In the words of the great philosophe Dehbashi, "I couldn't be happier". Fox sent me on a paid leave of absence for posting some "controversial" content (not that there's anything wrong with soccer), and I come back to see that almost all is right with the world. Here's why:

1. The NFL Season fast approaches. The seven barren months are soon to be over.

Hell, even "Basketball Duds" did a piece on Quarterbacks. A fantastic piece by the way. A few clowns jumped in to throw salt in his game, but who cares? I loved it. I'll forgive a few errors for outstanding content anyday

Duds, that was ESPN page 2 stuff, all day long. Kudos my man!!!! Keep NGS hope alive!!!

2. The scumsucking, shitbox, #### in Atlanta is a few phone calls away from being a free agent that no team, except the CB4 All Stars, will touch.

I warned you guys. I hate to say I told you how it would go down, but I told you exactly how it would go down.

Now here's what happened/will happen (write this down Lisa, maybe you can steal something right for a change).

Arthur Blank returns from Africa, calls a very powerful attorney friend and asks that friend to call the US Attorney.

The powerful friend calls the Assistant US Attorney and asks him one question; "are you guys gonna put this kid away"? The AUSA says "look, the guy couldn't have been more  jailworthy if he sold videos of himself beating up old ladies in wheelchairs while they were getting chemotherapy. We're not only gonna put him in jail, we want to put him in jail and we have to put him in jail.

Powerful friend calls back Artie and says; "The kid is toast, and not because he's toast ####, either. He's going away.

Blank huddles with his PR people to deliver the news and get their spin. The PR guys say "Art, there is no spin, shed this punk like a bad $130mm habit. He's gonna make your team the most hated franchise in sports history. The only thing you should be thinking about is how you can get the government to freeze his assets so you can recover some of the money you burned."

Blank calls Roger Goodell and says, "I want to suspend the kid, okay?" Goody says "Unless you're suspending him by a rope from a tree, let me handle this. You guys sat on your #### long enough. Leave it to me and the Feds. You wanna have a Press Conference to save face, go ahead, it's good for the league. But I can't trust you to take appropriate action."

The NFL conducts an investigation and suspends Vick indefintely pending the results of the case.

Vick either takes a plea or continues to be a psychopath (thinks he's above the law) fights the charges and earns triple the jail time he would have gotten with the plea. Either way, he's gone for at least 2-3 seasons in the best case scenario. 2-3 seasons for the NFL's worst technical QB to get rusty, older and slower. Then, for giggles, he tries a comeback and finds few takers for an ex-con who wouldn't even take responsibility for his reprehensible conduct. If he's lucky, he ends up at RB in the CFL, where he belonged in the first place.

There is a God, and he's watching out for the defenseless ones. I feel like I won the lotto. 

 

3.  BALCO is running out of liars for Barry

Yes it's true, there are cracks in the Balco armor. It can only get better from here. My guess is that some AUSA has Barry's picture taped to his mirror, and is squeezing the #### out of every lowlife that ever so much as passed the BALCO labs, to get the drop on Mr. May. Granted, Barry isn't as stupid as Mike Vick (he never told his mistress his name was John Canada, at least) but he's still at least sociopathic (again, thinks he's above the law) and he has a few enemies.

I loved the fact that Schilling called him out, but I'm gonna love the fact that sooner or later, someone higher up inside BALCO is going to get his taxes audited and then have to choose whether he or Barry gets indicted. Guess who loses? I only hope it's the same day Bonds hits 754. Then, I'll wet myself laughing.

4. No more Kobe v. Shaq Christmas Day Games. Thank you David Stern. Kobe has done the impossible. He's managed to make the most gifted player in the game, for the first time, totally irrelevant. Yes, we can argue about the George Gervin's and Pete Maravich's of their time, but they never singlehandedly turned a 3-time championship team into a playoff wannabe. If anything, those guys were the lone stars on some bad teams, who wanted great players around them. Kobe had great players around him, but wanted to get rid of them so he could be the lone star. He got it and now the Lakers are a joke.

Meanwhile, Shaq is already preparing for his life after b-ball. He's helping fat kids get thin in the offseason, now that's irony. But we have to face facts. D-Wade is the leading man in Miami. Shaq may stil be the most accounted for player in the NBA, but he's no longer the most dominant. I'm looking forward to seeing LeBron and Dwade on Santa's day. That's a pretty nice gift compared to an aging superstar and a perpetually petulant pisspot primadonna.

5. The Missing Link is gone!!! Long Live Mike Tomlin!!!

It took 15 years of suffering to get rid of the rotting berry of the Schotty Bush and replace him with the glowing, intellectual fruit of the Noll Tree. I almost don't care how we do in Pittsburgh this year,  (okay that's stupid) but I will suffer some growing pains with an intelligent, teaching coach, rather than flame out in January because an overpaid, overly-ugly cheerleader had no clue how to get a team ready for a big game.

I'm not jumping the gun on Tomlin, but I think he's in a great position to succeed with a franchise QB (with a full season to recover from his trauma), some gifted young players and a handful of vets to tie over the transition. I was disappointed that he didn't  junk Cowher's 52 (Okie) defense. But looking back it's the right move (personnel-wise) for at least this year. All in all the guy impresses me.

Now let the games begin.  Oh, and by the way, tell them that the streets belong to the Batman.

 

Recognize the photo?

I can't help but be reminded of Miles Davis later in his career, offering tutelage (as much as Miles could be accused of tutoring) to a student on the vicissitudes on Jazz. Miles turned to the sprout and said;

"Now listen to this"  Miles said, drew the trumpet as if to blow, and then sat silently for a few minutes. The student grew impatient with the silence and finally burst out "But you're not playing anything!" Miles responded, in his typical gravelly, near whisper, "Yeah, that's Jazz kid, it's all about the notes you don't play".

I've long been a huge fan of music, and a lover of what I call the "new classical music", Jazz. The fact is, you can't swing a dead cat in a Jazz discussion and not hit someone talking about Miles. That's his legacy. Undeniable greatness.

In that way Miles is like Michael Jordan. Even those that hated Jordan, can not deny him. But Davis in knowledgeable circles, is said to have had two careers. The Miles that played a lot of notes and the Miles that played fewer notes. We see this often in Jazz artists, they realize that their musical impact is actually increased with interstitial silence, the notes they don't play.

For Michael, the shots he didn't take helped him become an undeniable great. Because the shots you don't take leave the defense guessing. It's that fraction of a second's defensive uncertainty, that creates opportunity.

Are you listening Kobe? If you ever want to be "the" guy, there has to be at least the slightest chance that you'll give up the rock, not matter what, no matter when. It's that moment of uncertainty that will force the D to guard other people, or (I know it frightens you) let them them make a shot. You don't have games where you decide to be the assist man, because the media cracked on you for lofting 45 shots the night before, and you don't have entire stretches where you run the court and square up as though it's one-on-five.

That's why KG doesn't want to play with you Kobe. That's why nobody's screaming "trade me to the Lakers". For you, it's still about the shots you don't, don't take.

A few years from now, Barry Bonds will be a baseball memory, and will begin making the headlines for another reason. Barry will be breaking down in the public eye, displaying the frailty and weakness he's sold his soul to fend off. He'll be in a wheelchair, awaiting a knee or hip transplant. Or he'll be in a hospital bed, awaiting a tumor removal. Maybe he'll remind us of Lyle Alzado, dying from cancer, traveling the country lecturing on the evils of steroids.

Nah, Barry will never have the courage to admit he was a cheat. But his body will do that for him. Because you can't deny father time. Aging is like an annuity,  You either get your obsolence gradually, or sell out for one lump sum.

That's why I've laid off arguing over Baroids. Soon enough, the truth of this farce will be seen in the light of day. Short of disappearing like Greta Garbo, Bonds choice will be "clear" to all of us. And his suffering will be punishment enough. So leave him be. That's the best punishment for Bonds anyway. It was always about "negative press is better than no press at all" for him.

For Barry, it's always been about the shots he didn't, didn't take.

Unfortunatley for Bonds, he never had Shaquille O'Neal on his team. So he doesn't even have the jewelry Kobe has.

It's too late for Bonds, he's gonna die ugly, likely with no compassion from the folks he chose to disrespect and defraud. But it may not be too late for Kobe; at least to become a better round-baller, that is. He may still have a chance to prove that he's a championship caliber player, without Shaq to distract the D.

Funny, isn't it?, Art (in this case the art of Jazz) really does imitate life, or is it life that imitates art? The shots you don't take can make you, and the shots you do take just might kill you.

More news as Barry develops . . . . .

 

It's impossible to forget the day OJ pulled out his greatest upset victory, an 11-1 jury-rig over his bumbling opponent, the LAPD. Up until then, the best he had done was to rush for 2,000 yards in one season of a career that had long passed him by. But that clearly wasn't stopping the Juice from one more run at the record books. He now had the record for most grisly and obvious double-slaughter committed without being prosecuted.

What really sticks in my mind though, is not the fact that there won't be enough firewood in hell to fill the woodstove they're saving for OJ. It's the reaction I witnessed when the verdict came out. I was standing near a group of young black men, when one received a call on his cell phone. He conveyed the message to his group and literally jumped for joy. "We won" they yelled. "We won". I looked at them quizzically. What had they won? A double murderer worked an imperfect system of jurisprudence and walked away free. I didn't see any money fall into their hands, I didn't see their bosses run out and give them promotions, I didn't see any of them getting a get out of jail (but not for) free card. OJ's life was changed that day. Their lives, but for a sickening celebration of a double murderer, were identical. They didn't get it. In the single most vile demonstration I had ever witnessed, it was clear just how desperate they were to spew their internal ugliness. I turned to them and said, "We won, are you guys crazy? He won, he's still rich (at least for the moment he was) and you're still poor. There's no we, OJ just became black again today. He hasn't been black for 30 years". It was so sad. Because like many blacks, they were so desperate for a crumb's worth of special treatment,  they'd even tie themselves to a hero who had long ago forsaken them. OJ killed his white x-wife, he had a white girlfriend, lived in one of the richest, predominantly white neighborhoods in America, and the closest he came to a black friend after football was an Armenian. OJ dated, married, befriended, lived and riased his children in exclusively rich/white circles. But all of a sudden, when he flipped and decided to kill a few people and make the slow roll to Mexico, he called upon his leftover black friend to help. All of a sudden when his #### was being fitted for an electric chair, he hired a #### of a black mouthpiece to play the race card in court.

 All of a sudden, because it was his last best hope to get away with murder, OJ was a brother to all the black folks from which he worked so hard to distance himself.  So here's what the young brothers didn't get.  He used them. He won and they lost. OJ not only despised their and his blackness so much that he dedicated his life to escaping it, he had just drawn the color line back to black in order to get away with murder. This served them how? Do poor blacks, or blacks in general, now escape criminal conviction more frequently? No. Did OJ's “triumphant” dash from a jail cell elevate the social standing of blacks? No. Did anything change for anyone other than OJ on that day? No.

He used you, bruthas. He didn't want you before he was a murderer, and he doesn't need you now that the trial is over. Yet you were stupid enough to think you won something. The sad fact, for all you celebrants, is that OJ's "victory" was not blacks winning out over whites, it was rich folk winning out over po' folk. OJ didn't beat the system because he was black, he just had enough money to burn multi-millions throwing every possible curveball at the justice system, one of which was the race ball. Besides, all of the late rapper Johnnie (J-Dog) Cochran's theatrics would have been wasted if not for Barry Schecks ability to befuddle the jury with DNA speak. Yet blacks were and still are so blinded by their hatred as to embrace a felled hero who despised his own and their skin color. And we see it repeatedly. It's present in the blatant racism of scrambling to defend Michael Vick when he obviously has committed a handful of felonies, aside from being a mentally-challenged throwback to the gene pool. We see it in the rush of posters like De (the swinging Dragon) moronicume, wasting endless, thinly-veiled,  I hate whitey rhetoric, to defend gutter-trash like Adam Jones on the heels of his 16th criminal investigation. We see it in Ultra-mega's pretzel logic where using a laminated bat for part of one season is every bit as performance enhancing as twelve years of steroids. In the "Dragon's" case though, he's crapping his pants, because the Feds are jumping in. The cases are gonna be handled effectively, the perps won't be walking anywhere but the prison yard, and he'll have to get an earth mover to cover the truth in ####, instead of the thin layer he usually produces. But party on bruthas. As Rick James said, '"cocaine is a helluva drug". You can get high all you want on the idea that black folks are getting "even" by throwing piles of money at an imperfect system. You can rush to make all the twisted excuses in the universe for a cast of characters like OJ that can't get away from you fast enough, You can shill to rich punks like Kobe and Barry who know less about being black than I do. You can even ride the tails of devils like Vick and Jones who only serve to disgrace and reinforce negative stereotypes about blacks. You can think that you have something in common with those guys, because you pull the "blame whitey" card.

 

 

 

But it doesn't work my brutha's. Having millions of dollars to pay to white lawyers is what gets you a free pass to rape, murder or commit whatever crime you choose to perpetrate. Whether it's the most egregious in nature or just the stupidest (see McNair, Steve).

 

In the meantime, consider that in your rush to bask in the limelight of the folks who use color as a tool to perpetrate, they're using you.  And your willingness to blindly support them regardless of their blatant and obvious malfeasance smacks of the same collusion we saw in the 50's and 60's when Billy Bob lynched your grandpa and Jimmy Ray swore on the stand that he was innocent. Racism, my brutha's, clearly is not just for whitey anymore. The #### is going to have to yield to the BBB (Black Brutha Brigade). But you've been duped, duped in the worst way for the worst possible reason, by distant cousins who only need you when they need to get out of trouble.

 

So now tell me what you've won, again. Or have you merely become what you beheld?  

Long before Stu Scott copped his act and began to spew ebonically laced interjections into sportscasts, long before the Notorious WES jacked Biggie Smalls’ handle and used every post as an excuse to blither ugly, illiterate racism, there was a writer. He was also black. He was the guy who brought urban vernacular to our consciousness, but was every bit as likely to cite Descartes as he was able to cite da' street. He was the guy who discussed race from the black man's point of view, with candor but without bias. He was a writer who chose to write about sports; a guy who wasn’t afraid of the consequences of telling the truth, but rather, afraid of the consequences of not telling the truth.

Years back, I was just scanning the ESPN site for something to read when I started reading R-dub.  It began a real love-hate relationship. Ralph Wiley infuriated me every bit as much as he educated me; his columns frequently left me enervated, frustrated and often enraged. But no matter how much he angered me, there were three things about Wiley that I couldn’t deny, three things that made me anticipate his column more than any other writer. R-dub was real. R-dub knew his #### R-dub could write. Just like the best players in the game he most loved, Ralph brought his game straight on, no half-steppin’.  

I wish I could do what he did, but I’m not that good. Few are ever that good. The fact was, like Chuck D and Public Enemy, whether you loved Wiley or you hated him you damn well should listen to what he had to say. There was truth in Ralph Wiley. The power of his ability communicate made every column an intellectual event.  That’s why the Stu Scott’s of the world are such a disappointment. It’s like watching Martin Lawrence follow Richard Pryor. Pryor was a genius; Lawrence is a chimpanzee minus the organ grinder.

So when days like yesterday come around, I try to put aside my obvious disdain for guys like Barry Bonds. Then I ask myself, what would Ralph Wiley say? Maybe it would go a little something like this.

B-Bonds was not indicted today. The Fed-Machine said “not yet”, today. Bonds’ fans all over the country can rest easy, at least for now. Barry’s biggest fan, Barry, can get back to the business of hobbling around on his crumbling knees and jacking chemically fortified bombs. Until the next grand jury convenes, that is.

Bonds may think he’s dodged the bullet, and maybe he has. Maybe his trainer will get used to being held in the tank every time the man comes calling, Maybe he’ll get used to the government seizing his tax records, threatening his family and friends, and practicing amateur proctology on anyone close to him who won’t come to the witness stand when called.  And maybe, just maybe the Feds will drop everything because there’s no tree left to shake.

And maybe they won’t.

Maybe the idea of catching this big fish is more tantalizing than even Bonds thinks it is. This is one space where Barry’s ego could serve him well, but probably won’t. Because what Barry doesn’t know about the federal legal system, because he never really was black, is that prosecutors make their livelihoods out of high-profile takedowns, and there are few higher profiles than a recording breaking, multimillionaire black athlete who has been cheating his way to infamy and thumbing his nose at the sport and the fans for years now. The Feds never got a crack at OJ, or he’d be on his last appeals by now. But they could put Bonds in jail and knock him out of the Hall of Fame in one fell swoop. Now that’s a real twin killing.

What Barry doesn’t realize, at least not for the right reasons, is that right now some Federal Prosecutor has his baseball card taped to his mirror. He gets up every morning and looks at that picture. It means two things, an immediate promotion and the not too far off, highest-possible profile opportunity to flip his script and start defending the lawbreakers he once persecuted and prosecuted for huge dinero.

Here’s another small detail that should have Barry resting not so easy, the Feds have all the time in the world and all of our money. OJ was lucky. He was wrestling with state cops, sloppy, overworked state and locals strapped for resources and cash. Trying to compare the Feds to the State is like comparing Jacobs Field to Trenton Wildcats stadium. It’s a whole different ballgame.

You also can’t deny the racial element. Some folks just weren’t ready to see a black guy break the Babe’s record. Even though Henry Aaron already broke the record, many had locked into the “1,000 more at bats” argument and dismissed Aaron long ago. Those folks, and probably a few are in law enforcement, would love to see Barry take the fall. And then there are the baseball purists, the fans who can’t stand the fact that Bonds chemically enhanced himself from a just above average, 25-30 HR guy, to a 716 HR, ball crusher. Or maybe that prosecutor is a displaced Yanks fan, you never know. One thing’s for sure, the establishment doesn’t know or accept the fact that Bonds has as much in common with regular black folk, as Celtics fans have with Lakers fans. Bonds grew up in wealthy white suburbs, went to the best schools, never knew a day on welfare or saw so much as a window air conditioner, much less lived in a tenement without AC. They just know that he has black skin; he’s a wife beater, a tax cheat and a steroid user extraordinaire. They know that what was once America’s favorite past time is sporting a huge black eye, and Barry the big black fist that put it there.

So Barry should be spending some of that monster pile of cash he’s accumulated over the last 20 seasons on some forward thinking ex-prosecutors/defense attorneys. He should be lying awake thinking that the guys who have their sights locked onto him don’t buy his act. They know better than to think he never really cared about what the fans thought. They know that Bonds so desired a place in the game and the hearts of fans that he injected himself countless times with dangerous chemicals. As pathetic and desperate as most criminals, the second best athlete in the Bonds family built his legend on injections, injections that have already begun to lay waste to his once freakishly powerful physique.  But the same injections that took him from just clearing the fences in 1994, to leaving the ballpark in 1998 will be no help against the guys with the real muscle. What Barry doesn’t know, but he will soon learn, is that steroids only make one strong enough, chemically enhanced or not, to thumb his nose at the fans and media. Athlete’s do that all the time. But that wasn’t enough for Barry; he had to #### on America’s past, past time, writ large. Now he’s got the big machine mad at him. And there is no steroid that has proven to enhance one’s resistance to federal prosecution. The fact is, once the Feds come for you, it’s not a matter of if; it’s just a case of when.

 

Dedicated to the memory of Ralph Wiley

It started happening a few years back. Cars named after birds or cities or pointy things just weren’t exciting enough anymore. Even with some nice changes in sheet metal, “noun” cars weren’t generating the heat they used to generate.  Names like Chevy’s Camaro, Chrysler’s Caravan, Ford’s Escort, Cadillac’s Coup DeVille, Pontiac’s Grand (insert name here), Nissan’s Sentra and Mazda’s Miata were sent to the bone yard for some silly sounding replacements. Now we have the Dodge Intrepid, the Ford Focus, the Chevy Cobalt, the Nissan Altima, the Toyota Prius, and wait we still have the Miata. Saving the Miata, though, is a lot like sinking a ship full of gold coins and being able to recover the sea rations.

It’s bad enough to have to deal with all this car name silliness, but it gets worse. A few times each year the average guy, aka you and me, is forced to watch the athlete of the moment drive off with an MVP award and a new “insert luxury manufacturer name here” SUV. Even with the silly names, we can’t have one, at least not yet anyway.

If I had my way, I’d not only name the new vehicles but I’d also pick the athletes to drive them. After all, who is more likely to buy new cars than today’s highly paid athlete. So I thought it might be fun to share my new car names and the jocks who should pilot them.

The VW Virgin-From the company that partnered with Porsche to make an SUV and then named it the Toe-Rag, we get the Virgin. It’s the first logical name for a VW since the Rabbit. After all, maybe people who drive VW’s aren’t all virgins, but they sure look like they should be.

Who drives a Virgin? Shawn Bradley, that’s who. The guy has a wife and kids and still manages to look like he couldn’t score if he was shooting point blank into an open net.

The Pontiac Pout-Named for its stiff maneuvers and sluggish behavior, the Pout is the choice of athletes who don’t get the ball as much as they want it. Who drives a Pout? No, not TO, but you're close. Long before TO was wrecking chemistry like a 12 year old with a flask and a Bunsen burner, Keyshawn Johnson made MeShawn a household name. Besides, TO doesn’t pout. TO is way too vocal for that. That’s why he drives a . . . . . . . .

Toyota Tantrum-The Tantrum combines 4 wheel, shift on the whine, drive a roaring DOHC 8 cylinder engine, and six-speed automatic transmission to make petulant protestations as easy as a Sunday drive. Plus, there’s a 3^rd seat standard for those full on thrashers.

The Dodge Debacle-The debacle is the gold standard in headroom, legroom, billowy upholstery, road isolation, and a ride that feels so smooth, you almost forget that you were a few minutes from a crushing 3-0 lead over the Miami Heat when your team quit on you. You got it. Dirk Nowitzki drives a debacle.

Infiniti Temporary-The Temporary (pardon the pun) is made for the man who wants people to know that he’s arrived, but that he might not be staying. Everything’s standard with the Temporary. Even your first three license plate transfers and conversion to NY or California emissions when your deal runs out, or LA finally gets smart and unloads Kobe, is included in the sticker.

LeBron James drives a Temporary, Carmelo Anthony drives a Temporary. Heck, Dwyane Wade is thinking about a Temporary, depending on how much Shaq weighs next preseason. 

Nissan Notquite-The Notquite is an intriguing ride. It’s not quite a Honda or Toyota, but then again it’s not quite a Chevy or Ford either. Who else but Albert Pujols would drive the Notquite? He could hit 75 homers, never even think about steroids and still be not quite as beloved as Mark McGwire in St. Louis. And it's notquite ready, so here's a peek.

 

Chrysler Crybaby-Chrysler’s partnership with Mercedes has yielded some excellent upgrades but none as wonderful as this. The Crybaby is the first vehicle ever to be soundproofed from the inside. But don’t look for one anytime soon, this luxury sedan is available only in limited release and only for sale to Seattle Seahawk coaches and fans.

 

Honda Fonda- For every aging superstar who just refuses to go gentle into that good night, the Fonda is the ride of choice for the star who thinks he’s got one more “On Golden Pond” season in him before he flames out altogether.

The Fonda is luxuriously equipped with power assisted everything (for those weak, achy joints), a six-cylinder turbocharged engine whose turbocharger doesn’t quite engage like it used to, and dual wheezing exhaust pipes. Who drives a Fonda? Roger Clemens? No. Shaquille O’Neal? No. Is there any athlete out there more qualified to be in Honda than Mark Brunell? Yes, Kurt Warner.

Porsche Chokester-The Chokester is the best that powerful, sleek, sporty underperformance has to offer. ESPN's favorite son is not all aesthetics though. With a 0-60mph run of never, the Chokester clocks the first 50mph in just less than 4 seconds and hits a screaming, bone jarring stall before the finish.

The Chokester is the car of choice for all those rich New England preppies and roughneck hills of Pittsburgh fans as well, because as long as Peyton Manning is driving a Chokester, January is gonna be a great month.

Jaguar X-Wife 3- At a base price just under $40K, and free maintenance for the life of the car, the X-Wife 3 spells affordable luxury for all those aging jocks who crossed the altar more frequently than the championship finish line that would have made all those alimony payments manageable.  True, it looks more like a Buick than Jag, and it drives more like a Ford than the legendary classic, but at least it has the cat on the hood and that’s something.

Who drives the X-Wife 3? That guy who married Tawny Kitaen, whatever his name is? I think it was Chuck Finley.

 

 

Ford Frustration-Like the Chrysler Crybaby, the Ford Frustration is not available to most of us. Ford’s answer to Lamborghini and Ferrari is powered by a 12 cyl, dohc, 450 hp rocket. With a 6 speed manual transmission and Lotus suspension, The Frustration is  the perfect ride for those who want a quick suicide run to end to the “I just can’t take losing anymore” blues. So you can’t have one unless you’ve done yeoman service for a perennial loser or bridesmaid.

Who drives the Frustration? Bill Cowher was lucky enough to cancel his order last February, but Marty Schottenheimer already has two. 

Cadillac CrackDealer-Simply put, it’s the most tricked out, pimped-up, bling-blinged, dropped down ride in the bizzizzness. The CrackDealer doesn’t just have rims, it has gold rims with platinum rims on its rims. DirecTV is standard, with eight headrest and two ceiling mounted flat screen monitors. This Caddy not only has heated leather seats, it has cooled leather seats for those potentially sticky summer exits.  And just when you thought #### fab couldn’t get more fab, just press down and slide out those front and rear dual Cristal Holders. As one owner (name withheld due to probation) said, “####’s got a dashboard microwave and a DJ in the back”.

And the great news is, you don’t have to be a crack dealer to drive one, you just have to look like a crack dealer. He drives, rather is driven, in a Bentley, but come on Allen Iverson, you know you want one. With a rap sheet like this, is there any other car for you?

 

Allen Iverson

Criminal trespass, felony, two counts

Criminal conspiracy, felony, one count

Violation of the Uniform Firearms Act, felony, one count

Violation of the Uniform Firearms Act, misdemeanor, one count

Simple assault, misdemeanor, two counts

Terroristic threats, misdemeanor, two counts

Unlawful restraint, misdemeanor, two counts

False imprisonment, misdemeanor, two counts

Possession of an instrument of crime, misdemeanor, one count

 

Chevy Cheeseburger- The motto for this ride has to be “It’s about time”. It’s about time that the manufacturer that gives away mediocre cars like Famous Amos sells chocolate chip cookies just caved in and used an equally generic name for their rides. The CB will be as ambiguous and omnipresent as every Chevy before it. But soon this vehicle will be the heartbeat of American mediocrity. Why? Well there’s nothing very good about it, and it still enlists the 1980’s rehash of 1970’s Chevy technology, but who doesn’t want a cheeseburger?

For every mediocre baseball player who couldn’t cross the Mendoza line, for every 11^th guy on an NBA roster, for all the 53^rd guys on NFL rosters, there’s a Cheeseburger. And for those guys who actually got into the game there’s an upgrade coming. Chevy’s Z-44 Bacon Cheeseburger is due out in ’07.

Lexus Loafer-Lexus has finally forsaken its numbers and letters for the new flagship, the king-sized, luxury line Loafer. For every player who has ever taken a play, a series, a game or even a season off, the Loafer will get them where they’re going, if they even care where they’re going since they went in the tank a long time ago.

It’s no CrackDealer, the Loafer takes refined luxury to new heights. With its “navigation to nowhere” GPS, and soothing environmental sound system, the Loafer leads its passengers on peaceful, seemingly endless journey through seasons of discontent. Finally, a car for Randy Moss.

BMW 760 ME- This car was simply made for one man. No really, one NBA player had his agent contact BMW because he loves the upwardly mobile legacy of BMW but felt the driver customization options of the I-drive system were way too flexible any car he was driving. The answer, BMW redesigned a whole series just for Kobe Bryant.

The 760 ME, won’t let you adjust your seats, your mirrors, your climate control, your stereo stations, or anything else for that matter. And it only lets you leave your hotel under the cover of darkness. You drive it like Kobe drives it, or not at all. Of course Jerry Buss and Mitch Kupchak already have one, even though Buss’ sits in the garage because he can’t reach the pedals. But Phil Jackson? Well he’s rumored to have one, but we’ll see if he’s actually driving it in the next couple of years.

Land Rover Roid-Rage-Did we save the best (or worst) for last. For years, Rover has staked a claim on the most overpriced SUV in the game. And Rover doesn’t care if it misses out on the new money, the up and comers, and the ghettofabulous market. They just keep making the same bland, boring, underpowered dinosaurs, and selling them to too rich, but unpretentious upper-middle Americans, based on the fact that their cars really can go anywhere safely. But that’s all about to change.The car maker that doesn’t need you, want you or care about you is finally peddling to someone.  Anabolicly altered athletes will soon be slamming themselves into the front seats of Rovers everywhere. With its super tempered punch proof  window glass, anger sensitive gas pedal governor, and anti-ram brakes, the Roid Rage hedges its bets that back acne covered, puffy joweled, pulsing neck veined home-run hitters will see that it pays for itself many times over in personal injury lawsuit savings alone.

Mark McGwire doesn’t have one. He’s lost 75lbs for some strange reason and is too weak to drive a Roid-Rage now. Jose Canseco? No. He can’t afford the $400k price tag, so he’s driving the Jaguar X-Wife 3. Rafael Palmiero? No. He drives the new Hummer #### (insert Viagra joke here). But Barry Bonds is the perfect fit for the Roid-Rage. The guy who doesn’t need, want or care about the fans is perfectly aligned with the car maker who doesn’t need, want or care about us either. And the good news is, even though he’s going to be spending millions to keep from hitting 715 HR’s for his cell-block softball team, Bonds has been making so much money for so long that he can afford more legal fees than OJ and Kobe combined and still drive a Roid-Rage, when he gets out at least. 

Of course I’m just scratching the surface here. I never even got to the Hummer, or the Lamborghini’s, Lotuses and Ferrari’s of the world. But there’s always another blog, and there are new superstars and car models being made every day. As you hear so often in sports, we'll get 'em next year.

That's the saying that Phil "Scooter" Rizzuto made famous when I was a kid listening to Yankee game broadcasts. It's also what I said when I heard that Roger Clemens just got $12.6 million to pitch for 70% of a season for Houston. $12.6 million. Incredible.

The Rocket is 43 years old. When I'm 43, I just hope and pray that someone will pay me 12.6 dollars; to do anything. Granted, I make a living, but the most attractive figure in my bank account is a positive balance. When you think about it, the fact that Clemens makes that kind of money after 20 years in the show is pretty phenomenal. And he doesn't need Jesse Jackson telling everyone his u-reen tests come out clean, either. Roger Clemens is a hoss'.  I don't know if I'd pay anyone $12.6 million for 2/3 of a season, or even a full season for that matter. But baseball says it's okay, so it must be okay. What I do know is that if any pitcher has earned that kind of dough for long term excellence, it's Clemens. At one time, I though Greg Maddux might last forever too, but he isn't making $12 million anymore, and he isn't that good anymore, either.  Maybe Curt Schilling? Nah, Schilling took a while to get his act together, ironically enough after talking with Clemens during an all-star break.

Greg Maddux, by the way did win #324 last night. He left after a rain delay because his wheelchair started to rust. Maddux is 4-0 in five starts in Wrigley this year. It's a shame the Cubs play road games, or they might have something there.

Jayson Stark of ESPN tells us that the reason no one cares about Bonds 715th chemically catalyzed blast, is because people don't care about records anymore. I guess Stark was in a coma the year McGwire and Sosa vied for Maris' record. I still remember #s 62, 63 and 7o for BigJuice, and #63 for Shammin' Sammy. Stark contends that it's not just because of the public's disdain for Bonds that "no one outside of the 415 area code even clapped".

Come on Jason, people don't care because they despise Bonds. The only record Bonds has really broken is the one for evading drug suspensions. The fans know it. You don't become a 64% bettter HR hitter after 30, unless you have more needles in your #### than a porcupine has quills.

But what a nice gesture by Albert PooHoles, to support Barry. This means one of two things.

1. PooHoles is not using the juice, so when he breaks the record he knows the fans will be 100% behind him.

2. PooHoles is using the juice, so the last thing he wants to do is create problems for himself like BigQuack, and Scammin' Sammy did.

Personally, I really hope that PooHoles is clean. I'd like nothing more than to see someone hit 62 for real. Maris was a good ball player, and he had one great and a few very good seasons. But you want the HR king to be a hard core slugger, not a guy who remained hot for a year. By the way, credit to Bill Simmons for the "PooHoles" moniker. Once again, Simmons proves his sports and comedic genius at the same time.

The Royals just fired their GM. So what. Maybe if they could fire their owner and home city they'd have a chance at fielding a decent team. Meanwhile, my other small market favorite, Pittsburgh continues to struggle. The Pirates would be smart to schedule 3rd or 4th year trades for their talented players (Jason Bay, Jack Wilson, etc.) now, that way they'd at least get something for being MLB's farm team.

Dwight Gooden says he'd rather get shot than go back to the hoosegow. It's hard not to laugh about this because it really makes me want to cry. Someone needs to tell Gooden the secret to staying out of prison is not breaking the law. He must have been sick the day they told the boys that in reform school. But how gut wrenching is it to watch an absolute superstar decompensate under the pull of a drug addiction? Gooden had the best year since the legendary Bob Gibson. True, he wasn't Gibson (only Gibson was Gibson) but he was really good. My advice to Doc, use your own gun, shoot yourself but just graze your leg and then put your striped outfit back on. Getting shot is not a get out of jail free card.

With only 70% of the 162 game baseball supermegadoublepentathlon left, ESPN's Power rankings have the Pale Sox at 1, The Tigers at 2 and the Cards at 3. They really have power rankings for this. They really do. I swear. I would have known last weeks ranking, but I was busy studying the NCAA Women's Curling off-season power rankings last week. I wish I could have been a fly on the wall at ESPN when one guy stood up and said; "Come on, we're just doin' this so we can say we did this".

But hey, it's not all bad. I was watching the Red Sox-Blue Jays game last night, and it came to me. "Hey, some of those guys are pretty big. They could play sports if they wanted to."  Strap yourselves in folks, it's a long ride to Football season.

Barry "Junk" Bonds fans are nearing a special moment for themselves and most importantly, Barry. One Bonds fan seemed to take delight in the idea that Barry would eclipse Babe's legend. As pathetic as that sentiment seemed, it got me thinking. After all is said and done, what did Bonds really accomplish? Does he deserve the acclaim that Ruth achieved? How does Bonds' performance really stack up to the Bambino? So I ran some numbers.

Have you seen this man? Missing since 1993.

In 20 seasons, Barry Bonds is a career 300 hitter. He averages 35.4 home runs per season and 92.65 RBI's (based on 136 games played per season average) and 7.7% of his AB's produced a HR. His on base % is .4389 and slugging % is .62165. Very respectable numbers, to say the least. This is all per Baseball Reference.com.

Babe played 22 seasons, but 5 were as a Pitcher, so I redacted them. Babe's numbers for 17 seasons as an everyday player: 41 HR's and 124 RBI's per (132 game average) season, .353 BA, .487 on base %, .663 Slugging %. 11.1% of his AB's produced a HR. Again, all per baseball reference.com.

Please note that these stats only take Bonds up to Homer #708, but that it's a little late in the game to change the landscape very much for Barry, regardless of what he does from here on in.

In simple terms, over their everyday playing careers, Babe is a 13% better HR hitter, a 26% better RBI man, a 15% better hitter for average, 10% better at getting on base and a 6.3% better average slugger. Bonds did embarass him for stolen bases though, 20 SB's per season to 7 for the Bam. But can you believe that Babe attempted 355 steals in 17 seasons to Bonds 396 in 20 seasons? Babe actually ran 20.88 times per season to Bonds 20.18. Talk about a glutton for hot dogs and punishment.

So the facts are what they are. Bonds is inferior to the Babe in every hitting category.

Now, just for kicks, I asked myself, what if both players had 20 seasons to ply their hitting trade. The record everyone is watching changes. Babe's home run total jumps to 817. (yes, I subtracted the homers from his first five seasons as a pitcher, then added 3 seasons at 41 HR's per season).

But wait, there's more. What if I created an imaginary scenario where Babe's trainer gives him some supplements and flaxseed oil that create tremendous improvements for the latter 65% of his career. Since I only had one example of a player who had such a miraculous career changing event, I applied these changes:

Bonds BA in Pitt: .274, his BA in SF .315 a 15% jump.

Bonds HR's/SEA. in Pitt, 25, In SF 41, a 64% increase.

Bonds RBI/SEA in Pitt 79, in SF 100, a 26% boost.

Bonds OBA In Pitt, .379, In SF .471, a 24% leap.

Bonds Slugging % in Pitt, .504, in SF.685, a 28% lift.

Here's what it looks like for Babe if I apply those numbers to the last 13 seasons of a 20 year, full time career. I'll just focus on the biggest items:

Babe finishes with 968 HR's to Bonds 708 averaging 48 round trips per season to Bonds 35 (37% more HR's) and knocks in an average of 150 RBI's per season (even breaking 200 ribbies 3 times) to Bonds' 92, a whopping 63% increase. I won't even discuss slugging % because then it's just humiliating.

Give Ruth the same 20-year, full-time career and Bonds has a long way to go to creep close to the Babe . It's a journey he wouldn't make at his age and current health. Giving Ruth the same devices (injections, oils and creams), It quickly becomes a laugher. Bonds would have to play 30 years to "pass" the Babe.  Based on the obvious effects of steriod abuse Bonds is already showing, he'll be getting his knee replaced in ten years, not swinging a bat.

So let's try to be clear about this once and for all. Bonds may have more HR's when it's all said and done, and that's okay. But when you break down a meaningful comparison between the two hitters, Bonds is better at one thing, base stealing. Ruth crushes Bonds like he crushed baseballs.

So there you have it, folks. It isn't close (even when Bonds gets all the advantages of cheating), but if Ruth had been a fraud too, then it's a stone runanway. Barry isn't passing the Babe, the two aren't linked in lore. The stink of Bonds' career is more closely tied to passing gas.

Enough is enough.

I've read some insane remarks in my time. This week even featured a note about how Babe Ruth's using a lacquered bat was tantamount to Barry Bonds juicing. That's one of those statements that leaves you wondering whether to laugh of cry, so you do a little of both.

But the coup de grace was a note stating (in essence) that Bonds fraud was excusable because Ruth's era was subject to the "whites only" rule. It's the geometric extension of Dayn Perry's ridiculous effort to #### on the Bambino's grave a week ago.

It's time to put the card away. Forget about the fact that it wasn't Ruth's choice to segregate blacks from baseball but it was Bonds' choice to turn himself into a 35 year-old man-child. Forget about the fact that Bonds benefits from superior nutrition, training, medicine, illegal drugs and the thinnest pitching talent pool in baseball history. Forget about asking yourself how many homers Babe would have hit had he stuck the needle in his #### (I'm guessing 1,157).  Forget about the dead ball rhetoric, forget about the bigger strike zone, forget about all the #### we try to calculate when we helplessly try to compare one era's stars versus another.

I've been waiting by the way, for a few years now, to hear Chris Berman (sack up and) just once say, "another gargantuan blast from Barry "Junk" Bonds". Never gonna happen.

What really grinds my gears is the petulant waging of an ongoing battle in the one arena where it least belongs. Professional sports have, perhaps more than any other profession, extended equal opportunity to Blacks, Latinos, Asians and other minorities. Blacks and Latinos especially are disproportionatley represented in baseball. You won't hear me screaming that we need affirmative action so that 75% of all baseball players are white. I could care less about what the demographics are. Put the best players on the field. I'm no more in favor of reversism than I am racism. The fact is though, it's not the white man's hand that's flipping the switches in baseball, it's the invisible hand (thank you Mr. Friedman) that runs the show.  Baseball agrees with me on that one.

But the desperate are desperate, so they'll immediately pipe up to say that there aren't enough black executives, owners, journalists etc. I know this isn't going to sit well, but maybe that's the order of things right now. If blacks really want those spots, they'll get them. I guess the race baiters will only be happy when the population distribution in ownership and administration is as upside down as it is for the athletes. But again, if it makes a better product, so be it. Now, back to my rant. . . . .

I'm tired of hearing excuse after excuse for underperformance, misdeeds and even get rich slow litigiousness, in the name of suffering ancestors. The grandparents, and many of the parents of the whiners are long gone. The children and grandchildren have no understanding or even a concept of their forefather's suffering, and even if they did it wouldn't make an acceptable case to perpetrate a fraud.  My wife has Armenian heritage, she has yet to show up late for work and blame the Turks and the Armenian genocide. I have plenty of Jewish friends, none of whom use the Holocaust to get out of speeding tickets. So while I take the disgrace of slavery in America seriously, as seriously as any other of man's inhumanities to man, it is not a get out of jail fee card, it does not equal any special rights or privileges to the descendants of the abused.

That's why when some apoplectic meathead runs out of biased retorts and blurts "whites only" it raises my ire. I'm sick of it. There's no captive market for injustice, folks. We all get hosed at one time or another. Using past tragedies as an excuse to try and take social and legal liberties only serves to exacerbate rather than ameliorate social imbalance. Worse yet, choosing a fraud like Bonds as your means to "get even" does nothing more than to stop reasonable men, dead cold, from listening. Getting a clown-prince blow up doll like Jesse Jackson to state that Bonds' u-reen tests are all clean doesn't exactly help either. Jackson burst his political cache long ago when he took to speaking in verse. What really saddens me is how race baiters can even choose a champion of their cause like Jesse. Watching Jackson toe the line on his "support" of former black man Michael Jackson was all the proof you need to know that Jackson wasn't in it for Jackson, he was only in it for Jackson.

So baiters, if you want to pick an arena in which to make your case, don't be careless enough to choose the one that has vaulted in the other direction of racism. If you want a hero, reach for Rosa Parks instead of Barry Bonds. Try to remember that most real heroes are the folks who are just too tired, too hungry, or too sick of being pushed around to give a damn anymore. Believe in your hearts, like Rosa did, that you have to take the seat that you deserve rather than expecting someone to hand it you. Rosa didn't cheat, by the way. That's why she's a hero and Bonds name is anathema to those who respect baseball, black and white.

So take the seat that you want. Sit down and shut up, until you have something honest, forthright and meaningful to say. When you do, I promise that folks will listen.

 

So the Phillies and Mets gave us 16 innings the other night. What could be better than 16 innings of MLB? I dunno, maybe 15 innings. The announcer ended his call with "we're goin' home", that just says it all.

How many of us thought the Yankees overpaid for 93 year old Randy Johnson? Steinbrenner's ego really got in the way here.  Is there really any question why the Old Unit is "slumping". Never pay big bucks to a pitcher who wears Depends under his jockstrap, and reads the AARP Newsletter in the dugout. Sure, Johnson will probably rally and have a few good stretches, just like Greg Maddux, but Roger Clemens he ain't.

I thoruoghly enjoyed Harold Reynolds' piece about Johnson's  mechanics on Sportscenter, though. He really taught me something. That was top-notch sports journalism.

Here's' why I like Manny Ramirez and hate Barry Bonds. Ramirez cracked a monster-clearing blast the other night, and dropped his bat like it had ####. Ramirez punished that ball. Then last night he ####ed another moon-shot and put the stick down all natural. That's the difference. When Ramirez showboats, it's out of character. Bonds constantly showboats, it's due to a lack of character.

Note to Boston Sports teams. Never let any players go. If Johnny Damon played the Sox 162 games a year, he'd probably hit 113 Homers. Don't tell me he's not amped up about showing the Sox what they're missing.  This does not bode well for the Pats against Indy. Watch Adam Vinatieri kick 17 field goals the next time the Pats play the Colts.

More from the MLB "have nots" category. If the Bucs played the Royals, would either team win, or would they call the game on account of misery? Baseball either needs to relocate these once proud, small market losers or share the wealth. As long as Status Quo Selig is commissioner though, that won't happen. So what we need is for giant corporations in Pittsburgh and KC to take over and turn these teams into money pits. The only problem is, the are no giant corporations in the Burgh and KC.  Until then, those fans will continue to use baseball as a distraction until the NFL turns on the lights in August. That reminds me, the Bills beat the Panthers last night. Two safeties to a FG. This is gonna be one long preseason. Come to think of it, does KC have a Hockey team? Does any city?

So the Penguins are going to hire a new GM soon. Sad to see genius turned nincom#### Craig Patrick morph into Commander Kurtz over the years. The press never leaked the story of how they found him holed up under his desk after trading the unaffordable Jaromir Jagr, whsipering repeatedly "the horror, the horror". ESPN reports that Ray (not the dead guy, Mark) Shero will get the job. My advice, rent an apartment Ray. Don't buy a house, get a short term lease. 

It's reassuring to know that the Edmonton Oilers will be moving on, and the Mighty Ducks will not, for two reasons. One is that the Oilers have had some tough years since Mess and the Good One packed their bags. The second is that teams named the "Mighty" anything should never be allowed in sports, Mighty Ducks? Come on now. Why didn't they just name them the Mighty Clothespins? It would make every bit as much sense. I've heard people say, "that was a mighty mountain man", or "a mighty wind was blowin'" but a has anyone ever heard, "Wow! That was one Mighty Duck, there." I don't suppose their farm team is the "Strapping Chickens" is it? Besides, have you ever been to Edmonton, Alberta Canada? They have nothing else for which to look forward.

Never, and I mean never, count the Phoenix Suns out. Maybe Steve Nash does deserve the MVP. After last night, I have a much harder time arguing against him. Sure, it's possible that losing Josh Howard was huge for the Mavericks, but then again the Suns lost Raja Bell. Maybe Dallas just emptied their tanks against the Spurs. No matter how you slice it, this is the kind of playoff series that almost makes the NBA's 473 game season worthwhile. Last year's playoffs really brought me back., though. This year alone, I doubled my regular season games viewed, and they were two pretty good games as I recall. Now if the Heat can just apply some, you know, to the Pistons. We could have an NBA finals that doesn't look like a Stanley Cup replay.

Why is it that every time a white guy criticizes a black athlete, the white guy is labeled a racist? I criticize KoMe Bryant, and even though I fawn over Dwayne Wade and Lebron while vehemently disagreeing with Steve Nash's winning MVP, I'm a racist. I revile the disgrace in SF, but give legendary props to the legendary Bob Gibson, and I'm a racist. The only thing that could hit Bob Gibson, by the way was a lack of good medical science. Batters prayed for high pollen counts when he was pitching. Fans think Randy Johnson was dominant, but Gibson invented dominant. Bob Feller had the best fastball never clocked, Sandy Koufax was Greg Maddux before Maddux, but Gibson just terrified people. I just wish the race card pullers could both read and react. I used to be sick and tired of the race card. Now it beyond that, as Chuck D says, "I'm sick and Tired of Being Sick and Tired".

By the way, the "whites only" rule of years gone by does not make a good excuse for Bonds perpetrating the biggest fraud in sports history. Some wacknut pulled that one out as a last ditch effort to justify MLB's greatest cheat's actions. Two wrongs not only don't make a right, they just make jackasses. Ask Henry Aaron how he feels about the Bonds-a Roni, The SanFrancisco Cheat and see if Hank is okay with Bonds jacking up because the sport (and the country) had a racist past. There is no excuse for being a fraud, folks.

So MLB trudges along, better off than Hockey but eclipsed by the NFL, and I have to admit, it grabs me every now and then. Especially with stars like Ramirez, Damon and Pujols launching missles every so often. But watching Ramirex crush that pitch Tuesday reminded me of a legend who never was, Bo Jackson. I once saw Bo rocket a ball 550 feet long and 550 feet high with a flick of his wrists. I saw it, and I still can't believe it. I used to get such a kick out of watching him snap bats like toothpicks across his thigh. I laughed out loud when he smashed (Barry's role model) Brian Bosworth into pieces one Monday night. I watched with awe when he turned the corner and blew past world class athletes like they were running in quicksand. I'm a Steeler fan, he was a Raider. You know what that means. But still, I would have paid to see him play. He was that special.

Then, with one simple tackle, it was over.  That's why I like the guys who respect the sports they play, and play every play like it will be their last. One day, they'll be right.