Kobe Bryant is letting his inner jackass out? (go to http://bugmenot.com/ for free passwords to the new york post).

Sebastian Telfair seems to have a problem in Portland. The youngster is learning how to be an NBA point guard on the fly, having been inserted into the Portland Trailblazers’ lineup. But now that he’s injured, his backup, Steve Blake of Maryland, has the team scoring 7 points more, shooting 5 percentage points higher, and with 5 more assists/ game, with the same turnover average.

No indication on the number of possessions the team has had, or the quality of the opponent, or whether Blake can get the Blazers into the same hot clubs on road trips, but it’s enough to make Portland Coach Nate McMillan not commit to having Telfair as the starter when he returns.

A couple of notes:

Steve Blake has always been under appreciated—even though he doesn’t fill out his jersey very well, and he’s a testament to white-guy basketball stereotypes, the kid can shoot well enough to command attention, and he sees the court very well. In fact, he’s a little aggressive with the long passes.

And with Juan Dixon, who he paired with in college at Maryland and as a pro with the Washington Wizards (do these guys move together to save on rental truck/ mover costs?), he’s very effective. As the article indicates, they play well off of each other, and can take on the other’s roles—aggressively looking for the shot on one possession, looking to get the ball in a sweet spot for a post player in another. Neither player thinks he’s so much better than his team, and while they can be shoved out of the way on defense, they make a solid effort to stay in front of their man.

As for Telfair, the kid is a lot of hype, but not yet the preternaturally talented passer he was made out to be. In part, of course, it’s because he’s only 20. He should have the opportunity to play behind someone for two or three years while he realizes his potential. Instead, he starts because of the investment the Trailblazers have in Sebastian. He can do the job, of course, and playing is better training than watching, but still…

the female perspective

As part of a package deal i bought in order to see duke play georgetown in a few weeks, i also got a ticket to go see the Wizards play the Suns, which by the way, was a surprisingly good game. My only comment (other than Etan Thomas = kinda hot) is that Steve Nash is totally a Federline in disguise (although you can't tell it from this picture).

And yes, I just know you're eagerly anticipating my next update -- after the Wizards play the Sixers in two weeks time. You'd better believe I'll be writing about Shav.

Best of wishes to Tony Dungy's family in the wake of their tragedy. Dungy's 18 year old son was found dead on Thursday, of an apparent suicide. Coach Dungy is leaving his Indianapolis Colts for an indeterminate time to fly to Tampa with his family. Tony Dungy coached with the Tampa Bay Buccaneers, and his son stayed behind to attend college.

[--Damon Before--]


After a trip to the Jeter/ Rodriguez owned Metro Gloss Salon, and while gently stroking his Evian up and down, Johnny Damon discussed which New York clubs he would go to. "My wife's a stripper, so you know she's crazy," he said, running long fingers through his hair to enhance its body, "where can I go for discreet encounters? Can I trust the ads in this Village Voice newspaper?"


[--Damon After--]

We've been a little light on the blogging. It's the heavy traffic and the walking to work that does it every time; plus I will not watch the New York Bricks defame the game of basketball. St John's played a good half and stayed in the locker room for the second; the New Jersey Nets are picking up their play;

and I have a link to Quin Snyder singing Survivor's "Eye of the Tiger" to his team to hype them up.

Maybe it's just me, and the fact that I think about how I am going to coach a little league team when I move to the near-suburbs, but I wonder what goes through a man's mind when he clowns himself this badly. It sounds awful and the team is just going to laugh about it when he's gone. The singing can't be motivational, with coach's wierd bends and atonal singing. The kids probably don't even know the song!

Quin Snyder, coach of the Missouri Tigers, is on the hot seat. Really, he should have been fired years ago. He has a program that recruits talent and then watches that talent lost not only to Kansas and Illinois, but to Belmont College. Do you know where Belmont is? Neither do I. I think it's in Memphis, or Long Island, or something. I'll go into the list of recruiting eyebrow raises, the accusations of cash exchanging hands, the awful losses, the too higfh rankings...

But before you leave for the holidays, enjoy Quin Snyder singing.

A list of things for Johnny Damon to do now that he's a stinking Yankee, from the Daily News:

# Shave and a haircut: Sorry Johnny, beards and long hair are not allowed in Bronx. If you don't believe it, ask your new hitting coach Don Mattingly.

# Cut a deal with Bubba Crosby: Not only are you taking his job, he has your No. 18, too. Don't worry, he comes cheap. A free copy of your book might do the trick.

# Get to know Derek Jeter and Robinson Cano: Since you can barely reach second base from the outfield, you'll be doing plenty of business with your two cutoff men.

# Avoid Gary Sheffield: You're now the newest high-paid Yankee. He won't be happy.

# Adjust to the roll call: When Yankee fans start chanting your name now, you can wave to them instead of covering your ears.

# Adjust to the "roll call" you'll get in Boston: There's nothing they hate in Boston more than Yankees, except former Sox who become Yankees.

# Put the World Series ring in storage: Nobody in the Bronx wants to see it, except maybe A-Rod.

# Come up with a new nickname: Sure, they may be idiots for giving you $52 million, but don't rub it in.

# Produce: If you don't get off to a good start, Yankee fans will be calling for Bernie Williams before mid-April.

Please remove the knife from Mr. Van Gundy's back

Wow, Pat Riley. Wow. Your hair left a grease trail and Stan Van Gundy followed it to the door. Stan left the Heat to... spend more time with his family? Really? No one said, hey, Stan, take a day off if you need; or, hey, Stan, you have a WHOLE OFFSEASON to set curfews on your 14 year old daughter?

If you don’t know yet, this is a really bad smokescreen. It’s the cheap toupee of the year. It's been predicted. In this space, in others. Pat wanted to take a more active role, but he was already President and (questionable) General Manager. The reason Stan Van has the job in the first place is because Dapper Pat Riley couldn’t get anything out of his team three years ago. Read more, and even more. Pat obviously believes that he needs to highlight his very nice suits on national television. What with the new dress code, he has to show the kids how style is done. They'll be better on defense and be tightly reined in on offense... no wild Jason Williams/ Antoine Walker passes.

Conveniently, Shaquille O’Neal is returning to the team from injury and getting sworn in as a reserve Miami Beach police officer.

Thanks to the Soxaholix cartoon/ blog for putting the experience of watching Edgar Renteria bobbling balls and grounding out in Boston best in this column and this one:

"I kept waiting and hoping he'd "break out" in the next game or the one aftah that until I finally realized Renteria was a goddamn Godot. He ain't evah going to arrive."

The Blockbuster Waiting to Happen

Ok, so there is not much more I can add on this, so this is a quickie. Today in the baseball world all the talk is the potential swap between the Boston Red Sox and The Washington Orioles of Baltimore of Boston's OF Manny Ramirez for O's SS Miguel Tejada.

For those who have not been following this, here is the deal. Manny wants out of Boston, saying personal reasons - the word is that he is uncomfortable claustrophobic fandom of Back Bay.

Tejada, on the other hand, was silent with his unhappiness until a couple of hours after The Boston Red Sox traded SS Edgar Rent-a-Wreck-aria to the Atlanta Braves, leaving a large hole in the Boston's infield. After trading top SS prospect Hanley Ramirez to the Florida Fishguts in the Josh Beckett swap (lighting the match to the fire that caused the fire sale) and with the best free agent prospect on the market being Nomar Garciaparra, Boston is desperate for a shortstop (even to the point of signing Alex Gonzales and his .661 OPS)

So, as Christmas time comes upon us and the same songs are played on every retail sound system from now until Valentine's Day, as i read this story I just can't stop singing "Do you see what I see??"

Yes, kids. And even swap. That would solve both problems, right? Normally you don't want to send your best players to in-division rivals, but in both cases this is a fair swap. Ramirez is owed 57 million on three years, while Tejada is owed 48 over four. This is what the Sox need. A simple one-for-one swap. No brainer.

The Boston Globe's Eric Wilbur wrote, "If you need assistance connecting the dots, perhaps now is a good time to put down the rubber cement."

In closing, I admit as a Sox fan I hate to see Manny go, but for the right deal it should be done. If the guy is unhappy, then it is respectful for the Sox management to try to accommodate him. Unhappy players do affect entire teams, so I think of the team first. And, I won't hide the fact that I am not much of a Tejada fan. He is a whiner and a loud one at that. But, he comes to play and he plays hard.

Plus, in this case he is correct. He came to the O's with a promise from Management that they will get better and be competitive. He has been doing his part while O's management has signed guys like Sidney Ponson and Sammy Sosa, while trading Larry Bigbie and allowing B.J. Ryan to sign with the in-division Blue Jays. Hey Baltimore, how's that workin' out for ya? Tejada has a point. The O's are a mess. Even, Melvin Mora backs him up. I'll take him.

Larry, make the deal!

Gary Barnett, Please Come Down From the Mountain.

Gary Barnett, Colorado Buffaloes’ football coach, “resigned” yesterday. The resignation comes because his team was getting its ass beat by conference rivals… not because of all of the sexual harassment issues that have popped up over the past few years. The losing 70-3 is worse, then, than the multiple and sordid sex charges levied against the program.

They would have fired him but, from this Denver Post article:

According to Barnett's contract, a firing would have required:

* An "intentional and material" violation of the contract.
* Conviction of any criminal statute or "for any act of moral turpitude."
* An intentional and material violation of any NCAA regulations that he should have had knowledge about.

CU leaders worried that Barnett could have sued CU for a lot more money than his contract said he's entitled to, perhaps up to $4 million. Administrators were mindful that former CU coach Rick Neuheisel won $4.5 million in a wrongful-termination lawsuit this year against the University of Washington, where he was the football coach.

If I were President of the University of Colorado, I would ski a lot more, be older, tell people to stop checking the weather channel for powder conditions and read some classic literature, and I would have fired this ass clown a year ago. Except then, he would have gotten his paycheck and some money for pain and suffering.

After one slick jerk (Rick Neuheisel) brings the NCAA watchdogs down on your football program, maybe it’s time to hire a complete angel, not Gary Barnett, whose Northwestern players were accused of a point-shaving scandal. And when your new coach is rumored to have sex parties for Colorado recruits—and while that happens all over the country, other schools aren’t so publicly found out—and follows up that scandal with multiple rape and sexual misconduct charges against both players and assistant coaches… that guy has to go.

From Neuheisel through Barnett, a timeline of poor behavior and no institutional control. The hits just keep on coming.

Quotables:

From last Thursday, pre-firing:

“We withstood every piece of scrutiny,” Barnett said Thursday. “We held our heads up high and came out of this thing clean.”

-Gary Barnett. Deluded.


At the top of my list of Gary Barnett affronts is his treatment of Katie Hnida, who came forward with allegations in response to three other women who levied charges against the Buffaloes. Former New Mexico player and first Division I-A female kicker Hnida kicked a few extra points and found herself subject to harassment after telling the media she’d been raped by a player. Barnett’s response:

"It's a guy's sport. (Players) felt like Katie was forced on them. It was obvious Katie was not very good. She was awful. You know what guys do? They respect your ability. You can be 90 years old, but if you can go out and play, they'll respect you. Katie was not only a girl, she was terrible. OK? There's no other way to say it."

-Gary Barnett. Bastard.


Katie kicked a few extra points later, at New Mexico, shown in the photo. Her timeline is here. There was no call for disparaging her like that. But Barnett needed to cover his tracks:


At 8:31 a.m., Barnett sends an e-mail to Tharp that read: "How aggressive shoould(sic) I be re; katie .... sexual conquests by her etc."

-Gary Barnett. Weasel.

Soon after there was a mention in the media that Hnida had gone topless with some of the guys in a hot tub. Hm.

An aside: there may also be a money issue; the firing may have been delayed by the lack of funds in the Colorado program to buy out Barnett’s contract, and from IRS audits of Barnett’s football camps for youth, where the money was never quite accounted for to the level of accounting standards.

Goodbye Pizza Pizza.

A week after September 11th, 2001, I was still in shock, of course. All of us were; it was hard to talk in general, and hard to talk about what happened. But there was a feeling that the world had to go on—people had to work, eat, breathe, try to watch something on television that had nothing to do with burning buildings and death outside your very own window.

I was gainfully unemployed, had recently moved back home, and wasn’t moving from my house. My phone was busy with reports about ash coming down over Eben’s house in Brooklyn, how Silver had to show ID to get into his neighborhood. There was a party still scheduled for the 22nd or so of the month, and I wanted to go support my friend Gurney and to just see people. I didn’t think I could do it; the pop it takes to get on a bus to a train just wasn’t there. But I wanted to see my friends, sit in silence, something, anything, that felt more normal.

Friends would ask why Major League Baseball would even play these games, as if they would leave money on the table. And I thought it would be cathartic and helpful to remind ourselves that there is a world beyond CNN and the ludicrous images of steel smoking and crumpling and rubble.

The first Met games were against the Pirates in Pitt, with moments for the dead in New York and in the field outside of Pittsburgh; the games were disturbingly low energy. One could almost a player to start crying, they all were so distracted. I couldn’t tell you what happened in the games, except it was gray and the waters outside of PNC Park looked dead like the stands and the atmosphere.
The Mets returned for a series against the Atlanta Braves. Baseball was becoming painful to watch, all waving flags and mediocre play, a reminder that the little joys might always be hard to come by. The Mets did their usual, falling behind by a run in a close game against the Braves, which is the natural order of the past 15 or so years. There was nothing to cheer for in Shea Stadium; like the rest of New York, there was a mausoleum feeling everywhere, taking momentary breaks for naked grief and anger.

In the 8th inning, the Mets got a man on base. I forget who. It wasn’t a pretty season; but Mike Piazza always did his best to keep the Mets in the game. The Braves’ closer would be up in the next inning; and that would soon be the first game. This was the best chance the Mets had, and with the hitters they had behind Piazza, well… this was their best chance.

I won’t play like I remember the pitcher. According to this blog, it was Steve Karsay who threw the pitch. The night was clear and the stars were out; Mike Piazza was the kind of hitter who could hit home runs on command. The pitch came down the pipe and was removed from the field of play with a ferocity even the television captured.

My God, that ball flew. Upwards. Upwards. There was no doubt. The cameras had it tracked, a white streak in a midnight blue sky, a gorgeous arc headed to the left field parking lot. My God.

The crowd erupted. They couldn’t stop. I was watching with my mother, and maybe a brother; I was speechless. Even now, tears come to my eyes, watching fans hugging each other for more than a moon shot home run. It was a sick, mammoth blast, the one pitchers think of when deciding whether to pitch another year or just go home. It was a come from behind victory against the hated Braves. It was the sound that wakes even the deepest sleeper from somnolence. It was a reminder that we can still cheer. We can still live our lives. We can still find joy. We can still harbor hope.


Post-script: I also remember Mike Piazza for:

• being a stand-up guy,
• never falling back on a lot of bull to explain his play;
• for hitting some balls that were almost a foot out of the strike zone out of the park, and the stupefied look of the pitcher watching the ball go;
• being a better catcher than people realize—he calls games well, blocks the plate effectively, even if he can’t throw out your grandmother.
• For carrying the Met squad for years.

I hope he latches on with the Twins and carries them to the post-season. Thank you Mike, come back and party anytime. New York will buy you lots of drinks.

One of my favorite throwback jerseys is from the Miami Floridians of the ABA and the Heat, having a whopping 15 years of history to draw on, and no throwback jerseys to market for extra cash money, are bringing them out. That’s Shaquille O’Neal, mugging for the camera in a Sun-Sentinel article. Here is some info on the original Floridians, and here is one of their promos:

On October 31, 1970, the Floridians home program advertised the team's next two home games. It didn't even mention the two ABA teams the Floridians were going to play. Instead, the program stated: "FREE PANTYHOSE--The Floridians return to the Convention Hall Thursday, Nov. 5, for Ladies Night, with pantyhose given away to the first 500 ladies through the turnstiles. The pantyhose are a regular $2 value, honey in color and sheer, stretch nylon that fit any size of women five-feet to five-feet, nine inches tall. Nothing extra to buy, women don't even need reserved seats. There are also other special surprises for the ladies. But come early. The next home game is -- Tuesday Nov. 10 : a basketball-boxing doubleheader. Buy a $5 ticket which allows you to walk to the adjacent Auditorium to see heavyweight Jimmy Ellis' first fight since his loss to Joe Frazier. It's a unique basketball-boxing doubleheader! The Ellis fight doesn't begin until the game ends."

Other Floridians promotions included these creative giveaways: live turkeys for Thanksgiving, 15 pounds of smoked fish (to one lucky fan!), 57 pounds of Irish potatoes (on "Irish Night," also to one lucky fan), 53 pumpkin pies, vats of gefilte fish, kegs of beer, ice cream, and ABA balls.