Let’s briefly reflect on the New York Knicks’ season:
- Knicks lose lots of game - Larry Brown ages terribly due to feud with Stephon Marbury - Marbury changes name to “Starbury” - Knicks trade for Steve Francis because they don’t have enough guards and team players - Knicks lose more games - Brown goes to hospital for being old and coaching New York - Knicks finish 23-59 -Isiah Thomas wins NBA exec of the year - Knicks have no first-round draft picks
“I want to die a Knick. If I ever was to be cremated, I’d want my ashes sprinkled on top of the Garden.”
Some curious comments coming from the guy who hates his coach. The only rationale we can see here is that Starbury grew up in Coney Island, which makes him a native of New York and a huge thug. We’ll assume the cremated part was said while drunk.
More fine material from the guy who wants to be burnt on top of a basketball stadium:
“I hope that every player on this team comes back next season. I honestly mean that. Every player. I think we have a great team.”
Really, Stephon, great? We are sorta under the impression that a “great team” wins games. We could be terribly mistaken, but 23-59 doesn’t seem so great.
As for wanting every player to return: that just confirms our suspicion of Marbury being hammered. Now Stephon, riddle us this: assuming you do intend to win games next season, wouldn’t you maybe want some players that weren’t on a 23-59 team? Just a thought, but usually when you suck real badly, you want to shake things up.
We’ll go ahead and set the over/under of Starbury playing another game in New York at 10%. And we definitely are taking the under.
Everybody's favorite running back slash weed smoker is back to the gridiron.
Football, as it's apparently called in Canada, is what Ricky Williams will be doing this upcoming season.
Williams didn't play much for the Miami Dolphins last year because he was discovering how much more fun it is to take hits from a bong than hits from a linebacker.
Ricky will suit up for the Toronto Argonauts and will be paid $240,000 -- making him the highest-paid running back in the CFL. With that kind of money, he can probably go buy some good Acapulco Gold. Though we're a bit surprised he's not playing for the Amsterdam Admirals of NFL Europe.
We're unsure as to what an argonaut is, but it sounds neat. If you happen to know what an argonaut is or know the legality of marijuana in Canada, please tell.
In other news: Barry Bonds hit his 715th career homerun after being on the hot dog, beer and steroid diet.
Many may remember that Smoot, apparently not fond of his own penis, decided to use a double-headed plastic dick on a stripper.
McKinnie, no angel himself, was accused of performing oral sex on an exotic dancer, which begs two questions:
1. Why was he performing oral sex? Shouldn't he have been the receiver? 2. Are his newly acquired herpes oral, genital or both?
Both Smoot and McKinnie will pay a $1,000 fine -- all in singles -- and will perform 48 hours of community service, which will entail cleaning up after gentlemen who use the erotic video booth in a strip club. That term was dubbed "jizz mopper" in Clerks.
Justice and the legal system are cool and all, but we're crossing our fingers than this is not the last we hear about the S.S. Love Boat. Some stories are just too good to end.
Oh, and we think that Smoot and McKinnie should probably be paid $1,000 for giving, not taking. But that's for them to work out with the strippers.
Chicago Cubs catcher Michael Barrett was finally suspended for pulling a Rocky Balboa on White Sox jackass A.J. Pierzynski.
Barrett got a 10-game suspension, though he'll appeal. Somehow we think that Barrett was prepared for a 20-game suspension. If he only got 10 for clocking A.J. Dickhead, he should have taken a bat to him. That would have given him an extra 10 games and probably a misdemeanor.
But still, A.J. deserves worse. He wasn't suspended, by the way. That seems wrong on about as many levels as hitting another man with a bat.
And here's the video for your Saturday viewing pleasure. Enjoy.
In other news: The Mavericks beat the Suns 105-98 after David Hasselhoff saved Dallas from drowning.
Robinson was forced to replace third-string catcher Matt LeCroy after the Astros stole seven bases off him. Robinson, according to the article, was upset because he felt bad for the kid. Though we suspect he was crying because he's worried about Barbaro.
Robinson took it harder than LeCroy, according to the article. Robinson cried like a girl, while LeCroy apparently threw like one. We are glad to report though that LeCroy didn't hang himself after his rough outing. Robinson, if he's still upset, may want to stay away from ropes today. Or perhaps he can write to his favorite horse.
In other news: Detroit beat Miami 92-88 after Rasheed Wallace said, "We're gonna kick their ass, but then they're gonna come back and make it close. But we're still gonna win."
Announcer: We have a great show for you tonight, ladies and gentlemen. We'll be breaking down sports, college life and relationship needs all in the next hour of the Jenn Sterger Mailbag. And here's your host...Jenn Sterger!
Jenn: Hi everybody! It's great to see you! I'm so happy! Go 'Noles! I have so many wonderful e-mails but I can only answer a few in our time together tonight. Here are the ones that I like the most.
Hey Jenn! Big fan. Longtime reader, first-time writer. My girlfriend is being tough lately. All I want to do is watch the NBA playoffs and she wants to have sex. She even told me that I could put it "anywhere." But I'm glued to the TV. What should I do? --Jimmy, Glendale, Ariz.
At Florida State we go to football games. We wear low-cut shirts and cheer loud. When the home team wins, we're happy. When they lose, we're sad. But it's ok, because we still go to one of the best academic schools in our wonderful country.
With four FSU defensive players -- Sims, Wimbley, Bunkley and Cromartie -- going in the first round of last month's draft, what does that say about Florida State's player development? --Lance, Orlando
At Florida State we go to football games. We wear low-cut shirts and cheer loud. When the home team wins, we're happy. When they lose, we're sad. But it's ok, because we still go to one of the best academic schools in our wonderful country. With big-name players like Reggie Bush, Matt Leinart and Vince Young moving on to the NFL, who are some players to watch next season? --Sam, San Diego
At Florida State we go to football games. We wear low-cut shirts and cheer loud. When the home team wins, we're happy. When they lose, we're sad. But it's ok, because we still go to one of the best academic schools in our wonderful country.
Hi, Jenn. My girlfriend is considering getting breast implants, but she plays competitive soccer frequently? What advice should I give her? --Darren, Mobile, Ala.
At Florida State we go to football games. We wear low-cut shirts and cheer loud. When the home team wins, we're happy. When they lose, we're sad. But it's ok, because we still go to one of the best academic schools in our wonderful country.
Jenn: And that's all the time we have, folks! Thanks for reading! And remember: Go 'Noles! Bye!
Athletes can be very superstitious about the number on their jersey. Hard to blame them when a number alone allows you to do this.
So we can understand why Reggie Bush threw such a kiddy fit over his cherished No. 5. Ultimately, the NFL Competition Committee (reach arounds for anyone who can recite the mission statement of the NFLCC) said, “fuck you, dyke!” which we took to mean, “no, Reggie, we’re sorry but we can’t grant you this request. We just see no real reason to change a numbering system that has been in place for years. We respect your desire to wear this number and hope you understand our decision.”
We get that Bush is no exception to the rule, but we are a little curious as to what the Competition Committee discussed during the two 21/2-hour conference calls to come to this seemingly obvious decision.
It may have gone something like this:
Chairman A: “one” Chairman B and C simultaneously: “two” Group: “dammit, start over” Chairman D: “one” Chairman: A: “two: Chairman B and F simultaneously: “three” Rich McKay (committee co-chair): “you mother (expletive) sacks of donkey (expletive). I’m going to cut out your hearts and feed them to your (fucking) children while I overpay your wives to watch.
It probably went something more like this:
McKay: “So, what do you think about denying Bush’s No. 5 request?” Chairman A: “Yeah sounds great. Let’s deny it.” Chairman B: “I agree” Chairman C: “Yeah, me too.” . . . Chairman M: “Well, I see two ways to this. We could give Bush No. 5 but that would undermine the entire integrity of our committee. We don’t want to conform to one man’s request just because he values this silly number. At the same time, we don’t want to get pigeonholed into being the bad guys of the NFL who do things one way and one way only. I’ve recently heard how we’re being too old-fashioned, so maybe it’s time for a change. Rules can be broken if the time is right. This could be one of those times. It’s hard to say what is best for us, Bush and ultimately, the league, but I think we should at least dedicate some valuable discussion to what is becoming a hot-button issue.” . . . Chairman Z: Yeah, deny it.
Bush will survive with another number, and will still be New Orleans’ lightning to Deuce McAllister’s hurricane.
What, too soon?
Now we’re big Bush fans. The guy is incredibly mature and is making all the right moves in his early NFL career. He’s not pulling any Eli Manning shit and actually seems excited to be a Saint. His attitude is exactly what the team and city needs in the aftermath of Katrina. The fact that Bush will donate 25 percent of his jersey sales to the hurricane victims is a great show of class and respect to his new town.
For Saints fans, it’ll be a joy to see Bush tearing up the league. Even if he’s wearing No. 25.
In other news: The Portland Trailblazers didn’t win the NBA Draft Lottery because the convicts miscalculated their chances of winning.
-Adam Landres-Schnur
Adam is the sports editor at the University of Washington's The Daily. He'll be honest with you: "I love his music, I do, I'm a Michael Bolton fan. For my money, it doesn't get any better than when he sings 'When a Man Loves a Woman'".
We were asked a while back by the fine folks at SportsBlogs Nation to start a UW Huskies blog for their network. After our agent told us to hold out, they reluctantly met our demand and we reached an agreement.
It took some time to create the site, but U-Dub Dish is up and running as of yesterday and we're pretty excited to try to build it up.
Does this mean that The Big Picture is going to end? Not a fucking chance.
We'll still be with you regularly, breaking down the day in sports with plenty of hooker jokes.
All that's changed is that we have another site that we'll be doing too. Our spare time is gonna go to hell, but we suppose that blogging is spare time. How 'bout that.
So stop by the new digs and drop off a comment. If UW sports aren't your thing, make them your thing. It'll be piles of fun...
Oh, and thanks for hanging out with us here at The Big Picture. We really appreciate it. No joke.
It’s hard to tell if 7-year-old Braxton Bilbrey lost a bet to one of his second-grade buddies, was being severely punished by his father or just likes to do really stupid things.
Bilbrey recently swam from Alcatraz Island to San Francisco — an estimated 1.4-mile trek — in 50-degree waters. It took him 47 minutes, good enough for the Gold medal and a world record.
The really dumb youngster got the idea when he saw a magazine article about an even dumber 9-year-old who had already made the swim. Bilbrey probably doesn’t know that his inspiration was this guy.
We just don’t buy into the fact that a 7-year-old wanted to swim across the bay because some other kid did it. If he wanted to impress some smokin’ 4th grader he has the hots for, that’d be admirable. But the kid probably doesn’t like girls and has no pubes.
It thus seems reasonable to think that the ghost of Al Capone, who was an inmate on the island, put him up to it. That or he was touring the island for fun or something when General Francis X. Hummel took control of the island, threatening to nuke San Francisco, and Bilbrey split.
In other news: Tennessee’s Pat Summit will make $1.125 million next season because she convinced athletic director Joan Cronan that people like women’s basketball. Really.
-Adam Landres-Schnur
Adam is the sports editor at the University of Washington's The Daily. This is how he won back his ex-girlfriend: "Am I supposed to be a man? Am I supposed to say, it's ok, I don't mind? I don't mind. Well I mind! I mind big time! And you know what the worst part is? I never learned to read."
That's that. The Cleveland LeBrons are no more. After failing to grab a rebound that would have given them a shot to win Game 6, Bron Bron showed up for the first half of Game 7, while the rest of the Cleveland team didn't show up at all.
Detroit won 79-61 after pulling away late — the game was closer than the score indicates. Though this probably isn't the way the Cleveland team wanted to go out. 61 points will win a lot of things: a baseball game, a football game, a hockey game, a badminton game, a tennis match, a volleyball game, a game of cricket, Scrabble, a counting contest and a homerun derby. But it will not win too many basketball games.
Cleveland's offense was like the scene before a concert: a bunch of people standing around waiting for something to happen. Nobody really moved and thus not many points were scored.
It would've been fun to see LeBron vs. Wade in the Eastern Conference Finals, but instead, we game the same shit as last year. Fun.
Tomorrow we have two more Game 7's, with LAC/PHX and Dallas/San Antonio. As reader Mike points, out, "How do they push both Western games to Monday night?... Worthless!"
By now we're all familiar with the "tragedy" that occurred at Saturday's Preakness. Derby winner Barbaro did not finish the race, costing gamblers everywhere piles of money. One bettor was so pissed, he went down to the race track and broke Barbaro's ankle in two places.
Barbaro got pissed too, and cursed at the man in whatever language a horse speaks in.
Barbaro was rushed to a hospital and had surgery Sunday to repair his ankle. Good news: the surgery went well and our boy is walking. (Apparently if a horse gets hurt, can't walk and fucks up in the second leg of the Triple Crown, they kill it. Sad. Very sad).
But Barbaro seems to be doing well, which will make people everywhere smile. Apparently people really care about horses. As you can see in the photo, people have left signs on the gate of the horsey hospital where Barbaro is being treated. Based on that adorable bubble lettering, we think that Tobey Maguire made the sign that says, "Believe in Barbaro." Leave it to Tobey to not make much sense either.
But our reaction to these signs: Think the horse can read you fucking idiots?
In other news: Albert Pujols smacked his 22nd homerun Sunday after being spotted walking out of a cork shop in Kansas City, Mo.
Prior to hitting Bonds, Springer: threw behind him, brushed him back multiple times, called him a liar, called him a cheater, told him that his wife has herpes, told him that he has herpes, threatened to kill his daughter, sent him hate mail, pissed in his coffee, stole his car, told him to go fuck himself, and asked if he wanted to play a game.
Astros manager Phil Garner will serve a 1-game suspension for not controlling Springer's actions.
Four games seems just about right for throwing at a guy; a malicious act must go punished. Though in the NBA, where a guy can tug at another man's balls and go unpunished, Springer probably would've been promoted or something.
Norv Tuner update: Early Saturday morning and Norv is still in as the 49ers' offensive coordinator.
See this picture, folks? That's King James grabbing a rebound. A recent photo, right? Well, no. Clue #1 would be the fact that the Cavs are playing the Toronto Raptors in the above picture. The Raptors didn't win many games this year. A team needs to win to make the playoffs. The Cleveland LeBrons won many games. They made the playoffs. They've been playing in the playoffs for some time now. They are playing the Pistons. The Pistons won a lot of games this year too. They also play in the playoffs.
One may use a second clue to determine that the picture is not from Friday's Game 6 against Detroit. Cleveland, in the last minute of the game, forgot how to rebound. Sure, this could be a picture from early in the game when LeBron did get a rebound. But it's not.
James was actually seen speaking with guard Flip Murray saying, "You stupid-ass- motherfucking-bitch-ass-trick, GRAB the ball."
Murray didn't grab the ball, rather he slapped at it like, well, a little bitch. Chauncey Billups then did what Murray couldn't do, and grabbed the ball. He was fouled. He made a free throw. Detroit won the game.
The lesson: rebound the ball (or get Dennis Rodman to come out of retirement to rebound the ball for you).
We imagine The Cavalier, over at YAY Sports! NBA, was yelling this at his TV right after the game: "Bleep! Stupid motherbleeper. If I was playing I'd just get the bleeping ball. Bleep! I hate you. Bleep!"
After he got over the initial anger of having a good chance of a victory a mere rebound away, he had this to say: "Bleep! Stupid motherbleeper. If I was playing I'd just get the bleeping ball. Bleep! I hate you. Bleep!"
Time can really heal the wound.
In other news: Former Oklahoma State basketball coach Eddie Sutton has decided to retire after being informed that they do not sell alcohol in OSU's arena.
...to some very good postseason games. After recovering from a 16-hour game between Phoenix and The Clip on Tuesday, we were back at it with two thrillers last night.
The Cleveland LeBrons beat Detroit 86-84 and James threw down 32 points and probably did some other good things that help teams win important games. After the game, Bron Bron had this to say to the world:
"It's just basketball," James said. "They're not the Big, Bad Wolf. And we're not the Three Little Pigs."
While not pigs, LeBron, Rasheed Wallace (who is a big, bad liar) will say that you are cats.
Cleveland is going home with a chance to make Wallace look very silly. Tune in to Game 6, whenever that game may be.
And in Texas, where there are two teams who play basketball, the defending champion San Antonio Spurs stayed alive for another game after beating Mark Cuban 98-97.
Two more phenomenal games. More men with ugly hair. More playoff intensity.
We hate the Oilers, even though we're seals. Or otters.
We aren't sharks. But they don't like the Oilers either.
This water is cold. And oily. Like salad dressing. The bad kind. Maybe like Newman's Own.
This is an oil spill of a far different sort than that huge spill in '89. The Edmonton Oilers, the eighth seed in the Norris Division, just ran off four-straight wins to end the Sharks and this thing they called a season. They won 2-0.
This is greatly disappointing for Sharks fans everywhere. See, we jumped on the Sharks' bandwagon about 8 days ago when we realized they were in the second round of the playoffs and they were up 2-0 in this series. Now we're blogging from a gutter (that has killer Wi-Fi) with a bottle of whiskey by our side, staring at what could have been.
The Sharkies are no more...and may never be. Maybe that's what San Jose fans get for booing "Oh Canada."
In other news: The Detroit Tigers won their sixth straight game after traveling back in time to 1984.
What to read while you guarantee victory in your beer-league softball game...
YAYsports! NBA - They're making a movie! We're not sure if they got Denzel to play Mamba, but you'll just have to wait and see. Don't buy any weed from Ramonce Taylor this week and instead go donate to the movie fund.
Mr. Irrelevant - Sports Bloggers Live guests include Serena Williams and Ernie Banks this week. Maybe Ernie will want to play two (hole) with Serena. Because it's a nice day, of course.
Complete Sports - If there is another timeout at the end of a close game, the bunny gets it.
A friend of ours told us how this dude was sitting next to Karl Ravech on Baseball Tonight a few days back. Since the man stage left (or is it right?) of the ESPN host wasn’t Harold Reynolds, John Kruk, Jeff Brantley, Mike Macfarlane or Brian McRae, we thought it’d be appropriate to dig up the goods on some dude we’ve never heard of.
Turns out Orestes Destrade Cuevas sucked it up in the majors. In his first two big league seasons he played 45 games and hit one home run.
Like Bobby Valentine, Destrade went oversees to find his calling. It came with the Seibu Lions. He immediately became a star, winning three home run titles and twice leading the league in RBIs and walks.
As baseball-reference.com explains, Destrade became famous for his “guts pose.” We have no fucking clue what a “guts pose” is but imagine it somehow involves a sick game he played with this guy. That or he flexed or something after going deep.
The Marlins signed the slugger in 1992 and he led the expansion Marlins in homers and RBIs a year later. That’s probably because their opening day starters included Bret Barberie, Junior Felix and Scott Pose. It’s also the best explanation for their 64-98 record.
(Interesting asides: Trevor Hoffman made his big-league debut and Charlie Hough finished his 67-year stint in the majors with this terrible team.)
Destrade was cut the next year, tried to make a comeback in Japan, had wife issues which led to divorce, did some broadcasting and is now with ESPN.
Guess Brent Abernathy will be on Baseball Tonight in no time.
Sagat, a boss character, could end you in a heartbeat. Just one of his signature uppercuts could take half of your energy. Pujols can do the same thing: fuck you up in a split second. Some may remember Prince Albert hitting three homers, including a walk-off, on April 16 as the Cardinals beat the Reds 8-7. Cincinnati got Sagated.
Adam Dunn: Zangief
Zangief was a character players rarely chose to be, and when playing at his level, you'd usually beat him without a sweat. But on the rare occasion, he could do some major, major damage because he was so powerful. Enter Reds outfielder Adam Dunn. Most of the time Dunn will do something you don't want him to do — like strike out. He k's about 200 times a year and has never hit above .270. But he has clocked 40+ homeruns two years in a row. Like, Zangief, he's powerful and shows signs of life, but most of the time he doesn't do much that's good.
Ichiro: Chun-Li
Get over the whole Asian thing; it has nothing to do with that. (Anyway, Ichiro is Japanese and Chun-Li is Chinese). This is about finesse. Ichiro plays the outfield gracefully and Chun-Li beats her larger, stronger opponents with speed and quickness. Neither were given the naturally ability to succeed at their respective professions (Ichiro: baseball; Chun-Li: ass kicking), but both use the skills they have to be good at what they do. (And we can also visualize Ichiro doing that lightning kick that Chun-Li perfected).
Derek Jeter: Ken
While we hate to admit it, Derek Jeter is smooth...much like Ken. Jeter is the captain of the Yankees, lives in the Big Apple and has ladies chasing him. Ken, hands down, pulls more pussy than any other Street Fighter character. He's good-looking, suave, and could whoop your ass. The guy has game and your girlfriend will seriously consider leaving you for this fictional video game character. Jeter has that same pull on women.
Barry Bonds: 1990: Dhalsim 2006: E. Honda
Dhalsim should try the Cream and the Clear. E. Honda may want to find a treadmill.
Carlos Beltran: Vega
Vega is the second boss you come to as you progress through the game. The natural reaction by a player when they reach Vega is, "Oh fuck. Time to bring the A game." But then you beat this Spaniard on the first try, making him seem pretty over-hyped. Hmm, Carlos Beltran over-hyped? Nah. The Mets outfielder only got $13.5 million last year to hit .266 with 16 HRs and 78 RBIs. He should be getting A-Rod money for those kind of numbers.
Richie Sexson: Guile
A striking resemblence...minus the army fatigues, of course.
George Steinbrenner: M. Bison
Bison is the boss of bosses in Street Fighter II. Steinbrenner is just The Boss. Both are strong motherfuckers who are determined to get their way. Both know how to kick ass in their own way and like to make it clear who's the boss.
If we left any out, or you disagree, let's hear it people...we bet NFL Adam would compare himself to Ryu though we really know he's more like Dhalsim.
Here’s the thing with making guarantees: they mean you absolutely, 100% with a cherry on top (and probably some whip and Spanish peanuts) promise something is going to happen. In essence, when a guarantee is not met you’re kind of like the boy who cried wolf (except in this case, the wolf or Mike Tyson will probably eat you and your family.)
Metaphorically speaking, then, Detroit’s Rasheed Wallace was eaten by Iron Mike.
By now you’ve heard that Wallace guaranteed a Game 4 win over Cleveland last night saying, “Tomorrow night is the last game here in this building for this year.”
Well, it wasn’t. Cleveland's win makes Wallace look a bit sheepish.
“Oops. That wasn’t supposed to happen,” he said while looking over his shoulder for Tyson. “I mean, we’re good and they’re, well, from Cleveland."
But Wallace, who is known for making guarantees, kept the shots coming after the latest Pistons loss.
“I ain’t worried about these cats,” he told the AP. “There’s no way in hell they beat us in a series.”
For starters, 'Sheed, Cavaliers aren't cats.
A few things to watch for in Games 5 and 6 (and Game 7 if LeBron wants to shit on Detroit for another game):
- LeBron shitting on Detroit — figuratively and literally - Wallace making guarantees mid game. Like with Detroit up 85-73 with 14 seconds left: “I ain’t worried about these cats!” - Cleveland to win the series in six - Wallace getting eaten by Tyson - Wallace guaranteeing he’s going to enjoy watching Cleveland in the Eastern Conference finals.
In other news: The Miami Dolphins signed Marcus Vick because they were impressed by his social skills.
-Adam Landres-Schnur
Adam is the sports editor at the University of Washington's The Daily. He's pissed because "There's no fucking coke. There's no coke on this boat."
You’re always told as a kid “think before you act,” or something more or less along those lines. Somehow we think that certain athletes never heard that saying. Here are two lovely examples.
Last Sunday, Ramonce Taylor, a running back for the University of Texas, was arrested for being named Ramonce. (Not really, of course, though we’re about 98.6% sure that Taylor’s parents intended to name him Romance, but were poor spellers at the time of his birth). Taylor, who scored a touchdown in Texas’ win in the Rose Bowl, was hanging out on a pecan farm in Little River, Texas prior to his arrest. A few things come to mind here:
1. Why the hell was Taylor hanging out on a pecan farm? 2. What the hell is a pecan farm? 3. Aren’t pecans nuts? 4. They make pie, right? 5. Are pecans a metaphor for, say, pigs and sheep?
So True Ramonce was kicking it on this pecan farm, enjoying the company, and certainly the pecans, when a fight breaks out. Taylor calls the cops who come to the farm and check out the scene. (Cops on a farm: a pig joke would be far too easy here). Officers at the pecan farm say Taylor left, possibly to get his gun.
While being interviewed by the police at a convenience store, Taylor is placed in handcuffs, but tells the deputies he has no gun and allows them to check his car. In the car they found ammunition and about five pounds of marijuana in a backpack.
Thoughts:
1. Did Taylor forget there were drugs in the car? 2. Did he think pot was legalized? 3. Did he think he could say he was an athlete and get off with a slap on the wrist? 4. Did he measure properly? 5. Does he understand the metric system? 6. Was he high?
True Ramonce was charged with state jail felony drug possession of marijuana, but there will be lab results to determine the weight of the drug. According to the law, if it weighs more than five pounds, the charge will be upgraded to a second-degree felony. One of those suckas is punishable by two to 20 years in jail and $10,000 in fines, while a state jail felony carries up to two years in jail and a $10,000 fine. Uh oh.
This event brings former Dallas Cowboys lineman Nate Newton to mind. Newton was busted in 2001 for having 213 pounds of weed in his van and then caught five weeks later with 175 pounds of pot in his car. He likely had a few very fun days. There was no mention of former Longhorns running back Ricky Williams in this story, but there’s a very strong possibility that he and True Ramonce are close friends.
As they say: “Everything is bigger in Texas.” (That includes bags of drugs).
A second instance of an athlete acting before thinking came when former MLB pitcher and current ESPN baseball analyst Rick Sutcliffe showed up to talk for an inning on a local San Diego Padres telecast. The broadcasters were interviewing Sutcliffe, who used to broadcast Padres games himself, when it became apparent that Sutcliffe was downright hammered. Sutcliffe was slurring his words, saying inappropriate things and taking body shots of the play-by-play guy in the booth. (That last part we made up).
This is just pretty funny. The guy is sloshed and starts talking about hanging out with actor Billy Murray. The other people in the broadcast booth (presumably directors, producers, etc.) are covering their faces with their hands, and the guys interviewing Sutcliffe are desperately trying to talk about anything that won’t make Sutcliffe sounds so ridiculous.
This is pretty reminiscent of Harry Caray, the famed sportscaster, who would drink during games. And also the play-by-play guy in the Major League movies (played by actual broadcaster, Bob Uecker) who would down whiskey like it was water.
Sutcliffe apologized for his public drunkenness by telling ESPN news services “I was offered the opportunity to make a guest appearance on the air. At that time, I exercised bad judgment and accepted, even though I was not in optimum condition to go on live television. I regret that lapse in judgment and my decision and I sincerely apologize.”
Thoughts:
1. Toe-up drunk isn’t ‘optimum condition?’ 2. Did you operate any heavy machinery? 3. Would you do it again? Like, really. Bet it was fun!
So two more instances of jocks not using good judgment. Maybe other role models in the world will look at True Ramonce and Sutcliffe as examples of what not to do. Or, more realistically, bad jocks are thinking of ways to one-up these guys.
Yikes!
(This column was published in the University of Washington's The Daily.)
In other news: Miami beat New Jersey 102-92 after Heat coach Pat Riley put a hit out for Vince Carter.
About the only thing we rip more than Kobe Bryant, the NBA and this guy is professional hockey. It’s a sport that has no place in the U.S., especially in such NHL cities as Phoenix, Dallas, Tampa Bay, Miami (Florida), Anaheim, San Jose, et al. — mainly because people in these places don’t know the difference between ice and steam (hint: they’re both H2O, but in different molecular states).
As far as we’re concerned, hockey is meant for Canada, Russia and Detroit — where residents from the two countries can proudly tell you that the freezing point of water is 0 degrees Celsius, and Detroitians can tell you ice is the temperature at which blood, from the guy that was just shot, freezes.
The other night, though, we tuned in late to Game 3 of the San Jose-Edmonton series. Why? ‘Cause we were pretty bored of seeing replays on ESPN of Barry Bonds popping up.
The game was in the second overtime when we stopped by, but it was so damn exciting that it kept our interest until the Oilers won it early in the third overtime period on a goal by some guy who probably grew up on Lake Minnetonka.
We were genuinely nervous watching and were even somewhat pissed when the Sharkies lost. There were some terrific saves by the goaltenders whose names we won’t bother trying to spell or pronounce (though they might look something like this: eülô´losk∑jhπ∫√)
As for our new stance on the NHL:
We can now recite the Canadian national anthem and recite fluent Detroit slang. And unlike people from Phoenix, we know that ice is just frozen water.
Will we tune in again tonight? If Kobe were on the rink in Eagle, Colo., well, then maybe.
In other news: St. John’s basketball program was placed on probation for two years after Ron Artest charged the stands at Madison Square Garden.
FSU Cowgirl Jenn Sterger has turned her 15 minutes of fame into what's become a few months of fame. She's done Maxim, Playboy and likely a few dudes. She's also arranged this neat little mailbag where she answers readers' questions at SI On Campus.
The questions are mainly sports-related, with a few about relationship stuff. But because we used to work for SIOC, we had some special access to all the emails Sterger received. Here are some of those letters that didn't make the cut:
Do you make house calls? --Joe, Atlanta
Can we have sex? Like tomorrow. --Luke, Denver
Hey Jenn. So, um, you cool with double-headers? --Captain Fred, Lake Minnetonka
What's your policy on condoms? --Mike, St. Louis
Are your boobs real? It's cool if they're not. But they are real, right? --Carl, New York
Have you ever done it with a girl? Can you do it with my wife? --Felix, Omaha
Ever been with a black man? --LeBron, Cleveland
Did you ever do gymnastics? --Josh, Memphis
What size t-shirt do you wear? Like a child's medium? --Wayne, Miami
Do you travel much? I hear Eagle, Colo. is nice. --Kobe, Los Angeles
Welcome back to the NBA, folks. That first round was a special treat -- perhaps good karma for taking your kids to go see RV.
But now we're back with one-sided basketball, blowouts and very little fun. Through eight total games, only one has been within 5 points (San Antonio vs. Dallas, Game 1) and the others have never really been close. In the first round, we were getting buzzer beaters, overtimes and nuts-grabbed.
Now it only feels like we're getting our balls grabbed. Speaking of which, getting our nuts tugged by Reggie Evans may be more fucking exciting than watching these second-round games. C'mon, where the hell is the intensity? Though looking at Chris Kaman is really pretty exhilarating. The dude has long hair, yet is balding. Our colleague thinks he looks like a cyclops. We think he looks kinda like this guy.
"Hello, Reader. You don't know me, but I know you. I want to play a game. You are a perfectly healthy, sane and middle-class male yet last month you ran a straight razor across your wrist. Did you cut yourself because you truly wanted to die or did you just want some attention? Tonight, you'll show me. The irony is that if you want to die you just have to stay where you are, but if you want to live, you'll have to cut yourself again. Find the path through the razor-wire to the door, but hurry. At 3:00 that door will lock and then, this room becomes your tomb. How much blood will you shed to stay alive?"
Dallas Mavericks owner Mark Cuban was fined $200,000 for going onto the court after Game 1 of Dallas' series against the Spurs and criticizing league officials on his blog, Blog Maverick.
Basically, Mark Cuban isn't allowed to walk or speak. The NBA is suggesting that Cuban may as well be a crippled mute.
The Association needs to lighten up. Cuban is just saying what everyone's thinking: "The officials suck more dick than Paris Hilton."
Here's what Cuban really said, "(Dick) Bavetta is a finger-fucking, dick-sucking asshole. And he makes bad calls."
Ok, here's what Cuban actually said -- for real this time. "The playoffs are our money product. As with every business, the best people should be on the job with the money products. That's not the way the NBA does it when it comes to officials."
Hiring some people from Dairy Queen to do the job probably wouldn't cut it.
In other news: Albert Pujols hit his 18th homerun Wednesday after he rubbed some cream and clear on his bat.
A’s catcher Jason Kendall couldn’t hit a home run in a Little League field off a tee. We now know why.
“Major League Baseball has turned into a badminton league,” he told the AP yesterday.
Really? Badminton? Really?
As far as we can tell, Kendall does step to the plate with a bat, but that white thing being tossed his way, well that might be a shuttlecock. Moreover, he probably doesn’t want to hit the ball/cock over the fence, thinking it would be out of bounds.
(By the way, the Angels' catcher appears to be tossing Kendall's salad in the photo above. Goes with the whole shuttlecock theme. Kinda.)
Fine, so his badminton comment was in reference to how soft the league has become. Kendall, meanwhile, is earning serious G-status here at The Big Picture.
This dude, whose 5 o’clock shadow arrives around 9:25 a.m., charged the mound May 2 after getting brushed back with a pitch. Hit? No. Brushed the fuck back! Savage! He then beat the hell out of Angels pitcher John Lackey and was slapped with a four-game suspension yesterday.
More from Kendall on his suspension:
"The fact that they won’t knock anything off is embarrassing to the game because the game has changed," he said." Now you can’t really defend yourself. I understand I have to be suspended."
Though some, well, really just Kendall, would say that he didn't pick a fight. We'll let Kendall explain:
"It’s not like I went out and picked a fight. Nothing would have happened if he wouldn’t have said anything to me, if he wouldn’t have taken three steps hard at me. I get called out by Lackey. He calls me out and disrespects me and I’m supposed to sit here and have him yell at me?"
Yeah, running out, making first contact, and throwing punches isn't starting a fight. Not at all.
Anyway, great stuff. We might remind you that Kendall was not hit by the pitch. We especially like the part about defending himself. (Hard to say what he would’ve done to Delmon Young had he been the ump.) Did we mention that Kendall wasn’t hit by the pitch? By the way, Jason, when you get “called out,” you’re supposed to hit a home run, not start a fight.
But that’s a pretty hard thing to do when playing badminton.
In other news: Devil Rays prospect Delmon Young was suspended for 50 games without pay yesterday after spitting on an umpirecharging the stands at a Pistons gameraping a woman in Durham, N.C.raping a woman in Eagle County, Colo. throwing his bat at an umpire.
-Adam Landres-Schnur
Adam is the sports editor at the University of Washington's The Daily. He does not eat pieces of shit like you for breakfast.
As Giants fans, we could give less of a shit about Barry Bonds’ pursuit of the home run record, the surrounding (and excessive) hype of it and this whole thing about him injecting non-mind-altering drugs.
As Giants fans, we care about winning games. Which, of course, is not happening anymore, leaving us in pretty shitty moods around 10 p.m. PST daily. San Francisco is 15-17 entering today’s action against the similarly hapless Cubs, but it feels more like 15-26,769. (Recent win streaks by the Rockies, Dodgers, Diamond Backs and Padres aren’t making anything easier, we might add.)
We don’t want to bore you with a rant about our favorite team sucking it up, so we’ll just get back to this whole Barry Bonds thing. Pretty much, we’re just as sick of it as he seems to be. If his homers win games, great. If they don’t — as was the case Sunday — we don’t really give a fuck and don’t want to hear about it for the entire week before he hits his next one. We also can’t stand the people who claim it was a good game if the Giants lose, but Bonds goes deep. Last we checked you can't make the playoffs with 713 homeruns, but only 60 wins.
If there is one positive about ESPN and other media outlets caring about this guy, it’s that the Giants are often televised here in Seattle and are the lead highlight on SportsCenter, making it easy for us to see pictures of the game that MLB.tv couldn’t show us (they scored worse on the Wonderlicthebacksideofahyenasnuts test than Vince Young).
-Adam Landres-Schnur
Adam is the sports editor at the University of Washington's TheDaily. He's not even supposedto be here today.
Ok, this story involves Iran, not Iraq (but they do border each other, geography tells us).
Anyway, turns out women can’t attend soccer games in the country. We’re not exactly sure why, as we struggled to decipher the exact job description of an Ayatollah. We’ll take a stab and say that women don’t really count as humans under Islamic law.
Men from Iran must be juiced about this decision. Guys in countries with non-sexist religions that allow females to watch sporting events, have to put up with their mothers, wives, and illegitimate children daughters yapping during the game. Our mom reads the newspaper at baseball games, which certainly beats hearing about Lindsay Lohan’s new diet (it’s called bulimia, by the way).
While Iran should get absolutely ripped for this outrageous decision (which has put our belief in the institution of religion further into question), Iranian men come out like bandits — female-free soccer games! No distractions, just soccer. And if the men need someone to hug/set fire to after a goal, there’s always the Cacodemon.
In other news: Boxer Zab Judah had his license suspended for a year after attacking fans at a Detroit Pistons game.
-Adam Landres-Schnur
Adam is the sports editor at the University of Washington's The Daily. He's gonna go hump the fridge.
Not really of course, but He Hate Me, whose nickname is Rod Smart, was signed by the Oakland Raiders Sunday. He'll likely play special teams for the Silver and Black and we expect him to frequent the Black Hole often.
Hate Me should be a fan-favorite with those wild Raiders fans because he looks like he spent a good part of his youth behind bars or smoking crack. Kinda like the people who go to Raiders games.
We expect The Hater Nation to be all over this, but if they aren't, stop by anyway. It'll be good for your self-esteem.
Phoenix Suns guard Steve Nash was finally named the 2006 MVP. News of this arose weeks ago, so it's not exactly a surprise. But what is surprising is that the Mamba finished fourth. 81 points and being surrounded by guys named Smush apparently don't merit awards these days.
LeBron came in second in the voting, followed by Dirk Notvdx#s^eiz*ski, then Kobe. Chauncey Billups of the Detroit Pistons came in fifth.
(By the way, that's Dirk pictured with Nash as teammates on the Mavericks about 10 minutes before game time).
We by no means followed the NBA close enough to know who should be getting this award. Though 81 points and the lack of a supporting cast would be a pretty good argument for Kobe. Nash, meanwhile, has Shawn Marion, Boris Diaw and some other guys who play basketball a helluva lot better than Smush and Luke Walton.
As pointed out by the Mighty MJD, Kobe was somehow left off of 22 of the 125 voters' ballots. Those voters either:
a. didn't watch the NBA this season b. don't like black people c. don't like rapists d. all of the above
D would be the correct answer there. If you didn't know that already. So we have back-to-back MVPs for Nash, giving hope to ugly Canadian guys everywhere.
In other NBA news:Detroit beat Cleveland 113-86 Sunday after the only player who actually caught the plane to Detroit was LeBron James.
"Hello, little man. Boy I sure heard a bunch about you. See, I was a good friend of your Daddy's. We were in that Hanoi pit of hell over five years together. Hopefully, you'll never have to experience this yourself, but when two men are in a situation like me and your Daddy were, for as long as we were, you take on certain responsibilities of the other. If it had been me who had not made it, Major Coolidge would be talkin' right now to my son Jim. But the way it worked out is I'm talkin' to you, Butch. I got somethin' for ya."
The Captain pulls a gold wrist watch out of his pocket.
"This watch I got here was first purchased by your great-granddaddy. It was bought during the First World War in a little general store in Knoxville, Tennessee. It was bought by private Doughboy Ernie Coolidge the day he set sail for Paris. It was your great-granddaddy's war watch, made by the first company to ever make wrist watches.
You see, up until then, people just carried pocket watches. Your great-granddaddy wore that watch every day he was in the war. Then when he had done his duty, he went home to your great-grandmother, took the watch off his wrist and put it in an ol' coffee can. And in that can it stayed 'til your grandfather Dane Coolidge was called upon by his country to go overseas and fight the Germans once again.
This time they called it World War Two.
Your great-granddaddy gave it to your granddad for good luck. Unfortunately, Dane's luck wasn't as good as his old man's. Your granddad was a Marine and he was killed with all the other Marines at the battle of Wake Island. Your granddad was facing death and he knew it. None of those boys had any illusions about ever leavin' that island alive. So three days before the Japanese took the island, your 22-year old grandfather asked a gunner on an Air Force transport named Winocki, a man he had never met before in his life, to deliver to his infant son, who he had never seen in the flesh, his gold watch. Three days later, your grandfather was dead.
But Winocki kept his word. After the war was over, he paid a visit to your grandmother, delivering to your infant father, his Dad's gold watch. This watch. This watch was on your Daddy's wrist when he was shot down over Hanoi. He was captured and put in a Vietnamese prison camp. Now he knew if the gooks ever saw the watch it'd be confiscated. The way your Daddy looked at it, that watch was your birthright. And he'd be damned if any slopeheads were gonna put their greasy yella hands on his boy's birthright. So he hid it in the one place he knew he could hide somethin'.
His ass.
Five long years, he wore this watch up his ass. Then when he died of disentary, he gave me the watch. I hid with an uncomfortable hunk of metal up my ass for two years. Then, after seven years, I was sent home to my family. And now, littleman, I give the watch to you."
If you are responsible enough to hide a watch in your ass, you're ready for Online Poker Rakeback.
To read how OPR works, check out our previous posts on the subject, here and here.
We don't think that they laced the drink with acid, but perhaps for a grand you deserve to hallucinate. Word has it that these drinks will use mint from Morocco, ice from the Arctic Circle and sugar from the South Pacific. They will also include Love Potion #9 and the semen from an African elephant.
We're not big fans of horse racing -- it seems kind of cruel, in our opinion -- so we won't exactly be glued (get it? glued!) to the TV following the event. But we have our money on Secretariat with Seattle Slew and Smarty Jones as our sleepers.
If you don't attend the Derby, perhaps you can spend $1000 on some nice booze or just run out to Jack in the Box and grab about 2,000 tacos. Or buy that hooker you've been thinking about since last Christmas.
In other news: Denver Nuggets owner Stan Kroenke will not extend the contract of GM Kiki Vandeweghe because he is tired of trying to spell Vandeweghe.
Lowe is currently an assistant with the Pistons and was probably the 247th guy on athletic director Lee Fowler’s wish list. He was previously a head coach for a few years with Minnesota and then Vancouver (where they actually have Grizzlies) where he compiled a win-loss record somewhere in the neighborhood of 40-752, making him perfectly qualified to coach in college, we suspect.
(Get) Lowe likely got the job because Fowler was leaning towards a guy with Wolfpack ties after he got spurned by John Calipari, Steve Lavin, Brent Musburger, Oski the Bear, Mr. Clean, Mr. Rogers, and Salad Fingers.
If that’s the case, Lowe’s just the guy for him. He was a point guard on the 1983 championship team — you know, the one where Jimmy V ran around like a little boy who just entered a strip clubThe Bunny Ranch Disneyland — and averaged 11.3 points.
Possibly the best nugget on this chum is the fact that he’s still working towards his college degree — 23 years after leaving Raleigh. He’s said to be just nine hours away, which he probably didn’t have time for while losing three-quarters of a billion games as a head coach.
The chances seem slim that Lowe has spent all 23 years finalizing his nursingwomen’s studiesAmerican Indian Studies business administration degree, though we won’t rule out the possibility that he scored a 6 on the Wonderlictheundersideofmyasshole test, making him all-the-more ready to take over for Herb Sendek.
In other news: The 49ers acquired Trent Dilfer from the Browns yesterday in exchange for their entire starting offensive line, front office and a box of Girl Scout cookies.
Let’s briefly reflect on the New York Knicks’ season:
Houston Astros pitcher 
