I’ve quit watching the NFL preseason. As an NFL junkie, I recognize that might be considered blasphemous. I don’t care. I can’t take it any longer.

What have I been doing? I’ve been suckered into watching Bravo’s Project Runway and Work Out. I’ve been taking advantage of my Blockbuster Online membership. I’ve been working on my stuff that, unlike the NFL preseason, might actually matter in the long run. I’ve even been doing the dishes. I’ve been doing anything, and I mean anything, that I possibly can to avoid being bored to death by three-plus-quarters-of-scrubs football. Why? This is why:

Point blank—preseason football is worthless.

Household names like T.O., Tom Brady, Ray Lewis, and L.T. barely even lace up their cleats during the preseason these days, and when they do it’s usually for one scoring drive or one 3-and-out. Out of harms way for most of four quarters, that is. And nobody misses the few highlights star players make during the nanoseconds that they actually do strap on their chinstraps, at least halfway, and play. All of those plays and some serious filler are shown over, and over, and over on Sportscenter. And even if the magnificent moves of the NFL preseason do make you “ewwwwww” and “ahhhhhh,” should they?

During the NFL preseason, T.O. stands for “Time Off.”

Do big preseason plays, hell, even preseason wins amount to anything more substantial once the exhibition games are over? Not really.

I’m no statmonger, but I can’t recall the last time an undefeated preseason team ripped through the NFL regular season like a Hulk Hogan T-shirt on their way to winning the Superbowl. In fact, sometimes it seems like the exact opposite happens with higher frequency. Teams that are established contenders and don’t have anything to really prove during the preseason tend to take it easy during the throwaway exhibition games.

Don’t believe me? The Oakland Raiders’ first string has looked absolutely pathetic thus far. Still, the Raiders are somehow 3-0 in preseason play. Meanwhile, the defending Superbowl Champion Pittsburgh Steelers are 0-2. Who actually thinks the Shell-shocked Raiders are better than the Cowher-powered Steelers? I’m definitely not raising my hand.

I’m a die-harder-than-Bruce-Willis Kansas City Chiefs fan and I’m more excited about watching Greg Kinnear play #### Vermeil and Mark Wahlberg play special teams in Invincible than I am watching Herm Edwards play #### Vermeil and a bunch of no-namers play special teams for my Chiefs this August. For now I’ll just watch Sportscenter, check the injury reports, cram for my fantasy football leagues (we do it right—no preseason), and count down the days until the real NFL action begins. Hey, at least I’ll have Heidi Klum to keep me occupied.

Today, I woke up somewhat expecting to see the end of the world as we know it. I expected to see my cat possessed, with glowing green eyes and foam spilling out of his mouth. I expected to see my girlfriend levitating three-feet above our bed. I expected to see that the sky had turned blood red and the sun had gone on permanent vacation. Most of all, I expected to see the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man slogging down the street. Why?

Thankfully, the Apocalypse didn’t happen and my status quo remained intact. When I woke up today, my cat was his normal ornery self, my girlfriend could hardly get out of bed, the not-so-blue L.A. sky was still stained by smog, and the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man was still stuck in my Ghostbusters DVD. Phew…

Even though the world didn’t come to an end today, most of it did notice the significance of the date.

The film industry recognized this devilish day by releasing a remake of one of the scariest films ever to grace the silver screen—The Omen. In The Omen, a nice couple, the Thorns, discover that their five-year-old son, Damien, is the Anti-Christ. Eventually, the Thorns decide that to prevent the Apocalypse Damien must be killed.

I’m recognizing this devilish day by releasing my list of the six most evil people in sports. Honestly, I wouldn’t be shocked to discover that any of these demons were the Satan of Sports cloaked in human flesh. To prevent the Sportpocalypse, these evildoers must be stopped.

Ill-Famed Boxing Promoter Don King has killed two people (that we know about). He has left the lives of the two most-legendary boxers of all time, Muhammad Ali and Mike Tyson, in shambles. He has ripped off masses, both personally and with pay-per-view TV, leading to at least seven lawsuits. He has befriended infamous mobsters like John Gotti. He also has adamantly supported arguably the worst U.S. President of my lifetime—George W. Bush (Bush’s job approval ratings… LINK). If the aforementioned wrongdoings haven’t convinced you that King belongs in this villainous group, just examine his spiky gray hair. It forms a twisted crown, proof that he might just be the “King” of all things evil in sports. Well into his seventies, King is alive and kicking, filthy-rich, and still more gangsta than Suge Knight.

Over the course of the past few years, Sacramento Kings anarchic All-Star Forward Ron Artest nearly destroyed the Indiana Pacers franchise. His attitude is best defined by the gesture he gave Miami Heat fans several years back—a double-middle finger salute. If the evil inside of him isn’t exorcised soon, he could reverse the NBA’s recent upswing in popularity by his dolo. He has already thrown down with fans once, what would keep him from charging into the stands again? Or—GULP—doing something even worse? If Artest stoops to an all-time low, it will be a sad, sad day. The day snooty, middle-aged NBA haters are proved right on all those nasty things they say about my favorite brand of pro sports.

New York Yankees Owner George Steinbrenner is a menace that threatens the relevance of the other 29 MLB teams. If The Boss could have it his way, he’d just bypass each season by buying World Series Championships for his beloved Yanks. As things stand, Steinbrenner just tries to ensure championships by annually having baseball’s biggest payroll (Which is $198.7 million, a whopping $78.6 million more than the second-highest team!). Championships aren’t the only thing he has tried to buy. In 1974, Steinbrenner was found guilty of making 14 illegal contributions to the re-election campaign of then U.S. President Richard Nixon. In 1990, he was banned from MLB for life by then Commissioner Fay Vincent for trying to blackmail ex-Yankee Dave Winfield so he wouldn’t have to fork over $300,00 to Winfield’s foundation. Unfortunately, he was later pardoned of the first offense and reinstated by MLB. For more on the epitome of sports scum, check out my upcoming article on Steinbrenner and his filthy Yanks—“Summer Blockbuster Series: The Devil Wears Pinstripes.” Regretfully, I have to save some venom for that post.

If money is indeed the root of all evil, cutthroat Sports Agent Drew Rosenhaus’ malevolence is second to only George Steinbrenner’s in the world of sports. The real-life Bob Sugar is part of the “Miami Mafia”, an infamous crew of University of Miami alums dedicated to dominating the fields of business, politics, and sports by any means necessary. His notorious clients include NFL stars Terrell Owens, Sean Taylor, Warren Sapp, Chad Johnson, and Jeremy Shockey. Not exactly a bunch of choirboys and milk drinkers, are they? With his renegade clients and cold-blooded methods, Rosenhaus has almost single-handedly blackened the NFL’s figurative eye. Yes, he did save that little boy from drowning a few years back in Orlando. However, to me, that was nothing more than Rosenhaus’ deception. It’s like what Verbal Kent said in The Usual Suspects, “The greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn't exist.”

Kansas City Royals cheapskate Owner David Glass has turned ex-Owner and philanthropist Ewing Kauffman’s once-proud franchise into a running punchline. Don’t let Glass’ lack of celebrity fool you; he is every bit as vile as Steinbrenner. While Steinbrenner is trying to wipe out baseball by creating a monopoly, Glass is taking another route. He could potentially exterminate his Royals with his penny-pinching ways. By caring way more about the bottom line than his team’s on-field success, Glass is endangering everything we love about sports. If every professional sports owner adopted his philosophy, the competitive spirit that fuels the athletes, coaches and fans would be all but extinct? It makes me sick to even entertain that possibility. You know what makes me even sicker? Glass' past with Wal-Mart. Check out this quote from a 1992 Dateline interview, when he was Wal-Mart’s CEO... After being shown photographs of a factory that burned down with children still trapped inside, Glass retorted, "Yeah... there are tragic things that happen all over the world." Glass promptly ended the interview after that exchange. After reading quotes like the previous one, and that the Royals have averaged a disgraceful 97 losses a season since Glass bought the team, I hope his tenure with the Royals ends promptly.

As one of America’s foremost anti-role models, Dallas Cowboys Wide Receiver Terrell Owens is polluting the sports atmosphere every time he opens that gigantic yapper of his. It’s ironic that he’s going to play for Cowboys Owner Jerry Jones, who barely missed this list, and the Cowboys, possibly the most-widely despised franchise in the NFL. You know what, Owens and the Cowboys deserve each other. T.O.’s childish demands all but ruined a Philadelphia Eagles franchise that made the NFC Championship Game four years in a row. Following T.O.’s lead, NFL players are holding out for new contracts left and right. Even worse, kids across the nation are holding out from the choirs, demanding that their allowances be raised. Shame on you, T.O. If Rosenhaus is Lucifer of the Gridiron, then T.O. is his mouthpiece.

Now, right here in my comments section, I want to hear about who you think is the most evil person in sports and why…

As many of you know, FOXSports.com’s judges and users recently broke up with me, affectively ending my run as a Next Great Sportswriter II finalist. The abrupt termination from the contest left me thinking, “What the hell do I do now?” Well, like most of us that get dumped, I’m moving on, hopefully to greener pastures. I still will be posting here, but I also have a new site, http://theabsolutebestblog.blogspot.com/. The new site will include more posts than my FOXSports.com blog and will allow me to really run with my style. Please bookmark the site if you deem it worthy.

After taking several days off, I’ve decided to both continue the weekly Summer Blockbuster Series that I’ve been running and to tackle the second assignment the remaining NGS II finalists were given. In honor of The Break-Up—the film that has given us the tabloid frenzy dubbed “Vaughnifer” —and a long history of overdramatic sports break-ups—Donovan and T.O., Don King and Iron Mike, Kobe and Phil and Shaq, Billy Martin and George Steinbrenner (5 times!), etc…—here are several of the "Absolute Best" sports break-ups of the past year…

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2006 Sports Break-Ups

For the record, I don’t like Thomas. I think he’s an egocentric punk who only plays hard on one end of the court, and he only does that when he has financial incentives. Don’t agree with me? Then why have four teams already dumped him? That being said, he played exceptionally well this season after joining the Phoenix Suns, following his release by the Bulls. The Bulls weren’t playing him at all. As a Sun, he was one of the top performers of the entire NBA Playoffs. He was dunking with authority, hitting the glass, draining nothing-but-net threes, hell, he even played some D. Without Thomas, the Suns' summer vacation would have started weeks ago. With Thomas, the Suns were two wins shy of a NBA Finals trip.

How does this development make the Bulls feel? Here are a couple of metaphors—one for the ladies, and one for the fellas.

Ladies – Remember back in high school or college, when you blew off that sweet chubby guy that used to stalk you like you were Julia Roberts and he was the paparazzi? Now, imagine the same guy ten years later, only without the excess poundage and as a filthy-rich neurosurgeon. Want him back? Too bad, he has a sleek new girlfriend that’s faster than a “Little Red Corvette.”

Fellas – You are out at the club getting smashed. During a moment of weakness—um, I mean drunkenness—a portly little sea donkey waddles up to you and gives you her number. With your beer goggles strapped on tight, you see some sort of potential and take her digits. You never call her. Not once. About one year later, you are out again at the same club. You see this cute little fox and approach her. When you holler at her, she informs you that she is the same girl you dissed a year earlier, and that she now has a man. Momentarily, her man, who is twice as good-looking as you are, grabs her hand and pulls her away to the dance floor. Game over.

Thomas' latest ex, Bulls Owner Jerry Reinsdorf (who paid Thomas around $15 million for essentially nothing), has to hate watching Thomas shake his #### for the Suns. For Reinsdorf's sake, I hope that Thomas signs a huge contract this summer and then relapses back to his underachieving ways.

I don’t like Damon much either. Why? Because he broke up with my Kansas City Royals, his first MLB suitor, that's why. I know, I know, the Royals are a notoriously cheap date. Still, that doesn’t mean that I can’t be a little bitter.

As for Damon’s most recent break-up, it was his nastiest yet.

A few years back, the Red Sox added Damon to an already loaded roster. The Red Sox expected the acquisition to evolve into a long-term monogamous relationship. Damon had other plans. He saw it as a use-use relationship. First, he helped the Red Sox finally break the curse and bring home a championship. Then he started sleeping with the enemy. Damon convinced the rival New York Yankees that the Yanks could cripple the Red Sox by signing him to a lucrative contract. It worked; Damon got what he always wanted—moolah and pinstripes. In the aftermath of this backstabbing, it seems that hell hath no fury like a Red Sox fan’s scorn. Check out what I recently read on an anti-Damon Red Sox shirt…

(Below an illustration of a long-haired, bearded Damon)

“Looks like Jesus…

Acts like Judas…

Throws like Mary”

Don’t worry, Red Sox fans. It won’t be long until Damon starts hitting like Mary, prompting the Yankees to act like Judas and ditch him. And Yankees fans, don’t even act like that’s a stretch.

OK, OK, I think the Vikings did Daunte kind of dirty as well. Here’s the thing—I can also identify with the Vikes on this one.

Picture this scenario: In a year’s time, your significant other’s "performance" level plummets to an all-time low, he/she is accused of being one of the ringleaders on a scandalous boat cruise complete with prostitutes onboard, he/she becomes injured to the extent that he/she can no longer work, and he/she develops somewhat of an attitude about his/her current relationship with you. Is the amalgamation of all this not grounds for dismissal? That’s why I feel for the Vikings.

Now, back to how Culpepper got played.

We’ve all wanted to break up with a significant other via e-mail, text messages or MySpace, and a few of us have probably done so. However, it’s not the right way to let someone go.

The “right way” is a face-to-face termination, complete with uncomfortable silences, streaming tears, and half-hearted hugs. Yes, there is a high-probability that your worser half will freak out on you if you give them their pink slip in person. That’s why you do what Bob Sugar did in Jerry Maguire and host the firing in a public place. Like Owner Ziggy Wilf, new Head Coach Brad Childress, and the rest of the Vikings’ brass couldn’t have at least given Culpepper that courtesy. After all, Culpepper was an integral part of the Vikings return to NFL contention. He deserved better.

The Vikings’ e-mail to Culpepper notifying him that the team was done with him showed a striking lack of gratitude. It would by like Kevin Federline casually axing Britney over the couple’s BlackBerrys.

Regardless, everything worked out for both parties. Culpepper still has his ridiculous contract. He now lives in South Beach, just one of the many luxuries that comes with being the QB of the Miami Dolphins. Meanwhile, the Vikings are moving on with Brad Johnson under center and a plethora of new talent. You see, sometimes break-ups do end up being win-win.

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Future Fall-Outs

To quote Vince Vaughn from The Break-Up, “There's a really big gap between getting your #### kicked and having a dancing, singing sprite fool you with trickery and then strike your throat before you know that you're even in a fight.

And that’s why the majority of American sports fans don’t get into soccer. Before we even know that the World Cup is happening, we’re getting drilled by a bunch of little Argentinean dudes with fancy ponytails, and fancier post-goal celebrations.

In the past I haven’t given my World Cup blind dates with the American Soccer Team a fair shake. I promise that will change this time, soccer fans. What I can’t promise is that the results will be any different.

This is the equivalent of the ultimate high-maintenance chick hooking up with the ultimate sugar daddy. This merger may result in some good times, maybe even a few good years, but it is destined for a nasty The War of the Roses-style knock-down-drag-out fight. This new romance will end with Owens once again defacing the Cowboys’ star and Jones licking his wounds.

It seems that Thomas’ and Brown’s lawyers may already be negotiating the terms of a divorce. This marriage was doomed from the beginning. The basketball union of these two is comparable to a Jennifer Lopez-Tom Cruise marriage. If you think that sounds like a good idea, then maybe, just maybe, the Knicks have a front office position available for you.

Do I really need to elaborate on this one? If he hasn't already, it won’t take Leinart long to figure out that there is no such thing as a Simple Life when you’re hitched up with Paris. My only question is who will Leinart replace first, incumbent Arizona Cardinals starting QB Kurt Warner or Paris?

They’ve already split once, only to rekindle the flame after a one-year hiatus. Even though things are going swell now, who wants to take bets on how long they’ll last the second go-around?

We knew you would, Janet. But how much longer do you expect Gretzky to continue to stick by your side? I mean, does your husband really want his spotless legacy tarnished by his sports betting junkie of a wife? I don't think so.