among the other panelists are former players Michael Irvin and Tom Jackson, both of whom are black.

"I'm not pointing at anyone but someone should have said it," McNabb said of the panelists, who also include Chris Berman and Steve Young. "I wouldn't have cared if it was the cameraman."

I'm not sure if it's a standing policy at ESPN that Limbaugh should never be challenged or if everyone else on the show had some sort of excuse. Irvin was probably admiring his own clothes, Berman was busy coming up with new, hilarious nicknames, and Young was apparently contemplating changing his holy undergarments.

Limbaugh has slimed his way around our airwaves long enough, especially considering similar comments got Jimmy "The Greek" fired from an analyst position over 15 years ago. If ESPN doesn't want to risk repercussions from other black athletes over Limbaugh's comments, they'll release him from his contract and let him return to talk radio, where African-American callers can safely be told to "go take the bone out of [their] nose" and one's ignorant bloviations are never challenged by the facts.

UPDATE: As Michael has already pointed out in the Comments, Limbaugh has resigned. Good. If ESPN wants the perspective of an "everyday fan" for Sunday NFL Countdown, they can pull someone out of the stands at Soldier Field. Rush is now free to go back to his show and commiserate with his sycophants about what a raw deal he got.

Footballs to the wall

As a University of Texas alum, I felt it was my sovereign duty to hold off on writing about last week's spectacularly disheartening home loss to Arkansas until I could do so without sputtering profanities every third fucking word (See? I'm getting better). Tonight's annual whomping of Rice hasn't done much to elevate my hopes this season, primarily because Rice manages to lose to Duke the week before. Duke's football team would be hard pressed to beat my high school squad, and they played drunk half the time.

Okay, not really. But you get my point.

I'm a Longhorn fan, but I'm also a realist. And when UT gave it up like General Weygand to the Razorbacks last week, I realized the chances of a national championship for Texas were both slim and fat. This week's games may have opened a few doors where previously there had been none (how about Kansas State choking against Marshall?), the road to the BCS title leads through OU. And unless Bob Stoops suddenly gets called up, like Nuke Laloosh, to the big leagues (or - my preference - he departs on a spiritual quest through the wilderness for several years), I honestly don't see it happening.

The rumblings have been going on all week, so I'll just come out and say it: the gild is off Mack Brown's lily. He's had more than enough #1 recruiting classes to mold and shape into a national contender. At present, Stoops still leeches talent from Texas, Arkansas has another game against us next year to impress state high school prospects, and A&M has new appeal now that R.C. "Can't Go For It on 4th Down" Slocum is out and Franchione is in. Yes, yes...UT always ends up in the Top 5 or 10 at the end of the year, but until they beat Oklahoma it doesn't really mean anything. And until he can win the Big 12 and contend for a title, the rumblings aren't going to stop.

I don't think Mack's job is in danger. Yet. He'd have to lose to both OU and Texas A&M in the same year, as well as an early home game to an unranked team (albeit an unranked team that won the SEC East and beat the likes of Alabama and LSU a year ago).

UT plays Tulane next week. My recommendation is to give Vince Young some snaps in a game that actually counts. The running game looked iffy against Arkansas, and he presents a credible threat. Nothing against Chance Mock, but championships are built on what works, and if Young's game works for the Horns, he should be the starting QB.

R.I.P. Herb Brooks

Herb Brooks, long time hockey coach and architect of the United States' "Miracle on Ice" against the Soviet Union at the 1980 Winter Olympics, died in a car wreck today.

Brooks was behind the bench when the Americans pulled off one of the greatest upsets ever, beating the mighty Soviets with a squad of mostly college players.

That shocking victory, plus beating Finland for the gold medal, assured the team a place in sports immortality.

The young U.S. team was given no chance against a veteran Soviet squad that had dominated international hockey for years and had routed the Americans 10-3 in an exhibition game at Madison Square Garden the week before the Olympics.

On Feb. 22, 1980, the U.S. team scored with 10 minutes to play to take a 4-3 lead against the Soviets and then held on. As the final seconds ticked away, announcer Al Michaels exclaimed, "Do you believe in miracles? Yes!"

It remains one of the most famous calls in sports broadcasting history.

Hell yeah, it does. I still get chills when I watch a replay of the game and the clock runs down those final seconds.

I don't know why I watched the US-USSR matchup that day. I was 11 years old, not really a hockey fan, and probably ended up on the station because there wasn't anything else on. That, or Mom was listening from the kitchen (I don't think Dad was home). And while I can still remember a few of the Super Bowls and World Series games prior to that, and have watched countless games of most every sport since, the "Miracle on Ice" remains the greatest sporting event I've ever seen. It represented a unique covergence of localized and global factors (the low ebb of American morale in the face of the Iran hostage crisis, heightened tensions following the USSR's invasion of Afghanistan, the arrogance of the Soviet team), the likes of which are unlikely ever to be duplicated.

I still remember Ken Dryden saying, "They're relying too much on Jim Craig, he's making too many great saves," and less than a second later, almost as if it was scripted, Mike Eruzione making the winning goal. I was lying on the living room floor as I watched, and I think I went from prone to airborne in about half a second (no big deal for a pre-teen, but I'd probably double-herniate myself if I tried it today). I spent the rest of the third period cringing every time the Soviets touched the puck. Even after Michaels' legendary call, the full impact of that game didn't really seep into my pre-adolescent mind at the time. I'm just glad I got to see it.

ESPN.com as a nice write-up here. And I'll bet you anything HBO airs it's own documentary again some time in the next couple days.

So long Herb. I wish you'd worn your seat belt.

Six-peat?

Rock on.

It was a close one, but Lance Armstrong won his fifth Tour de France in a row, joining Miguel Indurain as only the second person ever to do so. Not content with that, Armstrong has said he plans on going for six next year.

As most of you have deduced, I'm a pretty big Lance fan. I'll be watching in 2004 to see if he can break the record once and for all.

Tour de Lance Update

The reports of Lance Armstrong's demise in his bid for a record-tying fifth consecutive Tour de France title may have been exaggerated.

Armstrong gets back on bike to win Tour stage

After a fall early in Stage 15, Armstrong went on to win the stage and extended his leads over Jan Ullrich to 1:07 and Alexander Vinokourov to 2:45.

This year's Tour is the closest since Armstrong starting winning back in 1999, and after Ullrich's surprise performance in Friday's time trial (which Armstrong has historically dominated), it looked like the the five-peat was not to be. Now, who knows?

On a related note, I don't know if this article, by ESPN's Jim Armstrong is a joke or not. If it is, it's not very well written. If not, well, then the guy's an idiot. Lance Armstrong may not be the Greatest Athlete of All Time (we all know who that is), but give the guy a little credit.

Our friendly columnist also asserts that cycling is boring to watch...I guess he didn't tune in to last week's Tampa Bay-Texas series. As for comparing it unfavorably to bowling, I have one standard rule of thumb I consult in discussions like this: any activity you can perform as well or better after drinking is not a sport. This will come as bad news to all you bowling, darts, billiards, and golf enthusiasts.

I'm open for debate on curling, however.