With in the last couple of weeks I have seen my team the New York Rangers struggle to find an identity and push as a team and surge into the playoffs. After todays loss I am thinking that I will never ever see them win Lord Stanley's Cup again. I was 15 when they won it and enjoyed every minute of it, but I would like to see it one more time as an adult so I can go even more crazy just one more time. So after todays loss against the Broad Street Bullies (minus Forsberg) I have decided to recollect my thoughts on Rangers' Seasons Past. Some horrific trades and signings have been made since June 14th, 1994. The loss of Sergei Zubov, the loss of (and reacquistion) of Kovalev, the exodus of Mike Keenan, the failed attempt of signing Joe Sakic (God only knows how Colorado came up with the cash to re-sign him), and finally the acquistions of Anson Carter and Eric Lindros have all been some of the worst GM moves made at MSG since 1994. I always felt like Scott Layden helped out Johhn Muckler with these acquistions. But today I believe the curse of Red Dutton (above), "They would not win another Stanley Cup in my lifetime." lives on. Granted he has past away and the Rangers have earned one title,seven years after his death, but the curse is still lingering. So today we lose to a team we should destroy and in doing so we lose three players to injury (Shannahan, Lundquist, and Malik) right when all looks well in Ranger land. The New York Rangers have and will always be the biggest tease in hockey. Again right when things are looking righted and the surge for the playoff is happening the curse of Red Dutton swings in and hampers any Rangers progress. With that said I will never give up hope on the season just yet, nor will I ever quit on this team in my lifetime. The roller coaster ride year in and year out with this team has become almost an addiction, but it always most never ever leads to euphoria.
The greatest college cheerleader of '07, Ms. Becca Manns, student of Louisville, former member of the cheerleading team. She was recently kicked off for some pics she took of herself and posted online, not thinking that it would get to the likes of such scoundrels as us...
God bless blonde cheerleaders, the DREAM LIVES ON!!!
In the same week that the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit issue comes out, lets revisit the ongoing saga of a couple that once graced the pages of that fine publication.
In her latest court filing, Joumana "I'm Not Eva Longoria" Kidd really slings the mud about Jason's relationships with strippers, Net season ticket holders, Net Employees, etc. Apparently Kidd will bang pretty much anything that moves.
Literally one day after pitchers and catchers report, Kerry Wood is already injured. I guess navigating the bath tub was too difficult of a task for this guy. I am so glad I'm not a Cubs fan, between Bartman, Prior and Wood, I'd have killed myself a million times over.
"You know, I hate gay people, so I let it be known. I don't like gay people and I don't like to be around gay people. I am homophobic. I don't like it. It shouldn't be in the world or in the United States.''
According to the NY Daily News, the Knickerbockers may be considering a trade involving Cleveland's Drew Gooden, Ruben Patterson of the Bucks, or......wait for it ....Ron "Tru Warier" Artest. (No, I didn't mispell "warrior", Ron doesn't let pesky things like a dictionary get in the way of making music.
There is nothing I'd love to see more Ron Artest in a Knicks jersey. A starting five of Stephon, Crawford, Artest, Lee and Curry would be a solid squad. According to my highly technical trade calculations, (actually I just messed around on the ESPN Trade Machine until I got it to work) this is what the Knicks would need to give up and what they would get back.
Knicks Get: Ron Artest Corliss Williamson Vitaly Potapenko
Kings Get: Malik Rose Nate Robinson Channing Frye Jerome James
I'm sure you guys could come up with even better trade proposals, maybe even involving a third or fourth team....cut and paste them into the comments and lets see who is the best virtual GM.
Rumor out of the Bahamas is the mystery father Anna Nicole Smith's Baby is no other than Nicolas Laino. The story according to the a Bahamian citizen who chooses to remain anonymous, is that Daniellynn was conceived after the couple met at the Black Fin Bar in New York City. Smith was swooned by Nick's serenades and charisma. The couple was seen dancing all night. It was rumored that the couple slipped out the back door and were last seen inside of the Brefine Pub in Flushing Queens making out and doing lines off the pool table, before entering the bathroom toghther.
Gonzaga basketball players Josh Heytvelt and Theo Davis were arrested for possession of marijuana and a bag of hallucinogenic mushrooms. The cops established probable cause to search after Heytvelt said to them "Dude, your mustache has trails" and after spotting Davis in the passenger seat slowly moving his hand in front of his face.
Actually DOUCHE I bought that hat back when Detroit was a cellar dweller and it is one of my most worn hats (the other being my San Diego Padre hat). The Detroit hat was in tribute to Magnum P.I.(see pic Middle Left) Also, I like cellar dwellers. They don't get any love so I try to represent for their sake. Who knows maybe in a couple of years I'll actually get a Yankee hat when they are filter feeding of the bottom of the great ocean of the American League East.
Further Evidence I did not buy it last year. It came to Italy with me in April 2004 (bottom left). I believe Detroit finished 72 and 90 and 20 games back in 2003. So Bite Me! How about them Bears!!! Lets Go Chi-Ca-Go!!
After last weeks riot in Sicily during and after a derby soccer match between Catania and Palermo (the equivalent of Rangers/Islanders). Catania has been banned to play the rest of the season under closed doors. No supporters are to attend any home match. With that said I hope everyone understands the passion of fans for soccer around world. It may not be big here in the states, but my god to riot over a handball goal is pretty awesome. Now thats passion. So next time when your at a baseball game (or football, or basketball, or hockey) just clap your hands to the generic scoreboard fanfare and think about the fanfare, riots, and hooliganism that goes on around the world with the sport of futbol. It is much crazier than any fanfare in this country. If you do not agree do not mock it until you attend an actual futbal game (not MLS, even with Beckham). Here is the rest of the article on the Catania banishment:
ROME, Feb 14 (Reuters) Catania have been ordered to play the rest of their home matches this season at neutral venues and behind closed doors as punishment for the violence that killed a policeman at a Serie A match this month. The ban on the Massimino Stadium, which was handed down by the disciplinary committee of the Italian Football League on Wednesday, will last until June 30. Catania were also fined 50,000 euros ($65,270). Italian policeman Filippo Raciti was killed outside the ground during rioting by hard-core ultra fans at the Sicilian derby with Palermo on Feb. 2. A statement on the Football League's Web site said the ban reflected 'the gravity of the events and the real danger posed by these acts of violence' that had left an 'indelible mark in the memory and the collective consciousness'. The punishment also took into consideration 'the absolute uselessness of sanctions already inflicted on Catania for previous acts of violence by its supporters.' Last September the club was fined and ordered to play two matches behind closed doors after its fans fought with supporters of Messina and Palermo. The club's chief executive attacked the severity of ban, saying the sentence would 'bring the city to its knees'. 'It was clear that our responsibility was limited by the fact that the violence happened outside the ground,' Italy's ANSA news agency quoted Pietro Lo Monaco as saying. Catania's next two Serie A matches - against Fiorentina on Feb. 18 and Inter Milan on Feb. 25 - are home fixtures. The Football League said it would announce the venue for both games later this week.
(Update, Here is the story from Buster Olney's Blog on ESPN)
For those new to the blog, it is a tradition -- a three-year tradition, now -- to begin spring training with the Deion Sanders story. And I'm flying to Florida Thursday. I don't collect autographs, and the one souvenir baseball I have on my desk contains a full sentence, rather than a signature. The black print is all but faded now, but the message remains indelible, 16 years later.
Deion Sanders wanted to kick my ass.
In 1989, I was just out of college and working for the Nashville Banner, covering the Nashville Sounds, the Triple-A affiliate of the Cincinnati Reds. I loved the job and jumped at any chance I could to write.
So when I heard some griping about the Columbus Clippers' new center fielder -- Neon Deion, as he was known back then -- this had all the makings of a perfect feature. He was mostly known for his football exploits at Florida State, and when writing for papers in the South, you find any way to make a football connection, even during baseball season.
The Clippers came to Nashville for a two-game series, and before the first game, I walked up to Deion's locker in the visiting clubhouse, which, in the middle of summer in Nashville, smelled like rotting garbage. It was hot and damp, without air conditioning.
"Deion," I asked, "do you have a second?"
He glanced upward at me, and within the quarter-second that we made eye contact, he might have calculated that I was a very young-looking writer from a college paper. Or maybe a high school paper. Or maybe he just saw my notepad and realized I was a reporter. Or maybe he quickly sized me up as someone he didn't need. Or maybe he was having a bad day. Maybe he was having a good day.
Deion stood, reached into his locker and collected his glove and cap, and walked away wordlessly.
Being relatively new to the business, I was not familiar with the technical definition of what he had done. But later, after experiences with the likes of Albert Belle, I would learn: It's called being blown off.
I returned to the press box and wrote my column, which lacked Deion's perspective on Deion. There were details about how he had managed to draw a distinction between himself and his teammates: He was the only Columbus player who traveled with a girlfriend and the only player who didn't carry his own luggage. He drew a dollar symbol each time he stepped into the batter's box, which tended to annoy opponents -- and his teammates, as well, who were reminded with each Deion illustration that he had a lot of cash and they didn't.
About five years ago, I found a copy of the column, and it was poorly executed and harsh -- probably too harsh, actually, enough to make me cringe. I could understand a little better why Deion apparently was not pleased with what I wrote.
The members of the Sounds who saw the column loved it; they were put off, too, by the dollar signs, by the special treatment that was fueling his rapid ascent through the minor leagues. Many of the Nashville players were career minor leaguers, guys who might've had a few days in the big leagues but were destined to rides buses through small towns for the rest of their careers. Some of them would never get a break and now this football player with an awkward swing was being hand-delivered into the big leagues.
I didn't understand at that time that some of them were probably jealous of Sanders.
A couple of them chortled about the column and I was feeling good about myself, and that's about the time a batboy walked out of the visiting dugout. "Hey, Deion wants to see you in the clubhouse."
His words were flat, but the kid raised his eyebrows the way someone might while informing you a falling manhole cover is about to part your hair. "And he's really pissed."
This is one of those crossroad moments in each of our lives. Sportswriters come in all sizes -- all heights, all widths. But they tend to be vertically challenged and I fit the trend; throw in a pair of well-heeled work boots and I'm still not flirting with 5-10. Buster vs. Deion equals total physical mismatch, so I wasn't enamored by the idea of him and me having a chat in that cramped visitors' clubhouse, in front of 20 other players.
But I also thought that personally delivering myself bodily to him -- especially after he ignored me the day before -- would be something of a surrender.
I wanted a more neutral site than the visitors' clubhouse, but I had to stand behind the words I wrote. Some of the Nashville players heard all this going on and listened in; my rep was at stake. So I took stock of all this and told the batboy, loud enough for all the players around to hear:
"Tell Deion," I said, with far more bravado then I felt, "that if he wants to talk to me, I'm out here."
I glanced around the batting cage. A couple players smiled and nodded. Yeah, that's right, don't give in to that guy. Make him come to you. Way to stand up behind your words, man.
Yeah, what a tough guy. What a joke.
So I leaned against the cage and waited and considered all the possible resolutions to the confrontation that was now inevitable. In later years, the NFL rap on Deion was that he didn't like physical contact, he wasn't a great tackler and you could run right at him. But at that time, he was still larger than most baseball players and I didn't think my 150 pounds would intimidate him (I've put on 20 poorly placed pounds since then, but I don't think they would change the basic dynamic of any Buster vs. Deion confrontation).
I knew the possibilities of what was to come, generally:
1. Deion would rush out of the clubhouse and clothesline me like I was a receiver catching a pass over the middle.
2. Deion would rush out of the clubhouse brandishing a bat and give me the Juan Marichal treatment.
3. Deion would rush out of the clubhouse and go nose-to-nose and get so far in my face that I might accidentally nudge him, therefore giving him the opening to slap my notepad and my head over the left field wall.
If he did come after me, my options for self-defense were limited. I wasn't going to run, so my only shot was one later popularized by an NBA coach about my size:
1. Dive at his legs, hang on and wait for everybody else to break up the fight. The Jeff Van Gundy Rope-A-Dope.
I was new to the business, so I never considered the possibility that Deion -- who was much more experienced in the athlete-writer give-and-take than I was -- would simply verbally challenge what I wrote. I prepared only for the worst-case scenario.
I kept waiting behind the batting cage as Nashville finished hitting. No Deion. No Columbus Clippers, in fact; turned out they were having a team meeting. If Deion actually wanted a piece of me, well, he would miss his chance, because the Clippers were getting an earful of inspiration in their clubhouse, probably inspired by a Steinbrenner dictum.
So I returned to the press box before game time, not knowing about the Clippers' team meeting, wondering if Deion's anger had subsided and he thought it a waste of time to complain about a column written in a small afternoon paper (which would fold a decade later).
In fact, Deion was still quite perturbed.
In the fourth inning of the game, the same batboy who had summoned me on behalf of Deion walked into the pressbox, holding a baseball. "Deion told me to give this to you."
The baseball was dirty, probably a left over from batting practice. In the sweet spot, Deion had scrawled a message. He didn't include his signature.
Keep writing like that your whole life, he wrote, and you'll always be a loser.
Spring Training is here. Now we no longer have to listen to those assholes who call the Fan and proclaim "only 27 more days to pitchers and catchers" after bitching about the Knicks. Here are some subplots that we will be hearing about ad nasueum for at least the next 2 months.
See what happens when we let in some chump from the 'burbs? A bunch of crap about some CEO for some site none of us ever uses. Go knock your wife up already so you can help her open the presents at her baby shower too...
In other news, ok, so my crappy new job reorganized the office layout yesterday, so now not only am I still stuck in a cube, but they flipped the cubes so that now two people are sitting back-to-back in one u-shaped space. I mean, come on, how the hell am I supposed to look at my internet porn now? At least I could sneak in a glance or two when the dude sitting in the cube behind me wasn't there, but now it's just like, "Hey Lou, what's that a picture of on your computer? And where is your other hand? And what's that smell?"
Other news and notes: Nintendo, you left your Tiger's hat at my place from the superbowl. So did you buy that after the Mets got eliminated or during game 3? Just curious...
Attention Whore CEO vs. Attention Whore CEO......all we need is to add in Mark Cuban and that creep from the Buy.com commercials** and we could make this a Fatal Fourway match for the ages.
I know being in the public eye is a part of Donald Trump's deal, but I'm seriously sick of this guy. I'm not going to go into a Rosie O'Donnell rant (I'm straight, not a woman, and borderline funny, all things she isn't) but seriously this guy needs to get off of my television soon.
** I was going to make a new post for the Buy.com guy, but I don't want to be the Guy Who Posts Too Much, so I'll just add some commentary here. If I was an investor in Buy.com, I'd be selling my stock as fast as Piazza could process the Sell order. His goofy Generation X appearance is so calculated it is ridiculous. I guess he is trying to make his company appear like the hip alternative to Amazon.com, but this is such a losing strategy. Amazon isn't necessarily cool, but why should it be? If I'm ordering books, CDs and the occasional Olsen Twin DVD, I just want the site to be functional, not trendy. A CEO with a faux-hawk, t-shirt and jeans doesn't inspire confidence in me, it inspires laughter.
And he is way WAY too proud of his non-descript office building. Is that your empire? At least fake it and make it look like you are based out of a major city, not an office park in Woodbridge, NJ.
Kris Benson is out for the season with a torn rotator cuff. Benson injured his shoulder when vacationing on Whore Island. He will be replaced by an equally craptastic Steve Trachsel and his "Back on Trach" headlines.
Arrington, Pettigout and Emmons were cut by the Giants today. The cuts of Emmons and even Pettigout didn't surprise me. Both are injury prone and apparently David Diehl played well when he was switched to left tackle (i don't know about you, but i can't tell if an offensive lineman is good or not) Hopefully that cross eyed geriatric Bob "Thick in the Britches" Whitfield isn't too far behind. I was surprised about Arrington though. Even though he is also injury prone, I thought they would give the guy another chance, especially since he only scheduled to make $900k this year. I guess Jerry Reese is putting his stamp on the team. Overall i think these are moves in the right direction. I don't think we will be saying "boy, i really wish we had Arrington/Petigout/Emmons right now". Hopefully Reese will make a splash with this deep free agent class. (Asante Samuel??)
What has happened to this once proud franchise? Maybe proud isn't the word. Maybe interesting is the word. It's been years since I gave a damn about the Knicks. I wish this wasn't the case. It's been about 20 years since I started following the team on a daily basis. I am more likely to be able to name the starting 5 from that team than this team (Mark Jackson, Gerald Wilkins, Johnny Newman?, Bill Cartwright, Patrick Ewing vs. Stephon Marbury, Jamal Crawford?, Quentin Richardson?, Jared Jefferies?, Eddy Curry). I was never a big Patrick Ewing fan, but I have certainly come to appreciate him in the past 5 years or so. Along with good coaching (from Pitino, Riley, Van Gundy) and scrappy, hard working players (Oakley, Starks, Mason, shit even guys like Charlie Ward were trying), the team was always significant, even if they were always bridesmaids. I always hated the feeling when the Knicks fell short each spring. I wondered whether it would have been better if they were no good at all. I think I can say for sure now the answer is no. And not because it hurts more as a fan now because it doesn't. It's because I just don't care about the team anymore. And all I have is jumbled memories (for better or worse) from the better days. Remember Charles Smith blowing the series against the Bulls in 93'. Kenny Walker winning the Dunk contest back when it was meaningful. Van Gundy hanging from Alonzo's leg. Remember Allan Houston with the shaved head hitting that shot to defeat the Heat and running across the court and taking a swing at the air followed by LJ's 4 point play in 99'. These were moments that I haven't forgotton. I can remember where I was and who I was with for all those times. So what does this all mean? I guess it means I'm sad. I can't think of a solitary "moment" that I can remember as a Knicks fan since the game Patrick Ewing came back to the Garden in a ridiculous Sonics uniform. And as long as I continue to hear news such as "Dolan says Isiah's job is safe" I won't be caring because I know it's not gonna get any better. And if I'm not caring, I won't be getting any new notes for my memoirs. And as for Eddy Curry and his gripes about not making the All-Star team... He's a starting center with 7 rebounds and .5 blocks per. Doesn't sound like an All-Star to me.
The first in a series of classic boxing clips. This was arguably the greatest fight I have ever seen, unbelievable action throughout the bout. If both guys had just died in the middle of the ring, it seriously wouldn't have been a surprise. Here is the final round, enjoy the drama:
I know this one's had its' day, but I'd like to leave it around these parts for a rainy day when I need a laugh. My favorite black coach tirade of all time.Feel free to discuss tirades in general in the comments section. I know if you've spent any time around the Piazza's, you've witnessed some doozies. That Irish/Italian mix... It's like oil and water. Or maybe whiskey and wine.
