FRAMINGHAM, Mass. Michelle Trainor is a busy mother of three who admits she sometimes goes "just a teensy bit over the speed limit" in her 2007 Honda Odyssey. "There's no way I could get my kids to all their soccer games and ballet lessons if I obeyed the law," she says with a look of exasperation. "It's not like I'm an axe murderer or something."
That outlaw spirit, shared by so many other suburban mothers, has given rise to NASCAR's latest feature, The Minivan Series by Pottery Barn, a competition limited to soccer moms with at least 2.3 children who drive minivans over suburban courses featuring mandatory "pit stops" at drive-through franchise restaurants.
Route 9 Raceway, Framingham, Mass.
"The Pottery Barn Minivan Series is our attempt to make inroads into an affluent suburban female demographic," says NASCAR spokesman Earl Salley. "Those women have historically looked down on us because we have grease under our fingernails and double names like 'Joe Don' and 'Gene Ray'."
As with other NASCAR race series, fans of the Pottery Barn competition love rivalries between drivers, and Michelle is still smarting from a run-in last week with Mary Louise Peck of Olathe, Kansas, at the Overland Park 250. "That . . . I'm not gonna say it, but it rhymes with 'itch' and I don't mean 'witch' . . . cut me off at the Dunkin' Donuts express lane," she says bitterly. "Then she goes and orders a Strawberry Coolata and I end up out of the money." The two "swapped paint" in the parking lot on their way out onto the track, but no fines were assessed against either driver.
Race teams include not just a pit crew, but also "back seat drivers" in the form of actual children of drivers. "It makes it that much more special when you win," says Mandy Weiskopf of Bloomfield Hills, Michigan, #45 in her Chrysler Town & Country. "Of course, the kids slow you down on the backstretch because if you come out of the turn too fast they're liable to upchuck over the back of your seat."
Sullen teen in backseat
The Framingham 200 is a challenging race that involves high-speed straightaways down Route 9, a crowded east-west highway, then a detour to Route 30 and a homestretch through Shopper's World, one of America's oldest shopping centers. "You've got to pace yourself," says Jon Gomez, who covers NASCAR for Ladies Home Journal. "If little Courtney doesn't like the Happy Meal toy for girls at McDonald's on Route 9, you've got to haul #### over to the Burger King on Route 30 through some heavy mall traffic on Speen Street."
Coming into the home stretch
The race gets underway and Trainor takes the lead on what she considers her home track since she lives in nearby Sudbury. "Mary Louise Peck is not going to track her usual dog #### into my house," she says grimly as she "bump drafts" an elderly woman who's been poking along five miles an hour below the speed limit with her right blinker flashing for two miles.
Unscheduled pit stop
The senior citizen panics and ends up careening off the road into an office complex as Trainor zips by on her left. "I'd call 911 but it's really not safe to drive and talk on the phone at the same time," she says as she takes a sip of the vanilla iced latte she picked up at Dunkin' Donuts a lap earlier. She heads for the left-hand turn lane onto Route 30 when she sees her nemesis Peck in the rear view mirror. "If that blue eye-shadowed bimbo thinks she's going to cut me off she can think again," Trainor says as she swerves past a delivery truck.
Blue eye-shadowed NASCAR driver.
"Mommy, I'm hungry," whines Caitlin, Trainor's ten year-old daughter from the back seat. "What do you want, punkin'?" her mother asks. "I wanna go to Wendy's!" the girl replies, sending the mother into a tizzy.
"Caitlin, honey, I've told you before if you want Wendy's you have to tell mommy before we make the turn-off, okay?"
"I WANT WENDY'S!" the girl screams.
"They're all the same, sugar."
"No--Wendy's has square hamburgers!"
Trainor turns around to console her daughter and as she does so she sees Peck cut around her just as the green arrow begins to glow on the traffic light overhead.
"Dammit," Trainor says. "Now look what you made me do!" she snaps at her daughter.
"Mommy said a swear, Mommy said a swear!" her son Jason, 9, begins to chant.
"I'm sorry, sweetie, sometimes Mommy gets mad and loses her temper."
"Now you have to take me to Wendy's or I'll tell daddy," the girl says with finality.
"But I want Wendy's!"
"Your daddy says a lot worse than that, sugar, so you don't scare me. You're just gonna have to settle for Burger King because I can't turn around."
Trainor puts the "pedal to the metal" and gains some ground on Peck, who makes a critical mistake by turning onto the access road to Bed, Bath & Beyond rather than the cut-through that would take her to a victory lap and the grand prize--a $1,000 shopping spree at Pottery Barn, the upscale home furnishings store.
"I'm right on your bony little ####," Trainor mutters to her rival under her breath as she whips into the drive-through lane at Burger King and turns to take orders from her children. "Tell me what you want and make it quick!"
"I want a root beer and a Whopper Jr." her son replies.
BK Veggie Burger: Yum, sort of.
"I want a large order of fries, a Double Whopper with cheese, and a big chocolate shake," her daughter says.
"Sweetie, the doctor says you have to cut back a little or you're going to look like a Hungry, Hungry Hippo by the time you're in high school."
"I'm hungry!"
"Why don't you try the BK Veggie Burger?" her mother asks. "It's good for you--or at least not as bad for you."
"May I take your order," a disembodied voice barks through the drive-up loudspeaker.
"I WANT A DOUBLE WHOPPER!" Caitlin screams, and her mother relents as she sees Mary Louise Peck turn around and exit from the mall parking lot.
Their food paid for, the Trainor family heads for home on the heels of Peck and her brood of tow-headed youngsters. The light at the Oak Street intersection changes to yellow, then red, causing Peck to slow down, giving Trainor the opening she's been looking for. She pulls off to the right as if to reverse direction at the intersection, but then makes a right-on-red that will give her a ten car-length lead by the time the light changes to green.
"Why you frigid, frost-headed ####!" Peck yells out her window.
"Sorry, Mary Louise," Trainor calls back. "It takes a really good bad driver to get the checkered flag in Massachusetts!"
BEIJING. Confronted with a certified copy of her birth certificate by Chinese officials, Olympic silver medalist Dana Torres today admitted that she is not 41 years and that she added two years to her age under pressure from Bob Costas, the boyish NBC sports broadcaster.
Dana Torres: Will relinquish her silver medal and her subscription to Modern Maturity.
"NBC really pushed me to come up with a more compelling story line," Torres said as she fought back tears. "Somehow, 41 sounds a lot more dramatic than 39."
Costas: "I'm still more boyish than that guy on American Bandstand."
Costas was born in 1952 but is still "carded" when he tries to buy drinks for athletes in bars. "There's no way you're 21," said bouncer Xiang-Lee Xiao as Costas tried to order a Szechuan pork-infused martini at the Thousand Glorious Beer Nuts Bar and Grill. "Chinese girl gymnast look older than you."
"I am not underage if you use an abacus."
This year's Olympics have been marred by several age controversies, including claims that gold-medal winning gymnast He Kexin is only thirteen, three years below the minimum age of sixteen. "This is cultural prejudice," said Huang Jiansi, an offical at the Chinese Gymnastic Sports Management Centre. "If you add up her age using an abacus instead of a calculator, you get pretty much any number you want."
As for Torres, reporters who followed her career prior to her Olympic triumph confirmed that she is in fact 39. "I've known Dana since the late 1990's," said Ellen Walbert of Chlorinated Pool Management. "She's been 39 ever since I met her."
MT. PLEASANT, Michigan. Central Michigan University football coach Butch Jones heard the news as he was sitting in a barber shop here, less than a month away from the Chippewas' game against the nationally-ranked Georgia Bulldogs. "I had no freaking idea there was a war going on down there," Jones said, as his regular barber Ed "Frosty" Mikels gave him a trim. "It may be too late to switch to a neutral site."
Sanford Stadium, University of Georgia: Scene of the conflict
Jones' concern is being echoed in locker rooms across the nation, as news that Russia has launched air and land attacks against the Democratic Republic of Georgia has penetrated through the summer humidity that hangs over two-a-day college football practices. "That's just not right," said Alabama head coach Nick Saban. "We've had our hotel reservations for over a year, and Russia can damn well refund our deposit if that's how they're gonna treat a former Soviet state."
Tennessee Football Coach Phillip Fulmer: "Incoming screen pass!"
The news of the invasion did not register immediately with many Southeastern Conference coaches because the University of Georgia is located in Athens. "When I heard they invaded Georgia, I didn't think nothing of it 'cause we could still play our game in Greece," said head coach Phillip Fulmer of the Tennessee Volunteers, who are scheduled to play Georgia on October 11th. "Now I come to find out this is a god damn international incident, and may affect our BCS ranking."
"If a Russian comes across the middle on a slant pattern, I want you to nuke 'em."
"BCS" stands for "Bowl Championship Series", a selection system designed to pick the top two college football teams in the country to play in a national championship game. The BCS determines team rankings by polls, computer programs, the length of caterpillar fur in the area surrounding a team's stadium and the amount of "good" cholesterol consumed by its cheerleaders over the course of its conference schedule.
Mark Richt: "There won't be any UN peacekeepers around, if that's your question."
Georgia head coach Mark Richt said opponents would be reasonably safe during their away games at the Bulldogs' Sanford Stadium, but declined to guaranty that they would leave the area without casualties. "Don't think you can come in here with a half-assed air attack like Russia," Richt said at a press conference. "Our defensive secondary can handle the long bomb."
MILWAUKEE. Bud Selig, commissioner of baseball and general manager of Selig GMC-Buick, a car and truck dealership here, today promised a crackdown on major league baseball players who jaywalk following a high-profile arrest of Boston Red Sox outfielder Manny Ramirez in Seattle and a news report linking Yankee pitcher Joba Chamberlain to a New Jersey organized crime family that crosses the streets of New York's Little Italy without looking both ways.
Selig: "Senator, it may look like I'm picking, but I'm only scratching."
"Our fans deserve to know that the players their kids look up to are crossing at the green, and not in between," Selig said in a conference call with sports reporters and traffic safety officers. "I was captain of my school crossing guard in 7th grade, and I take this personally."
"I told the Commissioner, you know, blow it out your shorts."
Ramirez was cited in Seattle for walking against a red light, a misdemeanor in a city that appears friendly on the surface, but which is governed by a nine-person city council composed largely of members of the Grunge-Espresso Axis, a neo-fascist group that worships Kurt Cobain.
The NFL has hired experts to identify gang-related hand signals used by players. FoxSports.com
Roger Goodell, Commissioner
National Football League
280 Park Avenue
New York NY 10017
"This is not a gang-related hand signal."
Dear Commissioner Goodell:
Please consider this as my application for the position of NFL Gang Hand-Signal Monitor. A copy of my resume is enclosed. I believe I have the experience and enthusiasm to make an excellent Gang Hand-Signal Monitor who will protect the NFL's brand from corruption by association with thuggish street gangs, as opposed to thuggish interior linebackers and cornerbacks.
A brief summary of my background:
West Side Story
I first became interested in gang culture when my sister bought the original cast album of "West Side Story" in the 1960s. We would sit and listen for hours to "Maria" and "Somewhere", she singing along with Carol Lawrence, me snapping my fingers in time to Leonard Bernstein's music. In my mind, the clash of the Sharks and the Jets remains the quintessential gang conflict. I know the Jets are in the AFC East, but I thought the Sharks were a hockey team--please advise.
When you're a Jet, you're a Jet all the way.
I began to play football, two-hand-touch below the waist, and soon experienced gang violence first hand as I was gang-tackled by the Hogan brothers, the Lamy brothers and the Arnest brothers shortly after I hauled in my first kickoff and headed upfield. Thereafter, I played down lineman in a two-man front, three-Mississippi before you rush the passer.
The Fonz
In the 1970's, I switched my allegiance to Arthur "Fonzie" Fonzarelli's Falcons, an expansion team. Their arch-rival was the Demons. A review of the NFL's web site does not indicate the current location of this team. Were they moved to Los Angeles?
More recently, I have spent a great deal of time reviewing game film from the hit musical "Grease", which features the T-Birds, a bunch of greasers who wear black leather jackets. I believe this gang has already made significant inroads among Oakland Raiders season ticket holders.
I think you will agree that, based on the above-described experience and interests, I am well-qualified for the position I seek. I look forward to hearing from you. A self-addressed stamped envelope is enclosed for your reply.
Let's keep the violence on the field and off the streets!
GREEN BAY, Wisconsin. Angered by the Green Bay Packers' refusal to give him his unconditional release, quarterback Brett Favre today announced he would un-retire from two other teams, Hancock North Central High School in Kiln, Mississippi, and Southern Mississippi, where he played college football.
#10, Brett Favre
"I don't care how many teams I have to un-retire from," Favre. "I'm going to be playing football come August 18th," when two-a-day football practices can begin under state interscholastic athletic rules in Mississippi.
Favre started as an 8th grader for the Hancock North Central baseball team, but played only three years of varsity football during which he averaged five passes per game in a wishbone offense. Under Mississippi High School Athletic Association rules, he accordingly has remaining eligibility of either two years or 680 passes, whichever comes first.
Southern Mississippi Golden Eagle: "Brett's back!"
Favre frequently played with a hangover at Southern Mississippi, including a thrilling 1987 come-from-behind victory over sixth-ranked Florida State, and will seek a do-over for any game in which his blood alcohol level exceeded .04. "Brett can play better hungover than a lot of guys can sober," said Favre's agent, James "Bus" Cook. "Carson Palmer's always calling me asking me what he drinks."
On this, the 4th of July, a day intimately associated with liberty, it is appropriate to reflect on the strides this nation has made to expand freedom in the world of sport. Think of Jackie Robinson, the first African-American to play major league baseball. Consider Kathrine Switzer, the first woman to run the Boston Marathon. Or how about Manny Ramirez, the first Dominican outfielder to take a leak behind a manually-operated scoreboard during a pitching change in an American League game. Truly, as a nation, we have much to be proud of.
Kathrine Switzer, failing the Boston Marathon gendertest.
But many are surprised to hear that, until very recently, there were still obstacles to full participation in the athletic endeavors that make this country great. One such barrier fell the other day, as the state of Missouri made it legal, for the first time, to "noodle", or fish with one's hands.
A guy named Phil, with a giant catfish caught by hand
As a teenage boy in a small Missouri town, I often worked with country people who spoke of noodling. Not having much interest in fishing, I never accompanied them on their clandestine trips to muddy creek banks, where they told me they would stick their arms into hollow logs, risking bites by snakes or snapping turtles, to catch catfish by hand. As a result, I have wrongly assumed all these years that the fish they caught would fit on a dinner plate.
It turns out these men were diving under water, holding their breath and sticking their arms into catfish "holes" where they would grab fresh-water behemoths, smaller than a jet ski but not by much, and wrestle them into submission. Where noodling is permitted, a fish must typically be as much as two feet long in order to be a legal catch. Catfish are bottom feeders who will remain stationary for long periods of time, eating anything that floats by, and as a result can grow to be enormous.
"He followed me home--can I keep him?"
You would think that the Missouri legislature, in its wisdom, would have long ago followed the example of the other eleven states where handfishing (also referred to as "hogging") is legal, and let man and fish fight it out fair and square. Missouri's scruples in the area of man-fish relations stemmed not from fear for fisherman's safety, but from a solicitous regard for the fishes' sex life. Handfishing, according to fish and game officials, depletes the number of sexually mature fish. Well, what do you want noodlers to do--knock before entering?
Moby Catfish
Since moving to the east coast thirty-five years ago, I've gone deep-sea fishing a number of times and had naively formed the opinion that it is more challenging than fresh-water fishing. Having conducted further research into hand-fishing, I now believe that the only way ocean fishing could measure up to the challenge of noodling is for the beer-sodden men who pay hundreds of dollars to fish off Florida or Cape Cod to crawl overboard, find a bluefish or a marlin and subdue their prey using nothing but wrestling holds learned on WWE Royal Rumble.
Exhausted noodlers
So here's to America's hand-fishers, true sportsmen who eschew fish-finders and other high tech doo-dads that unfairly tilt the pond in favor of humans. I salute you, but I have one request.
If you don't mind, I'd rather not shake your hand.
DALLAS. With skyrocketing player salaries and rising materials costs undermining their ability to build state-of-the stadiums, owners of professional sports teams find themselves between a rock and a hard place these days. "It used to be we could look to the state or the city for a little something to cover infrastructure," says Cowboys' owner Jerry Jones. "Now they tell us they've gone and blown all their money on stupid stuff like schools, firemen and policemen, and we're left high and dry."
Texas Stadium: "Hey--I was sitting there!"
So Jones, who had already imposed "personal seat licenses" on long-time fans which, for as much as $150,000, merely give them the right to buy season tickets, came up with the idea of the "personal butt license" to cover his funding gap. "The seat license gives you the right to buy the ticket to the seat," says Martin Zimwurtz, an economist who studies professional sports because it's more fun than poverty. "The butt license gives you the right to put your fanny in the seat that is licensed to you."
"Dude--I got a personal body paint license!"
Other teams with new stadiums on the drawing board are looking closely at the Cowboys' move, and considering other add-on fees of their own. "Many of our fans like to touch inappropriate parts of their bodies while the TV cameras are scanning the stands," says New York Giants' co-owner John Mara. "That depresses our advertising revenues, so people are going to have to 'pay to pick' if they want us to win another Super Bowl."
In Arizona, where the football Cardinals just moved into the University of Phoenix and Mel's Weed-Wacker Supply Stadium, patrons can upgrade to body odor-free seats for a one-time Air Wick Room De-odorizer charge.
"A lot of our fans get kinda sweaty on the long walk from the parking lot to their seats, so we're putting six-foot room de-odorizers in designated VIP seating sections," says Arthur Bidwill, Vice President of Nepotism for the team. "The addition of these fine Air Wick products will not interfere with play on the field, where our team always stinks."
WASHINGTON, D.C. Senator Arlen Specter accused the Boston Celtics of "cheating like a lazy fifth-grader on a geography test" in winning their seventeenth NBA championship Tuesday night, saying New England Patriots' head coach Bill Belichick filmed the Los Angeles Lakers' shoot-around prior to the decisive game six earlier in the day.
Specter: "There must be a grassy knoll around the Boston Garden somewhere . . ."
"This sort of dishonesty is contrary to everything America stands for, except for legislators who vote on bills that favor campaign donors," Specter said in a hastily-called news conference. "To those who claim I'm obsessed with bringing down Coach Belichick, I say you'd feel the same way about someone who is always stealing your yogurt from the refrigerator in the Senator's Lounge."
Belichick: "You watch--Kobe's going to shoot now."
Belichick was fined $500,000 in 2007 by NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell for taping defensive signals of the New York Jets, a charge that the Patriots' coach did not dispute but which he said was due to a misinterpretation of the rules. "As I understood it," Belichick said at the time, "I was allowed to take video of [Jets' head coach] Eric Mangini to see who was doing better on our Weight Watchers Diet competition."
Belichick and Mangini: "Nice to see you, too."
According to Specter, Belichick's tape of the shoot-around enabled the Celtics to anticipate the Lakers' offensive plays in their 131-92 blowout win in Game 6. "You can see it in their defenders' eyes," Specter said as he rolled three metal balls in his hands. "They knew the Lakers' 'Give the ball to Kobe' play, their 'Clear out for Kobe play', and their 'Get yelled at by Kobe during a timeout' play."
Jackson and his "Triangle Offense"
Lakers' coach Phil Jackson said pre-game taping would help an opponent understand his complicated "Triangle Offense", which he has used to guide the Lakers and the Chicago Bulls to nine NBA championships. "There's no way the Celtics could have known that the square of the hypotenuse of a right triangle is equal to the sum of the squares of the two other sides," Jackson said bitterly as he boarded a charter plane back to Los Angeles. "Unless they taped the practice or took high school geometry."
BOSTON. As the final seconds ticked off the clock at the TDBanknorth Garden last night, Glen "Big Baby" Davis, the Celtics' massive rookie, stood by himself, savoring his team's triumph over the Los Angeles Lakers in the NBA Finals, his mouth wide open as he looked up at the confetti drifting down from the rafters. "This is great," Davis said, a big smile on his face as stuffed the tiny pieces of paper in his mouth. "All we get in timeouts is Gatorade, and I was getting hungry."
Davis: "Hey ice cream man!"
In the locker room a few minutes later, Davis was overcome with emotion as he was handed the Charles W. Barkley Award for the Most Largest Player in the championship series by NBA Commissioner David Stern. "This is for all my teammates," Davis said as he hoisted the trophy above his head. "They cleared out on isolations and allowed me to attack the post-game buffet."
"Are you gonna finish that?
David is listed at 289 pounds on the team's roster, but he has recorded weights as high as 345 with the wind at his back since graduating from LSU in 2007. "Glen is the kind of guy you can build a team around," said Celtics' coach Doc Rivers. "You could also build a shopping center around him, as long as you had an anchor store like Nordstrom's at the other end of the mall."
Barkley: "Glen has a great future ahead of him, and a big butt behind him."
Davis turned in a breakout performance in the NBA Finals, scoring three points in a fourteen-minute appearance that helped clinch the Celtics' first championship in twenty-two years. "We knew we wanted to close them out tonight in six games," an exhausted Davis told reporter Michele Tafoya, "so I ate game 7."
"Kids, you gotta stop the violence against childhood obesity."
Davis is a fan favorite who gives back to the community through the Glen Davis Fund to Fight Violence Against Childhood Obesity, a cause that is near and dear to him. "I tell kids, we got to stop all this fighting childhood obesity," he says. "You need to just chill and learn to live with it, like I did."
LOS ANGELES. Frustrated by a disappointing game five loss to the Boston Celtics in which his Lakers blew a 24-point lead, superstar Kobe Bryant lit into his teammates today and challenged them to be as unselfish as he is.
"We got to play as a team so I look better!"
"I gave them the same speech I've been giving teammates since third grade CYO basketball," Bryant told reporters after emerging from a closed door meeting in which he reduced teammate Pau Gasol to tears by calling a "Eurotrash cream puff". "I told them--there may be an 'I' in team, I don't know, but there's no 'I' in Kobe."
Gasol (right): "I'm sorry I bumped into you."
Bryant is generally considered by himself to be the greatest basketball player of his generation, the equal of past greats such as Michael Jordan, Magic Johnson and Hot Rod Hundley. He holds the career record among active NBA players for most commercials filmed in Italian (1) and biggest diamond purchased for a wife after allegations of sexual assault on a 19-year old (8 carats, $4 million).
Hot Rod Hundley: Closed course, professional basketball player. Do not attempt.
Bryant told teammates that their continued poor play would hit them where it hurts--in the pocketbook--if they didn't turn things around. "The endorsement deals you all--I mean me--will get if we lose are basically car dealerships, men's clothing store openings and non-franchise pizza places, which are chump change."
Bryant had ten assists in game five, but criticized teammates for missing open shots. "You guys gotta make those shots," Bryant yelled during one timeout. "If you don't, I don't get an assist."
LOS ANGELES. A look at the box score to Tuesday night's game 3 of the NBA finals was as revealing as the clipboard at the end of a hospital patient's bed, according to Dr. Wu Yi Lee, a physician at Massachusetts General Hospital a court-length pass away from the TD Banknorth Garden. "Big Ticket has Ralph Sampson's Disease," Lee said. "He need to take it to hole."
The right way
Ralph Sampson was a number one draft pick out of the University of Virginia who was expected to transform the game when he was paired with Hakeem Olajuwon in the Houston Rockets' "Twin Towers" offense. The 7' 4" inch Sampson opted for mid-range jump shots over low-post moves, however, and never realized his potential, causing college basketball scouts to apply the name "Ralph Sampson's Disease" to a big man's phobia of driving to the basket.
World's Largest Point Guard
Garnett was fouled only twice in Game 3, four times in Game 2 and 6 times in Game 1, causing Celtics trainer Ed Lacerte to call for help from high-powered basketball pathologists at Mass General, a hospital that has treated other NBA greats for ailments such as Iverson's Rock-Retentive Syndrome, colloquially known as "Ball Hog's Disease".
Dr. Lee: "Take two Dance Team members and call me in the morning."
Garnett's long-term prognosis is good, but he is day-to-day in terms of his ability to overcome the limitations of the disease, says Lee. "He is one very lucky man," Lee said. "Medical conditions named after athletes can be fatal, like Lou Gehrig's disease, although Sampson ended up in the Spanish League with Unicaja Ronda, which merely sounds like it could kill you."
BOSTON. Coming off a dramatic win Thursday night in which forward Paul Pierce made a miraculous recovery from a knee injury to lead his team to victory, the Boston Celtics today announced that they have added faith healer Jimmy Ray Embree to their training staff.
Embree: "Jesus--make this small forward walk again so he can come back and drain back-to-back 3 pointers!"
"Miracles can happen, but you don't want to count on them," said Celtics coach Glenn "Doc" Rivers, who is not a licensed physician. "Paul's comeback saved us, just the way a good Bible-thumping televangelist can save you."
"He can walk! Praise the Lord!"
Pierce injured his right knee in a collision with center Kendrick Perkins, and was carried off the court by teammates Tony Allen and Brian Scalabrine and Dr. Brian McKeon, a team physician. "There's nothing I can do for him," McKeon said upon examining Pierce. "We'll have to put him down, like a racehorse."
"God wants you to spread the floor and create isolations for St. Paul!"
But Embree, an itinerant preacher who took a wrong exit leaving Atlanta and ended up at the TD Banknorth Garden when he was pulled into the Ted Williams Tunnel by the gravitational force of Boston's Big Dig, volunteered to minister to Pierce by "laying-on of hands", a faith-healing technique.
"Double-team Bryant--Gasol's no offensive creationist."
Lakers' coach Phil Jackson expressed skepticism over Pierce's injury, calling it a "pants malfunction" and a "broken drawstring" in a post-game interview. "People are comparing him to Willis Reed," Jackson said, referring to Game 7 of the 1970 NBA Finals in which his New York Knick teammate returned to action after a half-time heart transplant and vasectomy. "Compared to Willis, Pierce is a wuss."
Willis Reed, 1970 NBA Finals
But Pierce bristled at the suggestion. "I listen to rap, he listens to the Grateful Dead," Pierce said as he sat in the whirlpool. "You tell me who's a wuss."
BOSTON. When the Red Sox returned to Boston last night from a road trip that saw outfielder Manny Ramirez join baseball's elite 500 home run club at Baltimore's Camden Yards, the slugger seemed distant, his mind elsewhere, as he was greeted by fans at Logan Airport. "I got a promise to keep," was all he would say to a reporter who thrust a microphone in his face, paraphrasing Robert Frost, whom Ramirez adopted as his idol after discovering the flinty New England poet had urged readers to take the road less traveled.
Ramirez and Frost: The poet had fewer strikeouts, but also a lower OBP.
Ramirez was deeply moved by a visit to Baltimore's St. Jude's Childrens Hospital, where he met ten year-old Timmy Kavanaugh who suffers from Osgood Schlatter's Disease, a knee ailment that primarily afflicts young boys. Kavanaugh was unimpressed by the slugging outfielder's five hundredth home run--"Any mook can take some steroids and do that!" Timmy yelled as Ramirez walked by his bed--and the two struck up a conversation.
Ouch!
As Ramirez prepared to go, he asked if there was anything he could do to ease the boy's suffering. Kavanaugh closed his eyes, gritted his teeth, and in a voice that was barely a whisper, said "Could you--run out a ground ball for me?"
"There's a ground ball to short--Manny watches it go . . ."
"Sure, kid," Ramirez replied, his voice betraying emotion. "I can't do it," the boy continued, tears filling his eyes. "I want you to do it for me."
"What's Manny doing?"
So groundskeepers were surprised this morning when they found Ramirez harnessed to a Fenway Park lawnmower, pulling the bulky implement around the base path to strengthen his hamstrings in anticipation of an all-out sprint down the first base line the next time he hits an infield grounder.
"Run, Manny, run!"
"There's no doubt Manny can do it physically," said manager Terry Francona. "He just needs to focus on the job in front of him when he doesn't hit a home run and like, you know, start running."
But his teammates aren't so sure. "If I made $18 million dollars a year," said backup catcher Kevin Cash, who is not related to the currency Ramirez is paid with, "I'd need a lot of time to figure out what to spend it on."
